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tainted-wine · 4 years

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Subject: RAPTOR

Nomu!Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

This GIANT is the lovechild of this amazing fanart and this ask:

I twisted the shizznit out of that ask, but the inspiration is still there. A thank you to anyone who makes it through this very long ride.

This fic does takes some liberties in the creation of nomu. Some factors will deviate from canon.

Words: 20k+

You can also read this long-ass story on AO3 if that’s more comfortable.

Heed these warnings: Blood and Death, Teratophilia/Monster-Fucking, Breeding, Mutant Genitalia, Unethical Experimentation, Mutilation, lots of handjobs and cum, LOTS of long tongue action and I’m ashamed, Brief Suicide Ideation, and Shitty Science

——–x——–

Fertile nomu were the greatest breakthrough that the villains could ever hope for. Breeding saves so much time and resources, as opposed to artificially creating each specimen from scratch. There were two major “programs”, as these sick bastards insist on calling them.

The Mating Program, where the nomu were paired together, one with male sexual organs and the other with those of a female, though there was also the occasional subject that managed to possess both. It was an unpredictable process; miscarriages were common, sometimes the offspring dies minutes after birth, or the fetus develops too rapidly inside the womb and the birth becomes a violent bursting out of the parent’s body. Weaker nomu, usually the ones incapable of rapid regeneration, have been killed from such incidents. “What a waste,” those bastards in lab coats would say.

And then there was the Milking Program, in which semen was collected to later be frozen or artificially inserted into ‘other creatures’. Yeah, they say it as if ninety percent of those creatures weren’t humans.

You were an unwilling member of the latter program, but the assholes sure did love making it sound like they were doing you a favor.

“This entire precinct is yours,” they said. “Your very own farm of all-powerful beasts!”

Gee, thanks. Just what you always wanted, to jerk off abominations and collect their cum. To be fair, it could be worse. At least you weren’t one of the unlucky ones being impregnated. Your possession of a quirk, albeit a mostly useless one, probably saved you from that fate. Those without a quirk had a higher chance of passing down all of the Nomu’s abilities. Just another addition to the long list of Why Being Quirkless Fucking Sucks.

The weaker and simpler nomu aren’t an issue. A sort of imprinting drives them to obey your every command. Hell, jerking them off isn’t even needed — you can literally just order them to ejaculate, and the damn things are spewing out their putrid seed before you can even prepare your containers.

The most troublesome part of your “job” was the High Ends. They are powerful, sentient, and God help you, have an actual sex drive. They were obedient to an extent, but you can’t hold complete control over something that was specifically designed for independent thinking. You were responsible for only five of these advanced nomu, and that was too many. The touchy bastards always wanted more than just a handjob, vocalizing their lust through distorted throats. The long, beastly groans of “inside” and “give pussy” echoed in your head throughout the day and into the night.

These things can literally pound you into mush, and the very thought of carrying their horrifying children makes your throat burn with rising bile. You don’t believe it’s worth risking your life just to please their monster dicks.

That was all before they introduced you to a new ‘pet’. You stood in the hallway of your assigned area of the old hospital and watched two approaching figures. Ugh, another damn High End to make things more difficult, but this one made your heart skip a beat.

Most of the creature’s body was a solid black, just like the rest within its tier. It was more slender than the others, upper body leaning forward with the support of long legs with joints that reminded you of a bird. Both its hands and feet were covered in scales and ended in large talons. A grand pair of ebony wings were folded behind its back, and a muscular feathered tail swayed with its movements. Overall, its appearance was a mixture of avian and reptilian.

The feathery wings were a huge hint, but absolute certainty struck you when you made eye contact, gold-filled eyes with a bird-like slant on a face that still managed to stay youthful after so many alterations to its body. You listened in on the villains’ conversations whenever they were around. With no access to any kind of media in this place, it was the only way to stay up-to-date with everything happening outside of these cursed labs. You remember hearing about their latest victory, how they managed to overpower and kill the number two hero of Japan, dreadful news that you refused to believe. But the beast that was eyeing you curiously gave you no choice but to accept the truth.

Hawks has become their newest nomu.

The doctor accompanying him smiled proudly, commanding the monster to take your side. You gulped and tried not to flinch in his presence; you were always extra tense around new additions that didn’t know you yet. “Hawks is dead,” the doctor said calmly. “Say hello to our latest work: Raptor.”

You think you’d rather stick with ‘Hawks’. The doctor doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “We expect samples from this one daily.”

The shocking demand has you speaking before you can stop yourself. “Why?”

The man’s impassive eyes darkened and you shrink back, considering an apology but deciding that it was best to just keep your mouth shut. Prisoners like you followed a set of rules, the most important one being ‘No Questions’. They’ll feed you to the very beasts entrusted in your care without batting an eye.

Lucky for you, this man was willing to give you a pass. “Analysis, fertilization, storage for future plans…many matters that don’t concern you. Expect me every morning to take it in for testing. Until then, get it settled and collect the first sample.”

You shuddered, sneaking a glance at Hawks, who was busy looking up at the occasional flicker of the ceiling light. It was careless to underestimate how observant the High Ends were, but this is the first time you’ve seen one so openly curious. Normally they would just absently stare at nothing when left idle.

Only when the doctor turned to leave did you finally give the newcomer your full attention. “Hawks?”

He continued to watch the blinking bulbs with great interest.

“Um…Raptor?”

You nearly jumped from how quickly his entire body turned toward you, completely still and waiting for whatever instructions came next.

You scratched at your head nervously. “Right, I guess that really is your name now. Well, come with me.”

He followed you down the old hall and past the rooms where others of his kind rested, talons tapping against the tiles with each step.

x---x---x---x---x

Raptor’s exposed frontal lobe throbs.

He doesn’t remember anything before his awakening in that cold and wet chamber. Was there anything before? Had he just been born?

Perhaps…but it just didn’t feel right.

x---x---x---x---x

Like all the other nomu, Hawks’s private space was nothing more than an emptied patient room. Their loyalty was the only thing keeping them from breaking down the old doors or tearing through the worn walls. Every minute spent alone with these superhumans was a gamble with your life.

But again, the newcomers make you extra nervous.

You stood at the door while Hawks examined his new home. He sniffed and pawed at every nook and cranny like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings, straightening his flexible spine to touch the ceiling before lowering himself on all fours. He seemed just as comfortable crawling as he was with walking; you can only imagine how incredible his agility has become. The beloved wing hero was best known for his swiftness in defeating and subduing villains, and it looks like the mad scientists sought to maximize his talents. The average nomu was built to be an indestructible powerhouse. Hawks was built to be an even more efficient predator than he already was.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt him, you had a job to do. “Raptor…”

His head whipped around to pin you with a sharp stare, molten yellow slits revealing the red irises that only appear when focused. You tensed, but he made no further movements.

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. Nomu respond best to a confident and assertive voice. “Just relax and stay still. It’s time for me to collect some sperm, if you even know what that means.” You grab the jar that you had already prepared in the corner.

He shook his wings and soft mane of hair, leaving his head a poofy mess. Well that was…cute. You approached him before setting the container back down and reaching for the pathetic rags they called shorts. It’s beyond ridiculous how these sadistic doctors are willing to completely violate and alter a person’s corpse, yet they force the abominations to keep their junk covered as some form of decency.

A low rumble vibrated from his chest as you dropped to your knees and pulled down his only article of clothing, allowing the not quite human-looking cock to spring free — a thick base with a curved shaft decorated with scale-like ridges on the top and bottom, then tapering to an arrow-like head, twitching and growing each second. You’ve seen stranger dicks, but it still catches you by surprise. Was Hawks’s dick always like this?

Is that a distasteful question? He is technically dead.

The moment your hand made contact, a loud hiss rushed past his teeth and he stepped back, wings flapping as he backed away until he hit the wall.

“Calm down.” His reaction startled you, but your voice remained steady. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, his widened eyes and timid posture gave the impression that he was just caught off-guard. “Calm,” you repeated more softly.

A few seconds pass while his breaths slow and he stands straight again to give you access to his fully hardened cock.

You try to move more slowly, at first running just your fingertips along his length to ease him into the feeling. You smiled at the sight of his face relaxing; he was surprisingly expressive. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

His mouth opened to give you a glimpse of sharp teeth that could easily shred your flesh, but the only sounds that come out are several choked peeps. He winces and brings a clawed hand to his throat.

“Can’t talk yet, huh? Don’t worry, it usually takes a few days for you guys.” You closed your fingers around his shaft in a firm grip and began to stroke him.

The soft purrs must mean that he has fully given in. He thankfully hasn’t made any grabs at you yet; only staring down and watching you explore every inch of his pitch-black meat, taking his leaking pre-cum and smearing it all over for lubrication.

His wings shiver and his tail begins to swing wildly—you flinch at each loud thud whenever the powerful limb whacks the wall or slams into the floor. You briefly wonder if the feathers on his tail are capable of becoming sharp blades like the ones on his wings.

The purrs become low growls as he begins to bend over your kneeling form, muscular thighs quivering around you. His cock was twitching under your quickening pace, notifying you that it was time to grab the jar and get ready. “No need to hold back. Go ahead and cum.”

He obeyed with a high screech and two sets of talons seized your shoulders, tearing through cloth and digging into your skin. You yelped, but didn’t halt your milking of his cock, ensuring each spurt of cum landed inside the container. Blood can be felt trickling down your arms, his grip on the verge of crushing bone until he finally lets go after his final spasm. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you sealed the jar and stood up. “Good, now rest,” you said through clenched teeth and turned to leave.

A distorted chirp is heard behind you; you twisted your head to see Hawks rushing forward, and your heart jumps into your throat. Fuck, what did you do? Did turning your back excite him? Running wasn’t a smart option at this point. You held the fresh warm sample close to you as you shut your eyes and braced for whatever the nomu had planned.

But when he was close enough for you to feel his hot breath against your back, nothing happened. Then there were fingers, the same fingers that pierced your flesh with their hooked claws, lightly tracing over the bleeding wounds. It was a touch that was way too gentle for a monster created to kill.

You heard the choked sounds again, and you take a look at his face as he strains to form a word, eventually giving up and mouthing it instead. What you read from his lips was something that hasn’t been said to you during your entire time in this hellish hospital.

‘Sorry.’

He retreats to a corner and curls up his entire body like an animal sleeping in the cold.

You felt like the one unable to speak now, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Eventually you were able to collect yourself. “It’s alright…I guess. Not the first time one of you has handled me roughly. First time one of you showed any regret, though…it’s honestly really freaking me out.” You giggle uncomfortably and decide that you need to hurry up and treat yourself before the scratches get infected. “Rest,” you make sure to command before rushing out of the door.

The restroom held a shabby but functional shower that will rid you of the blood, and the workers were at least generous enough to give you the bare minimum of first-aid along with extra gowns. A couple excruciating dabs of alcohol on the open wounds should clean them up just fine.

You’ll have to think about Hawks’s odd behavior later. You still had other nomu to tend to.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #1: Fierce Wings

Notes: As the host’s original quirk, we don’t expect Raptor to experience any difficulties with Fierce Wings. It should serve more as a refresher for his memory. With a brain more advanced than any other nomu so far, he should still be quick in attacking and reacting. His slightly enlarged wings will allow for greater endurance during flight, and of course, a bigger arsenal of feathers. The feathers on his tail are also to be tested.

The room that Raptor stood in the center of was filled with targets everywhere—some static, some moving in fixed patterns. The humans in coats were a safe distance away and watching him closely.

“Raptor, strike the targets with your feathers.”

He didn’t even have a chance to see which one gave the order before his body was already reacting. It took only seconds for him to pin the locations and time the movements of each target. In a flash, black sharpened feathers darted in multiple directions and pierced every mark in the room.

He didn’t care about impressing the Coats, but he still released a pleased hum after hearing his entire audience gasp. The whole situation felt familiar for some reason. Completing such a test felt so natural to him, he could probably do it blindfolded.

“Again, but this time use only the feathers from your tail.”

He obeyed. With his body lowered and tail raised, it only took two seconds longer to hit each mark.

Several more tests took place. He chopped objects of different materials and varying thickness, sliced apart a combat robot while using only his tail as a blade, and showed off his speed and aerial maneuvers during a small obstacle course.

His brain pulsed painfully. He doesn’t understand why taking so many commands was such a painful struggle.

He didn’t mind the tests much. At least he can actually do something in these test fields, as opposed to sitting in his empty room all day. After the very pleasant time spent with you, it was nothing but hours of pacing, scratching, and grooming out of boredom.

You mentioned there being others like him in those rooms. How do they handle having absolutely nothing to do for so long?

“Its mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?”

He turns to the source of the voice and finds a pair of Coats that stared at him like they were trying to probe his mind with just their eyes. The rest were scrambling about, discussing the excellence of his performance and scribbling notes.

But these two only seemed interested in watching him get lost in his thoughts. He stared back, waiting to see if they had any commands to give.

One of them only smirked as the loyal creature stood at full attention. “Yes, not very hostile, either. Not only is he capable of higher levels of thinking, he is the first High End that doesn’t host the body of some brutish villain. A more complex mind often comes with very human...quirks.”

Raptor blinks. They really enjoyed saying that particular word.

x---x---x---x---x

When you stepped into Hawks’s room for the second morning, you were ready to step right back out when you saw the state of it.

Claw marks everywhere, covering the walls and floor like webs embedded in the surface. Hawks was looking at you closely while stooped low to the floor, but his body appeared relaxed and not ready to lunge.

Not a single hair on you moved when you spoke. “Are you alright?”

He tilted his head at the question, releasing a puff of air through his nostrils before returning to whatever he was trying to do to the floor. He wasn’t violent with his movements. The talons scraped across wide curves, long lines, other patterns with seemingly no goal in mind. Looking around at the other claw marks, you realize that none of them are the angry slashes of a beast throwing a fit. They all looked to have been drawn in a calm matter, twisting and turning into random non-specific shapes.

“Raptor, are you…bored?”

He paused his carving to look at you again and releases a long and drawn-out groan, throat vibrating along with the vocals. Was that a whine?

All of the High Ends had traces of their original personality, but this was on another level. It wasn’t unwelcomed, however. “You know, when the other High Ends don’t have anything to do, they kinda just…I don’t know, it’s like they put their brains on a power-saver mode. You can’t do that?”

His brain responds with several strong pulses. Gross, you’re never going to get used to that pink-gray matter moving around. After what was apparently deep thought, Hawks gave a softer groan and shook his head.

You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at this entire situation. “Incredible. You’d think that these smartasses would know that making a creature of extraordinary intelligence—I bet that’s what they said—would mean that your big gross brain needs regular stimulation. Geniuses, my ass.”

Hawks gave a beastly snort. Seems like he agrees with you. You don’t mean to sound like those insane bastards, but it truly was incredible to see a High End that showed interest in casual conversation, not just commands or any opportunity to cause destruction.

Feeling confident that he won’t maul you out of boredom, you finally approach and kneel in front of him. “Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you said with genuine sympathy. “Not like I have any entertainment of my own. My room sucks too. But—“ You held up your fresh new jar. “Maybe we can kill some time together again? God, that makes me sound like a sex worker for you guys.”

You don’t know if he has a sense of humor, but he clearly understands your hints and perks up. He stands so that your face is leveled with his groin, black scaly hands tugging at his shorts until a loud rip causes him to grunt in frustration. You giggle and decide to help tear the rest off. “They were just shitty rags, anyway,” you said.

He was already growing right in front of you. Your hand wraps around him for a second time, thankful that it doesn’t startle him again. He tenses for only a moment, but quickly relaxes when your stroking begins, a large pair of testes swinging freely now that there was no cloth to contain them.

“Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re not even built as big as the other nomu, but those are still impressive. I guess you’ve got plenty of samples to give, huh? Good, ‘cause I’ve gotta do this every damn day.”

You received a purr and a swish of his tail in response. It was a one-sided conversation, but it was still pretty refreshing. Milking the other High Ends was an uncomfortable task, one where you always had to be prepared with a loud and strong “No” or “Stop” whenever their excitement evolved into aggression. Every minute was tense, and despite your occasional wish for release from this shitty life, you didn’t want a violent end at the hands of these sex-hungry monstrosities.

His reactions weren’t too different from yesterday; he was being more vocal and less shy about physically expressing his pleasure. The massive black wings blew your hair back with each powerful beat, and his tail was thrashing about even more wildly.

His deep purrs weren’t unpleasant, slowly changing into higher mewls as he got closer. “Come on, just do what you did last time.”

And so he did, delivering another fresh sample straight into your container with a warped cry. His hands lingered right over you, clenched in tight fists that surely had those sharp talons digging into his rough palms. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he was trying not to grab you this time. Would he really care about that without being told?

Hot, tired breaths blew into your hair as he recovered from his climax. Then, with his head reared back, he let out a yawn. You even heard a faint little whine similar to a dog escape him. It would have been pretty endearing if it weren’t for just how widely his mouth was opened, displaying the scary set of teeth within. Does he really use those in combat?

With his still-dripping member going flaccid, he returned to the spot he was scratching at, lazily tracing the markings that were already made. The thought of him doing this for another ten hours or so made you frown. They probably wouldn’t care if you stayed in this room a little longer than usual, would they?

Shrugging, you kneeled down again, this time resting beside him. Hawks stopped and looked at you curiously.

“Sharpen one of your feathers and give it to me,” you ordered.

Almost immediately a feather appears right in front of you. You grab it, taking care not to cut your fingers on the razor-like barbs. When’s the last time you’ve held a writing utensil? Shifting awkwardly next to the large nomu, you took the quill and began scratching lines into the floor. The hot heavy breaths and overall warmth from his close presence was hard to ignore. You’ve never been this close to a nomu for any reason that wasn’t jerking them off. He remained calm, watching your hand closely until you finished drawing a small grid.

“You know how to play tic tac toe?”

He blinked.

“…Okay, it’s pretty simple. You fill a space with either an ‘O’ or an ‘X’…”

Somehow, teaching a killer monster how to play a common children’s game was weirder than making him jizz. He caught on quickly, favoring X’s. You were winning each game at first, but once he figured out all of the possible patterns, every game was ending in a draw. You drew larger grids, sometimes having both of you move to a different spot for more room. Most matches were still draws, but he will sometimes catch you by surprise and scratch a row of three X’s that you didn’t notice in time, his tail swishing out of what may have been pride or enjoyment.

After a while you decided to show him other shapes. Maybe he can experiment with them more when you were gone. Who knows, soon he might be drawing more than random lines. He wasn’t bad company, to be honest. Then again, your standards have taken a nosedive ever since you winded up in this facility of unethical science. It was nice to spend time with anything that didn’t want to just tear you in half with a massive cock.

Only when you felt like you overstayed your welcome and stood back up did you realize how much of a mess you both made of the floor and walls.

“Oops, it looks like a bunch of kids got in here,” you said while looking at the collage of shapes and lines. Hopefully the doctors won’t find this too strange; he was pretty intelligent, after all. “Well, it’s about time I take my leave. You keep practicing your doodling skills, I guess.” With the jar of white fluid back in your arms, you headed on out, but a large hand grabs onto your arm.

Hawks’s yellow eyes were wider than usual, a scraping, guttural noise leaving his throat as he toyed with his voice.

“Sss…..aaayy…” Just like the other High Ends, his vocals were warped and all-around unsettling, but you could hear it, traces of the playful and smooth-talking hero that you used to watch during interviews and talk shows. It was barely there, but it was still there.

“St…aay.”

You couldn’t help the sad smile that graced your face. He was looking at you like a puppy. “Sorry, but I don’t know what they’d do if they notice me staying here for too long,” you explained.

He winced from the strain of his vocal chords. “Come…back?”

You shook your head. “There are cameras in the halls. I shouldn’t be going in and out of your room.” You tensed under his grip, afraid that refusing him like this will anger him. He has been very docile so far, but you don’t know what it takes to set him off.

Thankfully, he lets go of you and backs away with another one of those whines. For God’s sake, were you really feeling bad about leaving one of these...things?

To be fair, in the two days you’ve known him, Hawks was already much different from the others. Hell, he hasn’t even shown any true signs of aggression yet. The other High Ends are always expressing some desire to attack or break something. You thought it came naturally with all of the engineering. For something that was apparently supposed to be their finest specimen yet, Hawks’s behavior wasn’t fitting for his job at all. You just played tic tac fucking toe with him like two kids on a sidewalk.

That’s probably why you found yourself trying to reassure him. “We can play some more tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

An odd clicking noise was made—he sure had a variety of sounds reminiscent of birds—and he returned to his favorite corner, hooking his talons into an empty spot on the wall to begin yet another drawing.

The slightest hint of warmth could be felt in your chest as you left him to his creative tasks. This place sucks and has deprived you of everything good in life for…you’ve lost track of how long. You’ll take whatever you can get to make things more bearable around here.

And if that ‘whatever’ turns out to be a former top hero who was killed and resurrected into a horrid experiment, then so be it.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #2: Reptile

Notes: The Reptile quirk will make for a great upgrade to Raptor’s physical capabilities. He may possess wings, but the ability to climb almost any surface will be helpful in enclosed areas and improve his overall performances in stealth. A flexible spine allows him to comfortably be both bipedal and quadrupedal, the digitigrade legs granting him greater speed and jumps.

Also, someone needs to send in a request for a new pair of shorts for the damned thing.

There were many more instructions to follow this time. The Coats were bombarding him with one command after another.

“Climb up here.”

“Slash this with your talons.”

“Crush this with your hands. Try again with your feet.”

His head throbbed painfully as the voices took hold of his movements. They pushed his endurance to the limit when they made him run on a machine, first on his legs, then again on all fours. He was only running in place, but it was much more satisfying than pacing back and forth in that boring room.

It turns out that he can scale walls and ceilings with little effort thanks to the pads on his hands and feet. Maybe he can try drawing on the ceiling when he returns to his room. The only downside was that you wouldn’t be able to sit up there with him.

The Coats observed behind the (assumed) safety of a wall of thick glass. Each one possessed a small microphone so that their voice can still be heard clearly through the speaker on his side of the room.

They always watched him with cold and calculating eyes, and only spoke to him when telling him to do something. You feared him; his feathers easily sensed your tension, unsteady breaths, and quickening heartbeats, yet you still took the time to be friendly. And what you do with those hands…he wishes you’d make him feel that good all day. Yes, his room was small and boring, but it did have you.

“Raptor, to the opposite end of the room,” a Coat ordered. The sensation of being pulled by his entire head forced him to take his place at the wall, staring straight ahead at the door.

His wings twitched from a powerful approaching presence, feathers instinctively sharpening at the possible incoming threat. The door was opened by a small Coat to make way for a beast, a beast with a large powerful form and exposed brain just like him.

Vacant eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through him like it was dead on its feet.

“This is one of Cloner’s spawn, yes?” A female Coat spoke with her mouth close to the mic. He supposes that they don’t care if he hears them.

“Yes. His offspring always turn out even more unstable than him. This one can’t even produce a single proper clone, and no additional quirks were inherited. It’s useless.”

“Well, at least it’ll help us in its final moments.” The man leaned into his mic. “Raptor, kill the nomu. Do not use your wings.”

The woman followed up with her own order. “Nomu, kill Raptor.”

Blood was suddenly rushing through his body twice as fast, the reds of his eyes appearing and locking onto the target that was already charging at him with a horrifying wail.

Kill it.

He ducked under the bigger creature’s closing arms that would have likely trapped him into a crushing hug, causing his opponent to lose balance and fall forward. His hand shot up and dug his talons into thick flesh, slicing it from its chest all the way down to its stomach as he ran beneath. Rising from under the nomu’s legs, he turned to see his gruesome work.

Instead, he sees the blur of a fist right before it smashes into his face and sends him flying. His back colliding hard with the wall accompanied the shattering of his jaw. There was no time to wait for his vision to clear up, scrambling out of the path of the charging silhouette before it slams into the now-empty spot, the impact shaking the entire room.

The pain only intensified when his face and spine began to shift, mending itself back together while he tried his hardest to keep his eye on the much more violent beast. A ghoulish moan was heard as it straightened itself, and Raptor could see the large gash that should have easily disemboweled it already closing up.

Ah, so they can both heal.

It was already charging straight at him again. The thing was fast and powerful, but it was acting like it had a one-track mind, sticking to a simple strategy of running towards him and dealing whatever damage it could.

His wings twitched, but there was a barrier in his mind preventing them from moving. Damned Coats.

The fight became a game of evasion, darting and dashing around the bigger and stronger nomu’s swings and countering with deep slashes. Wearing it down was impossible with such rapid healing, every cut he brought upon its skin was quickly sewn shut.

His only chance was to attack its brain, but the nomu had enough sense to protect its one true vulnerable spot, nearly crushing Raptor’s arm into paste after an attempt to sink his talons into the soft matter.

So he kept dodging, and dodging, until something inside the creature just...snapped. Perhaps it was out of frustration in failing to land any hits, but its haunting moans and wails soon became full on screams. Tightly clenched fists pounded into the floor, the stone floor crumbling under the sudden tantrum. Raptor stood and watched, wings tensing from the burst of tortured emotions.

“Hm, you weren’t exaggerating about the meltdowns,” he heard one of the Coats say, her voice as dull as ever.

“What an embarrassment. Damn thing can’t even carry out a simple fight.”

Raptor looked behind the glass of spectators and saw faces of disappointment.

“A complete waste.”

“Cloner’s children are all wasted potential.”

“What a sad display.”

“Pathetic.”

He looked back at the creature that was now writhing and flailing, its skin oozing a blob that throbbed and squirmed, like it was trying its hardest to take a shape.

But the bubbly pulses stop and the dripping mass melts into a lifeless puddle. The nomu continues to scream after its failed attempt at using its quirk. Raptor’s gut twists with pity.

A sad display, indeed.

“Raptor! Did you forget your orders? Kill him!”

The sharp command smothers all feelings of sympathy, and before Raptor knew it, he was running toward the tormented creature, each feather on his tail sharpening with every step. Ducking under a blind swipe, the black spear thrusted forward and pierced its brain with a sickening shlunk.

The thrashing was reduced to short spasms as the nomu choked out its final groans, its terrified eyes glazing over when the last traces of life faded.

The tail was yanked out and shook off the blood and spongy brain matter to splatter on the ground. Raptor gave a soft whine of distress.

“Well, that was all rather underwhelming.”

“Yep, that didn’t exactly challenge Raptor at all.”

“I’m concerned about his lack of aggression. Did you all see him hesitate?”

“Most likely just confusion and caution after witnessing such a sudden breakdown.”

So many voices, so many comments; Raptor paid no attention to them. His mind was on the corpse that continued to bleed heavily from the large gash in its head. Raptor was the stronger nomu. He won.

Was he supposed to feel proud? Victorious?

“He’s a very smart one. Did you see the markings in his room? He and his harvester have been...bonding.” That voice...Raptor recognized it as the Coat that showed up every morning to retrieve him from his room to enter these test rooms. “I can’t decide if I like the idea of a friendly nomu.”

The woman dismissed his worries. “As long as he knows to kill when he’s told, his behavior shouldn’t matter. But it might benefit us to test his relationship with his owner after we’ve finished observing his quirks.”

His throat vibrates as a low growl passes through.

Raptor doesn’t like it here.

x---x---x---x---x

Maybe it’s just because Friday (you’re pretty sure it’s Friday on your self-made calendar) tends to be your busiest day of the week, or that your wrist is beginning to wear down from the many giant dicks you’ve been stroking. Or maybe it’s just one of those days when you remember just how shitty this life was. Whatever it was, you weren’t in one of your best moods today.

That’s why you felt just the smallest hint of excitement when you reached Hawks’s door. Yes, it’s weird, but he was the closest thing you had to a companion around here, alright?

The last thing you expected was to open the door to an empty room, at least it appeared that way until you saw the black creature resting on the ceiling.

“Aah!” You yelp and drop the jar out of fright, causing Hawks to jump from the sudden noise. You curse and quickly pick up the container and scan it for any cracks while he gracefully twists his body to drop on the floor with a thud. He was as graceful as a cat...a cat that can comfortably sit upside down.

Relieved to see the jar in one piece, you turned your attention back to the waiting High End. “I didn’t know you could climb like that.”

His wings fluttered at the comment and he raised his palms right in front of your face. Ah yes, a hand. Very lovely. But looking more closely, you could see a difference in texture on the rounded pads of his fingertips. “Ooh, little sticky hairs, huh?”

He gave a click of what you assumed to be approval, tail swinging behind him.

“So I guess you’re not just born knowing everything your body can do. Sounds troublesome.” There’s something you wanted to do, something you wouldn’t ever consider doing with the other nomu even in your dreams. “May I, uh, touch them?” You held up your own hands innocently.

Hawks cocked his head, a gesture that you’re always going to find kinda cute, before grunting and bringing his larger hands to yours. All ten of your fingers made contact, and the slightest shiver shot down your spine.

It’s the first time you’ve ever touched one of these monsters outside of jerking them to collect semen. Your curiosity was always there, but the disgust and fear you often felt when in their presence fueled the overpowering desire to hurry up, get the damn job done, and get away from them as quickly as possible.

You never imagined that you’d be standing face to face with a High End, feeling the surprisingly soft pads on his scaly hands, his breaths deep and hot against your face as those red irises watched your expressions. He was still very intimidating with his tall form, glowing glare, and the large imposing pair of wings. But those eyes—they contained too much intelligence and emotion in them.

Too human. It was as uncanny as it was fascinating.

Only when his eyes close and he begins to croon softly do you realize that one of your hands have moved up to touch his face. The black skin feels extra thick when you gently press his cheek, strong and leathery. He leans in and brings his head closer to give you better access, and you can’t help but reward the reaction with scratches against his jaw and chin.

“You know, you’ve been doing a shitty job of acting like the ultimate killer,” you said when he purrs happily.

The purr morphs into a disgruntled whine. “Don’t...like.”

Your hand pauses, hoping for him to elaborate as well as he could. “Don’t like…?” You encouraged him.

He was still struggling to work his vocal chords, but at least he seemed to be showing less pain. “Don’t like...k-killiiing.”

What?

“Raptor, that’s...you know...the very thing you were made for, and you don’t like doing it?” Not that you’re complaining about his gentle nature, but hearing a damn nomu say that he dislikes killing might be the most ludicrous thing you’ve heard here, even more so than the first time you were told to make an abomination cum.

His entire body stiffens, and you couldn’t help but tense up as well. “Maaade-” He makes a harsh hacking sound. “-to kill?”

Shit. You panic and attempt to backpedal. “Not to actually kill. You’re supposed to be, you know, the strongest creature that’s capable of killing whenever he wants...if you, uh, wanted to.” Yeah, that sounds good enough.

It appears to do the trick, his body relaxing again. “Don’t like,” he repeated more smoothly this time.

“I know, I know. Killing sucks. Just don’t tell the assholes in labcoats that, alright? Now calm down.” You return to your ministrations, this time using both hands to rub and scratch his face. His eyes drift shut again as your hands trail down to his slightly elongated neck, brushing past his steady pulse.

Reaching his collar and then his chest, you discover that he’s solid muscle everywhere. He may not be on the verge of bursting out of his own skin like the others, but he could no doubt snap you like a twig just as easily. You feel his chest heave from a deep breath, the strength emanating from his body making you shiver. You shush him when he jolts as your hands reach his pronounced abs, pushing against the hard muscle until you finally arrive at his groin.

You snorted at the new pair of shorts. “Another pair, huh? At least these look a little less ragged.”

You pulled his large member out for the third time. Why did you have to do this daily? What could they possibly be doing with so many jars of jizz? Making cakes?

Sighing, you brushed off the soreness of your arm and wrist and began to pump his ridged length. “Just do me a favor and try to cum quickly, alright?”

He made a rather sad groan at that, curling into himself so that his face was close to yours. His sharp breaths were loud in your ears.

You couldn’t help but smile even through the strain of your muscles. “What, you wanna make this last? Do you know how many dicks I’ve had to tend to today? Cut me some slack, we’re gonna be doing this everyday, anyway.”

Hawks purrs before that monstrous voice shakes your body, his hot breath warming the side of your face and neck. “Feel gooood.”

The primal lust dripping from him triggers a pulse of warmth inside you. You...can’t remember the last time you’ve felt that, and it’s just a tad strange that a nomu caused it. Were you really that starved for attention? “I-” You cleared your throat after an awkward voice crack. “I know, handjobs tend to feel good. But please be a good boy and help me out here.”

He gives a puff that blows your hair back, but he complies. The big sweaty face that buries itself in your neck is so distracting that you almost forget to get your jar ready and fill it with the incoming spurts of semen. There, the final sample of the day has been collected. Now, if you could just push the panting fiend off of you before he starts drooling on your shoulder.

Something warm and slimy touches your neck. It has you pulling back so quickly that you almost fall and spill the vile essence all over you before the jar could be properly sealed.

Hawks shrinks back and quickly withdraws the indigo tongue into his mouth, looking down in what appears to be shame. You touch the licked spot, the thick saliva coating your fingers.

“Sss-sorrry.” Regret can be heard clearly in his droning voice.

“No, it’s...it’s okay,” you stammer. The sensation lingers, and then ignites a spark somewhere inside you.

A sick, disgusting, and absolutely fucked up spark. The next thing you say should horrify you, but instead you feel nothing but a twisted form of anticipation. “You can...um...do that again, if you want.”

His tail slapped the floor in excitement before he slowly closed the distance again, cautiously looking into your eyes before his tongue slithers out and caresses the same wet space.

The smooth muscle is hot against you, extending to inhuman lengths to explore your neck. The slick sounds as it slid across your skin should have grossed you out—all of this should be grossing you out, so you don’t understand why you tilt your head back to give him more room. He licks up and down your throat slowly to savor your taste, breathing heavily and releasing a stale stench from his open maw. You imagined the breath of a previously dead man to smell a hundred times worse, frankly.

With your neck completely drenched in his cooling slobber, he ventures upward, purring louder than ever as he tastes the flesh of your jaw. The tapered end of his tongue begins to curiously flick at your earlobe before circling around the shell of your ear. He seems to take a liking to the flabby cartilage and laps at it playfully while giving the occasional nip and suck and god, it’s all heard so fucking clearly, every schlick and smack traveling right through your canal and setting off questionable reactions all over you. Your hands are clenched and held against your chest, but you don’t tell him to stop.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

The licking moves to your cheek, lapping at it shortly before moving to your pursed lips.

‘This is fucked up beyond words.’

You flinch when the clammy tongue brushes over your lips, at first smoothing over them lightly, possibly testing to see how you’d react. His face is so close, your noses almost touching. To allow a nomu this close to you, touching you like this…

When you make no move of resistance, he gets braver and laps at your mouth with controlled eagerness. Your eyes close to hide from the otherworldly gaze, but your lips feel even more sensitive to the weight that continues flicking and pressing at them, covering them in hot saliva. Several times does it briefly part your lips and graze your teeth, making you swallow at the thought of…

‘Don’t do that.’

Hawks pauses when you open up for him, but gives a gleeful chirp and snakes his way into your inviting mouth.

‘I’m really letting him do this.’

Clawed hands grab your arms a little too tightly and hold you in place. It hurts, yet all you can focus on is the flexible muscle exploring your mouth. It rubbed against the roof, pushed at the inside of your cheeks, and eventually stroked and curled around your own tongue.

‘You’re sick.’

But you’ve been sick ever since you got here, haven’t you?

When his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to place your hands around his head, digging your fingers into his...hair? Plumage? Was his hair always this feather-like?

A high-pitched sound of surprise leaves him when you try to pull him in closer. He quickly complies, closing the distance until his lips and mouth are covering yours.

It completely smothers your senses. You see his black wings expand to slowly encase both of you. You hear the wet friction of his tongue and the hungry growls that roll from his throat. You smell sweat and blood, briefly wondering just what exactly was he made to do during those ‘tests’. You taste the thick and flavorless saliva that makes you gag at first, but becomes easier to swallow as you take in more. And most of all, you feel him slowly moving in and out of your wide open mouth, the thrusting motion forcing your thighs to rub together in response to the growing heat threatening to consume you.

You snap out of it before that can happen.

Hawks pulls away when he hears your choked sounds of protest, your hands suddenly on his chest and pushing. Fresh oxygen rushes back into your lungs when his tongue leaves your mouth and retreats back into his. The warmth between your legs doesn’t fade away. Everything that just happened, everything you just allowed this monster to do fully sinks in.

And you fucking enjoyed it.

You back away from him as quickly as you can, ignoring his confused groans. A wave of nausea sweeps over you like a powerful gust that churns your stomach.

“Rest. I need to go.” It was all you said before you picked up the forgotten jar and fled the room, refusing to falter from the sorrowful whines behind you.

The urge to spew the little food you’ve been fed throughout the day all over the hallway floor is strong, but you manage to hold out until you reach the toilet in your room, quickly kneeling and hurling. It wasn’t much, but it still left you teary-eyed and with a burning throat.

What did you do? Just what the hell did you do that warranted getting kidnapped, having your nice comfortable life stolen from you, and the only way to cope was by making out with a horrid creature? You jolt from a painful mix of a sob and a hiccup. It’s been weeks since your last breakdown, but this new discovery was another hard blow to your sanity and pride. You let the tears flow as you flushed away your mess, moving over to your bed and collapsing onto the thin mattress. Fuck this facility. Fuck the scum that created all of this.

And fuck the throbbing wetness between your legs that still won’t go away.

Your sobs transform into humorless laughs. You’re going to have to get rid of the throbbing yourself, aren’t you? They won’t arrive to collect all of your samples for about another thirty minutes, so that should be enough time...

You pulled down the thin blue pants and rubbed your fingers over the slick that had gathered from what had transpired in Hawks’s room. It’s true, you’ve been doing nothing but sick shit since you’ve been tossed into this new life. Why do you even still hold on to feelings like shame and disgust? What good will they do you here?

So you try to drown out the voice of your conscience as you laid back, succumbing to the wonderfully twisted thoughts of a nomu’s tongue.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Examination

Quirk #3: Regeneration

Quirk#4: Heat Resistance

Notes: Our most advanced specimens deserve the best healing quirks we have to offer. Raptor is no exception. It will also make up for his lack of weight and hard muscle, not that he should ever be mistaken as frail. Most importantly, this should accelerate the regrowth of his feathers and supply him with an endless arsenal. We do not want to risk his regeneration being hindered by burns. After all, it was fire that led to the host’s death. This is why we have added a quirk that should make it almost completely fireproof.

The only people that Raptor disliked more than the Coats, were the Masks. The Coats saw him as nothing more than an attack dog that is expected to obey every command. But the humans in masks...to them, he was just a fleshy object to be dissected and analyzed.

They were poking and cutting to their heart’s content. His mind screamed to get away from the assortment of blades and needles that hovered over him, sinking into his skin in various places while he could only writhe against the cuffs of the metal table he was strapped to. He doesn’t believe it’s their intention to test every ounce of his willpower, but that sure as hell is what they’re doing right now as he tries, really tries not to use his feathers out of desperation.

“Excellent. The cuts begin healing the moment they’re made,” one of them observes. “Try deeper incisions. Maybe I should try removing one of its eyes.”

Raptor’s heartbeat was booming in his ears after hearing those words.

A younger Mask has been flinching from every one of the nomu’s movements. “Shouldn’t we sedate it or something? What if it lashes out?”

“Stop panicking. A nomu won’t hurt anyone without orders, though his responses to pain are stronger than I expected. We may have to fix that.”

Raptor wouldn’t mind that at all. He hisses and howls as he’s taken apart and mended back together in a torturous loop. His brain is throbbing so strongly one would worry that it might burst. He fights to think through all of the agony.

He thinks of your touch. He thinks of your taste. Were you repulsed by what he did that morning?

Sharp pain shot through his wings when his feathers were being forcefully yanked out, his teeth on the verge of shattering from his tightly clenched jaws.

“Perfect! Look at that, they’re already growing back in.”

They were. He could feel the fresh plumes pushing through his skin. The regeneration did well in preventing any real damage, but it didn’t make the violent tearing of his feathers any easier to bear.

The cruel assault on his wings and tail eventually ended, black fluff littering the room’s floor. He remembers when you mentioned other nomu being capable of shutting down whenever they wanted. What he wouldn’t give to just turn off like a light switch right now.

“Alright, it’s time to move on to his heat resistance. Get the torch.”

The what? Raptor searched the fragments of his knowledge; most words were familiar to him, they just took a while to be remembered from...something. He doesn’t understand how he already knows so much, even though his subconsciousness needs time to dust everything off.

One of the Masks was holding a small object that ended in a tube. With a push of a button, a small blue flame appeared.

The glowing yellow eyes that were normally slits were suddenly wider than he thought possible, every part of him hyper focused on the small fire that was getting too close to his sore wings. His mind recovered a new piece of information:

Blue flames are to be feared.

He was thrashing the second the searing pain was felt, fighting to escape, to get away from the blue death that threatened to incinerate his wings again. He has felt this before. He doesn’t want to burn again.

Panic consumed him, unaware of how much his feathers have sharpened as he beats his wings and tail against the table. He can barely hear the Masks’ frantic voices over the ear-splitting screech, a screech that he realizes is coming from his own strained throat.

“–ptor, I SAID STOP!”

“–y arm! Fuck, my arm is bleeding bad–”

“–old you he’d attack! Why is he reacting so–”

“–atives! Into his neck! Hurry!”

Needles are being jammed into his neck, the chemicals working quickly in sapping away his strength, limbs becoming too heavy to move, and his thoughts were too cloudy to even continue panicking. The scorching heat was still present in his wing, but he can still feel the presence of all of his feathers. There was no foul smell of burnt plumage.

“Aaaugh, my arm...” In the corners of his vision, Raptor saw one of the Masks hunched over and clutching a blood-soaked arm. He didn’t mean to hurt any of them.

“Shut up and go patch yourself up.” An older man motioned the rest to come closer to the calmed nomu, which they cautiously obeyed. “Do you all see it? His feathers aren’t damaged at all. Perfect.”

“But why didn’t he stop resisting after you ordered him several times? And why was his reaction to pain so strong?”

The elder grimaced behind his mask and shook his head. “Its pain tolerance is laughable. There’s no use in a nomu having such sensitivity. We’ll need to perform an operation that will dull his nerves.”

They scrambled around the table, gathering new tools and focusing the creaky hanging light on Raptor’s face. He was too doped up to even react to the harsh brightness.

“And if he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

The nomu tried to make a sound of protest, but in his dazed state he could give no more than a pathetic whimper. He was rather thankful of the drugs for making him unable to notice just how many needles were sinking into his brain, or the blades that opened up the rest of his head, keeping the tools in place to prevent his skull from instantly healing. It still hurt, a lot. But as they tweaked his pulsing organ, injecting unknown fluids inside, the pain began to dim. Raptor would have celebrated and attempted to wag his tail in relief.

But it wasn’t the only thing that was fading. The coldness of the metal at his back was becoming distant, the chill in the air of the room was suddenly so faint that it no longer made him shiver.

He wanted it all to hurt less, but he still wanted to feel.

He has no idea how much time had passed once they finally finished and allowed his bone and flesh to close up. The old Mask stared down at him, gloves drenched in thick crimson.

“That should do it. Going by your weaker reactions, the operation was a success and you now feel less sensation. Good.”

‘No. Not good.’ It’s what he was tempted to say, but Raptor didn’t want to utter a single word to anyone besides you, and the cruel man’s recent threat of robbing him of his free will ensured that he keeps his mouth shut.

Raptor hates it here.

x---x---x---x---x

There were fresh claw marks covering the walls of Hawks’s room, and this time they were angry. The drawings and games you made together were literally slashed out, with spots of blood spread out all over the floor.

He was curled up in a corner, wings concealing most of his shaking form.

“Raptor.” Firmly addressing him is usually all it takes to gain his full attention, just like any other nomu, High End or not.

Hawks doesn’t respond at all.

That’s new...and very unnerving.

You called him again. The mass of feathers didn’t budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He had clearly just thrown a violent tantrum, and you don’t know if he has fully calmed down yet. Approaching him is too risky, but the damn nomu won’t even acknowledge you. So you’ll have to get through him in a more natural way.

“Raptor, is everything alright? Do you, um, need some space? I can come back a little later...maybe another thirty minutes or so.” You offered, your body slightly twisting toward the door, ready to bolt if he decided to attack. You ignored the cold hard fact that the door and your legs would do little in protecting you from him.

His tail slowly uncurls like a timid snake, wings following suit and revealing his shrunken form. He was hugging himself tightly, talons peeling the skin off of his biceps. His head hung low, but you can see the spot of red in each eye looking right at you. He looked like an angry and frightened child, and his pitiful plea didn’t help matters.

“Don’t...go.”

His vulnerable state quelled your fears, but you still took caution. “Can I come closer?”

He looks down at the floor for a moment, seemingly pondering the question, before straightening his posture and nodding.

You follow the routine you’ve been getting used to with him, setting aside the jar and taking some time to talk. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

It was supposed to compel him to instantly explain the issue, or at least attempt to with his awkward speech. You instead see him flinch and growl lowly, as if he didn’t appreciate you making demands. Just what is going on with him?

Your anxiety was probably visible since he quickly switched back to a less aggressive stance. You wince when he drags a claw through his flesh, blood leaking out for only a second before the wound instantly repairs itself. “Can’t feel.” He weeps with cracks in his unnatural voice. At least he’s dragging out his words less and sounds less like a moaning zombie.

“You can’t feel?” You repeated, edging closer and placing a hand over the healed spot. Another growl, louder this time, scares you into pulling away. But his bigger hand seizes yours and presses it hard onto the black skin. You feel the tremors that begin to wrack his body and try to stay calm in the wake of his growing distress.

His voice becomes only more broken. “Can’t feel it! Can’t feel you!”

You find yourself shushing him, holding your free hand up like you’re trying to calm a panicking animal. You cup the side of his face, but that seems to upset him even more. “You can’t feel my hand?”

He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, squeezing your hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. How freely he can emote still freaks you out a bit, face looking on the verge of shedding tears. Everything about him continues to be so surreal.

“Raptor, you’re a shitty nomu,” you told him with a small smile. “Not that I mind.”

And there goes that cute head tilt. The thought of him being released in a city to wreak havoc, just like the one that attacked Endeavor and...him, feels less possible after every meeting.

He was still powerful and potentially dangerous, if the state of the walls were anything to go by. You really shouldn’t be pushing your luck or his temper. On the other hand, you did decide yesterday that from now on, you are going to embrace the depraved dumbass within you. Hawks stiffens and starts to slowly pull back, but your hand makes its way to the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I just want to see if you can feel any of this.”

With no more hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his shock through a surprised grunt. For a minute, you simply cover his rough lips with kisses while he stays completely still, eyes looking on the verge of bulging right out of their sockets. It looked downright silly. Why was he so shocked by a simple kiss anyway, after the way you let him ravage your mouth yesterday?

Your lips pause when you remember the distraught sounds he made that morning as he watched you rush out of the room. That’s right.

“Hey,” you murmur against him. “Sorry for taking off like that last time. Just...don’t worry about it, okay.” He released a hot breath onto your face. Your trapped hand is finally freed from his iron grip, numb and stiff, but you keep your attention on the motionless nomu. “We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, but I want you t-mmf!”

He suddenly went forward and attacked your lips, aggressively mimicking your movements with enough force to bruise. You try to keep up and calm his pace, sighing into his mouth once his lips finally begin to slow down. He’s clumsy like you expected, but his intelligence shows when he tries to follow your lead and quickly learns the intimate dance of your mouths. The occasional swipe of that blasted tongue across your lip makes you gasp, and then you feel big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, the beats of his excited wings, the throaty growls that rattle your entire being…

You can feel yourself heating up again already.

“Mmm, Raptor...wait,” you manage to say between kisses, your hands pushing against his chest. He gives a grating sound of annoyance, but pulls away like you wished. You were suddenly hyper aware of his size and strength – this monster that was holding you closely and taking care not to harm you. If any other nomu had you like this, they undoubtedly wouldn’t have stopped.

“So, did you feel any of that?” Your hand travels down to his groin and rubs at the bulge that still had a lot of growing to do. “Do you feel that?”

To your dismay, he shakes his head. “No,” he groans as his wings droop closer to the floor.

It has you stumped. How are you supposed to please him when his whole body is numb?

“But…” He licks his lips slowly. “Can still taste. Tastes so good.”

When you let him lap at your lips again, he twitches beneath the ragged cloth.

You put two and two together, and the realization makes you gulp. And ache.

Remember, shame is useless here.

He allows you to back away and create some distance. The sight before you is frightening on its own: The sharp stare of the raven-winged fiend while surrounded by the deep marks of its outburst would do well in intimidating any sane individual. Remembering what exactly he is makes you pause only for a second, your hands grabbing the bottom of your thin blue shirt and lifting it before your pesky conscience can even get a word in.

Hawks’s wings flare out slightly when your breasts are revealed to him, talons clicking against the floor as he shuffles about, at a loss of how to react. Relieved that you haven’t been pounced on immediately, you lean down to remove your pants next, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you pull the garment down and step out of them. They never supplied you with underwear, so with your two articles of clothing removed, you were completely nude in front of the dangerous nomu.

At first you both just stared at each other, until he finally came forward to scan your body more closely, mindful of how nervous you were. The tension made you almost choke and cough on your words.

“I-if you want to…taste more of me, go ahead.” You didn’t mean to squeak out those last two words. You blame it on the chilly air.

The hands that take hold of your hips feel extra hot, along with the breath that grazes your chest. The blue tongue slides past his lips and extends to press against the spot right over your pounding heart, then moving smoothly up the column of your neck and your cheek in one long swipe, the wet trail making you shudder. The mouth ventures close to your ear to utter the word that you remember repeating to him on the first day you got him off.

“Calm.”

It’s followed by a rolling purr that eases you into doing just that. The humming continues while he eyes your breasts, nipples already pert from being exposed to the air. Even in your more relaxed state, the sudden lick across your tit makes your breath hitch. He seems to enjoy your response and repeats the action, giving it several more laps before wrapping around the entirety of the soft globe like a tentacle, squeezing gently.

“Ah, Raptor,” you moan when the tip of the tongue flicks at your nipple, sending the tiniest of jolts through you. “Damn, where did you learn to do that?”

He answers with nothing more than a groan as he continues to show off his tongue’s flexibility. It coils and swirls around the skin until every inch of it is covered in his saliva, making you even more sensitive to the cold air. Satisfied with his work, he moves on to repeat the motions with your other breast.

The pleasure was soothing, like a massage…if the masseuse had sticky boneless limbs. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, letting yourself enjoy the vile act of a monster sampling your taste.

His mouth suddenly engulfs you, the damp heat adding to the ongoing feeling of his tongue dancing around your tit. The purrs abruptly become a powerful vibration that electrifies your skin and brings forth your moisture to drip and run down your thighs.

But Hawks suddenly pulls away and stares at you intensely, the glower snapping you out of your daze.

“What is it?” You were getting nervous again. Did one of your reactions irritate him?

He breathes in, again and again, sniffing at the air for something. The swaying tail hints that whatever he smells is exciting him. His head lowers in pursuit of the scent and stops at your womanly mound to take a long whiff at the spicy aroma emanating from your cunt.

With his breath now blowing right against your sex and increasing your arousal, your juices trickled freely onto the floor and for him to see. The clawed hands on your hips held you steady, preventing you from collapsing from the nerve-racking anticipation that had you shaking all over. At no point in your life have you ever felt this exposed, being ogled by a pair of eyes in which the irises were bigger than you’ve ever seen them, mesmerized by the source of the delicious smell.

The tongue slips between your thighs before you could even prepare yourself, stretching across the entirety of your lips, over your entrance, nearly reaching your ass before it pulls back toward his mouth, the rubbing of the silky muscle creating buzzes of pleasure. Looking down gives you the unpleasant view of his brain, but you also get to see him swallow and savor your taste, humming deeply in approval before salivating with the need to drink up more.

“Good.”

He doesn’t wait for your response – his face is already being shoved into you, and you’re suddenly bombarded with delightful hot sensations all over your pussy. The ravenous organ travels up and down your folds, collecting every drop of your sweet nectar while you could do nothing but spread your legs to give him more leeway – God you’re such a whore – and cover your mouth in the hope that no passerbys hear your moans in the room.

When your legs officially become jelly and can no longer support you, Hawks tires of holding you up and allows you to fall back a little too hard onto the floor, the impact making you wince. Any other time, he probably would have at least made a sound of apology, but your sopping wet pussy has stolen his attention. He wastes no time in lifting your hips up toward his waiting mouth, now utilizing his lips along with his tongue to loudly slurp up your essence.

His vicious hunger has you seeing stars. Wings open up and expand around both of you like black curtains that darken your vision, like a bird of prey mantling over a hard-earned meal. The only thing you can clearly see between your legs are the eerie glows of red and yellow; the glare of a demon that seeks to devour you from the inside. He starts to suck your folds dry, growling as he inspects every inch of the ravaged honeypot until his lips brush against your neglected clit.

A muffled “fuck!” passes between your fingers, both of your hands tightly clamped over your mouth. The reaction surprises him, and to his delight, it triggers more of your nectar to flow. The most efficient gag wouldn’t have been enough to suppress your scream when he sucked hard on your sensitive bud.

You couldn’t help it. Fighting past the paralyzing pleasure, your hands blindly grab at his head and accidentally bury your fingers into a soft squishy brain. The discomfort makes him shake his head and groan in irritation, raising his head and narrowing those menacing eyes at you as a silent warning.

“Hah...shit...I’m sor–AH! Fuck-oh my god....” He’s already attacking your clit again before you can finish your apology. All he cares about at the moment is your taste, and not even you were going to interrupt him. The surrounding wings occasionally twitch and shudder around you, vibrating along with your approaching climax. But the second you feel dangerously close, his lips leave the perky little pebble and move back down to lap at your fresh flow. It tears you away from an orgasmic finale and brings you back to that sensual middle ground. The audible licks were amazing, but you need to reach that edge. Your hand drifted down to your pussy, right over his tongue where you can give your clit the stimulation needed to cum…

“Hwrrrrrrr…”

You felt the terrifying snarl more than you heard it, shaking you to your very core. The other core, not the one on the verge of bursting. You immediately pull away and freeze, shivering and breathing quickly at the sight of his bared fangs. For a brief moment, the tent of feathers showed off a faint sheen, like they all suddenly sharpened. A quivering, fear-fueled gasp left you.

It felt like the staredown went on forever, but Hawks was eventually convinced that you weren’t going to distract him from his feast again and returned his gaze to the fragrant pussy before him. However, after a few more licks, he grunted in frustration. You weren’t secreting your precious juices fast enough; your body simply couldn’t keep up with his newfound greed.

The insatiable tongue keeps poking and prodding at your opening until it pushes in just enough to slightly stretch your walls. You struggle to stay relaxed and keep your hands to yourself. Hawks was currently as unpredictable as any other nomu, and you didn’t want to piss him off.

When the hot thick muscle is suddenly shoved into you, you don't even have time to cover your mouth and block the next scream that is ripped from your throat. There’s no time to adjust to the completely foreign sensation. It squirms inside of you like a living creature, massaging your pussy in ways you didn’t even know were possible, sometimes hitting that special soft spot.

Your molten center spreads its flames across every nerve. This is far beyond what you fantasized on the night you touched yourself. His tongue was able to fill you completely, all while moving around more freely than a cock or even fingers ever could. Too soon does it leave your pulsing walls and back into his mouth, where he swallows every drop he’s gathered before shooting his tongue back out and penetrating you again before you can even complain.

He was moving with more force, enough to create a visible swell in your stomach that moved along with his tongue. You can’t look away from it, even as he begins to push in and out at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up to new heights while the bulge in your belly moves up and down. You’re tempted to ask him to move his wings to allow more light for a better view, but interrupting him now is probably a stupid idea.

He pants loudly from his open mouth as he fucks you thoroughly with nothing more than a long powerful tongue, his thrusts moving faster and deeper in search of more of your savory wetness.

Meanwhile, you were dizzy. It was uncomfortable at first. It’s been so long since you’ve been fully stretched, but it all quickly melds into pleasure you have long since forgotten – no – you hadn’t even known. Your interest in sex has greatly diminished during your stay here. Hell, you were certain that your libido was officially dead. But Hawks….

This abomination was going to be the death of you.

Your g-spot is suddenly struck again, and again. Most of your words were incoherent, and the ones that could be made out were nothing more than endless encouragement. “Gah-hnngh, fuck, Hawks, you want more, don’t you? Ah, I’m about to give you more. Keep going Hawks don’t fucking stop.”

Talons are biting into your skin from his tightened grip. With a low bellow of excitement, his mouth moves to cover your entire sex, prepared for the incoming downpour, and thrusts his tongue into your most sensitive spot repeatedly without mercy.

The pressure within explodes violently, completely overshadowing that laughable orgasm you gave yourself yesterday. Each contraction adds more white that flashes in your eyes, moving in from the corners of your vision until it becomes as blinding and unbearable as the bliss that washes over you. There are noisy gulps between your legs, the parched monster happily taking every rush of fluid directly into his mouth and down his throat until he finally has his fill.

Even through your spasms your walls try desperately to clamp around his tongue as it leaves, but to no avail. The looming wings finally move away and return to their usual resting spot behind his back while he sets your lower body down and licks his lips for any remaining traces of your slick. The talons never broke your skin, but they did leave some glaring marks on your hips and ass.

You still tingled all over from the waist down while your muscles make the greatest effort to respond to any of your commands. No use. You decide to lay there covered in the monster’s spit. The work of that amazing specimen of a tongue almost made you forget that this was being done to arouse him. You should probably check to see if he was hard. He may not be able to feel your hand anymore, but he still might be excited enough to cum from the act. Stupid science bastards, making your job more complicated.

“Hawks.”

The single word uttered from the nomu clears your mind instantly. Your weakened arms push you upright to properly face him. He was still crouching, scaly toes supporting the weight of his body like a gargoyle without a perch.

“You say Hawks. What...is Hawks?”

What? When did you…?

Oh. Shit. Your mouth was moving on its own while he was eating you out.

Your mind was zipping in several directions at once, hoping that he wouldn’t find anything odd about your eyes darting about, looking everywhere except at him. You settled on a simple and dismissive answer. “Oh...don’t worry about it. I was just babbling while you had me on cloud nine,” you said with a crooked smile.

Black lips twisted into a frown, accompanied by a quick beat of his wings and then...eww. His brain is pulsing way too much, so much that he shakes his head in agitation, which only adds to the disturbing visual as the organ jiggles slightly in his head. “Hawks...don’t know...I know…” His words jumbled over his inner turmoil. The long tail lifted and began to swing quickly.

You sat there, nude and bewildered. Every High-End still carried traces of who they once were, expressing some of the same behaviors and habits they presumably had before death.

This is the first time you’ve seen one with any sort of recollection of their past life, even if it’s something as minor as feeling a connection to their name. You have a feeling that’s not supposed to happen.

You shouldn’t tell him anything; nothing good will come out of it. He needs to shut up and start being a bloodthirsty killer before the doctors decide that he’s more trouble than he’s worth.

“Raptor,” your shaky legs move slowly, shifting until you’re resting on your knees, face to face with the nomu that still looks interested in your naked body even as his head throbs. “It’s not important. Stop thinking about it.”

The look he gives you is one of hurt and dammit, this is exactly his problem. “But...Hawks. Want to know what-”

“I said stop thinking!” Your volume shocks both of you, but Hawks actually recoils from the unexpected shout. You don’t care, all it does is confuse you more, anger you more. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me anymore? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Do whatever we tell you! What, did you break?” A full-body chill reminds you of the state you’re in. You were seriously having an outburst while still completely naked with Hawks’s saliva glistening over your thighs. You groan and turn away from the troubled hybrid to grab your clothes and dress yourself, not giving a damn if you pissed him off and he decides to kill you right there. He’d be doing both of you a favor, really.

But it shouldn’t be a surprise when you see that he hasn’t budged from his spot, making no move to retaliate. “I like you, Raptor,” you admitted. “Somehow, you managed to be the only welcomed company in this fucked up hospital slash prison, but you shouldn’t be. What we just did...that shouldn’t have happened. Fuck, I – I should’ve been terrified, and I kinda was, but, I shouldn’t have felt that good!” Your doubts, your conscience, they both return with a vengeance. But this time it’s not you they’re worried about.

“If this is how you act around everyone else, you’re not going to last here.” You hold his face in your hands, a tender gesture that shouldn’t be possible with the likes of him. “These assholes are gonna get rid of you if you don’t do what they want, and they’re going to ask for horrible things. I know you don’t like killing, but if you keep up all of...this, you’re going to lose more than your sense of touch.”

He doesn’t make a sound, only staring at you before gritting his teeth and nodding in your gentle grasp. His compliance both relieves and hurts you.

“I’m sorry, but no more questions. Please? The less you know, the better.”

“No more…questions.” Dammit, you hate how clear the sorrow is in his eerie voice, like the mournful moans of a lost soul. “No more.”

You give him a smile of thanks, it’s the least you could give him. You try to bring the atmosphere back to its usual awkward yet friendly vibe. “Now, let me see if your, um, tasting did you any good.” You move to pull down his shorts. That is, until you notice the large damp spots and stains on the cheap material. Oh, he did not.

“Welp, it obviously worked. Now how am I gonna scrape this shit off?”

x---x---x---x---x

Hawks.

Flames.

Decay.

Death. Everywhere.

But, somehow, he knew it wasn’t his doing.

Maybe he did kill a few...he wasn’t sure. It’s all so blurry and nauseating.

Was he killing people? Was he…trying to save them? A monster like him, saving people?

“No more questions.”

Your voice echoes, bouncing across the shattered fragments of his mind. Raptor tries to obey. He doesn’t know what this Hawks is, or why it keeps plaguing him.

Whatever Hawks was, it’s gone. Raptor wants it to leave him alone.

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

Field Test

Quirk #5: Camouflage

Notes: As you know by now, Raptor differs from other nomu in that he is designed for agility and stealth. An invisibility quirk will not only make Raptor into the perfect phantom, it can also assist in infiltration and spying. While the quirk may be called ‘camouflage’ mainly due to how it changes skin pigmentation, it does much more than match the colors of the environment. It hides the user’s entire form as perfectly as any true invisibility quirk. Raptor should be more than capable of destroying targets without ever being noticed.

You were right. It was strange how he doesn’t discover these ‘quirks’ on his own. It was an understatement to say that he was a little lost when a Coat ordered him to activate his Camouflage. Raptor was prepared to feel those words bind his limbs and move him against his will. Whenever his brain was under the Coats’ control, he was capable of doing whatever they asked, even when he himself didn’t understand what they were asking for.

So it was worrying when he felt nothing. He heard the order loud and clear, yet it didn’t wrap around his brain like it always does.

So it wasn’t just you. His mind no longer submitted to anyone’s commands. He would have chirped in celebration if he didn’t have an audience that was still waiting for him to follow through, giving looks and comments of impatience while he stood there.

He can’t let them notice that he was unaffected. The words of the Mask that stole his touch repeated in his head along with the memories of cutting and burning, every nerve seething from raw pain until all feeling began to fade.

“If he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”

Alter...change...he doesn’t want them to change him. So Raptor tried to pretend, another thing that felt natural to him.

The process of finding his new quirk was difficult to describe; it was more like willing himself to blend in until the rest of his body got the message. All of his muscles tightened, and he almost panicked when black skin began to disappear before his eyes. His wings, his tail, every part of him looked as if it was dissolving, but he can still move and feel the weight of each limb. Once his body relaxed, he was fully invisible. The Coats kept him pinned with their stares, however.

“Completely hidden. Very good,” one of them said, writing something down. They’re always watching, always taking notes on him, always judging. This all felt familiar as well. “Now, walk from that corner to there, and keep a hold on your quirk.”

There was no pull, no sudden fuzziness or loss of control. Nothing. It’s a strange feeling, following orders because he actually chooses to. It will take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Has a monster like him ever acted before? It sure feels like it.

He performed several different tasks: running, climbing, flying, and shooting feathers. All while unseen by the naked eye. The feat even earned him a round of applause from the Coats.

“I can picture it already. He could slice apart an entire group of targets, and they wouldn’t even understand their deaths. A flurry of invisible blades!” One of them exclaimed with a smile that was way too wide given the subject matter.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get a taste of what this is capable of right now.”

Right on cue, the doors opened. Every feather on his wings and tail bristled instantly, ready to shred whatever possible threat that may enter. They wouldn’t be able to see him. It would be so easy, just like the Coats said.

But instead of another nomu that was simpler and more violent than him, a woman was shoved into the room hard enough to make her stumble forward and fall, the door slamming shut behind her. She was dressed like you, wearing only a thin blue shirt and pants. What did they bring someone like her in here for?

She was already back on her feet, scanning the area with wide eyes and shrunken pupils before moving her gaze to the humans that continued to observe from the other side. The fear in the air was so thick that Raptor could nearly taste it as she shook uncontrollably – he wondered if her knees would collapse from the trembling alone.

He was still camouflaged; she couldn’t see him at all. The urge to reveal himself is strong, but one: the Coats had yet to order him to deactivate his quirk, and two: knowing that she was in a room with a nomu will most definitely only terrify her more, so he stayed where he was, motionless and quiet.

For a suffocating minute, the only sound was her rapid breathing until one of the Coats finally spoke up.

“Kill her, Raptor.”

“What?” The woman’s voice was constricted by anxiety. She looked timidly at the man, who only stared back expectantly, waiting for something. “W-what?” She choked out again. She switched her attention to the door, still distressed and shaking. When no horrid beast entered the room like she expected, her panic increased even more, stuttering so badly that it was a challenge to discern what she was trying to say. “I-I-I w-I won’t...I’m s-so...p-p-please.”

Her head whipped upwards to a vent in the ceiling. Nothing happened. The confused woman was now spinning around looking for something, hysterical with the knowledge that her impending doom was coming, but not knowing where or when. The weight of her dread was making him anxious.

The same Coat, however, only sighed in annoyance at the sight of the trapped panicking animal. “Don’t dawdle, Nomu.” The final word dripped with venom. It reminded him of his place: a puppet that should have no will of its own. Raptor didn’t want to kill, but if he defies them, then they will dig into his brain again, and the woman will probably be violently killed by a more enthusiastic nomu. He’s afraid of what they might take from him next. He can’t let that happen.

The shrinking woman is still whipping her head around in every direction as her bare feet take a step backwards, then another, completely unaware of the larger creature that stood right behind her. He can’t guarantee a painless death, but he can make it as quick as possible for her.

Raptor added an edge to some of his feathers, but reconsidered. That would require pinpoint accuracy, not worth the risk with a target that was moving so erratically.

His tongue curiously ran over the points of his teeth, checking their sharpness. No, that would leave too much of a mess.

His hands clenched into fists, and that’s when he practically heard the ding in his head. A simple method, but it should work just fine.

He was originally going to wait until she backed all the way into him, but that would be rather cruel. Killing her before she even recognizes the danger is a greater mercy. His hand struck with the swiftness of a snake, grabbing the back of her neck. The delicate spine could be felt beneath.

Raptor was not as strong as other nomu. That didn’t mean he couldn’t crush a human’s bones with little effort.

He felt her jolt, but that’s all she had time to do before the sickening snap and crunch sounded throughout the room, then she went limp with nothing more than a few final twitches.

Some of the Coats audibly gasped, while others clapped excitedly at the kill they couldn’t even see coming. From their perspective, an unsuspecting woman’s neck was suddenly crushed by an invisible force like an aluminum can.

One of them didn’t look very impressed. “Eh, a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”

“We’re not watching a bloodsport,” another one snapped. “Raptor is designed to handle matters quickly. A cervical fracture is fast and effective.”

“She was so terrible at her job. I think she deserved a terrible death in return,” another said.

Their babbling continued while Raptor placed the body on the floor more gently than his audience would have liked. Her eyes were still wide open, frozen in that moment of realization just a millisecond before death. Still, things could have been much worse for her.

“I still think we should have used his harvester instead. She’s becoming a nuisance.”

Raptor has grown to really dislike that voice, the voice of the man that takes him away every morning. He always stares at him like an expensive possession that turned out to be a waste of money. It’s an effort to keep his lips from curling over his teeth whenever the bastard’s around.

An older lady spoke. “Her relationship with the nomu is unique and warrants its own set of experiments after we cover the basics here. We already told you that.”

“Yes yes, I know. But her sample this morning was pathetic. It’s like she’s forgotten her job, too busy turning our greatest achievement into a softie. Call me petty, but I’d get a good laugh out of watching her be devoured by the nomu that she’s decided to become friends with.”

Anger.

“You are petty, and short-sighted. Do you understand just how extraordinary this relationship is?”

Another Coat butted in. “Sure, but what use is sentiment to a nomu? This was supposed to be a cold lethal predator, not a child that likes to draw on walls. I agree that the bond with its harvester is holding it back. It would be better off without her.”

Raptor hates it. He doesn’t want any of them talking about you. To think that they’d consider something as twisted as offering you to him as a helpless prisoner to execute, just like the one whose spine he had just snapped.

How dare they.

The lady was suddenly staring right at him with a look of shock before her aged lips curled into a smirk. Actually, everyone was staring at him now, and they all showed varying levels of discomfort. That’s when he noticed that he can see his hands in front of him again, along with his feet, wings, and the rest of his body. His fury made him lose his hold on the Camouflage quirk. They had all just seen his face of hatred.

And yet the lady continued to smile. “I don’t believe he agrees with you two.”

She then whispered something, lips forming what looked like the word ‘magnificent’ while her eyes bore into him. Even his rage was nothing more than a fascinating process to be examined.

Raptor wants to get out of here.

x---x---x---x---x

You’re alright. You made it out. You were bruised, but you made it out.

That High-End nearly broke your fucking arm when it came. It was always a pretty rough one when you jerked it off but for god’s sake, why did it always have to squeeze you like a stress ball? Thankfully, your painful shriek of “STOP!” was enough to penetrate the horny shield over its brain and it released you.

It wasn’t your first injury, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten such a scare. It could’ve been worse – it could always be much worse.

The fact that you feel elated when you reach Hawks’s room shows how close the two of you have gotten in less than a week. Two prisoners who agree that this place can go fuck itself; one was pumping cocks on the daily, the other failed miserably at being a ruthless monster. They ought to make a movie out of this.

You enter the room to see him resting in the center while several feathers carve into different areas of the walls and ceiling. His understanding of shapes was becoming more complex at a rapid rate, if the current drawings were anything to go by. They looked to be unintentionally abstract faces, varying greatly in size and structure, but one thing they all had in common was oversized eyes. Every face was furiously scratched in, the sound of chiseling surrounding you and adding to the ominous aura given off by the etchings that lacked skill but teemed with raw emotion.

The scattered claw marks from yesterday are still as visible as ever. Everyday, this place looks more disturbing even with the not-so-hostile creature that occupies it.

Something prompts his feathers to stop abruptly and return to him, followed by him quickly standing up and hissing. The badly-timed hostility makes you jump back. “Raptor? What is it?” You tried to stay calm as usual.

He drew closer, eyes narrowed and teeth bared at the purplish welts on the arm that held your gazillionth jar. Oh, of course. You waved with you uninjured one. “It’s alright. One of the High Ends was being a little heavy-handed. It stings, but it’ll get better.”

Hot air hits you when he releases a snort. While he studies the bruise, you continue to examine the newest artful additions. “So...what do all of these mean?” You ask.

He follows your traveling gaze and mutters. “Watching. They’re always watching.”

He said it so smoothly that it gave you chills. “You’re tripping up less on your words. That’s, uh, good.” When a grunt is his only response, you keep talking. “Are these the doctors?” He nodded. “Did you...have to kill again?”

A beat. Then he nods again, more slowly this time. “It was easier.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, deciding to instead rest a hand on his arm. For some reason, what he said didn’t scare you. It was you who asked him to act more like a nomu, anyway.

You both stayed like that for a few minutes, standing side-by-side in the middle of the room’s crude composition that illustrated his short life. Innocence, rage, and now a feeling of powerlessness. You can relate; your progress here was very similar except that the ‘innocence’ part can be replaced with ‘grief’, having lost contact with everything you were familiar with.

“You know, maybe I can add my own additions to this sometime, if you don’t mind. Make this place our own little mural.” You giggle when his tail swings at the proposal. “There’s no way they haven’t noticed how odd of a duo we are by now. I wonder how those assholes feel about all of this.”

You’re grabbed and pulled into him so quickly that the jar slips out of your grip, rolling away as you’re pushed into a hard black chest. The tight embrace squeezes your swollen arm painfully. “Shit, that hurts!”

He whines apologetically and loosens his hold. Pain and lack of oxygen aside, it’s oddly comforting. You haven’t been hugged in ages, and here you were being held by this. A song of soft coos calm you, but there is a noticeable sad tone to them. You look up at him, chin resting on his pecs. “Raptor, I know it sucks here, and I don’t really know what to say to make things better, but I’ll keep trying to hang out with you for as long as I can, alright?” You reassure him while rubbing his chest. “Remember, you’re kind of the best thing that ever happened to this place. Not that my standards in this shithole are very high – they’re actually lower than a regular nomu’s sex drive – but it’s still an achievement you should be proud of.”

Your words did their job, if his lighter hums are anything to go by. His comforting heat was gone too soon when he gently pushed you back, following up with a press of lips against yours.

There’s no more clumsiness in his movements. He switched from light brushes that had you craving more to deep smooches that took your breath away. There wasn’t much else you could do except follow his lead. The teasing licks against your lips never fail to get you going, and he probably knows that by now. Unfortunately, you had to break apart for a breather, allowing him to cradle you as he waited.

“Who the hell have you been kissing while I’m not around to learn so fast?” You joked.

You didn’t expect him to look away and hesitate to answer before uttering, “I...remembered.”

If he was expecting that to upset you, it didn’t. You can’t stop his brain from working, and he no longer automatically gives in to any demands. You still don’t know what’s up with that. “Right,” you sighed. “Are you remembering anything else?”

“No...same things. Hawks...fire...death...I want to forget.” He pulls you in again, this time taking care not to add too much pressure to your bruises. His strangled attempts at speech have become smoother over the days, but hearing the winged hero beneath the layers of grotesque sounds that create his voice is going to take a long time to get used to. “Can...you...make me forget?”

A twinge of sadness and pity. Are his final moments the only parts that keep playing in his head, in a cruel loop? You direct all of your strength into your voice and speak. “Forget about it. Forget about Hawks and all of those foggy memories.”

He sits there and blinks with no clear sign that your words had any effect.

Then he wilts and groans in defeat.

“No good, huh?” You shrug. You truly did wish you could help him. “There’s not much else I can do, sorry.” A pause. “Must feel like nightmares, I guess. I get plenty of those.” You rest in his hold while recalling some of the fears that manifest in your sleep. “Dreams about what they’ll do when they don’t need me anymore. I never had the guts to put myself out of my misery – don’t have many options to work with anyway. Maybe I can ask a nomu to chomp my head off.”

“No.” The word was growled out, felt all around you like a small quake. You quickly try to calm him by raising your uninjured arm to hold and caress his face. You know that he couldn’t exactly feel it anymore, but the memory of your touch is probably what still managed to soothe him. It was an intimate image, touching him so lovingly while in his arms.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around. We can make things easier for each other.” Without a second thought, you straighten up and begin pushing down your pants, Hawks already chirping in excitement and fumbling with your shirt, his talons ripping the cloth. You were naked in front of him once again, and the memories of yesterday already have your pussy lubricating itself in preparation. Samples...semen….you weren’t thinking about any of that. You just wanted him again.

“Let’s help each other forget.”

And just like that, you were devoured. His mouth was everywhere and you happily took it all. You were addicted to his touch as much as he was addicted to your flavor. The dark blue tongue moved gracefully across your face, the small grin and lidded eyes telling you that he quite enjoyed the sight of you covered in his saliva. You opened your mouth wide as an invitation that he gladly took, the strong muscle charging straight into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag and has tears pricking at your eyes, yet you continue to throb between your legs.

He fucks your mouth so fast and roughly that you’re forced to only breathe through your nose. You’re clinging onto him as you gurgle around the ravaging muscle, your nails unable to pierce his tough hide no matter how hard you grip.

Something solid rubs right against your sex, grazing your clit and leaving you moaning into his mouth. His hips were bucking into the air with a very prominent tent that constricted his growing cock.

It’s the first time a nomu’s dick actually touches you there.

And it makes your walls clench.

You get closer for more friction, trying to grind against the massive erection while he finally removes his tongue from your mouth. That’s when he notices just how hard you’re trying to get off on his bulge.

Heat is rushing to your face at his puzzled expression. “You-” You gasp, still catching your breath after having him squirm down your throat for so long. “You feel pretty good.”

He simply watches you continue to rub against him – you don’t even notice that his hips are no longer moving, you just press closer to him and grind harder in desperation. His wings flutter and the rest of his body shakes lightly, his breaths coming out in short huffs.

He was laughing.

The look of amusement is so unexpected that it has your hips stopping out of embarrassment. And here you thought nothing else could leave you flustered at this point. “You don’t have to laugh. Trust me, you’ve looked way more desperate than I have,” You tease him.

He clicks his tongue, then with a yank and a loud rip, his shorts are in tatters and his cock springs free right onto your belly. Another short round of huffs are heard from him when you squeak in surprise. Just where did this attitude even come from?

Beads of precum ooze from his pointed head and drip onto your stomach. Maybe it’s your lust-tinted lenses, but his cock is looking much more attractive than usual. Its curved perfectly to hit all of the right spots, and those ridges probably feel amazing when moving inside you.

“Want more?”

The low-pitched voice right in your ear has you shaking, like it was a question from the Devil himself. Thirst aside, you don’t know what you should say. You trust that he won’t fuck you to shreds like the other High Ends would, but the biggest issue…

“I don’t know if I should risk that,” you murmur, a hand reaching to rub the textured flesh. “As tempting as it is right now.”

His confidence is replaced with disappointment. That is, until he immediately perks back up and grabs your hips.

“Wait what are yoooo-whoa!” You’re being lifted off the floor, legs dangling uselessly as he holds you easily, your body hovering right over his twitching dick.

Panic begins to set in. “No! Nononono I said-”

“I won’t.” He says softly. As softly as he can with such a voice, at least. “Calm.”

Instead of penetrating like you feared, he lowers you until your flushed lips are resting on the length of his scaly shaft.

And then, slowly, his hips push forward.

The bumps and creases slide against you in all of the right ways. “Oooh fuck.” You adjust yourself to ensure that he rubs your clit as well. The sensation has you shuddering in his hands as the pressure inside you builds quickly. Your slick makes his dick smoother after each thrust, and when Hawks sees that you’re comfortable and lost in the rhythm, he begins to speed up.

Your legs are swinging madly at a complete loss on how to handle the electrifying friction, but the nomu grunts and takes hold of your thighs. They close around his cock, greatly increasing the pressure as he continued to fuck past your thighs. “Stay there.” The vibration from his deep raspy voice only arouses you more. His hips collide with yours after each buck.

As amazing as it feels, your hazy mind recalls that Hawks shouldn’t be able to properly revel in this outercourse. “I-I thought...you couldn’t feel this.” You say shakily.

Hawks is eyeing your bouncing form with great interest, his hips not missing a beat as he answered. “Can’t. Just watching.”

He presses down on you more, slowing down his pace with his eyes still locked on your face. His tongue quickly swipes across your forehead to taste the sweat that has mixed with his saliva. “You look good.”

Goddamn him.

You felt close, so close, but even as your limbs tingle from the pleasure, your orgasm remained out of reach. The most severe ache that had yet to be sated, to be given any attention, was inside you. You have never throbbed this much in your life, you didn’t even know that your muscles down there could even contract this tightly. The dragging of his cock against your drenched lips isn't enough. You don’t care about risk anymore. Not after feeling what he has to offer.

There’s no voice telling you how stupid you’re being right now. It already gave up on you.

Good.

“Haw–shit–Raptor, inside. I need you inside.” You beg between your moans. He stills completely, which has you whining and squirming even more.

“Inside?”

Hearing him say it sobers you up a bit, but not enough to kill your desire. “Just pull out before you cum, alright? Think you can do that?” You ask.

He nods eagerly, wings and tail moving with glee as he lifts you off of his dick that was already lubed up by your natural fluids. He angles himself until the head is pressing at your twitching entrance.

You can’t tell if you’re trembling from excitement or fear. Probably both.

The fine tip already has you being stretched wide, burning and stinging in spite of your pussy’s preparation. It makes you wince and want to close your eyes – to create some distance between you and the pain – but your curiosity has you looking down to watch him enter you, inch by inch. You can once again see your stomach distend as it attempts to accommodate the large intrusion, much bigger than the slithery tongue that previously invaded it.

But it’s exactly what you craved, the unique texture feeling even more delicious when inside of you. Your toes curl and legs quiver from his girth; not as meaty as the other dicks that you’ve treated, just enough extra thickness to give you a stretch that you’ve never experienced, without causing serious harm.

He reaches the end of your cavern with a few more inches to spare, and the drawn out moan slipping past his lips surprises both of you. You try to relax around him while he fights the urge to move. Black shaky wings expand behind him.

“Feel…” He gasped and choked, one would think that he was trying to learn speech all over again. “Can feel...squeezing. So gooood.” The last word came out as a strong rasp against your face.

The new discovery has you smiling, one of your hands rubbing at a much larger one around your waist. “You can feel it? You feel how tight I am, Raptor? How badly I want you to stay inside me and never leave?” He may not be able to feel your heat or your dampness, but it looks like he can’t escape the pressure from a cunt’s death grip.

He twitches inside, making you jolt. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.

You scratch under his chin. Numb as he is, he still tilts his head like a pet dying for affection. “Then I want you to fuck me. Stop thinking, and just move...” You bring your face close to his, pulling off a seductive look and tone even when impaled on him. “...Just like a good nomu.”

Perhaps Hawks had a submissive kink when he was alive. It would explain why that riled him up so much that he was already slamming into you with absolutely no warning.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking good. Every thrust tears a helpless cry out of your body. The scales grind against every nerve around your hole, while the ones deeper inside nudge your velvety walls as they move in and out, in and out.

You couldn’t talk between your screams, not with how violently he was pounding you. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and hung on for dear life with your face buried in the crook of his neck. His own muscular arms wrap around you in a deceptively loving embrace, pumping into you with a rhythmic smack smack smack. All you can do is reap what you sow and take it.

This wasn’t just for you, this was for Hawks as well. You gave him something that he could feel again. What began as whiny gasps for air soon became rolling growls that vocalize a need for more.

Your orgasm barely sticks out of the continuous blinding pleasure as he plows harder through your spasms, your contracting muscles wrestling with the merciless cock to hold it inside.

His tone is dark. Vicious. “Tight. So tight!”

It makes your greedy body want even more. “Oh, good job, Raptor. Such a good boy.” You praise him, feeling the brief falter in his movements. He really does like that. “Go ahead and take it all, as much as you need-ah. Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until I can’t think.”

The violent sex stops and you’re being ripped away from that wondrous cock in the blink of an eye. Before you can even question what’s happening, your world begins to spin until you’re suddenly on the floor. You’re getting adjusted onto your hands and knees right before being pierced again with a force that shoves you forward.

Your thoughts struggle to keep up with the lightning-fast sequence of events, hindered even more by the warmth of the body hovering right over you. Hawks too was on all fours, though he looked much more comfortable and natural, wings fully spread out in a proud and dominant display as he throbbed inside of you.

His hips snap forward, already at a rapid pace that rocks you with each hard impact and soon has you howling again. The floor was filled with uneven cracks and scratches that scraped your knees, not that the discomfort was easy to notice while you were being drilled into. As you latched onto one of his arms for support, you noticed right in front of you, was your first game of tic tac toe.

Drool dripped down from the snarling jaws above you and onto the innocent group of lines and shapes.

The mounting beast humped you with every ounce of energy he had. Your aching pussy couldn’t take it. Too hard...too big... you’re cumming again around his pistoning cock, moans melting into defeated sobs. The huge pair of swinging balls occasionally smacked right into your oversensitive clit. You were losing the will to hold yourself up, gripping his supportive arm more tightly while your thighs quivered. Even if you had the strength to, you had no plans to ask the feral savage to stop.

He currently wasn’t anything like the gentle experiment you’ve befriended in just a few days. Right now, with his head thrashing around and flinging spittle everywhere as he barked, and wings beating hard against the floor, he was terrifying. Powerful, hungry, and single-minded.

So this is what it’s like to give in to a nomu.

It’s scary.

It’s thrilling.

Every fast agonizing stroke right against your cervix takes your breath away, your mouth eventually just hanging open in an attempt to capture whatever oxygen it could into your lungs. Hawks curls into himself so that he can crane his neck and look at you, saliva flowing freely down his chin. Each breath came out as a throaty growl wafting against your sweaty face. He takes one look at your parted lips, and stuffs you with his tongue.

If your thoughts were more coherent at the moment, you’d wonder how the hell the muscle was strong enough to be able to move into your throat as hard as the dick that continued to wreck your insides. His hips assisted in gagging you even more with each thrust. The threat of asphyxiation only brought you closer to your next orgasm.

Your mind was empty, save for the immoral thoughts that have long since driven off their more honorable competition.

Just use me.

Your entire body was on fire, getting pummeled from both ends.

Just use me however the fuck you want.

Hawks is suddenly bombarding your cunt with short and speedy ruts of his hips, and that does it. Your limbs give out and leave you to plop onto the floor as your pleasure blooms all over. But his long tongue follows you, still pushing into your whimpering mouth to deprive you of much-needed air. He simply lowers himself and proceeds to fuck you hard into the ground, pressing your skin into his many carvings.

His tongue leaves...your eyes rolling back….

Hawks releases a horrid cry that sounds like both a roar and a bird-like shriek.

Exhaustion…

Hawks is too lost in the surprising sensations, dull but still intense, to realize that he’s shooting his thick load into your womb

Warmth...full...sleep.

x---x---x---x---x

“Get up.”

The voice is muffled as you slowly come to. Whatever you’re resting on doesn’t feel like your bed.

“I know you’re awake. Hurry and get up.”

You’re surrounded by warmth, by something breathing. Pain shoots through your back and legs when you stir. When you open your eyes, you see the golden eyes of a High End.

The fear does well in masking your aches as you scramble out of the arms of what turned out to be Hawks, who was lounging on his side like a giant cat.

And standing at the door, was the damned doctor that you had the privilege of seeing every day.

His stare looked even more judgmental than it usually did. Full-on disgusted, actually. Realizing that you’re still naked, you grab one of Hawks’s wings that were splayed out on the floor to shield yourself.

He simply shakes his head. “I’ve already seen enough. And heard enough.”

Oh shit.

“I-I…” you stammer, panic rising in your chest as you’re unable to come up with any sort of explanation. You even turn to Hawks, like he’d somehow provide you with the answer.

“I normally don’t care what deplorable methods you people use to collect your samples, but going by the filth between your legs...” That prompts you to look down, and the second you do, you already feel a dense fluid oozing out of you and running down your legs that were stained with white. “...you actually allowed Raptor to inseminate you.”

His words, along with your accelerating heartbeat, thunders in your ears. Hawks is watching his seed leak from your raw pussy. He remains still and quiet, uncertain of how to act in the presence of a doctor.

“To think that someone would deliberately let a nomu breed them. I know that the two of you have gotten close,” His eyes skimmed past the many images and markings in the room. “But just how depraved do you have to be to go this far with a nomu?”

If this was before the days you allowed Hawks to touch you, you would have felt embarrassed. You are scared. Not only did he cum inside you, you’ve also been caught right after the act.

But any sort of shame?

You had the nerve to huff, still hiding your body from him not out of shyness, but because the asshole didn’t deserve the view. “I guess we’re all sick fucks around here,” you retort.

The glare on his glasses add to the intimidation factor of his glower. He takes a step forward and gives a quick tilt of his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

Both you and Hawks are taken back. “For what?”

He scowls even harder. “Still asking questions? You’re lucky that you’re valuable right now. You have most likely been impregnated. This is an unexpected opportunity to observe one of Raptor’s offspring. We’ll be watching over you until the birth.”

You don’t move, still soaking in every word. This most definitely was a mistake. Not only are you going to be taken away from Hawks to be cooped up in a room with constant surveillance, you’re going to have a...fuck.

You feel the wing in your grasp vibrate softly, Hawks sensing your distress and attempting to silently reassure you.

“I said get dressed,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Or are you still basking in the afterglow?” He snickered at his own joke before walking forward, ready to take you by force.

That’s when the nomu in the room finally stood up to step right in front of you, standing tall in all of his naked glory and easily towering over the man.

You had to give the guy credit for not looking phased by the very dangerous creature blocking his path. Then again, maybe he was just so sure that Hawks wouldn’t harm him in any way.

“Out of the way, Raptor.” Strong and firm. It’s the tone that ensures a nomu’s obedience, but you know by now that Hawks’s mind has grown beyond that.

As expected, Hawks doesn’t budge, still looking down with eyes of liquid gold.

The doctor only looks more annoyed, not afraid. “I knew you were defective,” he sneered. “Always hesitating during tests. Such wasted potential, yet the others insist on keeping you around. To do what? Decorate rooms? The idiots should have altered your brain by now.”

What?

Hawks still didn’t move. The lack of reaction was beginning to get to the man’s nerves, his hands balling into fists as he contemplated what action to take next. You stayed mostly hidden behind Hawks, anxiously looking past his wings.

When he accepted that the nomu wasn’t going to move, and forcing his way past him was too dangerous of an option, he smirked. “Fine, then. You’re only making yourself look worse. I’m certain I can convince them to move forward with that operation after they see how defiant you’re being right now.”

No! You feel so damn useless. The bastard wanted to change him into something more compliant. How much would that change Hawks himself? You don’t know if there’s anything you can do that won’t just end with you being thrown into the lion’s den.

The doctor placed two fingers to his temple. Fuck, his quirk.

“Backup needed in South Hall, room five o’ ni-”

He stopped. Pure shock took over his face, words replaced with the faintest choked sounds. You truly considered asking if he was feeling alright.

Until a thin line of red appeared at his throat, blood oozing out, the bleeding getting heavier by the second.

“What. The. Fuck?” Your breaths were becoming too short as you watched him crumple, the liquid crimson quickly pooling around him. “What the fuck is going on?”

The confusion and fear was making you delirious. God, you were going to pass out again, this is too fucking much, this asshole was about to take you away because you have a monster growing inside you and then he was going to turn Hawks into a regular High End but now he’s dead but who the fuck killed him and what’s about to happen to you-

“Calm.”

A large hand on your shoulder grounds you, steadying your breathing and expanding your tunnel vision. Hawks is in front of you, releasing soft coos.

“Wha–how–wha…” Your shaky lips are unable to form words, but he seems to understand. Something materializes right in front of you. Small, black, and sharp. It’s a feather, floating between the both of you. “What?” You finally spit out.

“Camouflage,” that’s all he says, as if that explains everything. Since when was he able t-

Whatever. There’s too much shit happening right now.

Still shaking, you look to see the doctor still bleeding, some of the blood flowing into the engravings and painting them red.

“Y-you killed him?” You whisper.

He nods, staring apathetically at the body.

“But, I thought you didn’t…” You trailed off, too stunned by everything that has happened to finish.

He turned his attention back to you, red irises – as red as the blood that continued flow – staring into your frightened eyes. “It gets easier.”

Once again, you’re not sure what to say to that.

He looks to the door. “More coming soon.”

Right, whoever the doctor was contacting must be wondering why his telepathy was suddenly cut off.

“I want to leave.”

“Leave? Like, you want to escape?” Another nod. “That’s...I don’t know if that’s possible. There are villains around here. Strong villains. Shit, they might release some of the nomu on us!”

“You want to stay?”

Your mouth opens, then closes.

“I’m strong, and fast.” His wings unfurl and sharpen every feather, his tail curling around you so that you can see the knifelike plumes on it. “Can heal very fast and blend in. Can do a lot.”

The display and simple explanation reminds you that you haven’t seen any of his combative skills firsthand. This is what they made him for.

Well then…

“Right, then how about we give them a final test?” Just when you were finally calming down, adrenaline is already being pumped back into your veins. “Let’s show them how unstoppable their latest work is.”

His little peep of agreement nearly ruined the moment, but it reminds you why you’ve grown so fond of him.

He turns around and crouches, motioning you to climb onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck. It was awkward, mostly due to the wings that you were squishing under you, but when you voiced your worries he just gave you an “It’s fine.” He warned you to hang on extra tightly whenever he gets low to the ground. He’s a much faster runner on all fours.

Stepping over the corpse that has bled dry, he stopped at the door and braced himself.

“Ready?”

Your arms and legs were secured around him. You breathed in through your nose then out through your mouth.

Breath in. Breathe out.

A lot of death and destruction is probably about to come your way.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It would be great if you never had to fill another jar ever again.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Your clammy skin hasn’t felt sunlight in fucking forever. Are the heroes even still alive out there?

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You try not to think about what’s happening in your womb.

“I’m ready.”

The door is pushed open.

x---x---x---x---x

Targets first spotted at 12:50

The old surveillance cameras flicker and lag. It makes noticing the running black figure all the more difficult. On most screens, you’ll see nothing more than a blur. There will be the occasional confrontation with villains, sometimes accompanied by researchers with incapacitation quirks. More often than not, the escapees easily outmaneuver them, crawling and leaping on every surface and zooming past their potential captors before they can even follow.

Some of the stronger villains and nomu slow the duo down only briefly before they collapse from an unseen force. The recovered bodies possessed deep cuts across major arteries or accurate punctures in their major organs.

Some footage shows the two sometimes climbing into vents, temporarily escaping the cameras.

The woman on the High End’s back was injured during the fatal showdown at the hospital’s exit, enraging it to the point where it swiftly killed everyone in its vicinity, including fleeing researchers that were only caught in the crossfire.

Targets escaped facility at 13:09

x---x---x---x---x

Subject: Raptor

SUBJECT HAS ESCAPED. NOMU IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION IN RETRIEVING IT.

Some things are too good to be true. It turned out that Raptor’s brain has, shall we say, faulty wiring. Several observations have noted him hesitating upon certain commands. This should not be a constant problem with any High End. I don’t understand why they did not immediately work on this issue. It’s possible that they feared irreversible changes to his unique mind.

I personally believe that many of these flaws are the result of a compassionate host. The hero Hawks was unmistakably a gifted combatant, probably the most gifted individual the facility has gotten their hands on, but his attitude did not translate well into the role of a nomu. On the bright side, I never thought I’d ever see nomu, let alone a High End, show such genuine fondness over a human. I believe it’s worth another try in the future.

But for now, we should stick to what works. There are more than enough lowly criminals to go around.

#Hawks #smut #nomu #noumu #terato #monster fucking #hawks x reader #shh the doctors don't know about shirakumo #happy october?#tw blood #tw death

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stellocchia · 3 years

Text

Alright, now that I got some sleep, time for an overly long analysis on Tommy’s second prison visit!

I’m only talking about character in the rp from here on out, not the cc’s unless explicitly stating otherwise

First of all, a clarification is in order: was it Dream’s plan from the very start to get put in prison to end up in this situation? No. Does this mean he couldn’t have caused this to turn things in his favour? Also no.

Dream has proven before that he’s a rather flexible character (kinda has to be with a nemesis like Tommy), he’s been put multiple times in unexpected situations and managed to come out of top. We don’t know if he expected L’Manburg to be reborn after the 16th, and yet he managed to have the whole cabinet wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t expect Tommy to threaten him with Spirit, and yet he spun it around on him. We also know he didn’t expect Tommy to leave Logsteshire (he was talking about it with Punz, it’s the reason he went to check on him shortly after because he realized he may have stepped too far and broken Tommy out of his manipulation there) which offered him the opportunity to frame him for the community house disaster later on.

He is nothing if not resorceful.

Another thing we have to discuss when talking about the visit is the themes of their relationship:

- Dream’s possessiveness/obsession

- The whole Dream finding Tommy “fun”

- Their “game”

More under the cut

- For the first point, when I say “possessivness” I mean that Dream literally regards himself almost as Tommy’s owner. Don’t believe me? Let’s talk about how he treats Tommy’s canon life then!

Remember all the way back during exile? To keep Tommy in line Dream consistently threatened to take his last life, implying that he would have been fine with Tommy dying, yet, as soon as Tommy showed signs of wanting to take his own life, Dream bust out the line “it’s not your time to die yet”, 2 times in fact. Why? Well, Dream wants control in all things, not only that, but he clearly thinks he’s in the right in wanting it. Of course the life of his favourite toy is no exception. Also let’s not forget about the terrifying scene on top of the obsidian grid where, when Tommy said that their story would be over soon, Dream immediately took control again assuring him it would never be over.

There is also Tommy explicitly stating that Dream was “borderline his owner”, in case we needed an additional affirmation, in the stream where Mexican Dream made an appearance in exile.

Also, I have to mention that during the first Prison visit Dream, when talking about what he missed, grouped Tommy together with “his stuff”... can’t get much clearer then that

- Dream’s describing Tommy as “Fun” has been a reoccurring creepy theme between them. But is it soley done out of manipulation or does Dream actually feel that way in his twisted world view? I’d say a bit of both to be honest.

Clearly there is a level of gaslighting with it were he used to say it at the very start of Tommy’s exile to get him in the frame of mind of considering Dream his friend and trying to convince him that they always had fun together (trying to get him to switch his anger from being directed at Dream to being directed at his old friends), but that’s not all.

Dream, in cutting all his known attachments, is left with only Tommy as an attachment, Jack is right on that one, which is the rason why his obsession seems so extreme. That said, it’s pretty obvious that he does sort of find his relationship with Tommy “fun”. It’s the reson why literally everyone else is a replaceable pawn, but Tommy isn’t. Don’t get me wrong here: he doesn’t see him as a human and, despite him “caring” in his twisted way, there is NOTHING healthy about their relationship. But it is still important to point out that Tommy is extremely important to Dream.

- Their game is something we’re all well aware of. They are regarded by so many people as the hero and the villain of the server, even though neither of them accepts their assigned role. That said they both view the other in the role assigned to them. Dream doesn’t see himself as a villain, but he does see Tommy as a hero and vice-versa. And, just like that, the stage for their “game” is set.

Only problem? Only one of them is playing the game. We know this from the season 2 finale: the reason Dream kept coming down and trusting Tommy was because he thought Tommy was as attached to their “game” as he was, but he was wrong. Tommy HAS other attachments, plenty of them, he’s not dependent on Dream and that’s also probably why Dream is so obsessed with him in the first place: everyone else is predictable, easy to use. They aren’t surprising, they aren’t “fun” (remember that? Remember Dream goning “Tubbo isn’t fun” when Tommy said he had as much value as himself? Because I sure do) they are boring pawns.

You’d think he may think differently of someone like Techno but, despite him acknowledging his strenght, he has no reason to think he won’t be able to use him every time at the smallest promise of violence as it worked every time before. George and Sapnap? When’s the last time Dream showed them he cared in any way? He used them time and time again and then left them behind when the relationships required work on his side to mantain. He didn’t even speak to Sapnap during his visit! He regards Quackity as barely an annoyance (remember what history left on him in the Lost City of Mizu? Just a Fool). Punz and Sam were both people he paid, only means to an end. They ALL played his game and followed his rules, which is what made them predictable. It's what makes them so replaceable.

Now that the themes are established, let’s move on to the analysis of the visit itself!

First of all: big foreshadowing from Sam with the missing books (which Tommy admitted to not remembering the content of) and from Tommy saying how much he trusted and appreciated Sam. It doesn’t have much to do with the analysis, but we all pointed it out.

That said, what was Tommy’s objective with this visit? Closure. Tommy wanted to make their game finally stop for good, he wanted to reclaim the control over his life that he hasn’t had for a while now. Not over his literal last life nor over hid day to day life. Both used to be controlled by Dream.

Dream “loosing” his clock is the first information we learn. But, remember during Bad’s visit when Bad convinced Sam to give Dream one last chance to get his clock back if he behaved? And then again with Sapnap? Dream wanted the clock to go, that’s why he kept burning it despite the warnings. Why? Could it be that he was planning to get someone to stay with him in there? Isolation affects you much harder when you’re not aware of the passage of time after all...

“That’s the Tommy I know!” from the start of the visit Dream is trying to re-establish their “bond” and get Tommy in the mindset of them being “friends” again. I mean, it’s not a coincidence that he’s never been this talkative or friendly in any of the visits from other people.

Other point in favour of Dream having planned this long stay is the sheer number of potatoes he had stored. Also, may I add that he immediately started giving them to Tommy? He started before the tnt and explosions, before he should have known Tommy was gonna stay. He never did this before during any of the visits we’ve seen. Establishing his role as provider again like back in exile I see...

Dream also started immediately demanding for Tommy to visit him more, but Tommy does turn it down just as quickly by explaining that that would be the last visit (if Dream wasn’t planning to act this time, he changed his mind in this moment. He’s very adaptable remember? And his main accomplice was online...). Of course, Dream isn’t happy about it.

We already established that Tommy is the only one he finds “fun” (as far as we know), having him stopping visitations entirely wouldn’t be good for Dream. There is also the fact that Tommy is deciding to move on on his own. It’s Tommy’s choice under Tommy’s complete control and Dream has already shown he’s not too kin on that being a thing.

“Anything you want to say to me now, you have to say to me now, because I’m not visiting you again” “Why?” I’m highlighting this piece of dialogue because I think it’s pretty indicative of Dream still being convinced that they’re both still playing the game. Sure, Tommy outplayed him for now, but the game is not over, is it? Tommy can’t just decide to drop him can he? They both have so much “fun” after all...

Of course though, to Tommy the “why” should be obvious. Because of Dream he’s struggling with severe ptsd. He’s afraid of plains biomes, of lava, of heights to a certain degree, of black stone (both because of the Attachments vault and the Final Control Room on this one), of tnt, of small holes (big enough to drop your items in as he said), of giving up his stuff and of Dream acting Friendly. Dream hurt him a great deal to the point were he’s not managing to settle down even now, he’s still afraid. How can Dream not see how he hurt him? How can he not understand? In Tommy's mind it just doesn't make sense.

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (had to add this because it was just funny... why are there always bloopers with this 2?)

Potatoes again. Again the tnt had not started to go off yet. And Tommy eats them again immediately, of course. I can’t stress this enough, but this is done again to re-establish the dependency tommy had on Drem during exile. While he didn’t entirely depend on dream for food (he barely ate and he had Mushroom Henry), he used to be entirely dependent on him for protection, getting to the point where he would hardly defend himself from the mobs when they attacked him even when Dream wasn't around. Of course Dream can’t provide “safety” while he’s in prison, so he has to find something else.

“You had all this shit coming” “I did but... you know... maybe one day” “No! Have you seen this prison? It’s kind of the most secure thing ever” They are talking about two different things here. Dream is implying that, maybe, they’ll let him out in the future while Tommy, having already decided to move on and not worry about Dream anymore, is implying that the only way Dream is getting out is if he manages to escape, which he won’t. Quite different from the first visit were Tommy showed quite a bit of hesitance when asked if he would ever let Dream out.

“Unless you have extreme therapy” Tommy recognizing the importance of therapy I see! No, but, more importantly, this goes to show that Tommy is moving on from his exclusively vengful mindset he had at the start (which was more then understandable, btw). At the start of this visit he said he didn’t think that Dream deserved to die anymore and now he’s recognizing that he needs help, Tommy however also knows he’s not the one who should be helping him, he can’t. Still, he’s empathizing with him, because he can’t help doing so. Despite everything, Tommy always tends to see others as their own individuals, even when the same is often not true in reverse.

“I mean exile wasn’t that bad... right? I mean, we hung out” again, tying it back to the themes in their relationship, this fits so well. Of course exile wasn’t that bad, right? After all: why would Tommy have needed anyone else when he had his Best Pal Dream? And here’s the thing: we can’t know how much of what Dream says is just manipulation and how much of it he believes, but Dream has shown enough signs of being dependent on Tommy as his only attachment that we can assume there is, at the very least, some level of truth in this. I mean, if you remember back when he blew up Logstedshire, he didn’t even wanna believe that Tommy was suicidal. Tommy told him directly, but was dismissed. Why? Not because Dream wasn’t extremely opposed to him taking his own life, he’d already shown that not to be the case. Perhaps because he actually didn’t think it was that bad? Maybe he didn't want to admit he pushed him too far? Did he actually view himself and Tommy to be Dream’s own twisted version of “friends”? It’s a possibility and it’s what this visit seems to imply.

“When I’m around you I feel like my brain is conditioned to be your friend, but also when I have a knife I wanna just plunge it into your heart... you don’t make me a good person!” This seems to be a rather recurrent theme with Tommy and the mentor figures in his life. Wilbur trying to convince him (albeit not managing to) to just blow it all up and give in to his aggressive nature. Techno wanting to “bring him to the side of evil” and making him more violent in the process. Now we have confirmation that Dream himself makes him lash out more (though we could see this already when he was in exile in how he lashed out at Jack Manifold without the latter having done anything to deserve it). There is also the confusion to point out. While Tommy is trying to move on he’s clearly in no way “healed”, he’s still very much suffering from the consequences of Dream’s abuse and manipulation. He still doesn’t know exactly how to feel about him because, despite everything, he feels compelled not to hate him entirely.

“You’re a bad guy” “Well I did bad things, but everyone thinks they’re right from their perspective” “That’s not true” I haven’t seen almost anyone talk about this exchange, but it’s such an important one! As we said, Tommy views Dream as a villain, Dream doesn’t (he admits to having done bad things, but not to being bad because of them). Dream also sees Tommy as a hero, but Tommy doesn’t (Tommy doesn’t even view himself as “the good guy” in his own story, which ties in to his big self worth problems). It’s an interesting dynamic to be sure.

“Well I think I’m right. I did bad things, but I did them for good reasons” “What good reasons?” “I wanted to bring the server together you know? Make it a big happy family” This is the second time Dream brings up unity as his ultimate goal (the first being with Punz). Of course we know that the “unity” he wants it’s under his complete control. It’s not an objective that we can see as positive, but he does, or, at least, if he’s telling the truth about it, he may actually believe in it. Now, while this is the second time he brought up “unity” directly he did also strongly imply in the season 2 finale that that was his intention when explaining he was doing everything to get the server to “how it used to be”, back in the idealized past with no conflicts that never existed. Dream is deluded in the literal sense of the word, I would say it’s pretty probable there is at least some truth in his declared objective (truth in the form of him actually believing the bs he spews).

At this point Tommy is done. He’s drawing an end to the visit and Dream started getting more frantic. He started insisting on how he’s “changing” and insisting for Tommy to go visit him again. Ngl, I think this was probably to buy time for his accomplice (who is very possibly enderwalk!Ranboo) to get there. Because, if he let Tommy go, their game would truly be over, and Dream can’t stand that.

And cue the explosions!

So: Dream managed to buy enough time and, by the prison's protocols, Tommy is now stuck with him up to 7 days. He can’t leave which means Dream gets another chance to force him into continuing their game.

Quite a few people pointed it out, but, from this point onwards, Dream gets much more assertive and controlling in his demeanor. He drops the whole “insecure” act that he had going on in his enunciation and general behaviour and goes back to being like the old Dream (you would almost think that all that talk about “having changed” was just absolute bs, though he keeps insisting on it throughout)

Tommy’s behaviour also changes. He gets much more paniked (no doubt a combination of way too many of his triggers being present at once) and pliant. He starts calling out for Sam and asking to be let out but, of course, that doesn’t happen as Sam has to take care of the security breach first and foremost.

Dream starts immediately harping on Tommy being stuck there (probably to increase his panic, as he's easier to influence when he's distressed), first pointing out how “Sam can’t hear him” and then that the tnt must indicate a “security problem” (which he then explains he knows the consequences of because he wrote the book). By now he’s dropped his meek act entirely and he’s showing to be much more smug and self assured (a big contrast with Tommy having a very obvious panic attack). As we already said: he got what he wanted, he basically won already. All he needs to do now is get Tommy back to how he used to be in exile (”when they had fun” in Dream’s words...).

At this point there is only one question left to be answered: Why did he do all of this? How does this benefits dream?

Clearly this didn’t help him to get out. The security may actually increase because of it. Right? Well...

“I mean... if you want a way to get out, let’s get out together! We can work it out, we can-” “Fuck off” “Then there is no way out” I’m going out on a limb here and saying that, perhaps, Dream may know a way to get out provided 2 people cooperate on it. Tommy wouldn’t help him yet, but, who knows what he may do after spending way too much time locked in a small room, with a lava fall on the side and Dream to top off the list of his worst nightmares...

“Are you trying to get out?” “I’m not trying to get out, I’m not trying to get out!” a bit of a contradiction here, considering he proposed getting out together like 2 minutes before (coupled with his insistence on “one day...”)... however “I’m not trying to get out (yet)” may be a way to interpret his words more truthfully. If he just needed an accomplice to get out, he would have probably used Ranboo, but there is something else he wants as well...

(btw, potatoes AGAIN multiple times, especially every time Tommy is particularly distressed, and Dream also brings up Tommy being on his last canon life again in the context of this being “just like exile”... man do be trying hard with those parallels...)

You see, he already told us that he still sees his objective as good. He still wants control. He still wants his game to go on. And there is one person he elected to be the key to everything...

“I’m telling you you’re stuck in here for a little while with me, were we can bond, we can talk, just like old times, right? You know... just like exile” “Tommy this is the best thing that’s happened to me since I got in this prison, because now we can be company, we can stay together!” “Fine, fine, you’re done with me in a couple days, when you get out of here” “Tommy it’s not that bad! We can- we have lot’s of time to bond” Ngl... something tells me his other objective is very obvious... and we talked about it to death by now. But, in case it wasn't clear to someone, he wants to get back what (or who in his case) he considers to be his most cherished possession (again, do NOT interpret this as a "good" thing. It isn't. Dream literally treats Tommy as his toy, it isn't healthy and I've seen way too many people in chat trying to imply otherwise and calling it "cute". It's not cute, it's abuse)

“Tommy you’re stuck in here with me wether you like it or not, ok?! Wether you like it or not you’re in here with me for a WHILE, we’re gonna talk, we’re gonna have lot’s of fun” I just wanted to point out again how much Dream’s demeanor changed from the start now that he’s back in control. He’s not asking Tommy to talk to him, he’s not giving him a choice in it. Tommy already said how he doesn’t wanna talk and “get to know him better”, but that doesn’t matter. He has no power anymore. He doesn’t have the power to leave NOR the power to ignore Dream, as much as he wants to. Also, after this, Dream seriously ramps up the whole “We’re gonna have so much fun!” shtick...

And you want to know the saddest part of the ending? Tommy is already cracking (honestly, not surprising. He’s been through WAY too much by now...)

He started asking Dream for confirmation of whether all of this was “serious” (just like he needed to ask if things were real back in exile... or generally Dream’s opinion on everything). He also asked for more potatoes in a dejected tone (I know it may not seem that serious, but, as I said, it is just another way to create the dependency that Dream wants), showing a beginning of acceptance for Dream’s role as provider once again. Together with the very obvious “I can’t do this” and the black screen right after it creates a very worrying picture.

In conclusion: Dream is already dependant on Tommy, but the opposite not being true was a big part of his downfall. So, before he can get out, he has to work on getting Tommy back to exile!Tommy only this time he’ll be even more careful not to do some dumb mistake probably...

As anxious as I am to see how this will develop I do also think it’s one of the most interesting outcomes they could have had!

Also can we please take a moment to appreciate how WELL cc!Dream anc cc!Tommy manage to handle this incredibly serious scenes? Like, they bounce off of each other perfectly and, as someone who’s done theater themselves, I cannot commend them for managing to do so well in IMPROV enough!

They are honestly so great! Let’s get some serious love and appreciation for them to close on a positive note!

Also @mysweatymakerstudentworld

#tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tw suicide #tw abuse #tw manipulation #exile arc #dream smp #Dream smp spoilers #long post #my post #analysis #relationship analysis #this is the sequel to rapunzel where she's stuck on the tower with mother goethel #I can't imagine it ending well...

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ak8shi · 4 years

Text

FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), alcohol, stupid people in love

a/n: ahh I’m sorry I’ve been a little MIA!!! But I’m back with this pls enjoy ! I think the fandom really make germaphobia his only personality trait sometimes which makes me sad because I think he’s actually a quirky/classy dude and very functional in social situations,, I hate to say it but ya’ll would get played by him… sorry.

━Sakusa Kiyoomi

Some of you may be like ???? Omi fucks around ?? how ?? BUT he definitely does in his own way

He probably doesn’t do much in high school to be honest, he’s mostly focused on improving as a volleyball player and achieving his goals

Once he reaches pro level though,,, it’s a different story lmfao

I can see him being picky as hell about his hookups, but just because he’s a bit of a germaphobe doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel attraction or doesn’t have needs…

….He’s so hot too… girl

His hook-ups are always taken seriously though… like he’s the type that feels like he has a professional image to upkeep, so he always arranges things beforehand; he’s definitely not messy about it and sets clear boundaries

I think what makes him kind of a player is how standoffish he can be…and he doesn’t really give anyone a chance because he doesn’t think they what it takes to deal with his lifestyle lmao

He’s just like, its easier to call the uber right after, get into the shower, and wait until he can hear the front door of his apartment shut I’m screamingg

Sakusa also isn’t one to kiss and tell, even with the boys… he doesn’t think its tasteful and would rather not have Atsumu up his ass about his flings

ANYWAYS,, let’s get into this, so you know Atsumu through mutual friends and met during college, and the two of you just instantly clicked since you also were a part of the same sports medicine program as him

Atsumu signed with MSBY and you were so happy for him, but you were bummed because you were busy with PT graduate school and couldn’t really attend any of his games

A year passed and you found yourself texting Tsumu to see if he could meet up and grab coffee since you were on winter break!!

You: hey I’m back in town wanna grab coffee sometime?

Him: who is this

You: I see you haven’t changed ❤️

LMFAO, so you catch up with Atsumu and he talks about his new career and his teammates, he seems so happy :(( we love to see that!!

He invites you to MSBY’s game the following weekend, and you’re pumped to go!! Tsumu got you great seats, and he meets you before warmups to make sure you’re okay finding your way around

Atsumu: don’t take yer eyes off me <3

You:

He’s so…

You’re enjoying the match and you even go to grab Onigiri from Osamu’s stand, but you can’t seem to look away from number 15 on Atsumu’s team

He’s .., scrumptious to say the least 🥴

Like he’s so composed and calculated on the court, and you find it so funny how he rolls his eyes whenever Tsumu says something to him and how Tsumu gets so heated about it 💀

The match ends and you go down to meet Atsumu near the lockers, showing the security your family/friend pass 😌

You walk through the halls trying to locate the setter, but you can’t seem to figure out where he is

The only person in the hall is the tall, dark haired man that caught your eye earlier; he is already walking towards the exit with a mask covering his face, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, sweats embroidered with “Sakusa” adorning his body we’re all looking..... respectfully

He’s truly so intimidating but you’re like….highkey lost… so you don’t really have another option

You catch up with him, poking his shoulder gently; he turns around and his attention on you is almost STARTLING.. like his eyes are SO dark

Him: can I help you

You: sir… if you don’t rail me, I’m gonna have to intervene‼️😈😹

After getting over your initial shock, you hear multiple footsteps rumbling down the hallway towards the both of you

Sakusa lets out an annoyed sigh, muttering about how he has to go, but before he can escape you hear Atsumu’s loud voice LMFAO

“OMIIII, where are you goin’? Its team karaoke night remember?”

Tsumu sees you and slings an arm around your shoulders, “Oh-? So I see you’ve met our outside hitter Omi?”

You glance over at Sakusa, his expressionless eyes glued to your face, then slowly trailing down to analyze the way Atsumu casually has you tucked under his arm

Atsumu nudges him, and he grumbles that he’ll meet them after changing at home before walking off in the direction of the private parking garage

You meet the rest of the MSBY boys in the uber, and find them super friendly and welcoming; Bokuto and Hinata buy the first round of drinks at the karaoke bar, but you only have one because you have work to finish the next day WE STAN

Atsumu already has a pink glow setting into his cheeks when you see the boys turn their attention to Sakusa walking through the front door, looking as handsome as ever in his dress pants and fitted white t shirt

They all shout out incoherent hello’s, and he takes the only open seat next to you with a glass of gin and tonic in his hand he smells so good god

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you find yourself turning towards him, and you just start asking him about himself and his career, and surprisingly he’s very polite and much more animated than you previously thought

His voice is like…so alluring and he never looks away from you when you talk, its like he’s absorbing every word

Meanwhile, Atsumu is stumbling over the stage with Bokuto belting Love by Keisha Cole LMFAOO😭

Tsumu kind of ‘warned’ you in the car ride over that Sakusa was a germaphobe, but you know that Atsumu tends to invade people’s personal space sometimes and it probably wasn’t as dramatic as he made it out to be

However, you weren’t expecting the outside hitter to lean over from his seat after checking the time on his phone, whispering in your ear, asking you if you wanted to meet him at his place later than night WHEW

Girl I would be sweating… and you say yes ofc because who’s going to pass up this type of opportunity-

He gives you a charming smile and is like,, okay cool, I’ll see you later then 😊 I’m dead

Ya’ll exchange phone numbers and he’s like if you need any help with my idiot teammates let me know before he takes off

You don’t tell Tsumu about your little… entanglement plans dsnjaknda but honestly he wouldn’t even remember based on the way he’s slumped against you in the uber he owes you big time

You get home after dropping off Tsumu at Osamu’s, and operation dick appointment with the professional volleyball player is put into action 😈

He sends an uber over to get you ladies do not settle for less please, and you’re BIG nervous but in a good way as in you know this dick is about to be bomb af

SO you’re standing in front of his apartment door, and when he opens it, he’s still in the clothes he wore to the bar and its like 1 am he’s so powerful

Um I feel like he would get straight to it honestly, probably starts with a little convo on the couch and then…

YOU WEREN’T AWARE HE WAS SO DIRTY,,, it was SO good too like after getting home that night you’re going through a crisis… like you had so much chemistry together for having just met, and you wonder if he feels the same way🥺

You caught yourself in sleepless states some nights, kept awake by the thoughts of the way his hands felt against your skin, the way his five o’clock shadow gently rubbed against your face when you kissed, and how he would hold you(only after a thorough shower together of course)

As it happens more and more, he lets you into his life little by little, and you notice and remember small facts about him and he often remembers a lot of the things you tell him about you, its really enjoyable for both of you

Its weirdly domestic to a point but that’s why its so good for both of you???it adds a bit of spice ??

Sakusa: can you come over tonight

You: sorry the retainer is in already <3 no dick sucking for me tonight <3

Him: I bought pastries from that cafe you like

You: say less✈️ I’m coming💃

AND he HAS jokes okay, like he’s funny as hell and very witty when his true self comes out; but he’s also a HUGE tease and he’ll say something completely straight-faced that someone else might take offense to like “you look ugly,” but you just know he’s kidding from being around him long enough and from seeing the little glint in his dark eyes

It becomes a routine thing while you’re home honestly, and you try your best to hide it from Atsumu because you just KNOW you would never hear the end of it; for all he knows, you met him that one time at the bar and that was that

Everything is going smoothly until you slip up at one of their games

You were sitting in the waiting area with the team (mostly talking to Atsumu), when he just says something that makes your short circuit

Atsumu: what kind of animal do ya think omi would be? An octopus maybe?

You: yeah I mean with those flexible wrists it makes sense

Atsumu: what the fawk🤠

He’s like… how do you even know about his flexible wrists IT TOOK ME 6 MONTHS TO GET TO THAT STAGE WITH HIM-

Oops, lmfao so you kind of tell him about everything and he’s literally shocked for you, mostly because he doesn’t want you to get hurt :(

Atsumu: So I see he’s just sleeping with ANYONE anyone

LMAO noo he definitely thinks you’re too good for him and he kind of lectures you, telling you that he had a hunch that he messes around with girls like that, but also you’re an adult and you can take care of yourself, and it isn’t like it’s a serious thing!!

Meanwhile, Omi is like going through a bit of a crisis all alone because everything around him reminds him of you or something you said when you were together

He got with people who were compatible sexually often, but he never had the urge to have them stay over after the deed; he usually immediately called them an uber and wouldn’t speak to them again

He found himself thinking about seeing you in the stands at his games, wishing you were there to cheer for him only, and he adored the way you respected his boundaries unlike many of his hookups

Atsumu probably notices something is off with him at practice

Atsumu: hey…if ya ever want to talk about somethin’-

Sakusa: no

Girl… he doesn’t disclose any of this to anyone

Its nearing the end of your break, and you head over to sakusa’s for probably the last time before you go back to school

You’re kind of at the point where you don’t think anything will happen and you know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, and it goes how it usually goes? Except he kind of hugs you goodbye and your heart goes: 🦋🦋🦋

You go back to school, occasionally texting Tsumu about your graduate program, and before you know it, like 5 months pass by and you’re back for summer!

Tsumu texts you and is like… sorry but I’m forcing you to be my plus-one tonight for this dinner thing I have to go to

So you dress up and he comes to pick you up, and you’re really not sure why you were surprised to see Kiyoomi sitting at the table when you arrive you give Atsumu a nice smack on the back of the head for not warning you

You sit down at the table after greeting everyone, trying your best to not act awkward when you shoot sakusa a small smile that he returns politely (but you don’t see it because of his mask)

Atsumu sits weirdly close to you the entire dinner with his arm around the back of your chair, and he’s just acting strange in general??? Like he’s bragging about your degree program and about your accomplishments, you just know he’s trying something funny; but you don’t really say anything because you don’t want to disrespect him in front of the team’s staff as a guest

You almost choke on your wine and you catch on when Bokuto starts making comments after Atsumu says something,

Atsumu: …so yeah, pretty much she should be our next president in my humble opinion

Bokuto: 🙈WOAH. WHAT?😍 HOW COULD SHE GET ANY BETTER⁉️🙄 OR HOTTER⁉️💪🏼💋

You, sitting there: 🧍‍♀️

He’s so bad at acting I’m crying..,, it becomes so obvious that they’re trying to make Kiyoomi jealous

(the boys plotted beforehand, trying to get Omi to ask you out officially; after you left, he literally would never shut up about you whenever Atsumu mentioned you, and it was just obvious he was in his feels when it came to you)

Atsumu: she’s studying at a café tonight for finals

Sakusa: Yeah so I’m glad you brought it up, because I’ve been thinking about it for days. Fine I guess I’ll say it. Her favorite coffee blend is French roast and she only likes a dash of sugar with a lot of cream, but it has to be hazelnut creamer or else she doesn’t like any-

Everyone in the gym: 🗿

LMAO ANYWAYS ITS LOWKEY WORKING you look over at him and his face is like stone.. girl..

The dinner is almost over and Atsumu gets up to go to the restroom with a wink I hate him, and you get up to catch a breath of fresh air outside

You sit on a bench for a minute, calming yourself down after the eventful dinner, but then you see the door to the restaurant swing open, Sakusa looking around the corner before spotting you

Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks over and asks if he can join you, inspecting the bench before sitting down, pulling his mask down as well

He eases into a conversation by just asking you how you’re doing, basic stuff, but then in the middle of you going off on a tangent about your stupid professor, he stops you

“I missed you.”

He crosses his legs, not looking at you as he takes your hand, intertwines it with his, and places it in his lap

You gaze at him, taken back at his confession, noticing the slight pinkness tinging his pale cheeks

You say you missed him too, and then he’s asking you if you would like to go on an actual date with him

You: wait are you asking me out officially?

Him: Yes. No I’m not. Yes I am❤️

SKSLD Please he’s awkward help him a little, you agree and then you hear a tap on the window behind you, you turn around to see Tsumu, Bokuto and Adriah behind you with big grins on their faces LMFAO 🤡

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, but you don’t miss the small upturn of the corners of his lips as he hears Bokuto happily scream through the glass

#dont even get me started w this i dont want to look at it anymore ❤️#JUST TAKE IT LMFAOOOO #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu headcanons #hq #sakusa kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader

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bouncingkadachi · 3 years

Text

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts.

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.”

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street.

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?”

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision.

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere.

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.”

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

“Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

#was anyone going to tell me that HR Kyle gets a MIZU BOW #You were just going to withhold this vital piece of information from me?#anyway here's 3k words about the significance of Mizutsune to one (1) boy that I love #I wrote this specifically with my idiot in mind #but asides from the gender and a few other lines I guess you can generalize to any other Rider #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter stories 2 #Annie writes

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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An analysis of Iori and his character arc

Iori has a particularly interesting position in 02′s narrative (and, even more widely so, in perhaps all of both Adventure and 02) in that his base profile is rather unusual-looking even from the get-go -- the youngest child in both groups, yet with a (seemingly) mature demeanor that surpasses even his seniors. On top of that, Iori ends up having a very deep relation to 02′s themes and plot itself in a way that isn’t initially apparent, but actually makes him a very vital centerpiece of 02′s story.

Before we get into Iori’s role in 02′s actual plot, it needs to be established that a very, very large amount of Iori’s character is heavily shaped by his family background and upbringing. Prior to the start of the series, the Hida family had a large void in it, with Iori’s father Hiroki having been killed in the line of duty. Being a mere five-year-old child who had lost his father barely into actually being sentient and basically had to live the following three years going off hearsay on what he was actually like, Iori ends up raised by his mother Fumiko and his paternal grandfather Chikara.

While not in exactly the same way as the Takenouchi family (which is literally working in cultural preservation and study), the Hida family is very traditionalist Japanese -- Fumiko makes traditional Japanese food and snacks like kanpyoumaki and ohagi, and a lot of attention is given to the butsudan altar in their house where they honor the late Hiroki (also note the tatami flooring). That, combined with Chikara’s naturally strict personality, led to Iori being raised with “very strict manners”, and by a set of very firm guidelines on honor, respect, and the like.

Having been raised into this kind of formality, Iori speaks almost exclusively in polite-form Japanese. This happens to initially make him come off a bit like Koushirou -- likely a deliberate parallel, given the Knowledge connection between the two (being the kind of person who admits that you don’t know everything and wants to know more requires a bit of humility, after all). That said, Iori’s way of doing this has some key differences from Koushirou:

Unlike Koushirou, who was largely polite out of an attempt to keep distance from everyone and thus had a streak of being somewhat non-confrontational, Iori is perfectly willing to say harsh or critical things -- in other words, his way of speaking is formal, but it’s not necessarily polite, and in fact Iori is probably the single most passive-aggressive person in this cast. He has absolutely no qualms about dunking on whatever he feels truly deserves the dunking, and he’ll certainly do it with a lot of grace, but he is very capable of being extremely cold when he wants to be.

Koushirou stuck to formality out of detachment and intimidation, to the point that, as per Adventure episodes 38 and 54, he was compulsively unable to bring himself to speak casually unless he forced himself. Iori, on the other hand, often “slips” -- on top of willingly defaulting to casual form whenever he’s talking to himself or (occasionally) to the Digimon (who are outside Japanese levels of propriety), he also has a tendency to start using casual form whenever he gets particularly emotionally compromised. (While it doesn’t quite come off in the translation, the above screenshots from 02 episode 10 are an example of this, with Iori losing his temper at the Kaiser and slipping into casual form -- and a bit of fun foreshadowing, guess who’s the one to successfully calm him down? Takeru. Remember this for later.) In other words, Iori’s formality is not compulsive, but a conscious thing he tries to maintain as he holds himself to high standards, and is unable to completely uphold during times his emotions get the better of him.

Ultimately, Iori may come off as “mature and composed”, but he’s still an impressionable nine-year-old child, who’s effectively parroting the rules his grandfather instilled in him because he sees it as The One and Only Guide to Living Life. In trying to figure out the right thing to do in any situation, Iori ends up constantly trying to fall back on “this is the right way to do things!” and taking it rather badly whenever things start falling outside of the expected pattern. Despite being the one responsible for Iori’s tightly principled life to begin with, even Chikara himself comments that Iori’s not being flexible enough in his thinking in 02 episode 5 -- because it’s not like he’s expecting Iori to be like this, but Iori is simply having a hard time applying these principles practically when he’s working with the limited range of being a nine-year-old child.

And as much as it may be tempting to see Iori as stoic, watching his expressions and way of emoting throughout the series, he does very much have the full range of emotions and curiosity and even cheer of a nine-year-old child -- it’s that he’s just constantly holding himself back for the sake of being principled and well-mannered. This has the unfortunate side effect that Iori is, as the Animation Chronicle calls it, “clumsy at expressing himself as a child”. Because he’s constantly restraining himself like this, he has a hard time expressing himself or letting himself enjoy things in the way a normal child would.

It also goes a long way in explaining why Iori is never seen hanging out with any other peers his age, and is exclusively depicted in the company of either the rest of the 02 group, or his own family. While part of it is simply because (as per Japanese school procedure) he’s too young to be formally enrolled in any clubs, 02 episode 3 goes out of its way to show Iori being left alone in the classroom with only a teacher stuck supervising him, as he tries to force himself to finish his lunch due to his stubborn adherence to principle (even though he seems to hate tomatoes). In other words, it’s heavily implied that Iori’s own behavior ended up isolating him from his peers. Considering that the 02 group is generally made up of kids who are socially displaced in some way, it naturally follows that, despite being significantly older than him, they end up welcoming him into their friend circle and treating him as an equal.

When the series starts, Miyako and Iori seem to have gotten a certain degree of closeness (with Iori as one of the only people Miyako drops honorifics on). It stands to reason that Miyako, being open-minded towards people and rather aggressively friendly, would be willing to befriend her neighbor despite the three-year age gap between them, and so they already seem to have developed a rapport where Miyako’s willing to come over to his place to help work on the Hida family electronics in exchange for food.

So, you know, this and that happens, Iori becomes a Chosen Child, and this is the start of where Iori’s “principles” start coming into conflict with each other. The nature of the Digital World crisis is a no-brainer -- the Kaiser is doing terrible things, and Iori’s just been given the tools to do something about it, and so for him, upholding his principles to do the right thing means proactively doing something about it. But getting involved in this territory war will mean “fighting and hurting other people” (bad) and “hiding things from his family and sacrificing obligations to them” (also bad). Chikara advises him in 02 episode 5 that he still needs to be the one to decide what he wants and needs to do at any given moment, but it’s clear that this is still a new concept for Iori to swallow.

It’s also important that 02 episode 5 is also the episode that introduces Jou, who very much understood the dissonance between “adhering to principles in spite of how practical that may not actually be”, which means the two of them end up bonding over...ditching real-life obligations to come to the Digital World. This bonding happens despite the fact that they have the largest age gap out of any two given kids out of the Adventure and 02 group (Jou is 15, and Iori 9) -- and yet, they’re able to bond over being like-minded like this. And while they come from different contexts, there’s also a parallel drawn between the two on “the importance of personal choice” -- because back in Adventure, Jou’s story involved channeling his desire to help others in a way different from his usual expected path as a doctor or as a Chosen Child, and, likewise, it will be up to Iori to find his own way towards what he thinks is right.

Iori’s “adherence to principles” also needs to be distinguished from Jou’s in that Jou was someone more likely to be stuck to “practical” rules (one might call him Lawful) such as waiting for adults to help them with things, or what to put on eggs. Iori, on the other hand, has self-enforced rules that are far more ideological -- he doesn’t actually care that much about institutionally-enforced rules (note how he has absolutely no issue with sneaking into school with his friends in 02 episode 6) as much as he enforces a moral code on himself about “the right thing to do”. For instance, that he has to show his respect to Jou by formally finishing his introduction, even if it’s clear they know each other by now already.

But, again, it bears repeating: Iori is a nine-year-old child. The rest of the kids respect him enough to not treat him like a younger child -- other than a brief moment of emotional compromise that Daisuke quickly apologized for, the group is never really depicted as paying particular mind or care to the fact that Iori is so much younger than them, and for the most part treat him like an equal. But Iori himself is conscious of this -- after all, it’s why he’s constantly speaking politely to everyone all of the time, but 02 episode 16 also implies he’s very self-conscious about this. The plot of the episode kicks off when Iori momentarily gets caught up in his excitement about potentially getting a new Digimental, and, once things start going south, he starts blaming himself for causing all of this and lashing out at the others for (at least, in his mind) singling him out to be the one to escape on the grounds of being the youngest. After all is said and done with the incident, Submarimon lets Iori have a moment of something Iori really does need: a bit of a chance to actually get to enjoy himself as a young child instead of restraining himself so much.

Speaking of 02 episode 16, this is also where we first get to see how the pressure of maintaining Iori’s moral code starts to emotionally tear at him. It’s the first time we see Iori lose his composure this much. To everyone else here (and, perhaps, the audience, to some degree), Iori’s making a mountain out of a molehill -- he’s calling himself an unworthy person for telling a lie that even Jou himself clearly didn’t mind. But remember, Iori is someone who’s still learning a lot about how the world works at such a young age and is inclined by default to fall back on whatever his grandfather’s told him (to a point that even said grandfather considers to be overdoing it). Right now, Iori has basically built his entire view of morality based on this kind of thing, so putting a dent on it is like encouraging a slippery slope of potentially falling into moral depravity.

The reason why I say Iori’s character arc has a lot to do with Adventure and 02’s storytelling itself is that it’s a surprisingly pragmatic series when it comes down to it -- “it’s okay to lie, sometimes” is not exactly the kind of moral you’d expect out of your average kids’ show, but, perhaps a bit unusually, this series prefers to skip all of the preachiness and focus on pragmatics. (After all, back in Adventure, a lot of the final arc revolved around the question of “is fighting the right thing to do when there might be casualties?”, with the probably-kind-of-uncomfortable-but-frankly-very-practical answer of “it certainly beats having more casualties that would happen if you sat around and did nothing.”) Iori’s character arc is, effectively, this in a nutshell -- what’s the “right” thing to do when following principles alone doesn’t seem to be doing it? In the end, both Adventure and 02 are big on this -- preachy words and moralistic principles mean nothing in the face of striving to practically minimize damage and help others.

And so, Jou -- who himself grappled quite a bit with the dissonance between principles and pragmatism back in Adventure -- is the one to successfully reframe it in a way that Iori understands: most of all, Iori doesn’t want to see people get hurt, and whether “lying” or “not lying” is the right thing to do is not as relevant as “whether people are getting hurt”. Iori not lying would have caused a great deal more of hurt than lying, and it’s through understanding this kind of principle that Iori accepts that he still has a long way to go in terms of exercising his duty to others. The secondary Digimental arcs have a heavy theme of “acknowledging your deficiencies and resolving to improve”, and in the case of Iori and the Digimental of (this thing has been translated half a dozen ways, but, effectively, honoring your obligations to others), it involves his first major moment of coming to terms with the idea that the principles on paper he’s been stubbornly following aren’t going to do it by themselves.

Once the Kaiser arc concludes and the group is posed with the question on how to handle Ichijouji Ken, Iori’s reaction to him is the most infamously extreme: Ken is a Bad Person who is completely beyond forgiveness, and Iori wants nothing to do with him. It probably needs to be made clear that Iori’s stance on not wanting to forgive Ken is not inherently unreasonable. Ken really did some awful, horrible things in the first half of the series, and it is completely within Iori’s rights to decide that he doesn’t want to forgive or like Ken thereafter.

The part where Iori’s behavior starts posing issues is not the part about whether he likes Ken or not, but rather that Iori gets so hung up on that lack of forgiveness that he becomes very bad at observing the practical reality in front of him. Or, in other words, Iori gets so fixated on the principle of what happened in the past that he’s unable to make good judgment calls on what should happen going forward. It is abundantly clear to everyone by (at the latest) 02 episode 26 that Ken is not going to easily lapse back into his old ways and would like to make an effort to repair the damage he caused; regardless of whether they like him or not, it’s in their best interest to cooperate with him and let him help out (and even keep an eye on him to make sure bad things don’t happen again!), especially when the factor of Jogress comes into play and turns out to be a very valuable asset in the fight ahead. But Iori has a a rather squeamish, petty response when he tries to claim that they shouldn’t need Jogress (in the midst of everyone else being excited about the possibilities it poses, even without Ken in the equation) in 02 episode 28, and even when he does go along with everyone working with Ken in 02 episodes 28-29 during the Giga House Incident, he approaches it like he and Ken are bartering favors and that he’ll have to “repay” Ken before he can properly return to pigeonholing Ken as an Unequivocally Bad Person.

And so the issue here is: Iori being so determined to fixate on trying to stuff Ken into a neat box of a Bad Person isn’t good for himself, either, because it basically means he’s going out of his way to run pointless mental loops and maintain the feeling of stewing in a grudge against him, even when it’s helping absolutely nobody. Note the metaphor drawn when Iori practices kendo with Chikara in 02 episode 24 -- he keeps doing the same motion over and over again despite the fact it’s clearly not going anywhere, and Chikara has to warn him that doing nothing but aim for the head isn’t how you’re supposed to do it. Right now, Iori is having a hard time parsing things in ways besides shoving things in neat boxes of black-and-white morality, and this lack of flexibility is severely restricting his ability to be productive.

What starts to really cause Iori to make a major shift in his thinking process is none other than his connection with Takeru, a subplot that had already started kicking off all the way back in 02 episode 19, when Iori witnesses Takeru suddenly taking a violent shift in mood against the Kaiser to the point it scares him. Iori, of course, considers Takeru to be a “good" and “kind person”, but someone like that should (in his mind) logically not be making sudden, violent outbursts like that -- and especially once he starts advocating for BlackWarGreymon to potentially be killed if it comes down to it, going very against Iori’s fundamental principle that killing anything that’s sentient is unforgivably immoral.

This “contradiction” is what leads Iori to realize that he needs to do much more if he wants to understand Takeru properly, and it’s also the start of how Iori grows into the trait of his first Digimental, “Knowledge” -- or, more specifically (as defined by Koushirou in Adventure episode 24 and 02 episode 2), “curiosity and a drive to know more”. In the case of Iori, this manifests in “I want to know more about other people.” It’s Iori effectively understanding that his very limited view of the world and how people work isn’t sufficient in itself, and this concept becomes the crux of his character arc for the rest of the series.

After tussling around and getting increasingly confused about Takeru’s seemingly paradoxical behavior, Iori finally goes directly to Yamato to consult him about it in 02 episode 35, and Yamato explains the backstory behind Takeru’s trauma from losing Angemon back in Adventure episode 13, as well as a reminder that as much as it may have been his own fault, Ken technically went through some pretty similar trauma, and everything that’s happened since his fall from being the Kaiser hasn’t exactly been sunshine and roses for him either. Iori reflects on this as he goes home, with the important statement attached: he understands Takeru’s feelings. He’s now able to understand why Takeru acts the way he does, not on the grounds of principles of what’s right or wrong, but based on the fact that Takeru’s simply a very messy human being who’s not handling his own tendency to suppress his emotions well.

Because Takeru is such a convoluted person, and because Iori’s fundamental issue with approaching things involves unraveling some very deep-seated tendencies in his mentality, the way the two finally connect in order to properly Jogress requires something a lot more convoluted than just happening to clash in a single magical moment like Daisuke and Ken or Miyako and Hikari did. Iori starts off the episode catching himself when he’s about to fall back into “principles over practicality” again -- he starts railing on the others for (in his mind) taking the impending BlackWarGreymon fight too lightly, before Armadimon reminds him that he’s hungry, and Iori realizes -- again -- that he cannot effectively enforce “the right or wrong thing to do” without taking other people’s feelings properly into account. Realizing that this is is a barrier between him and the others, especially Takeru, Iori tries to adjust his thinking pattern and even becomes the one to advocate that everyone get some proper food and rest instead of charging into the fight unprepared.

The meal results in Iori getting yet another rare moment of letting himself truly enjoy something without restraint, and is also followed by Takeru speaking openly to him about their potential Jogress -- openly, honestly, not covering it up, not even with the same light playfulness he would usually put on (including what he had with the very same topic at the beginning of this episode). It is an acknowledgment from Takeru’s own part that he’s been watching what Iori’s doing and also wants to connect, and an open and serious statement from someone who had constantly tried to cover up everything with a smile up until that point, and, with the two reaching an understanding, they finally achieve their Jogress at the end of the episode.

This connection with Takeru, and the understanding that came from it, is what allows Iori to start applying a bit more flexibility towards approaching other situations. 02 episode 38 has him finally accepting Ken’s invitation to his Christmas party, after so many episodes of despising so thoroughly -- because now that he’s taking Ken’s position and feelings into account, he’s able to properly recognize him as someone doing his best to make amends going forward and be friends. Later, in 02 episode 44, despite having originally been the one more staunchly against it on principle, Iori handles the shock of having to kill an enemy with somewhat more grace than Miyako does, because not only had he already started considering the difficulty of fighting an enemy that cannot be reasoned with and wants nothing but wanton destruction (back during the end of 02 episode 29), Takeru is there to remind him that their priority must, first and foremost, be “saving lives” -- like, for instance, the girl in a wheelchair in front of him.

And so, the final episodes of 02 put everything Iori’s learned to the ultimate test, when he learns that the major perpetrator behind it all is none other than a friend of his departed father.

Up until this point, much of Iori’s mentality had been shaped by the rather saintlike image everyone had put up of Hiroki -- it’s almost certain that he must have had his own flaws as a person, but the resistance to speaking ill of the dead, and the generally positive influence he’d had on his friends and family and his untimely death by “protecting someone”, painted him as effectively a perfect, impossible ideal for Iori to strive to. Much of Iori’s justifications for his own behavior had consistently been reliant on “my father said this” or “would my father would have done this?”, such as his reason for forcing down his lunch in 02 episode 3, or using him as a mental model in 02 episode 44. For Iori’s former mentality of “good person” and “bad person”, this is the ultimate contradiction that threatens to rip apart everything Iori had built his own values system on -- that someone so incredible and saintlike and virtuous would be friends with someone so unambiguously doing horrible things like Oikawa. Iori, taking this as an awful emotional blow, parses this with a desperate desire to understand the motive behind why someone would do this, because it’s not enough for him to continue until he does.

And in 02 episode 49, we see Iori effectively forced to confront the fact that he can’t keep relying on the model of his father anymore as the sole basis for his way of life when, in the end, his father will never return. Iori doesn’t even know him that well; he can’t conjure up an image of him talking, or anything beyond just a flat, serene smile. And when the image of his father finally disappears, Iori almost immediately accepts it, as if he’d known the whole time.

It’s also significant that Iori declares that what he’ll do next is introduce Armadimon to his mother -- because, in the end, Iori is at least now capable of “moving forward”. He can’t get his father back, and the best thing he can do is make use of his existing support group and keep pushing forward with the people he does have in his life -- quite the opposite of Oikawa, who responded to the loss of that exact same person by clutching onto the remnants of the past they shared, and never becoming able to move on.

Hence, 02′s finale ends on none other than Iori, and when you think about it, this is actually a pretty unusual position to be in for someone who’s not the lead protagonist (Daisuke) nor the most prominent focus of the story (Ken)! But it’s a testament to just how important Iori is to this narrative on a thematic level -- all of the struggles about the morality of fighting and the disparity between principles and practicality (which dated all the way back to Adventure), and 02′s prominent theme of coping with loss and regrets and figuring out how to best move on, are all tightly entwined with the character arc of this nine-year-old child. (If you want to take the parallel between the Adventure narrative and Iori even further, Iori and Armadimon sharing the same voice actress is possibly one of the most prominent ways of indicating how a Digimon partner is fundamentally meant to express one’s inner self.)

And especially since Iori is the person who should have been the most vehement about having any kind of sympathy or compassion towards Oikawa -- just remember how determined he was to be cold towards Ken only half a series ago! -- and it leaves a strong impression of the huge, huge journey Iori had gone on through this series. Iori’s arc closes on him understanding the nature of what Oikawa had wanted this whole time, and understanding exactly what it meant for him to make that sacrifice right after finally meeting his partner, and ends the story the most emotionally affected by it -- because, after all, that’s the sort of truly kind person Iori is.

Iori after 02

By the time of Spring 2003, when Iori’s had some time to reflect on it, we learn from Iori that he still does not forgive Oikawa. That in itself is fine; remember, Iori is perfectly within his rights to not do so after all that he’s done. However, again, a distinction must be drawn between whether Iori forgives him, and whether he still considers it to be important to understand the mentality behind why Oikawa did what he did, and to reflect meaningfully on that instead of running himself in circles fixating on a grudge. Again, it’s about going forward with what he knows and has, instead of getting fixated on past deeds -- and with that, Iori resolves to “study”.

In The Door to Summer, we also learn that Iori allegedly has a “girlfriend” -- or, at least, someone Daisuke calls his girlfriend (Daisuke is a bit of an unreliable narrator here, given he’s also totally blown Hikari’s “rejection” of his beach hangout offer up as if it were a full-on total rejection of him completely). It is, perhaps, interesting that Daisuke is capable of getting this impression about Iori’s relationship with someone outside the 02 group, given that he’d been rather isolated from his peers all the way back in 02 episode 3...

Iori occupies an interesting position in Kizuna, because we only have one point in time where we got to intimately know him, and that was back when he was only nine years old -- and between that and Kizuna, there is a massive eight-year timeskip. He's 17 now, and we don't get any kind of catch-up period in the middle like we did with Takeru and Hikari in 02, and that is a time period where a lot of changes in demeanor could have happened with him compared to all of the others.

At first glance, it seems that he’s gotten much more stoic -- but this is actually something that should reasonably be expected, because now that he’s a teenager, it stands to reason that he would be much better at actually controlling his emotions and not necessarily get overwhelmed as easily. Plus, it’s not like he’s shown to be completely emotionless throughout the movie; he’s just doing a much more graceful job of holding himself back (look carefully at the credits and you can see him sweatdropping at Armadimon barging in on his practice), and moreover you can still see him deliver some pretty direct bluntness about the ramen in New York. Still with formal language, but nevertheless, no flattery is to be had here; Iori will dunk on you if he thinks you deserve it (even if it’s to do with mediocre ramen).

But there are some other interesting observations -- for one, the official website profile states that he’s actually settled on his future career in law at this point, and has made himself extremely busy in order to do so. (On top of that, he at least seems to be on friendly enough terms with his peers at school that they’re happy to greet him on their way out.) The drama CD indicates that Daisuke considers him the busiest out of the entire 02 group -- yet he and Takeru went out of their way to pick him up from school, because he’s that important to them. (Think about it -- how often do you see university students going this far to go retrieve a high school kid to hang out with them?) And likewise, Iori doesn’t even hesitate to state that he’ll make time for them, and throughout the movie he’s conspicuously seen in his school uniform, implying he really is moving things around to make it happen, because they’re that important to him.

He also engages in the single most chaotic action from this group, which is getting Armadimon to break into Menoa’s lab. It’s not that he’d inherently been against this kind of thing before, especially for something important (recall that he’d been happy to sneak into school for Golden Week with the others back during 02 episode 6), but it does beg the question of where and how he got this information that Armadimon could break electric locks. Perhaps he’s become a bit more, ah, pragmatic of a person since 02...

So, in the end, Iori does become an attorney, and specifically a defense attorney (the Japanese law system does draw the distinction). The person who once wanted to stick people he considered to be doing wrong into a “bad people” box and call it a day eventually came to embrace a career that involves understanding people and advocating for their perspective, or at least bargaining for something other than defaulting to the harshest assumption and a solution that allows all of the parties to best productively move forward.

He also has a daughter, who seems to have been raised to be as well-mannered and formal as he was. But, thankfully, he himself is there to help raise and guide her as she grows up.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #kizuna spoilers #hida iori #iori hida #shihameta

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fandomsnfluff · 3 years

Note

Could I request something with Solomon,Belphie,Satan and Mc? The new story in the event was adorable! ( if that’s too many characters feel free to make any changes, and I don’t really mind whichever scenario <3)

OMG UR SO RIGHT 😭 THE NEW STORY WAS SO FUCKING CUTE I LOVE THIS PROMPT AAAA

twister! (solomon, belphie, satan, & mc)

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

As it turns out, the Devildom had many of its own versions of food and other amenities in the human world. You weren't particularly surprised by this, but figuring out what was familiar to you and not familiar to you proved to be generally pleasant, in some circumstances unpleasant, but usually just surprising.

What came as the biggest surprise to you was that there was, indeed, a Devildom version of the game Twister. It was actually called Devil’s Twist!, but the rules were practically identical to those of Twister. You found this out when Solomon invited you to play a game of it, along with Satan and Belphie, since they happened to be hanging out in the study together when the old sorcerer brought up his idea. Upon arriving, you learned exactly what your suspicions were telling you; it was basically an exact replica of the Twister that you were so fond of. You had memories playing this game with your human world friends as a child, and you were more than happy to indulge in these nostalgic desires with new friends.

As the four of you were getting set up, even more fond memories, but more recently, ran through your mind as you recalled the creative activities you set up with the Little D clones in this very room to try and burn off their energy. Satisfied with the fun they had had, they disappeared, leaving the four of you equally as satisfied but a bit sad that the bratty yet cute young demons had to disappear so soon. You fondly recalled painting along each other’s feet so you could join in the fun, and you smirked to yourself as you recalled their funny reactions to being painted on; it was no secret that they were all indeed very ticklish.

Then you smirked, hoping that they couldn’t see you; that gave you a perfect idea of how to mess with them in the middle of the game. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too mad; after all, it was you, and your were more than happy to bask in their rather gentle treatment of you.

Since the four of you were the only ones in the house, one of you had to reach over and spin the dial to the best of your ability; Solomon was the first one to volunteer, and to make sure it went smooth, his turn was last.

You were the first one up. Right hand on red was your first order, and you placed it on the corner; you were lucky since the red side was facing you. Next up was Satan, whose left foot had to go on green, and finally Belphie’s was left hand on yellow.

Then, when Solomon spun for his first turn, the spinner landed on left foot on red. He smirked at you before reaching over the whole mat to land his foot on the spot right next to where your hand was.

Oh, so that was how he wanted to play it. Luckily for you, you had a trick up your sleeve, and it seemed likely that he would be your first victim.

Since Solomon was no longer facing the board, Satan decided to give the next spin; left foot on blue. It was your turn. You easily swung your body to the side so you could plant your foot on one of the blue spots, the row being easily accessible since it was so close to the red row where your hand was. Solomon’s leg was now pressing into the side of your shoulder; now, more likely than ever, seemed that the sorcerer would be the easiest first target.

Satan’s next turn was relatively easy: right foot on yellow, and Belphie followed with a right foot on blue. The two demon brothers had made a smart move by deciding to move away from each other; Belphie was easily able to swing his body around Satan’s without colliding with his brother as he planted his foot on the blue dot.

Solomon’s next turn was right hand on red, and this put him at the perfect position for your impending attack. He reached over your body so his chest was leaning against your hip, exposing his entire torso to your left hand that had yet to be placed. Belphie let out an amused snort, and as Satan leaned down to spin for your next turn, he commented, “Getting a bit feisty over there already, huh?”

You and Solomon could only laugh. To your relief, your next move was right foot on red. You positioned your foot next to your left so you were now practically sitting upright, your right hand and two feet both planted on the dots on the mat. As Satan spun for his turn, you figured that this was the perfect time to strike. After all, your left hand was free, and it had yet to be designated a position. Smirking to yourself, you reached up and gave Solomon’s side a bit of a tweak, right where his ribs gave way to the soft fleshy part of his waist.

The sorcerer let out a surprised squeak at the sudden contact, and his body lurched away from your prying fingers. You tried to hold back a snort of amusement at his reaction, and judging by the sudden shuffling, you guessed that the brothers heard (and maybe saw) what was up. “MC, don’t do that, that’s cheating,” Belphie commented, but you could hear the laughter in his voice.

But you didn’t plan to stop there just yet. As Belphie was getting set up for his turn, you struck again, this time really pressing in and squeezing at the soft parts of Solomon’s side. He let out a squeal at the contact, and he began to try and squirm away from you, as best he could without losing his position. But you were pretty merciless; the second your fingers found his underarm, it all came crashing down (literally). The sorcerer fell over on top of you, crushing your hand under his armpit to try and halt the sensation, but you still didn’t stop. You continued to playfully tickle him until he was cackling, rolled up in a ball next to you on top of the mat.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Satan told you both, trying his best to sound annoyed, but you could tell that he was at least somewhat amused. “We’ll start another round now.”

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you stood up, offering to be the spinner for the next round. Solomon glared at you as he took his spot on the opposite side of the mat, keeping his distance from you and your tickly fingers. You smirked at him, raising your eyebrows, and he just rolled his eyes before looking away.

As the four of you progressed through the second round, you found yourself becoming quite closely bound with Satan this time. Except he wasn’t quite literally curled around you like Solomon; he had his right foot on yellow while his other foot was on blue, and his two hands were stretched almost all the way to the other end of the mat, on a green and blue dot. You were at the leg end of him, your hands on red and blue dots, and seeing his leg outstretched like that behind him jogged a piece of your memory; the blonde was ridiculously sensitive on his knees. You were in the perfect position to strike. As Solomon was working out his turn, you reached over and lightly scribbled your finger along the back of his knee.

The reaction was instantaneous; Satan didn’t hesitate to completely drop onto his knees, letting out a full-on shriek of alarm. You were about to call out some words of encouragement to him until you realized that he had already lost; his feet had completely come off of the circles that they were on. “Dammit! I should have known you were gonna do that!” he hissed.

“Come on, MC, no more of that,” Solomon reminded you as you all stood up to start a third round. “That’s cheating.”

“But it’s fun,” you responded.

“No more! If you do it again I might just have to punish you. And it won’t be pleasant.”

Part of you wanted to roll your eyes at him, but deep down you knew what he was planning. Then you realized you still had to mess with Belphie, and you shrugged your shoulders and told yourself, fuck it. You had one more target, and if it meant seeing the youngest demon smirk and laugh alongside you, then it’ll surely be worth it.

However, the third round didn’t go quite as you expected. Satan and Solomon both started on one side of the mat, the one opposite of where you were positioned. Quickly, both of them had managed too twist some limb around some part of your body, leaving Belphie out of your reach.

The saving move came when you had to move your right hand from yellow to blue. This closed your exposed chest from either of the sneaky boys crowding you, who may have used that opening to get at your neck or even your armpits. In fact, the new move brought you even closer to Belphie. He was positioned diagonally with his hands on yellow and green, and both of his feet were on blue dots.

Satan took his turn after you, and before you could reach forward and attack Belphie, it was as if he had read your mind and warned you with a verbal, “Don’t.”

You decided to hesitate for a bit, but maybe you waited a bit too long. Belphie’s next move was left foot on yellow, so he pivoted away from you so his body was now parallel with the mat. You had to hide a scoff. But it was your turn next.

The pointer landed on left foot on red, so you stood up to stretch your leg all the way over to the opposite side of the mat. This was a much more comfortable position, but this moved you a bit closer to Belphie. However, he was in a position where his eyes were completely on you, and despite his sleepy nature, it looked as if his gaze were going to stay locked on you to avoid any moves that you were planning to make.

Satan and Solomon made their moves, and it seemed like they were more likely to become tangled with each other than with you, so you decided on moving towards Belphie. His next move was right foot on red, which made him have to move closer to you. Luckily, your next move was right hand on yellow, which put you pretty much up under his chest. You decided to strike again; Belphie wasn’t flexible enough to straighten up so he could get a clear view of you underneath him. As Satan made his next move, you reached your hand up to playfully pinch at the demon’s stomach.

Belphie squealed and began to squirm, attempting to choke his laughter back as you mercilessly tickled him. This one was a lot craftier, and he had attempted to move away from you more often than the others, so you figured it was only fair that you pushed his buttons a little more than the others. You decided to scribble against his sides a bit, but the moment you dug your fingers between his ribs, he came crashing down on top of you.

“MC!” Solomon called. “Do you actually want to play this game, or are you keen on continuing to mess it up for the rest of us?”

You were much too busy tickling Belphie to respond to him. Even though he was practically lying on top of you, you had mapped out his whole torso and were now digging into his armpits, enjoying the squeaky, panicked laughter erupting from his chest. Weakened from the laughter and the squirming, you were able to push him off of you, but when you turned around, you were crowded by an angry demon and an annoyed sorcerer.

“You wanna keep ruining the game for the rest of us?” Satan hissed.

“I thought you liked playing fair,” Solomon added, cracking his knuckles. “Guess not.”

It was as if Belphie guessed what was going on, for he had sat up and wrapped his arms under yours, holding you in place. “You know what you want to do,” the seventh-born drawled, but he wasn’t talking to you. Satan and Solomon exchanged glances, smirking.

Dread filled your whole body, and you (almost) began to regret disrupting the game so many times. “G-Guys...?” you said in a small voice.

But you didn’t have time to protest. For the umpteenth time that day, the whole room was filled with laughter.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me spoilers #anime tickling #ask #anonymous #my posts

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bubble-booty-cuties · 3 years

Text

Gym Selfies~! With A New Star~?

Let me start this by saying that if you’re not a part of my server, or actively anyway, you have literally zero context for this, but just so you know, there was a lot of build up to this!

This prompt is about technically my very first “furry” story, staring Rouge The Bat, obviously from Sonic, sue me~! I love Rouge, always have, she’s thicc and beautiful~! So of course, people finally convinced me to write some lewds about her~! Begone all who do not want, but for those who do, get ready for some thicc, twerking slutty bat~!

Here’s her outfit, for those who are curious, I LOVE this pic~!

_____________________________________

The small but thicc bat babe held the kettle bell with both hands as she faced the mirror, both of her feet planted firmly on the ground as sweat dripped down her thicc, curvy, plump body, her breathing deep but even. Slowly, Rouge lowered her positively fat ass down as low as could go, deep in a squat as her thicc, juicy thighs flexed and sweat dripped down her almost bare cheeks from the extensive work out.

Rouge had been there all morning, very early, as she usually liked, mostly cause there was less people, and those who were there were just as dedicated to their body as she was hers, which was always a treat to see~ And considering she was dressed in her favorite gym outfit, a tight pink and white sportbra that barely held back her massive breasts, showing a deep valley of cleavage, a pair of matching sneakers, and nothing but a pink thong covering her sex, she figured anyone waking up early enough to see her earned a bit of a show~

And a show she was giving~ As her ass got as low as could get, her eyes trailed from her own form in the mirror, music blaring in her ears from her earbuds, and instead found the wandering eyes of the one other person in the gym, a large stud covered in tattoos, semi-long hair pulled back, and definitely ripped~ He wasn’t bulky, he was more lean, like a fighter, and the way sweat dripped down her muscular back and chest was just what she liked~

Raising up from her squat, she saw him stare at her ass, I mean, who wouldn’t, it was quite the sight if she did say so herself, and she could see him practically forget what he was doing when she once again squat her fat ass down low, making sure to arch her back a little, safely, and give him an even nicer view~ He was twice her size, handsome, and looked like he could lift her with one arm~ She had to admit she was a little interested~

“You know, if you take a picture it’ll last longer~” Rouge’s voice cut through the relative silence of the gym, making the much larger man jump just slightly at her low, purring voice, his eyes shooting up from her twin, sweat dripping globes to her beautiful, smirking face looking back at him in the mirror, her large, pretty eyes half lidded before she gave him a little wink. “Or maybe you’re more of a ‘hands on experience’ kind of guy~”

Sadly, life wasn’t a porno, and she knew it’d take more then some heavy handed flirting to have him, say, fuck her over that bench over there, and she was proven right when she made the massive man cough into his hand and look away, obviously taken by surprise by her sudden advance, his slight blush cute on such a handsome stud. That’s okay, she liked when they played hard to get~

And the great thing about gyms~? People never wore clothing made to conceal their body, quite the opposite in fact, so when she saw him try and turn his body slightly away to hide the massive fucking snaking bulge down his shorts pant leg, Rouge knew right away that today was going to be exciting~ But, she wasn’t done with her set, so she continued her squats while listening to music, making sure to act like she didn’t see him turn back around to “secretly” stare at her ass again~

Her muscles burned exactly how she wanted them to, and sweat dripped down her cheeks like she was in a photoshoot. Yeah, she was fucking gorgeous~ What, wasn’t she allowed to love herself~? She obviously wasn’t the only one who thought she looked great considering her new nameless friend had gone back to full on staring as she finally finished her workout.

With a breath of relief, she finally dropped the weight into it’s proper place on the rack and grabbed her phone from her bag, music still playing through her cordless earbuds, checking her messages and changing the song with a towel over her neck. All the while she made sure to keep her back to the stud still watching, slowly rocking and shaking her hips to her music knowing he was enjoying the extra jiggle she was showing~ And she had a lot more planned to convince him to come play~

First it was a selfie, slightly bending at the waist and pushing her breasts up for the camera, a nice pouty face, and showing him her fat ass just a bit more, and the camera of course~ Next came turning her back to the mirror to take a few nice pics from the back, showing off just how those sweaty cheeks swallowed up that little pink thong between them~ Some nice captions about Friday night, and the next stage of her plan was in place~

“Well if you’re not going to take any pictures, maybe you could help me with a few instead~?” Suddenly her big beautiful eyes were on the man once again, who was still surprised, but not as much as last time, and she hooked her finger at him for him to come closer, smirking devilishly at him~ “Or better yet, shoot a video for me real fast, wouldn’t you~? I’m sure you’d make a wonderful camera man, you already seem to focus on my best assets~”

“U-Uh, sure, yeah, I can do that..” Was all he said as he suddenly stood up, walking over slowly as if she wouldn’t notice the massive hard-on damn near knocking his knees down his shorts, worse still since standing up straight he was twice her size, her face literally coming up to said bulge as he finally stood in front of her. “So do I use your phone or..?”

Rouge cocked her wide, sultry hips to the side and put her hand on her left hip, looking at the massive throbbing bulge in front of her face before looking up the man’s cut, tatted body appreciatively, before she seductively smiled up at the man without a hint of shame or hesitation.

“And here I thought a guy twice my size could handle all this, guess size doesn’t matter after all~” She purred as she stepped in close and pushed his hips back, walking him back until he sat on the bench she had her gym bag on, right next to the mirror. “Though I’m sure someone as big as you has never had to deal with that before, have you~?”

“Just calm down big guy, just sit back, relax, and make sure it’s recording before you start staring at my ass~ Again~” Rouge stood between the man’s legs proudly and confidently, her massive, bouncy breasts inches above his bulge as she played some music on her phone and handed it over to him, camera at the ready.

The man was stunned, used to some attention from attractive women, sure, but this thicc little bat had him ready with camera in hand to record her ass and he didn’t even know her name. He was overwhelmed, surprised, and harder then he’d ever been in his entire life. Fuck he loved shortstacks. And the moment she turned away and took a few steps forward to give him a fantastic view of that ass, he pressed the record button and the show began.

With some little leg stretching, Rouge started by gently shaking her fat ass side to side, letting those shiny, sweaty, extra fat globes wobble and jiggle a bit while bending forward at the waist, pressing that ass up and out for the camera. This wasn’t the first time she’d shaken her ass for a camera, and it wouldn’t be the last if she had any say in the matter~

With a little show of flexibility, Rouge grabbed her ankles while wagging her massive, lewd hips side to side, rubbing her hands slowly up her long, smooth legs before grabbing her own knees as the bass of the music dropped, her eager camera man moving the cam in closer, and Rouge decided to get to why she had 100K followers~

With a nice hard drop of the music Rouge looked over her shoulder with a grin and a wink and dropped her ass up and down, twerking those massive, shiny globes of meaty ass, bouncing those twin cheeks to the beat while that tiny little pink thong was swallowed up between those hungry mountains of cake~ Those huge, plump, juicy thighs flexed as she twerked like a whore for the camera, sweat dripped down the warm valley of her ass while the camera caught every detail in 4K, she even blew a nice lewd kiss to the camera while she wiggled her little tail~

Both of those cheeks jiggled and rippled with every move she made, and she decided she wanted a little more energy before she got to the main act~! Suddenly, Rouge dropped that fat, bubbly ass down low to the ground, raising her arms above her head and letting those massive cheeks spread apart with every twerk of her wide, slutty hips, showing that little thong for just a second before her cheeks met together in a nice, loud, meaty clap of flesh on flesh, and she couldn’t help but grin at the way her camera man’s cock throbbed and twitched against his shorts~!

Suddenly she dropped on all fours as began twerking that ass faster, bouncing that ass while she was face down ass up, her wings laid out flat at her sides while the camera focused on her extra curvy body, and just as she kept her upper body down, and lifted her ass up high with her toes planted on the ground, Rouge dropped her ass down, her legs in a deep, perfect split as she threw her bubble booty up and down to the music.

“Still getting this, handsome~?” Rouge looked back at the man who was practically drooling, just to get a dumb nod as he once again adjusted his cock in his pants. “Sigh, do I really have to spell this out for you~?”

With a strong flap of her wings, Rouge was once again standing, or, twerking in a nice squat, throwing that jiggly ass in a circle while she clapped her cheeks for the cam, every single inch of that smooth, creamy skin wobbling in HD on the small screen before she that she had enough foreplay~

With a sudden step up onto some dumbbells, Rouge was the perfect hight to back that booty up and drop it down on the stud’s crotch, pressing those warm, meaty, sweaty cheeks against that massive snaking cock through his clothes before beginning her show once again, twerking those wide, slutty, birthing hips like a pro, grinding and rubbing that cock between the hot valley of her ass while she looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to tell her he doesn’t know what it is she’s asking for~

“Oh fuck-!” The man growled but kept that bouncing bubbly booty in frame as it twerked right up on his cock, so close the camera could see the droplets of sweat as the dripped down her cheeks and thighs, down her lower back, and he just couldn’t resist giving those meaty cheeks a nice hard smack~!

“Hmm, you can do it harder then that~!” Rouge grabbed the man’s thighs and began throwing her ass back for him, knowing that her prey was right in her palm, and all she had to do was make sure he couldn’t get away~

Suddenly, the busty bat babe with the bubbly booty reached back and grabbed the waistband of her new lover’s shorts, yanking his shorts down as quick as she could and letting that massive bitch breaker spring free into the open air, thicker then her wrist and so long and heavy it slapped down with a nice weighty, meaty slap between her sweaty asscheeks, and right across her lower back~!

“Son of a bitch-!” The stud could barely handle the view of his massive, veiny, steaming hot cock between those velvety cheeks, or how huge it looked as it went up her lower back, FUCK he loved shortstacks! And the moment the little bat babe started twerking her ass even harder, sandwiching his cock between those hot, slippery cheeks while she bounced her twin globes of meaty ass, milking each and every inch of his cock in long, rough, jiggly grinding bounces, he damn near snapped there!

“Fuck, you are huge~” Rouge was getting excited, she could feel his cock leaking precum between her asscheeks like a leaky faucet as she bounced and twerked her ass on that pole, knowing he was going to split her in fucking half~! She had half a mind to choke on that cock if she wasn’t so hungry for an ass pounding~!

Suddenly, he felt those massive cheeks clap on his cock over and over again while she grinned evilly back at him, and he could only grit his teeth and resist the urge to throw her phone across the room, only barely remembering to record his own cock trapped between those clapping cheeks as they went up and down his cock before they started clapping on the very tip of his cock.

“What do you say we skip the dinner and flowers and skip right to the anal, huh~? I bet you can’t wait to fuck this fat fucking ass~! Stop holding back and-!” Suddenly Rouge felt the man grab her by the wide hips and heard her phone get thrown into her bag, the music following but still audible, and suddenly she felt her entire world turn around before she was bent over the bench the stud was just sat on, her toes reach hard to find the ground before finally finding purchase, just for her to realize she was quite literally bent over with her ass raised as high into the air as she could get it.

She was just about to make some smart ass comment about handling a lady with care when she felt that massive cock slap down between her cheeks again and right across her lower back, reminding her how big the cock about to stuff her ass really was~ The feeling of the massive stud’s hands grabbing her hips reminded her just how much bigger then her he was as well, and she just knew he was gonna fuck her like a fleshlight~!

“It’s about time, I thought I’d have to start sending smoke signals~” Reaching back, Rouge pulled her thong aside and revealed her tiny, needy little puckered asshole right next to the man’s massive bitchbreaker, covering her own little cunt with her hand and looking back hungrily at him with her best set of ‘fuck me’ eyes~ “When I said anal, I meant it~ You better fuck my ass as hard as you can, I wouldn’t want all this to be for nothing~”

The man didn’t even respond, simply giving that extra fat ass a nice hard smack that left a nice red mark on her smooth skin, and Rouge knew her prey wasn’t getting away now even if he wanted to~

Grabbing the edge of the bench, and giving her ass a few more playful bounces to the music, Rouge held on as best she could as the stud grabbed his massive prick with one hand and lined up that massive tip with her tiny asshole, and she could only grit her teeth in pleasure as she felt his strength behind his hips, where he suddenly slammed that cock tip against her little pucker for all of a second before forcing that cock half way into her tiny, needy, slutty little asshole so hard the entire bench rocked along with her body, but he didn’t stop, he was only halfway in, giving her ass another smack and grabbing both hips, he yanked the slutty little bat bitch back and slammed his hips forward until her ass clapped back onto his waist with as much strength as he could muster.

“FUCK~!!” Rouge couldn’t help the yelp of pleasure as she was suddenly stuffed fuller then she could remember, her ass rippling with that nice meaty clap against his hips, and she could only roll her tongue out and her eyes up as she felt his hefty nuts smack her dripping cunt, and they were just starting. Though starting implied a build up, and there was anything but that~

“GRRR!!!” The man snarled as he suddenly yanked his cock out of the tightest little fuck hole he’d ever felt before slamming back in even harder then the first time, then again, and again, yanking his new fleshlight forward and back to meet his thrusts or yanks out to make his slamming twice as hard, and hard it was as suddenly the entire gym was filled with the wild, frantic, meaty clapping of flesh on flesh as he stuffed that slutty little bat as hard as he fucking couldm slamming and pounding that ass and little asshole like a wild animal while she started screaming and squealing in pure, unbridled pleasure~!

“Y-YES~!! YES~!! YEEESSS~!!! OH FUCK YES~!!” Rouge’s entire fucking world rocked and bounced as she was rammed and railed by the massive, strong, wild beast suddenly rearranging her guts with his massive fucking cock, she could barely hear her own squeals over him clapping her cheeks so hard she knew she’d be sore later~! Her perfectly manicured nails dug into the leather of the bench as she tried to desperately hold on for dear life, her shoes barely finding grip on the ground as they slipped here and there sometimes, and the entire steel and leather bench rocked and knocked against the ground, only adding the sounds of the brutal, vicious buttfucking she was getting~!!

And brutal it was, the man’s pace was like a jackhammer as he railed and fucked the little slutty bat’s asshole like a wild beast, just gritting his teeth in a snarl as he took out all his post workout stress on that fat jiggling, rippling ass, even going so far as to smack that fat ass like a stress toy, clapping those cheeks as fast as he fucking could while his nuts dripped with the bat’s dripping juices, even his abs burned from how hard and fast he was slamming that extra fat and slutty ass~!!

“FUCK MY ASS LIKE THE WHORE I AM~!! USE MY ASSHOLE LIKE A FUCKTOY~!” Rouge could barely tell up from down as her things fell to the ground with a clatter, and she couldn’t give a damn~! Her big, beautiful eyes crossed and rolled up as drool dripped down her chin, teeth grit, and she could only squeal like a buttslut getting her fix, cause in that moment, where her entire world rocked and bounced so hard and fast she could feel the bench under her creak with strain, she knew that’s exactly what she was, a needy buttslut getting her fix~!!

Suddenly, Rouge couldn’t hold on at all, as his already brutal and vicious pace double in intensity, and he brutally and frantically railed that extra fat ass so hard and fast it sounded like a drum from how loud he was clapping his hips against that fat, juicy set of cheeks! She couldn’t hold on, but she didn’t need to as he held onto her hips and used her like a fleshlight while she could only stay bent over to take it~!

When she felt him finally snarl and slam in balls deep one final time, Rouge could only scream so loud she was sure every person outside could hear her pretty voice as he roughly slammed in like he owned her little asshole~! And suddenly, Rouge felt the man blow his extra hot, stringy, thick, bubbly load deep in her asshole while he yanked out half way just to continue slamming in to fuck her through his and her climax~!!

And suddenly, he stopped as his last nut was stuffed deep inside her ass, and all the sound in the room stopped besides their pair of heavy breathing, and the sudden wet pop and lewd sounds of his cum pouring out of the slutty bat’s little gaping backdoor~

And just like that, Rouge was satisfied, and the stud laid down on his back, sweat dripping down their bodies, and both completely tired.

---------------------------------

Water washed down the sultry curves of Rouge’s body, down each and every perfect line of her body while she rinsed the rest of her expensive shampoo out of her hair, sighing in deep, lovely relief as she turned off the hot water and stepped out into the gym washroom, gently drying herself off with a beautiful smile.

And once she was finished drying off, slipping on a pair of little booty shorts and a new sports bra, she was perfectly applying her make up once again, winking in the mirror before looking for her phone in her bag, not spotting it, she snapped her fingers in realization. Stepping out of the locker room, Rouge casually strolled up to the still panting ad sweaty man on his back, just to find her phone on the floor next to the bench she was just railed on.

“Hmm~” Rouge picked up her phone, looked down at the strong, muscular, handsome stud, and reached into her bag to pull out a piece of paper and a pen, writing her phone number on it before dropping it next to him.

“That was fun, don’t you think~? Let’s do this again sometime~ Call me~” And just like that she walked away from the scene of the ‘crime’, a sultry sway in her wide, sexy hips while her ass jiggled with every step, already thinking of what to have for lunch while the stud behind her wondered if he could survive doing that again.

Fuck he loves shortstacks..

77 notes · View notes

yarbz · 3 years

Text

cowardly game of rival — n.jaemin ( f )

synopsis!

━ as the girl’s football team captain, you were used to the endless derogatory taunts, the wolf-whistling, the attempts at romance being boys telling you what they thought of barcelona’s starting XII. na jaemin fell into all those catergories, a detestable flea in your hair. as sworn enemies, there was not even an inkling of romance, and you were convinced that your attraction to him was ONLY physical. weren’t you?

pairing ━ na jaemin x female!reader

word count ━ 6k

genres ━ fluff, rival!au, football!au, comedy, romance, very little of the football game is described in detail.

warnings ━ profanity, football terms, dirty jokes, y/n and jaemin are literally just cowards

( author's note! )

this one came to mind when i thought of how i love female footballers and decided that jaemin would be the idiot in question to chicken out of confessing to their crush by being an ass instead. i really hope you like it !! other notes are sissoko is the name of like three different players and a cracker is slang for a really good goal.

Football.

A sport of creatively insane wits, fancy footwork and incoherent celebrations. Those were all the things you loved about it, along with the ridiculously cute uniform.

It provided you an escape from the man's world, a chance to carve out your own story, free from the shackles of stereotypes. At least, that's what you'd initially thought.

Unfortunately, the boy's football team made it their sole objective in life to demean you. As captain, you took on the strenuous task of refusing to resort to physical violence when a stupid comment about your short length was made or when boys assumed you couldn't tell your Sissoko's apart (you could, quite well actually).

You had taken it as a sign of war, and refused to comment on their pathetic sneers. You did, however, feel as if Na Jaemin made a blood pact or something to be a parasite towards you.

He stood at the cusp of six foot, towering over you like an evergreen beanstalk, cheshire-cat like smile taunting you. Chocolate colour tresses fell over his eyes in straight lines, shielding his forehead.

It's not like you paid attention to his visage, but even you had to admit in your spite that he was attractive. And horribly so.

Today started like every other, going to your locker before heading to your homeroom. Luckily, you'd managed to get there before the freshmen started to pile in. Being a senior had its positives along with its various faults, one of them being the early access you got to the school.

You jammed your key in the lock, flinging open the locker door, making quick work of exchanging your books. In your fast-paced stupor, you didn't notice the figure leaning behind the door. You slammed the door shut, nail catching an patch of skin, scraping it.

"If you wanted me to leave, you could've been less catty." The voice wheedled, throwing a withering glare in your direction. You rolled your eyes, annoyed, arms crossed across your chest.

"Jaemin." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Why are you hiding behind my locker? Are you looking for a death wish?"

He sat up slowly, soothing his reddening nose, suddenly regaining his smile as he leaned closer towards your face. "If I was looking for a death wish, I'd eat whatever food you just stuffed in there."

"Fuck off. Don't see you making any gourmet meals."

"I'm the gourmet meal." He slithered, breath fanning your nose. From this distance, you could see the wonder swimming within his eyes, breath caught in your throat.

Damn, he was too fine.

You tore your gaze from his eyes, "And yet, I don't feel inclined to taste it." He jumped back in surprise, eyes widening, giving you an opening to dash. Chuffed that you left him speechless, you walked towards your next class, resisting the urge to turn back to revel in his awe-struck face.

Jaemin's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, crooked smirk hanging from his lips. He watched you stalk away, cursing underneath his breath softly. You carried a fiery aura around you, burning him with every snarky remark — even though it beat him bruised ghastly lavenders, he could bear to play with fire if it meant you would pay him attention.

You see, Jaemin did not hate you as per say. The 'hate' which you believed in was merely his inability to profess his affections towards you. For lack of a better word, he was a coward.

A dashingly handsome one, but a fragile, chicken-legged coward all the same.

You'd made it to class in record time, ego bared boldly on your shoulders, attracting the curious eyes of your best friends Yangyang and Donghyuck. Both were terrorists in their own right, but you couldn't help loving them all the same. Sure, they came as a dreadful pair, but love had decided to shackle your heart to them.

"What's got you so happy? Jaemin finally drop dead?" Yangyang joked, shifting to make space for you. Headband strapped to the pinnacle of his forehead, he grinned at you from beneath the base of stretchy ebony material.

"No..not yet." You hummed, sad lilt to your tone.

"Awh, didn't kill him yet?" Donghyuck teased, nudging Yangyang in their laughter. "I think it must be love stopping you from committing the crime yourself." You shoved both, peals of laughter tickling your throat at their whines of pain.

"If you don't shut up, I'll be killing you two instead, never mind Jaemin." You snapped. "Love is what I feel when I score a cracker from the halfway line. Seeing Jaemin makes me want to jump out of the nearest window."

"Are you sure it's not just unresolved sexual tension? I, too get antsy when I haven't jacked off—"

"Finish that sentence and you'll have no arms."

"I'm flexible enough to suck myself off." Yangyang mused, "You'll never stop my libido."

"You're disgusting." You and Donghyuck said in sync, swatting his grabby hands from flying at your shoulders. Quite frankly, you didn't want to hear about his freakishly boneless limbs, or his untameable sex drive, nor hear anything about his genitals at all.

"Does that count as self—"

"Yes, it does. Please don't be telling people that I'm your friend, or that you can do that. It's not a little icebreaker."

Friendship with these two had crossed all sorts of personal boundaries you didn't know existed, and it was starting to decompose you, like a rotting piece of cabbage infested by slugs, yet still hanging on for the glimpse of sunlight to regenerate.

Okay, so you were being dramatic. But, that didn't explain their dire need to over share certain aspects of their lives with you.

"Doesn't change the topic at hand —Did you get my pun?" He asked, looking for Donghyuck's reaction.

"I did. Not going to comment on it before she breaks my arms. Just know I enjoyed it very much."

"If I wanted to mess around with Jaemin, I'd put my hand in a beehive. It'd sting less." You snarled, slamming down your books. They winced comically, faces alert as the teacher walked into the class.

Apart from football, you enjoyed learning — how to make things, break things, self defense, people skills, and education fell not too far from that. Classes like biology interested you greatly, which is why you found yourself fully immersed in the process of respiration.

Your mind drifted for a second, thinking back to what he'd said. Was it actually sexual tension? Did you actually bare an emotion other than loathing towards him? Then, you thought of that face and how you'd want to do nothing more than break his pretty little nose—

Yeah. There it was. You were normal after all.

School had come to her daily dreadful end, and you were happily striding into the ladies' changing rooms for football training. Nobody had gotten here yet, luckily.

You glanced over into the full body mirror, tugging at your shorts until they fell just above the bump of your knee, pulling your sock midway at your calf. Lean abs shone underneath the dim light, and you proudly paraded around the room, happy to be alone.

A knock on the door came, and you swung the door open with a feverish excitement. "Who is it?"

"Didn't take me as a bra kinda girl. Was thinking more spandex or a binder." Jaemin seethed, hands on hips, azure jersey hanging off his lithe frame.

"You're insufferable. Why are you here?" You groaned, choosing to ignore his taunt at your breast size. His eyes crinkled into upside down crescents, wandering lower to the dip of your frilly black bra.

"To see my favourite girl, of course." He whistled, eyes still glued to your unmarked expanse of skin. "I think those need a new owner." He pointed towards your chest.

"Preferably one whose face I can stand to look at."

"I'm roaring with laughter." You snarked, voice dripping with sarcasm, making no attempt to cover yourself up. Jaemin was still staring, face flushed a flaming cerise. "You gonna keep staring or are you gonna leave me alone?"

"I'm not staring. Why are you staring at me?" He shot defensively. Your eyes narrowed at him, watching his cheeks darken with every lingering stare.

"You're in the girl's changing room, drooling over two lumps of fat on the body of a girl that you hate. The real inquisition here is your lack of sensibility to stop thirsting after anything with a vagina."

Jaemin stayed silent, eyes boring holes into your full lips, tongue instinctively darting out to wet his own nimble, chapped ones. Rolling your eyes, you lead him to the door, hand clasped against the door handle.

Then, you heard loud footsteps approaching the room, incoherent rambling increasing in clarity. You began to conjure up a plan, wondering how on Earth you'd be able to kick Jaemin out without the girls knowing.

With the shouts of the team gradually getting closer, you panicked, chucking Jaemin into a locker.

"Fine, I'll leave! Lemme out!" He squirmed, trying to come out of the metal confines.

"You can't leave now, they're literally outside. Do you want to be stomped to death by Nike Mercurials?" You hissed, closing the door over, much to his protests.

"Don't wanna die with the last image being your breasts."

"If you survive this, I'll gladly provide you a new image."

He shut up at that, and you straightened, reaching for your jersey in a false calmness. The girls burst in, squeals of various greetings being thrown across the room.

You smiled gently at them, encouraging them to get changed, joining in to laugh at their jokes. The topic kept shifting from manicures to new boots before finally settling on Na Jaemin.

"Cap'n, what's going on with you and Jaemin?" One of the girls asked, batting her eyelashes softly. "A boy on the football team told me that you guys are dating."

Dating..that devil? A sin punishable by death! You repelled all instinct to shudder in disgust, instead choosing to maintain a neutral expression.

"I am absolutely not dating Na Jaemin. He's a despicable little mongrel and I'd rather eat my shoe—"

"Mon bébé chérie, why do you curse me like this?" Jaemin squeezed from the locker, voice like a wounded puppy.

"Did you hear that? I think it was—"

"No! It's my Jaemin impression. Isn't it so good?" You spluttered, voice rising in volume. You were sure that your face was a painful beetroot, breathing crazily as you over-exerted yourself.

"Cap'n, it was so good I almost thought Jaemin was in here with us!" She gushed, hands clasped. "You guys would be so cute together. Even if you don't like him, I think he most definitely has feelings for you."

The rest of the girls joined in at this, shouts of 'you should take a chance!' resounding in the hollow room. You'd already ruled out that as a possibility, chalking it down to his uncontrollable thirst for being a pest. Na Jaemin was your rival, the utter bane of your existence, a rodent that fed on robbing your spirits dry of any positivity.

"He'll get a chance when pigs fly." You muttered, noticing their eyes staring at you inquisitively, as if they knew something you didn't. Awkwardly, you smiled at the girls, ushering them towards the door, scanning the hallway after the last one had skipped out.

Jaemin untangled himself from the locker, straightening his limbs, pulling at his calves in a stretch. You peered over your shoulder, frown deepening at him.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jaemin breathed, walking into your personal bubble. He was way too close. His breath tickled your forehead, eyes dark with something you couldn't decipher.

He felt his heart pound against his chest, resisting the urge to pick the stray hair in your eye to the side. You were looking at him with a confused expression, nose scrunched, eyebrows furrowed. You were going to be the death of him. Devastated, he broke eye contact, feeling all forms of fight seep from his bones.

"You don't like me." You whispered, wincing at the wobble in your voice. "Everyone's just saying that....right?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"No. I want you to say no."

"I can't do that."

"Well, you have to say no. I don't want to hear the rest of your sentence — keep us as just this." You softly yelled, pointing between the pair of you. "Don't change anything."

"Okay. I'll leave, but only because you want me to. But, before I go..you've gotta start being more observant." He sighed, ruffling your hair before making his way out.

"I’m plenty observant. Wouldn’t be a good player if I wasn’t.”

"I’ll see it when I believe it. Oh, and the thing you said about pigs flying..”

“What about it?”

“Renjun’s working on it.”

You laughed heartily, locking the door behind you. So, Jaemin did in fact think of you as his Aphrodite — all those nicknames were genuinely created out of affections. 'Mon bébé chérie' held a lot more emotional weight than it did twenty minutes ago, and you had to breathe before your eyes prickled with saltine tears.

Fresh air hit you like a loaded delivery truck, Mother Nature delicately wiping the tears from your eyes, shaking you with a cold flourish, roaring your cheeks to life. The team had already started their warm-up drills, as opposed to the boys' football team who were cooling down from their jog.

You ran over, tightening your ponytail, shifting into 'Captain' mode. The coach pushed you into the circle, encouraging you to take the reins. "Team, we've been doing nothing but straight work. Let's make this session count before the match tomorrow." You shouted, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline.

The team chanted back, settling into their positions for the first drill — a penalty shoot out. You stepped to the ball, striding back to gain a better angle, socks hugging your knees.

Giving yourself a five second countdown, you charged at the ball, foot pointed, kicking it with a passion that rivalled Lionel Messi. It rolled in the back of the net, flying past Hyejoo, who could barely even process it.

"Still got those fire feet, I see, Cap'n!"

"Lady Luck gave them to me for a reason." You boasted, smugness slapped all over your face.

From the corner of your eye, Jaemin snickered, winking at you when you turned to make eye contact. At least he had the audacity to keep up appearances in front of everyone, even if you had probably made everything awkward.

"My granny could kick better than that, babes!" He boomed from across the pitch, teasing smirk on his lips.

"Your granny lives in a retirement home and still calls on you 'Nana Banana'..it's not very nice to lie." You retorted, eyes narrowed, nearing his hunched form.

"Doesn't mean she can't kick your ass. Granny was a little Aguero back in the day."

"She can't if I'm the Manè, can she?"

"But I'm a Modric. I'll beat your ass, any day, any time." He grinned, leaning in to you. "In any way you want."

You heard blood pumping in your ears, your cheeks filling with immense heat. He grabbed your cheeks softly, grinning even wider when you flushed even warmer, a human sauna. Pushing a lock out of your eyes, he searched your eyes for any sense of rage, face softening at your lack of that emotion.

"Any..way..I want?" You mouthed silently, innuendo catching your attention again as you mulled over the words. "Na Jaemin, you're a dirty boy."

"I think you're the dirty girl." He hummed, saying the next sentence in an octave that made your head spin, quietly enough that only the two of you could hear. "Sauntering around in your little Victoria's Secret bra, cozying up to me without even batting an eyelash or covering up."

"These boobs are mine. I'm allowed to show them to anyone I want."

"So you admit to showing them to me? You admit that you were trying to put on a show for me?" He pressed, purposely craning his neck over you.

"I was trying to change. If you didn't come into the room like a little pervert, you'd never have gotten a visual of these."

"And yet I know how they look now. There's nothing that can erase that image."

"Fuck you, Na Jaemin."

"I think you meant to say fuck me, but I'll allow the slip-up just because I'm so nice." You squirmed under his predatory gaze, heat in your cheeks akin to a fever. "Better get back to training, Cap. Your team's got a match tomorrow."

You hissed at him weakly, choosing to walk away from his provocation, going back to the team, who were all smiling at you with a glint in their eye. By the looks on their faces, they'd definitely taken that exchange as a form of flirting.

Not that you were disputing it, of course.

The coach rounded the girls up, calling them to grab bibs. You relaxed, running over to take the last bib once you'd calmed down. Na Jaemin was a little toe-sucking, filthy mongrel who only knew how to charm his way out of everything — totally not your ideal type or anything.

His penance for being blunt coupled with that honeyed voice was what was throwing you off. Not your physical attraction to him. At least, you hoped so.

The shrill shriek of the whistle behind you shook you out of your mind, bringing your attention back to the practice game. With every shot at the goal, you could see Jaemin taunting you, making kissy faces.

After the first half, you weren't sure if it was real or if you were hallucinating — almost like a mirage, he was wearing that stupid little smirk and there was nothing more you wanted than to slap those lips clean off his face.

Soon enough, you clocked that it wasn't just an illusion, as he'd shifted to the opposite end of the pitch, the other boys from the football team watching from the stands.

They'd started jeering at every pass, exaggerating their reactions, commentary toeing the border of sexual harassment. You volleyed the ball on your foot, battering it into the stands, grinning widely as it hit one of the boys in the face, leaving his nose lopsided.

"If you're gonna be a sexist piece of shit, just fuck off. My team doesn't deserve to hear your brain-dead commentary, nor see your fuck face." You smiled, bite in your voice. "Kindly take the opinion that nobody asked for and shove it up your ass."

Jaemin's eyes twinkled with respect, breath caught in his throat at the dark look in your eyes. He felt his chest warm in adoration, heart doubling in size. "You heard the lady."

"Includes you too, Jaemin. Better get home before Granny Na starts missing her little boy."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fuck off." You said playfully, recovering the ball. He waved you bye, lugging his bag over his shoulder, fixing the collar of his jersey. A beam touched your lips, face lighting up.

Jaemin smirked back at you, taking his leave. He dragged the remnants away with him, leaving the girl's football team alone in the cooling dwindle of Autumn light.

"Nice shorts." A tug.

"Oh? Na Jaemin complimenting me?" You mused in surprise, arms folded across your chest.

"You didn't let me finish." Jaemin whispered, standing on the sidelines of the pitch, pulling at the hem of your shorts. "Ooh, I can see your stubble. Better bring out the razor."

Your jaw tightened, feeling that rush of annoyance fill your veins again. The nerve.

"More stubble than you'll ever grow on that chin."

"At least I'm not a human Sasquatch."

"I've got hair in the right places—" You started, catching the innuendo, glaring at Jaemin's raised eyebrows. "—I know what I meant. Don't be such a dirty boy."

"Say it again. Love the way it rolls off your tongue."

You gaped at him, whole body blowing a fuse, skin reddening at his tone. Sweltering heat danced atop each fingertip, each muscle, making you jolt. His gaze was still glued to your face, relishing the quickly dilating pupils in your eyes.

"I—"

"—Would rather have you speechless after our first time, not for your championship final. When you win, I'll buy you fucking adorable ice cream with the little star sprinkles that you like."

"Going to ignore you on that first statement, but the second one sounds like a motive."

"Win the match, and I'll ask you out. Properly."

You saw his eyes flash with something passionate, flakes of gooey molasses swirling behind the irises. Before you opened your mouth to reply to him, he pleaded silently for you to just take it as it was. "Gimme a chance. Who knows you better than your enemy? Nobody."

"I mean..."

"Only you know that my grandma calls me those corny names or that I see her all the time."

"Or that you lose every game that's not football because you're too lazy to pay attention." You added.

"And I know that you broke a guy's jaw because he was bothering Yangyang." He continued. "And I also know that you know one thing I've never told anyone."

"Ooh, what's that?"

"That I like you."

You looked away from him sheepishly, goosebumps popping up on your skin, and whether it was from the cold or from his words, you didn't know. He was looking down at you tenderly, ruffling your bed of hair, pressing a small, wet kiss to your forehead as the whistle blew.

"Don't play with fire, Na."

"You're more like a carpet burn."

You sighed, defeated. "Fine. I'll give you an answer when we win. If you're playing me, I'll break your arms."

"Okay. Go get 'em, Lady Luck." He smiled, waving you off as you scurried onto the pitch, face glowing under the fluorescent lights. Jaemin felt his chest tighten with pride, jaw aching from all the strenuous smiling.

With that absurdly contented face, you reminded him of a cross between a kid at a carnival and a man about to kill another. Your hair gathered wildly atop your head, a wicked glare painting your face.

This was you at peace, he deduced. Even with the gruesome of expressions, you looked calm. The pitch was truly your home away from home.

Two minutes into the second half saw you being carried off on a stretcher with a torn hamstring. You'd fallen to the grass, no sounds coming from your limp body. Jaemin swore he felt his heart plunge into his ass, and with a frantic flourish, he was coddling your head into his chest.

"Luck, don't die on me. I'm supposed to take you out for ice cream after this, and I stole Renjun's Baskin Robbins loyalty card to cut costs so if we don't go, I'll be getting beat up without having kissed your stupid face." He babbled, slapping your cheeks, scared that you'd genuinely lost your life.

You groaned, rolling slowly in the elastic. "Stop touching my face, I'll get acne." Mildly concussed, you soothed your throbbing headache, registering Jaemin's face looming over you. "Jaemin?"

"Oh, thank God. Thought I'd never see that unruly sparkle in your eyes again."

"Fuck off. My hamstring feels like a fried chicken mukbang and you're talking about my eyes."

"I can't cry before our first date. You'll think I'm a wimp."

"Already think that."

He hit your arm lightly, beaming at your focus on his face, meeting your eyes. You were glaring at him with a kissable pout on your lips, eyebrows furrowed — he wanted to pepper your face in balmy kisses.

The paramedic pushed him away, leading you to the ambulance. You flipped him off, yelling loudly as they wheeled you in, "Make sure you win! Won't forgive you if you don't."

The girl's football team had gathered around the door, all tight-lipped smiles and crumpled faces. They visibly brightened at your declaration, huddling together to recalibrate — the ref blew her whistle to call them back, summoning them back into position.

Yangyang and Donghyuck left the stands, rushing into the ambulance alongside you, closing the door behind them. Jaemin could faintly hear your loud curses, and sighed in relief, knowing that you'd be fine.

With two goals up, the team were at optimum working speed, playing loyally for your honour. Jaemin stood at the sidelines, holding your jacket in his hands as he recorded the match on his phone, wanting to send it to you later.

At 90 minutes, the girl's team had become the winner of the Division One Seoul Inter-district championship, and Jaemin was content. Not because it meant you'd go on that date with him, but because he could feel how much it meant to them.

Everyone around him was cheering madly, chanting and spraying assorted drinks in each other's faces, an infectious joy lingering in his veins. Amongst all the commotion, he'd somehow been pushed into the middle of the team, feeling their gazes boring into his frame.

"You like Cap'n, right?" The brunette said, eyes bright.

"No. I don't like her. She's my rival." Jaemin lied pathetically, trying to escape their judgement.

"Why were you in the locker room then?"

"Damn. How do you know that?"

"Cap'n is horrible at lying, so she's always upfront. She also cannot do an impression so she never attempts it."

"Wow, you guys sure know your stuff. Bet she's glad to have a team like you. I know I'm feeling a little jealous."

"Cut the smooth talk. If you like Cap'n, just be straightforward. She's more innocent than she seems, and can get her heart broken easily."

"Got it." He nodded, "Well...ladies, I have to thank you for the advice."

"No problem, but if you break her heart.." They chorused, "We'll break that pretty little nose." Fifteen studded feet swung at his face, narrowly skimming the bridge of his nose.

He flinched, caught off guard, grin bared. "Now, I definitely got that message. I'll be going to check up on her, what do you want me to say?"

"We've already called her and shown her the trophy, so we have nothing left to say, you, however...take all the time you need."

"Since I have your blessing, am I allowed to—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Keep in your lane."

Jaemin promptly closed his mouth, and bid them a goodbye, dashing into his car towards the hospital, stopping at Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream he promised. He hoped you’d at least be able to eat the sprinkles (the ones you liked were expensive, and if you didn’t eat them, he’d just wasted an extra 2,500 won.)

In the hospital, you were now dressed in a medical gown, surrounded by the two idiots. It smelt like an experiment lab, and the spotless shades of ivory splashed on the walls made you feel a tad bit overwhelmed.

Your leg had already undergone the MRSI scan, and the nurses had told you that you’d definitely tore your hamstring, but surgery would fix it right up along with natural healing.

Of course, all those details lacked in comparison to your team finally winning the trophy you’d worked so hard towards — that excitement numbed the pain considerably.

“We thought you’d somehow died.” Yangyang confessed, grasping your hands in his clammy ones.

“You did.” Donghyuck sneered, pointing at him, continuing when he saw your face change in confusion. “Yang was convinced that you were invincible like Superman or something. He started blubbering about how you could definitely defeat the grim reaper in close contact and that should be enough to steal back your soul or whatever—”

“I’m just never going to ask questions again.”

“Jaemin was on the verge of a breakdown when he saw you fall. Never have I ever seen him run so fast towards a girl.” Donghyuck said, hand on chin in mock thought.

You blushed, remembering your promise about the ice cream and falling back into the bed in distress.

“What’s going on with you? I saw you two all friendly at the sidelines.” Yangyang murmured, eyes squinting in judgement. “Don’t tell me...you guys fucked before the game?”

Suddenly it was too hot in the room. You fanned yourself to cool down, slapping your own cheeks before pulling Yangyang’s ears. “Yeah, because I have the guts to just have my first time in a school setting.” You deadpanned.

“Naughty girl.” Both boys swooned, unable to note your sarcasm.

“Just because my leg is gone doesn’t mean I can’t harm you anymore. I’ll break your kneecaps.”

In the midst of your fight with your best friends, you spotted Jaemin opening the door, wearing that greasy smirk that made butterflies tickle your throat.

“I see a broken leg isn’t enough to stop you, is it?” Jaemin drawled from the door, hands behind his back. “Still threatening people?”

“It’s not threatening if they deserve it.” You mumbled, suddenly shy. Jaemin maintained his distance from you, arm outstretched, ice cream tub in hand. He was looking away from you, faint blush tinting his cheeks, lips squeezed in a puffy ‘o’.

“Not that I remembered or anything, but you did say something about liking these sprinkles.” He said, eyes darting around to focus on anything but you.

“I do...like these sprinkles..how did you know?”

“Everyone calls you star, and you’re cute. It’s your personality in an edible sugar shape.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, forgetting both Donghyuck and Yangyang were seated in the room. It felt like the two of you were just stuck in your own world, glaring at each other like a pair of lovers.

Unfortunately, that moment was cut short by your ungracious best friends, cooing annoyingly. They were squealing like little girls, incomprehensible screams of ‘our girl’s grown up!’ scraping your eardrums.

“Leave me alone!” You whined, face scrunched in discomfort, making futile attempts to push them away. “Jaemin...please get these two off me.”

“Asking your boyfriend to get rid of us? Already?” Yangyang hollered, one of Jaemin’s arms stopping him from jumping on you again.

“He’s not my boyfriend. As of now, he’s the only sensible one who isn’t mauling the girl with a broken leg, and that’s why I’m asking him for help.”

“Should I throw them out?”

“Yes —actually, do whatever. Let them go terrorise someone that isn’t me.”

“Your wish is my command.”

On that, Jaemin escorted both boys outside, shutting the door on them, cutting off the beginning to their long-winded rant with a smile. That left the two of you alone.

Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t stifling but rather a conversation of the mind — you were able to see what he wanted to say by looking into those mocha coloured eyes. You threw the ice cream tub in the bin, reaching for Jaemin’s hands shyly.

He’d sat down beside you on the bed, just staring at you like you were an abstract painting, a mosaic of a splendid array, unable to take his eyes off you. He took your hand warmly, running his fingers over your calloused knuckles, sharing his heat with you.

“Jaemin.” You yawned, head falling onto his shoulder. “I’m saying yes to your date. If I didn’t get injured, you could’ve taken me out today, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. Being with you is enough for me, even if I do want to comment on your horrible tackles during the match.” Jaemin teased, grabbing your hand a little tighter.

“Haha...I’m dying of laughter.”

“Hey! None of that here.”

“Sorry. I’m just happy. My team won our first championship, which we’ve been trying to do for three years, and I feel on top of the world. All those years of boys being absolute dickheads to us about our abilities, trying to put us down have amounted to this moment. I’m at peace right now.”

“Don’t apologise. I should be sorry instead. It was easier to talk to you if I pretended I hated you. I shouldn’t have been like that.”

“I accept your apology. But..I think it was cute you couldn’t tell me you liked me! That’s so endearing.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s my line! Well, you were always attractive to me, even when you were being a dickhead. Now that I think about it, you’re at your hottest when you’re being mean.”

“Is that so?” Jaemin mused, rolling onto his hands, dangling over you, lips eerily close to your own. “Do you want me to treat you mean, keep you keen?”

“Firstly, don’t ever say that again.” You stopped him, hand placed on his chest to push him away lightly. “Secondly, I’ve never had a boyfriend or my first kiss. That means no experience.” You slurred that last part, rushing the words so he wouldn’t be able to hear.

“Cap’n, you’re telling me that I’ll be your first?”

“Not if you don’t ask me out.”

Jaemin sat back beside you, looking up to the ceiling. This was the moment. He took a deep breath, standing up before you, hands rubbing his stomach softly to calm down.

“I wanted to do a real dramatic confession, but I rushed over here in fear that you wouldn’t be able to hit me again, so I’ll have to stick with my speech.” He cheesed, trying to ease himself of his nerves. You laughed, hissing in mock anger when he wore that stupid grin. “I like you. Like a lot. Sometimes, I come to school with a dirty scowl on my face, but then I see your face and start smiling like a love struck fool. You’re someone that I wouldn’t want to lose.”

“Jaemin, you little mongrel. Come here.” You waved him over, arms outstretched in a hug. “Even though I know your ego won’t let you ask me out properly, I would love to be your girlfriend. However, if my heart is broken..I’ll be stoning your car.”

“Thought you were gonna say that you’d break my face.”

“That too.”

He snuggled closer into you, peering up at you with shining eyes, not wanting to move too much to keep you comfortable. You grinned back at him, placing a soft kiss on his head, running a hand through his hair.

That familiar silence returned, and that’s how you fell asleep with Na Jaemin enveloped in your chest. Although you’d broken a leg, Lady Luck seemed to have twiddled her fingers to send you a ‘get well soon’ present, the ever cunning Na Jaemin.

Five months later had you no longer hobbling around on crutches like a hobbit, but walking proud and tall. Jaemin drove you to school (using the excuse of carpooling) and helped you take your books to first period everyday — the alpha male in him winced seeing you attempt any ‘heavy lifting’, and he’d made it a routine.

“Can you fuck off? I can carry this.” You complained, pinching his side. “Just because I see a physio biweekly doesn’t mean I’m about as able-bodied as a monkey.”

“Got the hair to be a monkey.” He snorted.

“Look who’s talking, Mr.Sasquatch. Bigger feet than his prints, you little scoundrel.”

“Big feet means big—”

“Don’t finish that if you wanna keep the body part in question.”

“—heart. Dirty girl.”

You felt the honey pooling in your stomach, kissing his cheek in haste to escape his relentless teasing. He shut up at that, pulling you back to kiss you properly, attracting the attention of everyone in the hallway.

“Get to class.” He announced as he parted from you, enjoying your petulant face. You hit him softly, flipping him off from behind you, blowing him a kiss.

Ah, Na Jaemin. You still hated him. Just a little less this time.

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