#its technically not a reader insert but you know what fuck it

[screampied]

i saw this on my feed and how about sextherapist!sylus and virgin!reader that struggles with making themselves orgasm? you can go from there 🤗

warnings. — ☆ fem! reader, sēx therapist sylus, virgín reader, praise, dirty talk, semi public, first time squírt, fıngering, mdni.

“oh, so you really weren’t kidding���were you, kitten?” sylus hums, feeling you writhe around his lap in anticipation. you’re so up close to him as your back’s facing the opposite way of his chest. in the far distance, you hear a plethora of noises coming outside of his office. meaningless chit chatter from his coworkers, loud stomps echoing down the hall, his annoying fax machine that forevermore continues to spit out those same clicking cries, and so on. you’ve been attending sessions with sylus for quite some time now, and you just needed to know how to orgasm properly. you tried everything and nothing would work. according to you, it was dire and you wanted to know if it was as good as people say. “daydreamin’ again?” he coos huskily, hot breath colliding near the twitching shell of your ear. a veiny hand of his softly trails down your inner thighs, glancing at your slid to the side panties. “ah, look at her. she’s so gorgeous.”

“sylusss,” you hiss out his name, gingerly wrapping your clammy fingers around his broad cuffed wrist. “hurry up.”

the white haired man snickers at your agitation, and once he teasingly ghosts two thick fingers over your throbbing protected entrance—his chest rumbles from wry laughter. “my, you’re so impatient. but fine, fine. spread these pretty legs, let me see what we’re workin’ with.”

right away, you sprawl your legs out even further then before and you hear him whistle.

“what a sight,” he purrs, and your head slumps back against his chest. it was almost half past ten at night and sylus was technically off work. your session ended about an hour ago but you just persisted that you needed one more thing.

an orgasm.

your nostrils smell his musky scent of loud rich leather and sandalwood that’s smothering all over his clothing. he brushes a thumb over the lace fabric of your panties before feeling just how soaked you were. “cute, bet you were soaked like this the entire time we were chattin’, hm?”

“f- fuck,” you swallow, and a plump tip of his finger gradually pulls at the string of your underwear. you remain laid back against his lap, gnawing at the bars of your enclosure.

the two of you were sitting on a fat cushioned sofa that’s dipping inward from the heavy pounds of weight. sylus was slow — painfully slow, he knew what he was doing. he lets out a raspy chortle, hearing your slow needy breaths featuring each exasperated gasp that leaves from your lips. “sylus, please.” you moan through gritted teeth, the wait just becoming unbearable.

sylus shushes you, pressing his soft lips up near the sloping nape of your neck. “there there,” and he talks over your whines before within seconds, a finger slowly inserts its way inside. you gasp, feeling your tummy heave. his finger was long, not only that but it was very very thick. you started to hear your heartbeat dramatically thump through your ears as he continues to speak. “pay attention now, this right here?” and you whimper, feeling his middle finger swirl around inside of your pussy. he taps against a spot that makes you feel almost every nerve shoot your body. “this is the clit, kitten. and this,” and you moan, hearing the sloshing sounds of your own mess fill the room. sylus gradually plugs in another finger - his pointer finger, and it fully extends immediately, reaching a spongy spot. “this is my favorite, your pretty g-spot.”

“s- sylus,” you suck in a frustrated breath, realizing that he had not one but two fingers inside. he’s very gentle regardless . . gentle and undeniably slow. oh, the wait was killing you. with your flapping lashes fluttering back against your hooded eyelids, you couldn’t help but gnaw at your quivering bottom lip. this was so much better than your own fingers. his was far longer and experienced. his plump lips starts to kiss near your neck this time, softly lolling his tongue down your skin, craving more of your sweet taste. “more, f- finger me.”

“yes ma’am,” he jibes, and it takes him a few dreadfully long seconds before he’s finally making haste. the tone of sylus’s voice was so deep that it nearly shakes you to the very core—you feel his exact rough vibrato against you. he hears the irregular changes of your breathing whilst his fingers continue to roam inside of your cunt.

“mhm, there’s about over ten thousand pretty little nerves stored up in here,” and he’s just casually talking over your babbling whines. the tips of his fingers were now already so soaked with your sappy slick. it’s gluing against his digits effortlessly — sweet like honey. your folds were just drooling, and every so often, he pulls his fingers out just to stare at the slippery sloppy mess. “how’s it feel? talk to me, sweet girl.”

as your body resumes to tingle from the circular maneuvers of his two fat digits, you let off a loud moan, peering at your left thigh that’s starting to mercilessly shake. “good—fuck, so good,” you whine, the stimulation making you merely bite down on your tongue. sylus hums in amusement, noticing how your thighs would just fail to stay still—it’s cute, you’re a jittery mess but your hand finds it’s way wrapping around his wrist again. “faster,” you plead, and your eyes nearly roll back once he’s just repeatedly toying with your precious g-spot.

again, and again, and again.

your gummy walls accepted sylus’s fingers freely and it was so snug, your mouth can’t help but start to salivate once you realize you’re coming close. he’s quick, plummeting such inches of just two simple digits in and out of you at such a maddened pace. he’s using his entire wrist, his finger work had your toes curling in awe.

“ah, easy now kitten. just relax and bare around ‘em. there’s no rushing a pretty pussy this sloppy,” and he’s speaking right up against your ear again. if you weren’t throbbing then, you definitely were now. sylus even licks against the edge of your ear, giving it a playful nibble. “c’mooon, give me that orgasm, uh huh. make me proud, sweetie.”

“hngh, s-sylus,” you whimper out loudly, your entire body growing tense. sylus’s free hand creeps toward your tummy, softly caressing against your bare skin that’s loosely tucked underneath your blouse. this was so risky. anyone could just walk in and see you - you and him, but you didn’t care—you didn’t care, especially when you were so close to making a mess all his sofa. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum.”

“let go for me,” he whispers, and his tone was so soothing. it’s almost as if he wasn’t inches deep inside of your swollen pulsating cunt with two thick fingers. in and out, he’s shoving them in and out of you, twisting them around and curling them all throughout your gripping walls. fuck, your toes were scrunched up, feeling such rippling waves surge through you. you were almost positive that if it wasn’t for the help of his hand holding you steady in place against his lap, you’d fall right from his grasp. sylus brings one final kiss toward the back of your collarbone before humming. “atta girl. just give it to me. c’mon, all on my fingers.”

but abruptly, right as you’re coming undone, you feel yourself spraying your translucent slick all on his pumping fingers. a shrieking scream dies from the back of your throat and he finds it oh so cute.

sylus feels you pulsing around him and he grows quiet—you huff out heavy heaving breaths, realizing that you’re squirting. it only lasts for a few seconds but it felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “oh my g- godddd.” you collapse back against his chest, his fingertips delicately plying with your prodding g-spot for just a few seconds longer before he pulls them out. slowly, sylus retracts his digits out of your puffy cunt, watching how it’s now glistening with your honeyed sap.

“aw,” he breaks the silence, hearing your pussy squeal again with numerous squelches as he’s dragging out his two drenched fingers. you’re still so sensitive, it’s like your entire body was burning up with fiery scorching hot heat. it’s intense, your thighs shamelessly try to squeeze themselves shut whilst you’re just rigorously shuddering on his lap. “would you look at thaaaat,” and his arms wrap around you. “such a good girl. although you’ve made quite the mess.”

in the midst of him sweet talking, praising you and all, you’re panting heavily. your sighing chest’s raising up and down as you’re just laid out on his lap, exhausted. as you’re chasing your own scurried breaths, sylus kisses the top back of your head. “again,” you moan, a strain in your voice. despite how your legs were still shivering—you craved more, you wanted to orgasm like that over and over. “t- teach me how to do again.”

“to squirt?” sylus raises a snowy white brow, turning you around to face him. his crimson eyes bore into yours and there’s that same sly smile stretching across his lips once you desperately nod. “hm, alright. but this time, i just might have to teach you with my tongue,” and you feel yourself throb once he’s slowly making you recline yourself back against his velvet-colored settee. “now lie back kitten, doctor’s orders. .”

[pparacxosm]

hunger is ugly

(blue-eyed son 3 !! which, as any third and final installation of a franchise ((back to the future and spiderman withstanding !!!)), is obviously the best one; i’m only half kidding; homeless era!patrick zweig x jaded businesswoman!reader; see parts one and two; tw eggnog; tw coworkers; cw smut but nothing crazy; if you’re seeking closure don’t hold your breath; i’m sick of these two; they clearly don’t know what they want; and i refuse to take blame; tw fitted sheets; tw cocaine talk)

He once told you he couldn’t wear a suit. I couldn’t, he’d said, I’d look ridiculous in a suit. But he cleans up quite nicely, actually.

In fact, he looks good, and you’re not above admitting that. He looks better, actually. Healthier. And he looks handsome in his casual blazer and charcoal linen slacks. Oh God, are you gonna look frumpy beside him?

“I’ve always wanted to go to an office Christmas party,” he says.

You’re on the floor before him, straddling your full length mirror, and all your tumbledown, halfway gutted makeup products are strewn wildly about you.

Your bed, behind you, is a skeleton state, too. When he’d come over, he’d nearly laughed at the fact that you’ve apparently been so busy, your clean bedding is still sitting in a laundry hamper in the corner of the room, and you’ve been sleeping in the inserts on a bare mattress for who knows how long.

Patrick doesn’t pass judgment on the mess in your apartment. He still feels he owes you in some weird, kiss-the-hand-that-fed-you sort of way.

You’re not a slob. You always look put together when you leave the house. You’ve just had to focus on work. You can’t stumble at the finish line. Or… the glass ceiling. Or the penultimate rung on the corporate ladder. Whatever. If you can successfully execute this next product launch, who knows what other doors might open for you. Probably doors in buildings very similar to the one you’re already working in. But that’s nothing to sneeze at. Every morning, you see your reflection in those immaculate windows.

So anyway, it shouldn’t matter. Things just get away from you sometimes.

Patrick’s standing above you pensively reflecting how many undone buttons says Corporate Shindig Eyecandy (Please Give My Date That Promotion) as opposed to Reformed Tennis Heartthrob. His shins are sort of bracketing your hips.

“Well, it’s half an office Christmas party, and half—like—a congratulatory… thing. For Deirdre’s successful proposal,” you murmur, leaning forward, tugging your temple to flatten your eyelid and flick on your liner.

“Aw, what?” he frowns, “Deirdre? We fucking hate Deirdre.”

You laugh. You try not to delude yourself, not to let these moments exist in some flowery vacuum in the eye of your mind, not to ask him to fix your bedding for you. But it’s hard.

Whoever let Sam replace the DJ halfway through the party was either a genius anarchist or too drunk to care.

You know it’s probably the latter. You down the cognacheavy eggnog from your glass and make a disgruntled face. You don’t know what you expected. Shania Twain is belting from the speakers while Sam wiggles his headphones in a dumb, awkward dance.

He’s pretty funny, all things considered, but you’d still like nothing better than to whack him up the head with an ink cartridge.

One of the blousy interns from your department is haplessly flirting with Patrick, pretending he bumped into her and made her plash some eggnog on herself, but she’s trying to be selfaware about it.

“Oh gosh, isn’t this such a cliché: the boss’ plus one wiping a dairybased drink from the subordinate’s—… oh no, I know she’s not technically my boss, but she’s sort of my senior within the company, like on the general corporate ladder, argh, I know, I hate it!”

She could’ve said superior, you think, instead of senior.

You’re feeling too pissy to go and save him from that failed interaction. You turn your back to the crowd and look out of the glossy black windows. That chorus keeps stomping its pointed heels over your fragile nerves.

The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun!

Do you have a little fun? Are you a Good Time? You have to laugh. It’s just a stupid song. But you need the validation.

That’s why Patrick picks the wrong moment to come and talk to you.

“Hey, this chick is chasing me with a napkin around the room.”

You snort. “Not my problem.”

Patrick leans against the buffet, delivering a wry salute when Sam points at him from the DJ booth and winks. “That guy’s something,” Patrick chuckles, “He asked me to sign his dick.”

“Did you?”

Patrick hums like he’s ambivalent and places a large hand on the small of your back. “Would that be good for you, if I did?”

“I’m fun, right?”

You swirl the remains of eggnog in your glass. You ask the question like he’s been holding out some big secret from you.

Patrick blinks. He scoffs in disbelief, but also smirks pointedly at your glass. “You’re asking me?”

You stare at him through the briar lace of your eyelashes. Everyone who’s met him today has had their own lashes drenched in laughter. You hadn’t realised it first. You’d figured those were mutually exclusive things, downandout charm and the breathing room of comfortable success. But no. He’s charming, anyway. It’s just that he’s not haggling for scraps of generosity anymore so much as he’s lapping at the fleeting dregs of likability. And you hate that you notice that, and you hate that you notice him, that you know him, in a sense. Because what are you supposed to do about it?

“Everybody loves you. Just… be objective.”

Patrick still laughs. He rubs his stubble. He should’ve shaved this morning. He thought he was doing something for you, something nice, by coming with you to this thing and wooing everybody’s pants a little tighter, but maybe he’d missed the mark. “You know I can’t be objective.”

“Why not?” You sound petulant, leaning angrily against the buffet. You’re old enough to know what he’s saying, of course. He’s being nice. He’s telling you he thinks you’re fun, that the rest shouldn’t matter, but then he doesn’t need anything. Even when he had nothing. So he wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t notice.

Patrick tilts his head and narrows his eyes in that way he does when he’s vivisecting you, then clears his throat. “You’re drunk.” He laughs again, a little gratuitous. Then, after a while, “I have fun with you. You’re engaging.”

“Engaging?” you echo, frowning. “Seriously? What am I, an essay?”

“No, I just— Jesus, what do you want me to say?”

You clench your jaw. Okay, you are drunk and you’re at this office party from hell and a hard rain’s a-gonna fall, so goddamn it, he will call you fun.

So you get right into his face. You’re good at that, even if you barely reach his shoulder. “Tell me I’m fun, because I am, and you think I am.”

You try to swat his hand away, but his palm stays put, a hot magnet just above your tailbone, and he doesn’t even look like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just that he feels an emptiness in his stomach, depressing but also thrilling. Like taking a hit. Like you’re a little bag of white powder. Beyond the dark windows it starts to snow. He used to do a bit of coke, when everything around him dropped dead and started to rot, and he couldn’t stomach the smell. He doesn’t seem like the poster kid for moderation, but the coke was good, and he didn’t let it be any more than that. In fact, at times, the coke was great. The coke was fun. But he couldn’t live with the coke. You understand? He couldn’t settle down in New England and raise a cat with the coke.

“I don’t think I can win with you,” he murmurs, and, for his part, he at least sounds like he needs to change that.

It’s supposed to be a comfort fuck—and you call it fuck in your head dismissively—but it’s too raw and unknown. You’ve spent so much time in this questionable relationship with existence in his life. In and out. You thought you’d learned him, or at least learned the both of you, but his hands on you, his mouth on you—it’s frightening, finite, foreign. Somehow divorced from this man who, for all his egofueled casual mania, doles out intimacy like free samples.

This is what it feels like to watch him unravel, but it’s not just beggar’s desperation. No, he’s making room for someone else beside him in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

He keeps touching every part of you, frantically, trying to feel all of you, sinking his head between your thighs with a groan of relief, immersing himself in another body. But not just any body, because he keeps mouthing your name. As if to remind you that he is here, and you let him in. Because it matters that it’s you, that someone who knows him is letting him in. He’s humming to himself as you come against his fingers and mouth.

... hunger is ugly... souls are forgotten... I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it...

You like his full weight on you, sinking you into your undressed mattress, trapping you, suffocating you under his bottomless gloom. He has one hand on your thigh. He lifts it at an uncomfortable angle, sinking his cock deeper into you, making it ache. How does he know you like that, anyway? He doesn’t. He noticed.

You want to resent what he’s doing here, which is trying to ‘win with you’. Because he’s been on a winning streak, and you’re not about to spoil that.

And these demeaning, mechanical thoughts probably aren’t reflective of his inner monologue at the moment, but it’s easier to believe he doesn’t respect you than to contend with this whole thing.

You want to tell him, you don’t know what I like, but he starts talking about this tournament. There’s a match in Boston, for real this time. You’re having trouble paying attention.

You fall asleep with him still inside you, head on your chest, and you, crushed comfortably by his weight.  

You wake up before him. He must have rolled off you in the middle of the night. He’s sleeping next to you, one hand stretched towards you, head on the pillow at a strange angle.

You turn away quickly.

You sit on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out, staring at the heap of his cocktail wear on the floor. You feel sore and stupefied. You feel cramps in your muscles. You feel weak in the best and worst way possible. You keep breathing in and out, hoping you’re keeping quiet.

But he wakes up anyway.

You can feel his gentle eyes on the slightly hunched line of your back.

“Hey.”

“Morning,” you mumble, throat dry. Why does it have to be morning? Why does it always have to be morning?

“Come back here,” he says, as if it weren’t morning.

You shake your head softly.

His silence is edifying. It goes on for too long.

“You’re not gonna stay, are you?” you ask, serious and formal, gripping the edge of the mattress. You clench your jaw, body taut.

You can hear him swallow, throat working to get the syllables out.

“I’m not, like… leaving you.”

You close your eyes.

“No, I mean—yeah,” you chuckle miserably. “You’re probably doing the right thing. The best thing for you.”

You feel the tears slide out one by one, and your shoulders shake slightly.

“Please don’t cry.” He’s using that soft and primordially tentative voice he uses with your cat. “I’m not worth it.”

You look over your shoulder at him. “Then why is it so fucking hard to watch you go?”

It’s only recently you’ve started getting angry with him. You used to get grudgingly amused, perhaps vaguely reproachful, but now his stupid face just makes you livid.

His eyes tremble pensively. “I don’t know. But that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You turn your head away, rolling and wiping your eyes at the same time. “I just don’t see how it could work.”

And there’s a door he could open for you. There’s something he could say at this juncture to reassure you, momentarily, that it could. But he can’t bring himself to lie, because he cares about you too much to take a bump of that powder.

He hangs his head and looks at the beautiful line of your back, memorising it.

Then he gets up.

“I’m gonna make coffee, then we can get that fucking fitted sheet on, alright?”

You nod absently. You don’t turn to look at him as he puts on his clothes.

He comes up to you before he leaves. He runs his finger under your chin and lifts it up. There’s a kitten scratch on his cuticle.

You could come watch the match.

But he doesn’t say that. You haven’t seen him play since New Rochelle. “I’ll fill the demon’s bowl. I think she’s starting to like me.”

You laugh, wiping more tears.

Patrick takes that hand, your hand, wet with tears, and brings it to his mouth. He kisses and licks the salt away. He keeps it there for a moment longer than he should. You gently pull away.

You only exhale when he’s gone.

Toby slinks out from behind your mirror, swishing her tail back and forth in contempt.

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, shut up,” you whisper.

[ad0rechuu]

ᝰ MY OH MY. ━━ (029) balloon flowers versus roses

WORD COUNT. 1038

WARNINGS. a little timeskip from last chapter but only a couple days, yelling, arguing, just some pretty serious and mean spirited insulting, i was in really bad mood when i wrote this but let me just say again that this fictional and i know yj is better than this :]

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

SUNWOO WAS NEVER the target of the bet nor did he create it. Honestly speaking, it was never his issue at all.

Yet as he walked out of the familiar elevator, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders since the last time he'd stood in that very same spot.

The bet wasn’t technically his issue. Neither was your relationship with Yeonjun. But he could not have helped but insert himself in the very middle of it. It came down to the most important person in his life. What was he supposed to do?

Not many friends, especially best friends, would be this overjoyed that their dearest friend's relationship ended. Sunwoo, however, wasn’t like most friends. Because if it was up to him, he would lose the title of being solely your best friend as soon as humanly possible.

A smile took over his face as he turned the corner, his eyes fondly looking down at a bouquet of flowers— the very same flowers you got him too.

He hadn’t brought the balloon flowers in for any particular reason (even if he spent a greater part of the night researching the best florists near him). At first, confessing to you was on his mind. But eventually, he decided that after just coming out of a relationship like the one you had, maybe getting into another one right away wasn’t on most people’s wishlist.

And giving flowers with such a romantic meaning as a congratulatory gift for a breakup wasn’t ideal either.

So he decided that the fact that they might make you smile was enough reason for him. His own smile grew imagining your face already.

He looked up in front of him. A familiar figure making its way up to your door caught his attention.

As quick as his smile had grown, it dropped instantaneously, seeing the other visitor raise his fist to knock, roses in his free hand.

“Don’t!” Sunwoo exclaimed, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, rolling his eyes as recognition settled in.

Yeonjun straightened his back and sent a quick glance at the door before eventually facing the other man. Sunwoo walked towards him with an unreadable but dark expression on his features.

The former only chuckled, pushing his hand through his hair.

“Kim Sunwoo! Don’t you have a knack for always showing up on time to ruin the moment?”

The black, curly-haired boy move one step closer.

“I’m serious. Don’t knock. Don’t show up in front of her. Don’t attempt to get her back for the sake of a stupid bet. Don’t do that her.”

“Who are you to tell me what to do? You don’t know anything.” Yeonjun scoffed, crossing his arms.

Sunwoo paused for a few seconds, clearly in thought. He then reached into his pocket.

“Is it because of the money that you keep doing this? I was always under the impression that you were more than well off, but if you really need the money, I’ll give you everything I have. If it means you’ll stop hurting her and leave her life forever.” He said, looking down at the wallet before offering it to Yeonjun.

His expression changed from annoyance to pure anger. He roughly pushed Sunwoo’s hand down, speaking with the same rough caliber.

“Like I said, you don’t know anything. Stop talking like you do.” His hand came up to his beautifully sculpted face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about the fucking money man. I really do love her!”

“Yeah, right! How can you say that? I mean, you have done nothing but lie, cheat, and use her! You don’t love her. You just don’t want to lose the power you have over her!” Stepping even closer, the boy holding purple flowers now also raised his voice. “I bet you don’t even know what love is to her!”

“Oh, and you do?”

“Yes! Yes, I do! Better than you ever will.”

Both of their voices bounced off the walls. In any other context, Sunwoo would be worried about getting scolded for possibly disturbing your neighbors. But he was too busy shooting an icy glare at the boy in front of him.

As Yeonjun looked away first, a part of Sunwoo wanted to celebrate the tiny victory internally. But a sarcastic laugh took his attention.

“You think you know everything just because of your silly little crush on her, don’t you?”

“What?” Sunwoo’s eyes widened, blinking a few times as if it would make sure he heard him correctly.

“You thought I didn’t know? Ha! Everyone knows. I mean, you follow her around like a lost dog. She probably does as well.” Yeonjun smirked, at the shock at the other one’s face.

Balling his fist, he tried to recollect himself and attempted to ignore the implications of his words the best he could.

“N-None of your relationship was even real ever since the second bet! Despite that, I can give her the love you weren’t able nor deserve to give her. I truly love her!”

“None of it was real. Yet she was kissing my lips. She was going on dates with me. Despite everything, she still chose me, and she will again.” He clenched his jaw, spitting words like venom, made to burn deeply. Normally, Yeonjun wouldn’t go this far but anger took over after Sunwoo’s confirmation in form of a confession of what he knew already deep down. “But even if she doesn’t, did you truly think that you had any semblance of a chance, ever?”

“She’s never ever going to see you that way and you are never going to be worthy of her. You’ll be nothing but her friend until she inevitably gets tired of you and ditches you.”

This time, Yeonjun was the one who stepped closer, tongue as sharp as an arrow, not even stopping at the obvious nauseating heart break on Sunwoo’s face.

“Because you two are simply not on the same level like me and her are, she’ll never love you.”

Before Sunwoo get a word in, the two boys heard the door creak open, making both of them look up at the figure standing in the doorway.

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NOTES. hehehhehehehhehehehehhehehehehhehehehe

make sure to participate the ask them anything event, it’s very important to me : it’s okay if you already send an ask tho, feel free to ask as many questions as you desire whenever you think of one

TAGLIST. @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @starryunho @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @felixsramen @aapplepii @juhakutie @gyumibear @alixnsuperstxr @atinyinateezverse @nyukyusnz @ghstzzn @blueresides @shakalakaboomboo @haechology @ahnneyong @atinycafe @i-luvsang @nasangel @asherthehimbo @marvelahsobx @blue-rainydays @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @evilsailorsenshi @allisonleannn @sunkitti @koizekomi @ms-no1kpopstan @marsvillee @tubatu-wari-wari @jazminethecreator @mitchko11 @daegale @wonwootakemyheart @ksywoo @dearly-somber @hxnnibxns @luvvsnae

[drinkingcoffee-inthedark]

unrequited

warning(s): implied smut, angst

pairing(s): Azriel x Reader, Lucien x Reader

word count: 676

this may come a series depending on response. idk yet. maybe become reader insert or i may just name the character. literally no clue where this is going 😅

Azriel held her in his arms tightly, her back pressed against his front. The scent of their mixed arousal still hung heavy in the air, even though she’d already been asleep for over an hour now. The Shadowsinger couldn’t give himself over to his desire to sleep; not yet. He wanted to enjoy this while he could. He knew she wouldn’t be there when he woke up.

He held his scarred hand flat, just underneath her breasts, feeling the steady rhythm of her breaths. She was so peaceful like this. Such a rare occurrence during their missions. She was one of his spies. Technically his subordinate, which should feel wrong. But it didn’t.

It made it even worse for Azriel when his mating bond with Gwyn snapped months ago. But he didn’t know why that didn’t override all of his senses; why it didn’t consume him the way the female in his arms did. Gwyn didn’t feel the bond yet, but he still felt a little bit guilty having another female in his bed when he finally found his mate.

It was just sex. That’s what they’d agreed upon. They were friends with benefits, nothing more. That was punctuated by the fact that Azriel knew she found herself in Lucien’s bed almost as much as his own. It started just as soon as Elain had rejected the bond with the redhead. He’d asked her why she’d bedded Lucien once before. That conversation ended in an argument.

“His heart is broken. I just want to make him feel better,” she told him, “It’s none of your business who I sleep with.” Because that’s what she was good at. Making the people around her feel good. And she was right. He had no claim to her.

Azriel was furious with that answer. Furious at her. She broke his own heart over and over, and yet, she seemed to care about Lucien’s. Maybe she thought the brooding Shadowsinger didn’t have one. And maybe he didn’t with the way he spat back at her.

“Maybe you’re just taking advantage of his heartbreak to get what you want.”

Her eyes welled with tears and she hastily put her clothes back on.

“Fuck you, Azriel,” she whispered, deathly quiet as she slipped from his room. They didn’t talk for a week after that. He sent a shadow to follow her the whole week. It followed her to Lucien’s apartment three days that week.

The shadow reported back to its master with more detail than he wanted. The way she tipped her head back and laughed at his clever quips. The way his hand rubbed her shoulder gently, and his soft comforting words when she told him about her fight with Azriel.

Lucien assured her that he wanted her too. That she didn’t take advantage of him. His shadows told him all about how she climbed on Lucien’s lap after that and rode him right there on the couch; told him how she threw her head back and screamed his name when she came. The toe-curling ecstasy the redhead sent her into. She cooked him dinner that night, in his quaint little kitchen. His shadows told him that she stayed the night. Something she never did with himself.

Azriel hated the Emissary for being the one to soothe the wounds that he caused. He hated himself more for causing them in the first place. He hated that it was Lucien making her scream in pleasure. Most of all, he hated that she talked with -she laughed- with him. Hated that she spent the night with Lucien’s arms around her.

Azriel sighed deeply, finally closing his eyes. He couldn’t keep them open any longer. He was already well into his deep sleep when the beautiful female in his arms slid out of her bed and redressed.

She stood in the doorway, watching his peaceful slumber. He snored softly, making her smile. When a hint of the sun started peeking through the curtains, she reluctantly turned on her heel and headed towards her own room.

[maladaptive-day-dreams]

Wet Dream

Eddie x fem!reader, smut 18+, 2.8k words Inspired by these lyrics from Wet Dream by Wet Leg: What makes you think you're good enough / To think about me when you're touching yourself?

CW: mutual masturbation, sub!Eddie and then not so subby Eddie(so technically switch!eddie?), praise, enemies to lovers vibes, hate sex (unprotected p in v, wrap it up kiddos)

here ya go ya filthy animals (me included bc I wrote this and am feelin a lil depraved rn)

Eddie Tags: @eddiemunsonfuxks

You and Eddie Munson have had a rivalry since he started at Hawkins Elementary in 5th grade. Neither of you are sure how it started or why but both of you were always so annoyed with each other whenever you were in the same room with each other—so much so that the Principle was on a first name basis with your parents and Eddie’s Uncle Wayne, and they were on a first name basis with each other.

You won’t deny that Eddie is hot. You even agree to it when your girlfriends all fawn over him and his hair and his voice and his waist and his hands, god his hands. But you only ever admitted to you slight attraction to Eddie in the secrecy of girl’s night—and all your gal pals know not to say a word about it to anyone.

And then, Eddie started dealing drugs once you both started High School and Reefer Rick stopped selling to you and other high schoolers since he had an inside guy now. Taking away your go to dealer gave you a new reason to dislike Eddie. Now your attraction was annoyance and while picturing his lithe body and rough hands had definitely become a part of your ‘self care’ routine, just the thought of him soured your mood.

Your friend Paul was happy to be your little deal mule once you offered to throw in an extra $20 for his ‘services’ though. But then Paul got a lil greedy and only gave you half of your order the last two times you asked him to get you weed from Eddie. You obviously gave him a lil knockabout that might’ve resulted in a black eye and a busted lip, and you having to get your weed yourself now.

So that’s why you’re here. Pounding on Eddie’s trailer door at 11pm on a Friday night after you worked up the guts to get your own weed since you smoked your last mini joint—your attempt at making your last ounce last—yesterday night. But Eddie won’t open the fucking door.

“Eddie!” you berate through the door as you knock again.

No answer.

“Stupid, fucking asshole, he probably won’t open the door because it’s me. What a dick,” you mutter under your breath. “Paul mentioned a key somewhere on the porch for in case Eddie was asleep or in the bathroom or something when he came by. But where the fuck did he say it was?”

You lift up the doormat, nothing. Check in the mailbox by the door, nothing. Raise up one plant, nothing, next plant, nothing. The only thing left is a giant stone that looks way too heavy, but as you go to lift it it comes right up.

“Styrofoam with a wood insert for weight. Clever,” you laugh as you remove the key from its spot under the fake rock.

You knock three times again before giving a warning, “Eddie I’m coming in! You’ve got 20 seconds to put away any porn magazines!”

Putting the key in the handle, you turn it until theres a click and open the door. Stepping inside, you notice that it’s surprisingly clean compared to what you thought Eddie’s place would be like. You walk further inside and drop the key on the table by the door. Shoving your hands in your jean jacket pockets you call out again.

“Eddie? I know you’re here, your van is parked outside.”

You don’t get a response but you do hear noises coming from a room down the hall. Curious, you move towards it. The giant DIO poster on the door obviously means it’s Eddie’s room, but you could also tell because the door was cracked just enough for you to see Eddie face twisted up in concentration, forehead a little slick with sweat.

Realizing what he’s probably doing, you turn around quickly and start to step away and towards the front door but you stop dead in your tracks because Eddie just moaned your name.

“Y/N, fuck me, yes.” His voice was rougher than usual, laced with lust. You squeeze your thighs together, because even though you despise him that was fucking hot as hell to hear. But then you remember that you despise him and instead of walk away you swing open his door and ask a very hard and very surprised Eddie a question.

“What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself?”

Eddie’s eyes are wide as he removes his hands from his hard dick and quickly tries to cover himself with a blanket.

“Fuck! Y/N what the fuck are you doing here?” He asks frantically.

“I came to get weed because I ran out and can’t trust Paul to give me what I pay for anymore.”

“You could’ve fucking knocked!” he yells in annoyance.

“I did! A lot! For like 10 minutes straight! It’s not my fault you were horny and too busy thinking about me to stop touching your cock and come sell me an ounce of weed!” Your chest rises up and down quickly after your outburst. “And again, Eddie. What makes you think you’re good enough to think about me when you’re touching yourself, huh?”

Eddie shrinks beneath your domineering gaze, trying to curl away from you. “I–“

“Ah ah ah,” you tsk, shifting closer to the edge of his bed. “Look at me, and answer my question.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours and you can tell he’s a little subby baby, which brings a smile to your face.

“I–I’m sorry. I just, I won’t, I–“

“Why are you such a nervous lil boy, Eds? Do you think I’m mad at you?”

Eddie looks at you slightly confused, “you’re not mad?”

“Oh no baby, I’m not mad. I’m just surprised, and a little upset you didn’t ask for permission first.” His eyes go wide as you toe off your shoes and sit in front of him on his bed.

“‘m sorry,” he whimpers, bowing his head. “Can I?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you say, running a hand up his bare leg towards the blanket bundled on his lap. “Do you think you deserve to imagine me sucking you off when you rub yourself?”

His leg twitches under your soft touch and you can see his lower stomach muscles tighten at your dirty question.

“Tell me, Eddie baby, do you think of my mouth on your cock or my pussy?”

He groans and bucks his hips into the blanket slightly, muttering a silent apology.

“Answer me.”

“Both,” he gasps as your hand finds its way under the blanket, fingertips brushing his balls.

“Good boy,” you praise and Eddie whines. “I think I’ll let you finish fucking your hand.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide again, big brown eyes searching your face for a lie.

“But,” you pause. “You have to follow my directions, and look at me the whole time. Ok?”

He nods silently and eagerly.

“Words, Eddie. Gimmie your words.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. Now take off the blanket and let me see you.”

Eddie’s hand reaches for the blanket covering himself and removes it slowly, dick jumping as he does.

“Fuck, your cock is so pretty Eds,” you say shifting a pillow behind you so you can sit comfortably, legs criss crossed. “You wanna touch yourself?”

“Please.”

“Ok, go ahead and stroke yourself, but keep it slow. Don’t want you cumming too soon.”

He does as you say, his dominant hand coming to grip himself at the base of his dick and slowly bringing it to the tip. He repeats the motion three times, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Good, now squeeze at the top this time.”

He does, and lets out the deepest groan you’ve heard from him yet. It grows from the center of his chest and releases as he squeezes his sensitive tip. You shift your hips at the sound, slightly grinding yourself on his bed. His eyes flick to your center as you do so and you decide in that moment to give him some fodder for his imagination. His eyes follow your hands as you reach down to rub yourself over your jean shorts, your strokes matching Eddie’s speed.

“Slow down baby,” you say as you unbutton your shorts and pull the zipper down. He doesn’t follow your directions and instead moves a little faster, so you halt your own movements. “Hey, Eddie, eyes up here.”

His eyes flick up immediately to meet yours. “Good boy. Slow down.” He nods and does as he’s told.

“Eye’s up still okay?” you half say, half ask. Once you’re certain he won’t look away, you resume your movements, placing your feet on the bed and lifting your hips to remove your shorts and panties. Settling back into the pillows with your legs butterflied to make sure Eddie can see you, you nod at him, allowing him to watch your hands as they trail down your clothed stomach to your mound.

You lightly trail your pointer and ring fingers down your lips, and run your middle finger through your slit on the upward stroke, Eddie sighing at the sight and sound of your arousal. You tease and circle your clit a few times before giving him his next instruction.

“Play with your balls while you watch me.”

Eddie’s free hand that was previously strangling the sheets to his side reaches below his dick to play with his heavy sack. The two of you stay like this for a few minutes, watching each other intently. Eddie touching and teasing and squeezing his balls while you circle and pinch your clit, working yourself into a heady haze, the coil in your belly starting to tighten.

“Ok baby. Stroke yourself to my rhythm,” you gasp shifting your fingers from your clit to your entrance. You circle yourself once, twice, before inserting a finger.

“Fuck,” Eddie mutters at the sight of you fingering yourself. His hand resumes it’s place on his throbbing cock. You match each other’s pacing, Eddie fucking his hand as fast as you ride your own.

Both of you are panting as you watch each other, Eddie’s eyes glued to where your fingers disappear into your cunt, and yours glued to the rough fuck of Eddie’s hand on his dick. “I–fuck–I’m close baby. Are you almost there? Are you ready to let go?”

Eddie can’t talk, his hazy desire covers him in want, but his eyes meet yours, his mouth dropped open in a moan. “Let go, Eds.”

He does, covering his stomach in his release as the coil in your stomach snaps and you coat your hand with your own release. Your moans echo through the room, paired with the wet sounds of you finger fucking yourself through your orgasm, Eddie’s eyes still glued to your glistening cunt.

“Fuck,” you say, pulling your fingers from your pussy and wiping them on Eddie’s now very dirty comforter. A sigh falls from your lips as you smile at Eddie.

“I want to be in you so badly,” he admits in his post-nut haze.

“Is that so?” you tease, shifting your legs behind you and getting up on your knees. “Wanna feel my pretty pussy on your cock? Squeezing you so good?”

“I fucking hate you,” he laughs as his dick begins to harden again.

“Mmm but you were such a good boy just a few minutes ago. Doing as your told? Such an obedient baby.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to yours as you crawl closer to him on the bed.

“I wouldn’t mind riding your pretty cock,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hover just over his dick, hands braced on his bare chest, and you can feel the heat of it on your pussy as you slowly lower yourself onto him, running your wet cunt over him. He hisses as his tip catches your hole.

“Just fucking ride me already, Y/N. Stop fucking teasing,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What happened to my nice boy that was just begging for permission to think about me while he touched himself?”

“He came. And now he wants to fuck you.”

“Ah what a real gentleman. This is why I don’t like you,” you spit out, rubbing yourself over his cock again to rile him up.

“You don’t have to like me to ride me,” he smirks up at you.

“Yeah but I don’t know if I want to give it to you now. I kind of want to make you beg—oh fuck.”

Eddie didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your hips and slammed up into you, knocking the air from your lungs in a throaty moan.

“Not so hot when you’re not in control huh?” he teases. Smiling up at you as he fucks up into you. You move your hands from his chest to his thighs behind you, and start to bounce on his hard cock.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re so fucking big,” you gasp as his mushroom tip hits your g-spot with every bounce. Eddie’s hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave a bruise.

“Yeah? Do I feel good?”

“Shut up.”

“Awe but I wanted another compliment,” he laughs as one hand leaves your hip to find your clit. He rubs circles around the engorged bud and lets you ride him at your own pace now.

“I still despise you Munson.”

“Feeling is still mutual, Y/L/N. We’ll just fuck and go back to hating each other. No big deal.”

Your thighs begin to burn and your movements slow. Eddie notices and lifts you up and off of his cock.

“What are you–?”

He flips you on to all fours and kneels behind you, lining himself up and entering you again, slowly this time. You squeeze around him once he’s buried to the hilt, and then he’s pounding into you at a relentless pace. His body engulfs yours as he leans over you, hand pushing your upper back into the bed as he continues to bottom out with every thrust into your wet pussy.

The sounds in the room are animalistic. The squelching from his dick moving in and out of your cunt, your moans muffled in the comforter, Eddie’s hot and heavy breath coming out in puffs on your shoulder. He leans back up, wrapping one hand in your hair to bring you up with him. Untangling his hand from your hair he wraps it around your stomach to keep your back to his chest while his other hand reaches down to give attention to your clit again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you pant out, coil in your belly tightening again. “I’m so close.”

“Yeah,” he laughs teasingly. “I can tell, your cunt is gripping me so hard right now.”

“Shut it, Munson, and make me cum.”

“Fuck, fine, but god knows I’ll bust as soon as you do so where do you want me?”

“Inside, I’m on the pill and impatient.”

“Shit,” he mutters into your neck. Eddie puts more pressure on your clit as his thrusts become sloppier. “Cum, come on, let go.”

And you do. You both do. As soon as Eddie feels your release cover his cock, his release coats your walls. He ruts up into you a few more times before pulling out of your warm, wet cunt and leaning back on his headboard. “Never took you for a domme-type, Y/N.”

“Never took you for a hard switch. I definitely prefer you as the sweet little obedient sub from earlier though.”

“Not a word of that to anyone, okay. I’m the dom with most hookups, you just caught me in the moment.”

“You really think I’d admit to people that we fucked?” You reach for and grab your panties and shorts before sliding off the bed to slip them on. “I can’t let people know I caved,” you laugh. “So, how much for an ounce?”

Eddie laughs, “not gonna lie, I forgot that’s why you were here.”

“How much for an ounce, Munson,” you sigh slipping your shoes back on.

“Why do you want so much?”

“The fewer times I have to see you outside of school the better.”

Eddie feigns heartbreak, “ouch, Y/N, that hurts.” He pouts as he reaches into his bedside table and pulls out a bag of weed. “I’ll do it for $80. We can call it the Wet Dick Discount.”

“This is another reason why I don’t like you,” you mutter, handing him the money.

“Listen, I got off, you got off, I got money, you got your weed. I think it was a solid interaction.”

“Yeah well, don’t expect it to happen again.”

“Have $160 next time then. Or plan to see me a little more often in your free time.”

…it definitely happened again…a few times…of course the Wet Dick Discount was only ever given to you…

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Hi there

I know you said you don’t do requests and I suppose this isn’t technically a request but I’ve been wondering if you’d ever write something with Ivan Drago and a female reader who’s insecure about her body (this is kind of a self insert ngl). Like, how would he act? Would he constantly assure her that she’s pretty and would he pay special attention to certain parts of her body she doesn’t like during lovemaking? I’d personally love to read something like that but it’s totally up to you if you wanna write it.

Keep up the good work, love your stories btw ❤️

Omg hell yes! (Why didn't I think of this?) I'm insecure af so this is also self insert af on my part. Enjoy!

Headcanon/Preference # 32

Picture & Gif NOT mine.

Year posted - 2023

*So I've got this coworker that I get along with well. And he's a muscly guy that's into plus size women, and we've talked about that sorta stuff a lot. So I'm using his insight about why a guy like that, would be attracted to a bigger girl. He'll never see this but hey shout out to him. Also a real story might just come out of this in time, but for now enjoy these headcanons.

✨Ivan loves his plus size sweetheart~

🌹 When Ivan first met you he was immediately drawn to you like a magnet. He'd never seen a woman like you in Soviet Russia, and you looked like a pure goddess in his eyes.

🌹 When he finally got the chance to touch you for the first time. He was instantly smitten, your so soft and squeezable. He's not used to that, and he's finding that he's obsessed with the contrast.

🌹 Once you're together Ivan will spend hours worshipping you from head to toe. Every single inch of you is paradise to him. But his favorite part? Your soft tummy.

🌹 There's just something beautiful about your soft plump belly. It's his favorite thing to caress and kiss, and often times his favorite place to lay his head. And one day he hopes he'll get to see it swell more with his child.

🌹 On a bad day when you were feeling particularly down about your pudgy body, Ivan took the time to explain to you why he loves your supple body so much.

🌹 Everything in his life until now has been hard and rough, from his work, to his home life, his environment, and so forth. Finding you was like an oasis to him.

🌹 When you try comparing yourself to his ex-wife, he immediately stops you. Making you chuckle by telling you she was like a skeleton, and nowhere near as cozy and lovable as you are.

🌹 During intimacy Ivan shows you what love making really means, his words of praise, his adoring touch that leaves fire in its wake, and his hunger to show you just how much he wants you makes you dizzy.

🌹 If anyone says anything bad about you while Ivan is around, odds are he'll kick there ass, or at the very least he'll berate them. Ultimately making them apologize no matter what tactic he uses.

🌹 If he's not around, and only learns about it when you break down and tell him about it. He's pulling you into his arms and assuring you that they don't know a single thing about what their missing with someone as amazing as you. (Making a mental note to scare the shit out of them next time he sees them.)

🌹 You got stretch marks? Ivan will trace them idly, and commit them all to memory, mapping out the span of them as if it were vital.

🌹 Got cellulite? He'll caress every inch, nuzzle into it, and all around worship it. Explaining that it makes you more you, and that much more beautiful.

🌹 Not a big fan of how pudgy your face is? Ivan is cupping your cheeks. Looking into your eyes with so much love, as he tells you how cute your chubby cheeks are. And to him you are still small, as his hands can easily cup your cheeks.

🌹 Got big boobs? He fucking adores them, he adores you! There big and round and soft, the perfect place to lay his head at night when you cuddle. Plus there fun to play with not gonna lie. (and not just sexually, but that's a plus too.)

🌹 Not a fan of the size or shape of your butt? Are you kidding? Ivan is obsessed with smacking your ass every single chance he gets, doesn't matter who's around or where you are!

🌹 Worried you'll never fit in his shirts? Haha that's funny! Ivan is huge, you'll fit in his shirts just fine. Maybe not swimming in it, but it'll fit comfortably.

🌹 Ivan grows obsessed with making sure you're well fed, and simply watching you eat. It makes him feel like he is providing for you well, and that makes him very happy. (Plus you look adorable when you do a happy little food dance.)

🌹 Once he convinced you to sit on his face, though you had agreed anxiously, you still refused to actually sit down, and instead hovered over him. That wasn't gonna fly, so Ivan pulled you flush against his face, and gave you the best head you've ever experienced in your life.

🌹 Anytime you act as if you'll crush him, maybe saying he'll strain or hurt himself picking you up. He'll prove you wrong again and again, when he just hoists you up as if you weighed nothing. If anything he takes those worries as a challenge, and he'll never fail in proving you wrong.

🌹 The first time you wore a sexy lace piece for him, he was practically drooling. Needless to say the lace was ruined in his nearly feral haste to have you. But he happily bought you more, a lot more.

🌹 Within a year of being with Ivan, and him chipping away at your insecurities. You become the confident goddess you were meant to be! And he's so fucking proud of you, he's always showing you off, and praising you.

🌹 Ivan doesn't want you to change for anyone, not even him. He loves you just the way you are, it's what drew him to you in the first place. And he's beyond honored for not only getting to love you, but to show you just how sexy you truly are.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

*Hope this was satisfactory!

[stellawolfearts]

So for pittedpeaches three stories what would you say is your favorite scene from each of the three stories (and also would you be willing to draw them as a request or com? *Insert the "take my money" meme here*)

(ppssstt honey, if you'd like a comm their not technically 'officially' open but if u want one dm me on my main and we can talk ;) . ofc if its a request just Kofi's fine but yesyes i would be willing to draw a scene from one of those fics)

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

SPOILERS FOR THESE FICS UNDER THE CUT PLEAS EPLEASE LISTN TO ME WHEN I SAY IF YOU LIKE SPICYNOODLES YOU NEED TO READ THESE FICS AND EXPERIENCE THEM WITHOUT PRIOR KNOWLEDGE OHMYGOD

god pittecpeaches has such good fics i cant-AAAA I CANT CHOOSE ONE.

so i just checked thier profile and i havent read a garden across our collarbone yet-

but out of the two i have read (genus daturam and from three thirty to four) i'd say....

Every part of Red Son which MK touched seemed to burn. The conversations they had that evening played over and over in his head. Red Son wished he could have stayed there forever, eating meals, washing dishes, kissing between intimate talks about parents and inside jokes about metal peaches–

Wait a minute. 

Wait a fucking minute- 

MK had nearly closed the window shut when Red Son ripped it open. “I didn’t know about the peaches.” 

MK stumbled back from the window, clearly not expecting Red Son to come back and say that of all things. “Uhh, what-”

THIS WHOLE SCENE HERE ITS BOTH HILAROUS AND SUCH AN AMAZING CLIMAX TO EVERYTHING THATS HAPPENED IN THE FIC LISTEN-LISTEN- NO GET UR ASS OVER HERE UR GNNA LISTEN TO ME AND LISTEN GOOD OKAY OKAY I NEED TO RANT-YOUVE GOT ME RANTING NOW MOTHERFUCKER/POS

theyve been secretly pining over each other for ages and then redson finnaly realises he's in love with mk and he knows mk doesnt know hes redson (WHICH IS HILAROUS OHMYGOD) and and and he LEAVES

FUCKER TRIES TO LEAVE BC "he loves red, not redson" BOOOIIIIIII

B O I

AND HE GOES OVER EVERYTHING THEY DID TOGETHOR AND ITS ALL BUILDING UP THE EMOPTIONS ARE ALREADY HIGHTEEND IN THE CHARACTERS AND READERS BECAUSE ALL THIS LOVEY DOVETY EXITEMNTY WEVE BEEN WAITING FOR IS FINNALLY HAPPENING ONLY FOR RED TO CUT IT OFF AND NOW HE'S GOING THROUGH EVERY THING IN THE DAY EBECAUSE HE WANTS TO TREASURE THE MEMORY EVERYONE CHATRACTERS AN DREADERS ARE FEELING THINGS AND THEN

O

OH

OH SHIT

THE METAL MOTHERFUCKING PEACHES

THE INSIDE JOKE THAT ONLY MK COULD MOTHERFUCKIN KNOW

i am so normal about this fic * froths at the mouth *

“When I asked you to cut the peaches, you made a joke asking whether they were real or metal.” Red Son climbed back into the house. “But I wouldn’t know about that, would I? So why did you make the joke?” 

MK’s eyes were wide and for a moment, Red Son saw it–the glimmer of realization. As quickly as it came it left, hidden by MK squeezing his eyes shut and laughing. “OH! Well, a long while back there was this race around the city, and the winner got what I thought were the real Peaches of Immortality but was actually–��

“But you didn’t say you made that mistake.” Red Son jabbed a finger into MK’s chest. “You said we did. The only people in that race were you, the Dragon Horse girl, and the Demon Bull Family. So how did we make that mistake?!” 

MK stumbled on the floor, falling flat onto his ass. He stared up at Red Son, chuckling awkwardly. “Uh, well, I just-I guess I just-uhh-I don’t know, I’m tired, and it probably slipped out, there’s nothing to it, you don’t have to worry about it Red S-RED! Red, Red, it’s no big deal–” 

MK was panicking, stumbling on his words, unable to look Red Son in the eye. It only confirmed what Red Son had begun to realize. 

“You know who I am, don’t you?” He looked down at MK.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHEN I SAY I FREAKED OUT DURING THIS SCENE I WAS FUCKING SCREAMING

I WAS CHEERING I WAS CRYING ALL THE FUCKING EMOTIONS CRASHING INTO ME AT O N C E

(rereads ur ask....oh you said pick a scene from each of them mkay mkay-

THE HAIR-WASHING SCENE IN GENUS DATURA

First off this is funny af definitly the kinda shit i would write

“Alright. I know you just told me you hate water,” MK turned Red Son, clasping his hands together with a strained smile. “But, I’m going to need you to get into the tub.” 

Red Son’s eyes went wider than noodle bowls. He turned his head to look at the tub, now nearly filled with water. MK could see Red Son’s mouth hang ajar as he turned back to face him. 

No, not face him. Red Son was looking behind MK, but why would he do that? All that was behind MK was the door-

Red Son scrambled for the exit on all fours. 

It took several minutes of shouting and chasing the surprisingly slippery Red Son around the bathroom before MK finally grabbed him. MK latched his arms around Red Son’s waist and pulled him from the ground. Red Son screeched, trying to pry MK’s arms off him. His skin was so hot it hurt to hold him, but at this point MK didn’t care. With a mighty heave, MK tossed Red Son into the bath.

The water splashed out the tub, covering the tiles in a thin sheen. Red Son floundered for a bit, thrashing his arms and legs beneath the water’s surface before emerging with a loud gasp. His ponytail had lost all its gravity-defying heat, now clinging to the back of Red Son’s neck. Red Son shuddered, aggressively trying to wipe the water off his steaming arms. 

HE SCRAMBLED ON ALL FOURS LMAO I CANT I COULDNT BREATHE WHEN I FIRST READ IT

The moment MK’s fingers touched his scalp, Red Son flinched. MK moved his hands away, worried that he hurt Red Son, only for him to let out a whine. “Why’d you stop?!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m not stopping!” MK laughed. “But, really, you gotta let me know if this is too much for you.” He ran his hands through Red Son’s roots. He could see Red Son’s face scrunch up in surprise, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable. In fact, as MK continued to work the shampoo into Red Son’s hair, he seemed to lean into the touch, his breaths becoming slow, heavy, and relaxed. 

As MK leaned Red Son’s head back to get a better angle, Red Son stared up at him with sleepy eyes, blinking slowly. There was a small, content smile on his face. MK didn’t think he’d ever seen that expression on Red Son’s face before. Red Son’s smiles usually ranged from a maniacal grin to a hidden curl of his lip, but this felt softer, like Red Son’s inhibitions were being uncoiled with each knot MK untangled from his hair. 

It occurred to MK, suddenly, how intimate this moment was. A blush ran up his cheeks at the realization, but Red Son didn't seem to care. He just grinned, dreamily at MK as he washed Red Son's hair. 

This…was nice. 

It was a bit overwhelming, sure. Red Son couldn’t remember the last time another person’s hands were running through his hair like this. Maybe when he was a toddler? Before he learned to wash himself? 

But, it was nice. 

MK’s fingers worked themselves into Red Son’s roots. Every now and then, his nails would scratch at his scalp and it’d send a shock down his nervous system. Red Son didn’t mind it though. He leaned into the touch, a lazy smile stretched on his face. 

Red Son looked up at MK as he worked. His vision had blurred considerably from the crimson jimsonweed smoke, but he could recognize the Noodle Boy anywhere. He still had that ridiculous hair style, and that traffic-cone colored coat, and a grin that haunted Red Son’s lonely evenings. He was unmistakable. 

What was MK doing here? He shouldn’t be here. He was supposed to be kart-racing with Mei right now. If MK was actually here, his parents would probably have found out by now, wouldn’t they? Or at the very least, one of the bull clones would have alerted the other staff. Not to mention, MK was supposed to our kart racing with Mei right now. There was no way he could possible be here.

But Red Son could feel MK’s hands working into his hair, couldn’t he? And MK had carried him up here, had cleaned his face, had thrown him into this atrocious tub full of water. MK was taking care of Red Son. When was the last time someone had taken care of Red Son? Since he was a child? Before he had to learn to care for himself? 

It was so nice. Red Son could live in the feeling of MK’s care forever. It was certainly a good distraction from his burning skin, his foggy brain, the doom which whispered to him in stanzas of half-remembered puffy poetry about death from the crimson jimsonweed, about the images which haunted you into Diyu. 

MK began to wash the shampoo out of Red Son’s hair, using one hand to pour water out of the basin and the other to block the soap from slipping down into his eyes. It was a small act, but one that showed a careful attention to detail that MK rarely showed to anything at all. It was the sort of sweet gesture that told Red Son he was cared for by MK, that he was loved. 

And wasn’t that what had been haunting him for weeks now? Love? 

Images that haunt you/Will carry your soul down/And pass you to ten kings

“Oh.” He whispered. “I see.” 

MK smiled down at him. “What’s up?” 

The candles that hung on the bathroom wall seem to fan MK's face with warmth and light. It almost looked like the light was bursting out from him, like MK's body could only barely contain all the lights in the heavens. But, maybe that was just Red Son's delirious, slowly-dying brain seeing what he always thought of MK. 

“I’m hallucinating.” Red Son murmured. 

all of this man

all of this

for one, i love intimate moments like this in fics. and the way this author writes this its just OHMYHEART-

and something about hands running through hair man *CLUTCHES HEART*

AND THEN

AND THEN THE

"im hallucinating"

*flatlines*

GOD ITS SO GOOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH

anways yeah ill get to reading the third on soon but these are my fave scenes :DDD

[kiichu]

🍓🥤🐇🎨

Writer Asks!!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

I've always been super creative and into fandoms. As a kid, I would write Pokemon stories (one of my friends even did a "book report" on one of them hehehe). I had so much lore about Purtail, my made-up Pokemon OC. She had a backstory, canon interactions, friends, family, etc... idk, lots of story there. When I got into junior high, I was making stories about anime characters/more Pokemon (this time a swearing Sneasel). But those weren't technically "fanfiction" - I mean I guess they were, but they weren't published online. So when I was 13, I was searching Kiyoshi Mitarai (my Yu Yu Hakusho blorbo) and found... Fanfiction.Net? What's that?? Oh my god, stories? About my blorbo?? That other people wrote!? Whoa, I should write one too! I should write more, like some from Death Note and FMA and Pokemon and--!! And the rest is history.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

You mean besides you~? Okay, here's a few.

Addicted by DancingDog (Hazbin Hotel)

Stingers Under Skin by Sapless_Tree (The Beekeeper movie - seriously, check out this fic if you've seen the movie)

Demons of Manhattan by bictionality (Daredevil)

Strange Things Like Mercy by @foxtophat (Far Cry 5)

The Devil You Know by 94BottlesofSnapple (Zero Escape)

...oops, I guess you did get on that list, after all! ;)

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

...none of the above? Haha, I actually detest reader inserts, and OCs are on thin fucking ice. More power to you if you like those things, I just don't.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

For my fics? Well I've commissioned quite a few. Here are some!

by @lelelicious for CLIPPED - I also plan on uploading this as its own post tomorrow actually :)

by @raposabranca for Electric Sheep (always always a fave <3)

I... actually don't know who the OP of this is I'm sorry ;; (please let me know if you drew it because it is actual fanart that I did not purchase and I am like forever forever grateful and love it so much)

[ellieellieoxenfree]

9, 26, 34

9. Thoughts on cliffhangers.

cliffhangers go in the box on the high shelf that not everyone can access. they need to be used sparingly, and they need to be used responsibly. they are VERY easy to make into a cheap gimmick that either a) relies entirely on the shock value or b) wears out its welcome immediately, but can be effective in the right hands.

i generally don't try to go TOO crazy with cliffhangers in my writing, mostly bc i'm slow as hell and nothing would irritate me more as a reader than to get a cliffhanger and then be sitting on my hands for six months waiting for a dipshit author to get around to writing the resolution. but i'm not opposed to them as a light sprinkling in one's writing. i just don't trust a lot of people to handle them well, and i usually include myself in that equation.

26. What would you describe as OOC?

like 95% of fic i have read lmao. that's mean as hell but i'm very very picky about what i like to read. i tend to get really salty about pet names -- i promise you most of the characters you write calling each other 'baby' Would Not Say That. i also think that people tend to let characterization go out the window when they write porn, and they let their own personal kinks speak first and characters speak a distant second.

dialogue is a big one. i think there's a way to deliberately stylize your writing so that it takes on a theatrical/outsized bent, and so it sidesteps the criticism of not sounding how people actually talk, which is one of my favorite things to both write and read. i love the heightened artificiality of certain exchanges -- a writer who can master that may not necessarily be hewing 100% to canon, but is playing with the characters and twisting them around in a way that is so incredibly satisfying to read.

on the other hand, there are a lot of instances that do the same thing -- writing Not How People Actually Talk -- but it's much more amateurish/clumsy. it doesn't flow or have a natural cadence that suggests the author is secure in their own voice. everyone can write, technically, in the sense that anyone is capable of opening up a notes app or google docs and putting words down, but not everyone knows their own voice. the dialogue becomes very utilitarian and often doesn't shift for different characters' personalities. things like vocabulary, including profanity or the lack thereof, sentence structure/length (eg, does the person ramble, or are they more succinct and to the point?), direct vs indirect communication styles, all contribute massively to a character's personality, and it really takes me out of a story when everyone uses the same interchangeable author-insert drone of a voice in their dialogue.

also, since i am a very trauma-heavy writer, people who ignore canonical traumas tend to irritate the ever-loving shit out of me. a character in a past fandom was shot, and many writers chose to ignore the entirety of their recovery or take any consideration into how this would affect their lives going forward. i understand not wanting to make that a central focus of the story -- writing it's hard work! -- but to just completely erase a major part of the narrative is SUCH a peeve of mine. if a character is broken, then for fuck's sake actually factor it in!! just because canon brushed it off doesn't mean that realistically, this wouldn't have consequences for the person, whether physically, mentally, emotionally, or all three. i love fluff, but i love broken characters more, and when i get the fluffy happy stories, i want weight to them. i want them to feel earned. and i KNOW that's probably unfair of me to people who just want to fuck around in the sandbox for a few hours, but it's such a disservice when i see my faves who are 95% trauma and 5% person be reduced to cheerful giddy stereotypes with no depth whatsoever.

34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you?

i definitely do worry a lot about stagnating in my writing or doubling down on bad habits that hold me back. (i am horrible with telling rather than showing, for example, and my sentence structure tends to give me more gray hairs than i already have because it's so goddamn static.) i try to let go of some of that when i'm writing fic because it's a hobby and writing anything and finishing it generally is such a fucking win for me. with how shit-ass garbage for real the publishing world is, i've really lost so much of the drive to go pro, and the thing i feel like has the best chance of ever getting written wouldn't be fiction anyway -- that's a whole different ballgame.

but i do think about trying to sharpen my skills when i set out to write a new piece, yes. i always put a lot of thought, and often way too much thought, into how i want a story to turn out and what i'm trying to achieve with it. i have one i'm working on right now where i'm trying to ensure my parallels actually line up in a way that's going to be emotionally resonant. yeah, it's just a dumb hobby where i move little fictional dudes around and make them be sadder than what canon allowed them to be, but it's also a deeply rewarding and cathartic dumb little hobby. writing can be a purge of your own feelings -- which sometimes works, if you don't overpower a character with your own inner narrative, but sometimes definitely comes off as Oh, You're Going Through It, Huh? -- and a way to foster connection/understanding with people who are struggling to feel seen or understood. and telling stories does engage a certain part of the brain that likes to gnaw on new challenges and figure out ways to stretch itself and inhabit all these different characters who aren't necessarily a 1:1 projection of myself. i like to play around with voice or perspective and not get tied down to one way of telling stories (although i'm not egotistical enough to say i'm even close to succeeding at this; i'm honestly very pedestrian and uncreative when it comes down to the finished product). i'm always looking for a way to take the big, beautiful ideas in my head and actually turn them into stories that live up to the original idealized image i had. do i get there? almost never. but the fight continues.

[lorelune]

im too shy to come off anon atm but tysm for the 2nd part after scrap metal. i quite literally screamed (internally, since i was with someone when i saw it) and after reading it, im well fed but just as starved for more OTL

idek where to begin w my thoughts, ugh, you write blade so well. SO WELL. like maybe ppl can write unhinged characters fine, but you. YOU. are so different with that. ill probably find the words in the future to describe what im feeling about this series(??bc it technically can be standalone) but all i can say is that im with the mind to print your writing out and eat it. like, chew it with my molars and swallow it, and then print another one to eat some more, maybe put some slices on my next meal LOLLL. idk, i want to consume it and have it in my veins.

i for real cannot come up with the words to describe this,,,,but i promise im not crazy !! (debatable tbh) i just really like WORDS and WRITING and this just made me just as insane as blade's probably feeling. it's beyond just being giddy bc one of my fav authors wrote for one of my fav charas and it happened to be a reader insert -- there is a fundamental nutrient being provided by your writing and it could have been for any fandom/show, and i probably wouldve had a similar reaction.

your writing has always been wonderful and captivating, but there is smth about the way you wrote blade's pov (brOTHER there is so much ART in the way consciousness was expressed, im frothing at the mouth--) in this and scrap metal that i think really showcased how well you write. like i said, this piece could have been for any other fandom (and i'd still read it bc you wrote it <3) and i know it wouldve hit me like a truck all the same.

this got super long bc it's late where i am but i really wanted to let you know how much i appreciate your work and the talent you have with writing, and this blade series made it so that i couldnt keep these thoughts to myself !!

ik this is only my 2nd ask but since idk when ill come off anon (bc im shyyy) i hope you dont mind me calling myself "slightly feral anon" LOLL (or if you have a better name it's up to you!!)

anon anon ANON (slightly feral anon = sfa anon FOR SHORT!!) thank you for the ask!!! and for reading and enjoying scrap metal and braised!!! 💕✨!!!! i am glad i could provide some fundamental nutrient rich chewable good brain feeling writing 🫡💓

TRULLLY blades pov is fascinating. it's what inspired me to write scrap metal to begin with!! i was thinking abt blade pov in present day game timeline and was like "damn he'd be fucking crazy :3c". i had such immediate brain worms and had to play around with it!!! the whole idea really grabbed me!! the prose hit too so hard like. this guy is not gonna think or feel in a way that is linear and its been SO indulgent and fun to write!!!

not to mention :3c i am excited to write more of these dynamics :3ccccc miss kafka does thing to me on a soul deep level and the relationship between her and blade and her and reader is so twisted and wretched and its so sexy of her. i'm excited for more of the yan olympics

SFA ANON!! thank you for this ask it has brought me much joy 🙏!! thank you once again for the kindness and for reading and sharing your thoughts, your feedback is very appreciated!!!!

[ughdoir]

꣑ৎ roman reigns

˚⋅ roman and you have to grade papers (lol)

˚⋅ contains black female reader, eight hundred seventy five words, lowercase intended, size kink, spanking, dirty talk, crying, degradation, semi rough, praise, age gap, teachers, cunnilingus, insertion, squirting, school?, the roman reigns.minors don’t interact

its customary to bring your favorite teacher an apple. knowledge, appreciation, and certainly wisdom all dates back to the symbolic history behind it. but for mr. anoa’i it was an opportunity to glance at his favorite girl.

technically you weren’t his not by a long shot . in his perverted mind you were bent over the wooden table exposed to his slender fingers toying with your clit.

in his mind you were gagging on his length brown eyes eager to please the man in front of you as spit trailed down his thighs. in his mind they were delusions…in your world it would never happen.

joe has a history. everyone does but you’ll never be that girl, a women who throws herself at the samoan beauty for pleasure. and certainly he was beautiful, hand crafted from the gods themselves.

thick black locks slicked into a messy bun, salt and pepper facial hair trimmed deliciously and freckles kissing his honey skin. you could melt in fact you’ve been harboring a crush on the older man for a year.

opposed to his charm, a firm “no” escaping your lips anytime he offers you dinner. never agreeing to the school’s homecoming or lunch in the cafeteria. he’s tired of the game but you’re satisfied with your determination. elated to avoid confrontation with the women jumping at a chance with joe.

so routinely you take your apple biting into the red juicy crisp and chewing slowly. noting his eyes that are fixated on your mouth appreciating how neat you are. like clockwork you carefully wipe the corners of your mouth earning a chuckle from the tall man.

you know he’s about to say something, keeping his grin as the tension in the room thickens. stepping closer to close the gap between you and the apple. making you gulp his size setting your kink ablaze.

“I’m curious if you have any spare time, would you be open to grading papers with me?” Joe questions prepared for your favorite word to leave your pretty lips. to your dismay and his relief it never comes you’re amused never familiar with actual work being his idea.

knowingly needing this period to grade some tests of your own you accept. you ponder what could go wrong he is your only “friend” and nonetheless it’s work.

so naive. so fucking naive.

for one what are you wearing. a beige sundress with white sandals meticulously matching your french tips. clearly you didn’t only want to grade papers. joe shouldn’t believe that you wanted to grade papers.

so here you are sundress around your midriff and lack of underwear exposing your cunt to Joe’s tongue. with no protest he adds. not that you’re complaining.

“taste so good.” he huffs sucking your clit and entering his digits inside your wetness. he’s adding another finger amazed how many he can fit.

three’s his lucky number, each coated in nectar from your pussy spreading your legs to rest your feet on his shoulders as you cry out. he’s lapping at your folds, honored with the privilege of making you feel good “so naughty you wanted daddy this whole time.” it’s true you know it’s damn true.

he’s enamored with your pussy licking another stripe up your clit for good measure. relishing in the tight, warm grip your cunt has on his fingers controlling your orgasm.

he’s joe and importantly selfish smirking as he withdraws his fingers sucking those same digits into his mouth greedily. you’re dejected tone laced in disappointment while crying from your failed orgasm.

you squirm while your ass is on fire. you weren’t prepared for his soft hands methodically caressing each cheek before spanking your ample backside. large hands swatting both cheeks only stopping to pull at the bruises.

you wouldn’t be able to sit for weeks and it’s all your fault. payback for ignoring his advances, for the mind games you’ve played all year, for not submitting to him sooner.

swiftly you’re bouncing on his dick steading your hands on his chest as your clit brushes against his belt buckle not being bothered to remove the garment. It’s euphoric the entire neighborhood knowing his name and learning of the dirty deed taking place.

gratefully his free hand wraps around your neck pressing ever so slightly that you lose your breathe somehow managing a whimper as his lips wrap around your perk nipples. so beautiful. he knew you were always beautiful.

“who told you to stop? keep going girl.” he commands bucking his hips to meet your ass with each bounce. a knot forming in your stomach as you’re near nothing stopping you from crossing the line.

“such a fucking whore.” he seethes eyebrows knitted in concentration as you release. squirting for the first time your liquid onto his couch. needing to snuggling against him as trembles, stutters and sobs of relief bring you back to reality.

he’ll have to punish you for that. and he does fucking with dominance and assuring he’s not done. he’ll never be done with you. the image of you being slutted out now burned forever in memory. the desire to have you every waking moment will be to much to bare.

he’ll have to find more papers to grade.

[evermorehaikyuu]

GIVE ME NOHEBI STUFF. IDC WHAT. JUST GIVE IT TO ME.

FUCK YEAH AIOFHNAIRUHNFA THANK YOU THANK YOU AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

Nohebi Playing Among Us

Originally I was gonna do dating hcs, but you know what I'll do them separately, but this is more important

They're not cheaters when it comes to this game, believe me

Unless it's Daishou, in which case they have all decided to snitch on him which makes him so pissed off

Daishou is hardly the impostor but when he is, he's an extraordinarily good liar if it wasn't for the fact that someone else says that they got killed by him

He always takes dark green and a fedora because he thinks it's cool or whatever

Takachiho takes yellow and he has a little crewmate

He feels guilty when he's impostor but not enough to reveal it

Usually only vents everywhere and never tells anyone where he's been, he only asks "anyone sus?" when there's a body found and there's two impostors

When he's crewmate and gets killed, he finishes all his tasks as quickly as possibly then stays with his little crewmate and it makes him tear up sometimes

Numai takes orange and he has the wolf ears and Isumi makes fun of him because thE cOLoRs doN’T mAtCh

As a crewmate, he’s always making sure he gets the tasks closest to him, he’s lowkey not here for being in launchpad and having to run to reactor immediately, he’ll go to medbay first

No one suspects him as impostor, ever, until he feels guilty for killing Kuguri

(The whole team is guilty when they kill Kuguri, that’s when they confess, except for Hiroo)

Hiroo takes black and he wears the witch hat because something about his character running around with the hat bouncing up and down makes him smile

As crewmate, he’s fast because he’s memorized all the maps and knows where the vents are, so people think he’s sus when he’s not

As impostor, he has no mercy, he’ll kill anyone in his way and pin it on someone that saw him

He once killed Kuguri and Kuguri looked at him with the saddest look in his eyes and he put sunglasses on Kuguri

Isumi takes red and wears the angel halo, because he likes the contrast

As crewmate, he always follows around the one he thinks is impostor and it makes him sus because wtf man, why aren’t you doing your tasks?

He gets voted off almost immediately

As impostor, he targets people one by one and vents away to the other side of the ship

Once he said he was in the lab and Seguro said, “Um, no, I was in lab and I didn’t see you at all”, hence getting him voted off

Akama takes white with a flamingo on his head, he thinks its fun and he likes the hat a lot, he wants a real one

When he’s crewmate, he does the longest ones first and sometimes ends up killed because of it

As a ghost, he follows his impostor around while glaring at his screen

As impostor, he’ll kill Numai first and people suspect it’s Daishou, it never fails

Seguro takes purple and you know the little eyebrow things? He likes it and he has a dog following him around

As crewmate, he sprints out all excitedly and gets called as impostor because wHy aRe wE goInG sO fUcKiNG faSt WhOoaAaA

His poor dog, he gets sad when it’s alone

As impostor, he only travels by vent because it makes him less sus, thus he likes the second map since it has vents everywhere unlike the first map

Kuguri takes dark blue and he has a triangle of cheese on his head because Akama suggested it

He likes his little spaceship so he makes sure it’s always following him around

As crewmate, he finishes all his tasks and finds an area that’s mostly desolate so that no one will find him (plus he’s got everyone under his finger, except for Hiroo)

As impostor, absolutely NO ONE expects it because the kills are actually messy but it’s a strategy for him because messy kills are usually someone else’s

BONUS:

Mika takes pink and the little flower and she likes the hamster, so she gets sad when she’s killed and it’s alone so she sticks by it

As impostor, she’s very sneaky and kills Daishou first because the blame will be pinned on someone else

As crewmate, she doesn’t trust anyone else but Kuguri and that either winds up as both of them sus or Kuguri kills her

Now it’s just chaos in a nutshell especially when they’re all at Mika’s house and playing it because Daishou said they were at Mika’s house and the team took it as an invitation to play Among Us there

One time Hiroo walked into school with his hair wildly disheveled and he couldn’t do anything about it because Isumi was so mad at him

Daishou laughs whenever he and Mika are impostors together and that’s when everyone realizes who the impostors are

It’s a very fun time, trust me

another bonus:

They teach their coach how to play and sometimes, when they’re too exhausted to practice, they’ll challenge their coach and if they lose, they have to do twenty five laps and start doing their regular practice

Cue to Daishou screaming when they all lose

[agirlonherbike]

In defense of authors

I've been thinking a lot about this topic for a bit, and would like to share my two cents, for what it's worth.

Fanfic authors are writers. They are artists. They are an incredible group of dedicated artists who create for the pure love and joy of doing so, or the need to do so-their motivations are their own. THEY ARE TO BE CELEBRATED FULL. FUCKING. STOP.

These people work hard, they create beautiful, fun, horrifying, heart-stopping sensual, raw, sexy, immersive (insert 1000+ adjectives here) FREE OF CHARGE. They do this and they ask no payment. They bare their souls in their work and they ask for nothing in return. We readers get to revel in their works. Many of us show gratitude, and many of us don't...and some of us are simultaneously entitled, selfish and abusive to these creators and you are who this is directed to.

I have a math brain. I write tonnes of shit and it is very well done, because it is technical and that is my skillset. I put care, and attention into my writing because I need to. The incredible writers on AO3 or any other platform or on their private accounts do so because they WANT TO. They love what they do and they want you to feel what they feel. I couldn't craft prose to save my life, and therefore I am continuously in awe of those who can do it like breathing.

My words to those of you who berate these artisans, who fill their inboxes with your callous, throwaway statements about how you "hate how you write Din/whomever" or "can you do more sex/less sex" or whatever it is that you think you are entitled to receive, as though you are paying this person to write for you. You are not. Your actions are toxic, petty and ultimately harmful to the very people who create these universes for those of us who cannot, or are too self-conscious to do so. How dare you.

Maybe you won't read this, maybe you will. All I ask is that if you don't like a particular author's style, then your solution is flawless in its simplicity...don't read their work. Unsubscribe, do whatever you need to do. Unless you can write as well or better than these people (again...a matter of opinion) then please, do us all a favour and exit this space so that those of us who celebrate and elevate these artists can continue to make them feel like their beautiful, transcendent and yes, at times, panty ruining works will continue. These are my words. Thank you for reading. I don't know how to add tags.

AB

[callmearcturus]

Out of curiosity, what /are/ your thoughts about the retcon and Vriska's role in it?

I think my opinions on the Retcon are complicated.

On a Doylist level, I think it'd very clever and interesting but staggeringly flawed. The problem was, of course, created by the way Hussie chose to write the story and how they wanted to accelerate the conclusion. I get that.

One of my biggest problems, one I am sure many other people felt, was the anger that it was fucking Vriska. That Vriska was the key to "fixing" everything. As much as I like Vriskagram for canonizing Davekat, the way Vriska is inserted into so many fucking moments of the story as The Solution fucking makes me want to roll my eyes out of my goddamn head, for real. Why her? Why specifically her?

But then, I've come to realize that it's Vriska because the orchestrator of the Retcon is Terezi. I don't think per se that the story is saying the only solution to the Game Over timeline is Vriska. But she is Terezi's solution. As as Terezi is dying, as she is giving a dumb boy with godpowers the plan he needs to fix everything, what's the one thing Terezi wants? Another chance with Vriska. Another chance for Vriska.

And as much as I, the reader, fucking despise Vriska, it makes complete and total sense for Terezi to arrange the Retcon in this specific way. I completely 100% buy it.

But back to the, like, actual narrative technical execution... the Retcon fucking blows. It torpedoes Jade's characterization and Hussie has to bullshit up the Ultimate Self to slap a bandaid on her because he so thoroughly fucked Jade over, and we all know where the fucking Ultimate Self bullshit went to.

(the Ultimate Self is such a thorough antithesis of every fucking theme of Homestuck that I am openly and thoroughly contemptuous of its inclusion at the eleventh hour as a characterization bandaid. it has no place in HS and the entire concept is gross.)

But also the way Vriska becomes the fix for everyone just... leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. The way Karkat's leadership role is taken from him, the way Vriska was apparently the solution to Rose's alcoholism and not OH I DON'T KNOW her fucking brother or her girlfriend, how she's the one to get the Striders to finally talk, how she takes over all the prototyping shit, just the way she's copy pasted into everything like Hussie is dusting his hands and going "there, all done!"

And then, lest you think Vriska has actually grown as a person, lest you think surely with this second chance Terezi's given her she will shape the fuck up: the entire fucking Jake-Vriska thing on the fucking lilypad.

In the end, Vriska Serket remains a tragedy. On some level, that's fitting.

So to me, I have to make it a Thief of Light thing. It is a dark triumph for her, the way she steals the agency and focus from everyone around her and hoards it for herself. In her shadow, every other character feels diminished and lesser, and it just kind of makes me sigh.

Those are my current thoughts on the Retcon.

[prelovednikaidou]

cunning : geto suguru [06]

Genre: college au, fwb, slight angst, smut

Summary:

In which you found your secret crush stood in front of the student board, staring at one particular picture. Lifting his index finger to the tempered glass; Geto Suguru lightly muttered,

"I want to fuck her so bad."

-and the picture was you.

Warning: dub-con, public oral receiving (reader)

series masterlist

[06 ; library]

The short, foul tryst ended as you hung up on him first. Your room was dark, only a small spark of light can be seen and it was from your phone screen. Those anticipated pupils were nowhere to be seen, only your dull orbs stared blankly on the recent call log.

The string of numbers that called you twice, your heart truly didn't understand what you were supposed to feel.

How did he have your contact? Why did he contact you at midnight? Why did he choose you?

Pressing on the number, options popped on your screen; either you saved his contact or you deleted the history - it was all decided by the tip of your thumb.

While you truly wanted him, the selfish part of you craved more than this. There was an unspeakable satisfaction each time you remember that he'd touched you with his beautiful hands, pleasuring you until you succumbed to him.

As if your brain was more logical than your heart, you were easily reminded; this is just like any other night for him - roaming around to find someone who can fill his need and you're that 'someone.

With your thumb lingered over the 'Create New Contact', a sudden rumble of thunder stroke - causing a strong gush of wind to knock over your small plants by the window. In the process, it startled you as you accidentally pressed 'Delete'.

"Aahh, shit..! My babies..!"

You shouted, leaving your phone on the bed as you left to attend your flowers. The screen remained its brightness, displaying the long list of saved contacts in your history log. Perhaps, the heavens knew you were hesitating - so they made the choice for you.

There used to be a saying, "Don't give a name onto something, unless you plan to grow attached to it." Maybe, it really do hold some truth in it.

"[Y/N], you're... a bit red in the face, don't you think so?"

Muffling your moans with a cough, your lips quivered as you struggled to reply in a low voice, "I-I..uhm.. not feeling really well- uhh..! C-can we continue tomorrow..? Hgh.."

Your lower lips clenched tightly on the slender fingers that slowly rubbed your inner walls. Wet juices dripped from your soaking cunt, down your thighs. The pleasure was so intense that your eyes became red, glossy with tears.

Your friend threw a concerned look at you before a hoarse voice belonging to the hateful guy beside you chirped up, "Can you hang on a little bit or you can't take it anymore? You're almost done with the discussion, [L/N]."

Teasing manner laced over his words, your hand went under the table, gripping tightly on his wrist as the thrust of his fingers became faster - sloppier; it rose nervousness of being caught. You were afraid of the messy sound of your pussy being rubbed would be heard.

But your last chain of hope for him to slow down crumbled, as he inserted another finger that your tears began to flow, wetting your cheeks and your friend gasped in horror.

"[Y/N], are you crying?? Okay, okay.. we stop here. Oh God, please take proper rest. I know you're studying hard but please don't forget to take care of yourself. Geto, can you send her to the dorm? It's safer for her to travel by car than to let her catch a bus."

The hateful guy, Geto - with a face filled with a calm, honest smile nodded as if it was proving his compassionate, gentle mannerism while his fingers continued thrusting into your entrance. You felt like biting his arm right now! As you tightly shut your eyes, pretending to rub your throbbing temple, a chill ran through your spine. You wondered -

How did this happen??

Earlier, you were just discussing the technical report you have to submit with your friend, completely immersed into your work until you heard the seat beside you was pulled; and he sat there.

It'd be a lie if your heart didn't race a little. This could be your first meeting after the last time he masturbated in front of you. The view of his vivid cock was still fresh in your mind. It made you rub your thighs against each other lightly.

He didn't interrupt you, in fact - he showed the lead for your reports as he was a final year student already, and on top of it; he was a top scorer. With his soft voice rang, deluding people into thinking he was a poise, gentleman; he truly was a master in making people fall for him.

A tap on your knee led to a slow rub on your thigh, then his warm palm stayed longer on your inner thigh - groping the soft flesh before he brought his full palm to cup your heat through your panties.

You couldn't be mad at him as you wanted it too. When he looked at your eyes, raised his brow as he pressed his knuckles on your clit - you nodded. Ah, so this was how it started.

"Gosh, I will leave first. Make sure to get plenty of sleep! Don't worry about the report, I will help you on your part. Geto, thank you for giving her a ride. Sorry for causing you troubles." Your classmate said one final time before she left with her things. She'd turned around - casting a worried look over your direction that Geto simply replied with a small wave.

"Haa.. fina-fucking-ly. Do you miss me, [Y/N]? Hmm..?" He turned his body to your way slightly, hiding your body from other people's view. From the sideways, it seemed like a sweet scenario of a boyfriend who was stealing kisses but who'd guessed that a woman was panting - face flushed as she reached her second climax?

"Hgghh.. s-slow down.. aaahh, Suguru.." You may not realize but your whimpers did something to him. He licked his lips, voice sounded more hoarse than before, "Calling my name like that, tell me. Does it feel good when you touched yourself that night?"

You shook your head, grabbing his shirt as your crying face looked incredibly cute. He laughed a little, the bulging tent in his pants was painful. Pulling out his fingers, he heard a small gasp - ones that sounded like confusion before you watched in embarrassment.

The slender finger that was inside you went into his mouth: savoring your taste - without breaking eye contact. You felt your core burn in heat as his thin lips smeared with your wetness, "Where should I touch you next?"

"No, don't do it here.. people can see us." You pleaded, the evident worry clouded your face -almost like a baby cat asking for extra petting.

His lips quirked into a smile, pulling you closer that his whispers felt like tickling your ear, "Too bad, I would love to show you off."

I would love to-

Love.

It was rather pathetic but you couldn't excuse the blooming sweetness in your chest right now. When you were with him, he confused you too much. You didn't know how to act, as if you could always be replaced; the shortest time you spent felt better than the entire time you were alone.

His hand slid into your shirt, running his hot palm over your spine and when his fingers bumped on your bra strap, he leaned to your ear as he lightly nibbled your ear lob,

"When you rubbed your tits that night, does it feel like how I did it? Or you want me to touch and teach you how I do it?"

"D-don't, we can be seen..! This is the library, what if people caught us?"

"I don't care about them. I care about you. Whatever you say, I will follow. So answer me. Don't you want me to touch you?"

This guy! It clearly did something to you; watching his smile as you were sitting this close to him. It felt like you were bonded to him. An evil thought even resurfaced; will getting caught spread words about you being his woman? Suddenly, being caught didn't feel that bad.

"It's exciting, right? To be fingered under a desk when your friend was talking to you, clenching on my fingers tightly every time your friend looked at you longer than 2 minutes."

"Stop, don't talk like this, it sounds so dirty.."

Geto pushed your chair a bit, giving ample space under the desk before he stood up. Your brows coiled into a scowl as you were figuring out what he might do - he bent down, completely seated on the floor before he inserted himself between the small space.

"G-Geto..! Don't tell me you're doing it here, please don't wanna get caught.."

A soft sob as your big eyes teared up a little, a loud pounding in your chest because this was too much for your thinning morale. Your mouth was saying no, but your thighs parted wider when he lifted your skirt - it told him otherwise. His Adam's apple bobbed at the sight of your dripping cunt, he needed to have a taste again.

"You won't be if you quiet down. Let me help you, [Y/N]. Let me lick it clean so you can walk out of this room without your cum dripping down." Your love water kept on flowing, the big damp patch on your panties distracted him from everything. Your bulging puffy clit was begging for his lips.

Hooking your legs over his shoulder, he brought your chair closer.

When you instantly moaned - covering your mouth with your hands, your entrance was greeted with a welcoming hot mouth, lapping on your clit as his tongue stroked all over the slit. He had to push your panties aside but it was worth it.

Empty. Your brain was empty, left nothing but to think of him. Whereas someone walked past your table, you'd push your seat deeper into the desk - causing him to groan over your cunt. He can stay like this forever if it meant that he could please you this way.

Sucking on your labia as his tongue slid into your slit, it felt like he wanted to penetrate it - that you covered your messy face with hands as you said, "Geto.. please, this is too much... stop now... hnggh..."

Your face was flushing hard, unable to control the intense apex, you bit on your lips harder before a tingle on your cunt throbbed. When he nibbled on your clit and sucked the wetness, you felt like an orgasm that you've never experienced before - your juices spurted out.

Geto smirked under the table, those shaky thighs couldn't be closed and his jaw was stained with your kinky water. His dark eyes were glued on you while your face was burning in shame but you've never looked this good. Flushed, but eyes full of love. Wiping them with his hand, he stepped out of the table,

"Forgive me, I planned to clean you up but you ended creating more mess. I think I'm doing a bad job huh?"

Sly fox. You covered your face - didn't have enough courage to look at him in the eye.

He pulled you up, straightening your wrinkled skirt before he pulled a water bottle from his bag. Oolong tea. You didn't like it but he must've liked that one. Offering you his drink, you drank it slowly, easing the dryness of your throat.

You offered him the remaining drink, only for him to shake his head as his smile curled, "Not thirsty. I drank already. Plenty at it."

How could he not? His mouth lapped on you as if he wanted to suck every inch of you so you shifted your eyes away, pushing his shoulder when he laughed, prying to see your expression. When he noticed you were quiet, he patted your head as he pulled you along him, "Hurry, I will send this little cat home, hmm?"

Larger fingers entwined with yours, gluing two hands into one - if this was a romance drama and he was the male lead, you were so sure that you were just cannon fodder. So under your dazed stare, you felt warm all over again but this wasn't the kind of warmth you encountered when you first talked to him.

It somehow felt numb.

"Geto.." His name would be on the first line of the credit role.

"Yes. Why? Are you not pleased?"

"No, I just.. want to say your name." And yours would be lumped in the appreciation post.

"Then start with Suguru. Besides Satoru, only you."

As expected of a male lead, such a good liar.

Taglist: @suguruswife @multistan-247 @shadowarchon @mtojie @saint-ackerman @seindou

Taglist : [here]

[tainted-wine]

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.

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.