#really powerful and great support but without anyone to back him up he completely fucking falls apart
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if strahm was in splatoon he'd be a dualies user I know that shit in my soul. front lines, fast as fuck, obnoxiously hard to kill, good at starting shit and killing opponents, rushes in without thinking and dies. dualies!
#*im a dualies main#idk which ones specifically. I only ever cared for splat dualies so idk the other kinds as well#could see him using enperry tbh. splatdown feels like his vibe. fuck is the sub on that one again?#CURLING BOMB? no wonder I didnt pick it up#i could still see him using that though#his ass is prioritising kills over turf he would be the worst spawn camper#i have my strahm photocard beside me when I play splatoon so I can look at him when times r hard#What Would Strahm Do. I ask myself. the answer is be toxic and start shouting kys at the tv#espeon cries#i think hoffman would either use some shit like sploosh which is designed to Slaughter OR he could be a splatling main#really powerful and great support but without anyone to back him up he completely fucking falls apart#im only slightly influenced by my gf and is splatoon hoffstrahm rp (they main heavy edit)
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I love the idea of Arthur and alfred being father and son do you have any headcanons abt them??? I like that u mentioned Arthur can just spat out Alfred’s death as a kid randomly lol
BOY DO I
it's a facade. Arthur "Stiff Upper Lip" Kirkland was deeply affected by all of Alfred's deaths (some more than others). it still bothers him in the modern day, which is actually exactly why he talks about it so often and so casually.
keep in mind that Jamestown was not the first English colony in the Americas - it was the first English colony in the Americas to not fail (and they came really, really damn close). Roanoke failed, several in Newfoundland failed, Cuttyhunk failed, Popham failed, as well as English attempts to establish colonies in Guiana, St. Lucia, and Grenada. so I think initially, it was not at all a guarantee for Arthur that Alfred would just wake up again. of course that would be terrifying for any parent.
overall, the 17th century was a rollercoaster for England - multiple civil wars, the interregnum, wars with rival powers, the great plague of London, the great fire of London, religious conflict, fucking Cromwell, multiple assassination plots, a bit of regicide, some uprisings, etc etc - and life in the early colonies wasn't exactly easier. so I think that for a period of time, Alfred was the one bright, shining spot of joy in Arthur's life, but it was a light that was constantly on the verge of flickering out. and England at this point is anything but a great power, so it'd be enough of a challenge for Arthur to take care of himself, much less a baby. this is in pretty stark contrast to when he'd have his other children, when the British were a much greater force to be reckoned with. and I think that as a result, the dynamic Arthur has with Alfred has a serious dose of trauma* involved that isn't really present for Arthur with his other children. it's kinda like the difference between a single teenage parent with his first child vs as an adult with multiple children and the resources and experience to support them. but like, magnified by 100.
there's also, I think, a lot of guilt on Arthur's part for all of this, for being such a failure of a parent, for being so unable to take care of his son to the point that Alfred, who loved him and thought he hung the moon, actually fought him to leave. and then, once gone, actually thrived without him. like that's gotta hurt. Alfred is basically a walking reminder of Arthur's worst failures and weaknesses, so while he's definitely Arthur's favorite and the family golden-child, he's also a bit of the scapegoat as well. like these two went from enmeshed to completely estranged and back to being joined at the hip. it's just all extremes with them. everything, every unhealthy coping mechanism, every bit of hope and ambition, every bit of fear, every bit of pride - it's all magnified with Alfred in a way it isn't for the others.
.*initially I was going to call this 'trauma bonding,' but apparently that term is very specific to cases of abuse. if anyone knows the term for the kind of bonding that happens between two people who have shared traumatic experiences, lmk.
#hetalia hcs#hetalia headcanons#sorry this took awhile to write#aph america#aph england#hws america#hws england#arthur kirkland#ask#alfred f. jones#alfred f jones#kirkland family#ratman and ratson#kirkland brood
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Got one someone requested on anon without sending on anon, so:
Hi, who was the biggest Destiel cockbloker? Singer, Leming, Pedowitz, some other TPTB in the shadows? All of them equally?
Greetings to you.
We had SEVERAL adversarial things in our way. My old "people keep asking my view of destiel" from like S12-13 or so goes into, for example, the Chad Kennedy incident, which was the first time the authors got their feet blown off. Fandom decided it was a great idea to torch a curious CW exec off the internet just because he didn't know what Destiel was, and he looked at his papers in like season 9 and hadn't been pitched LGBTQ marketing then half of S9-10 and the secret admirer scene and boyfriend fight and all of that, POOF!
So at this point, you already pissed off the old CW.
Then, you go to authors fighting back, pitching market demo, etc.
Pedowitz himself really had few real opinions of his own. Any praise or anything he conveyed to anyone was the company line. Pedowitz existed just to maintain CBS and WB's status quo, he was a meatpuppet.
WB had a top property that was old and maintained not just a stable us demographic but had its largest audience in Russia, where we were almost removed from air even on the No I Love You version of Goodbye Stranger, which later became the market testing stuff (and is Robbie's!)
So really, WB was the big boogeyman, and Berens turning the titanic as far as he did was really a feat accomplished only by these antics in the writing room and a lot of advanced planning and good faith groundwork I've talked about elsewhere, can't find the post by tumblr search at the moment but I got an ask once about the author room, the structure, the difference between Carver and Dabb, and the internal Forged Showrunners Notes Revolution.
Singer and Leming, if you asked them, didn't ~hate it. Well, at least Eugenie didn't. Even Buckner was supportive on some older era gay man level. Singer, however, was the one sworn into the show per the writing room post, basically his production house, and he signed on for two dudes and a car, not a gay angel romance, damnit.
But God Didn't Care. He'd stick up his tripod, demand how it would go, and wander the fuck off, and if they tried to change anything overhead he was in the way, or would dump a character in a bathtub if you argued. So since he didn't even do his job with the dailies why not just stickynote collectively past him with Showrunners Notes Dabb let Bobo write?
So WB had a 3 tier reporting structure back then that was hell to navigate up and make change in and it was Singer's footing anyway. Now, when Zaslav took over WB, along with talking to Jensen's mentor Roth who ADVISED him to make Chaos Machine to begin with, to cut costs he completely obliterated that 3 tier reporting structure and gave the power directly to creative executives.
This still would have been rough for us under Singer, but now? Now that's Jensen. Now that's Chaos Machine. Head of TV will still putz around tracking numbers, success, talking to new Nexstar, but Nexstar just wants numbers. It all comes down to numbers, and now Winchesters digitally is second only to Game of Thrones internationally, not even including the US because it's not there on Max for it. Yeah. We're the new Game of Thrones. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
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I think I need help mentally
I’m warning everyone now, this is a post that will contain dark themes (mostly related to eating and mental issues), if you are sensitive to the topics, I advise you don’t read.
To keep things simple; My life is shit. Mentally at least.
Physically and externally my life couldn’t be more perfect. I have supporting parents. I go to a Great School. I have friends. I’ve got talents that can take me places. Ive got everything lined up for my success.
but mentally I am a disaster. Ive got such bad trauma from authority figures. Im scared to even defy my fucking teachers. Im scared of my aunt because she makes me feel so shitty. My aunt will pop up a lot in this because I see her as the main source of a shit ton of my issues
I cannot read or hear the word scu*c*de without having flashbacks. Even as I type this I’m trying not to hear her damn voice. Just screaming that word at me every time. It’s so loud..
My aunt judges me constantly for the littlest things. Like forgetting to pick up trash, forgetting to say thank you, not remembering if it’s my turn to empty the dishwasher, etc. She’s the main reason why I’ve contemplated going completely mute because she hates it when I talk and makes sure I know.
Recently she’s been nit-picking my eating habits. For almost two years I’ve been struggling to remember to eat at all because my adhd meds reduce my appetite so I just don’t eat lunch. Unfortunately it’s bled into other meals like breakfast and dinner.
Even remembering to eat is an accomplishment for me. In the current moment I don’t care if it’s healthy, I care that I remembered to put food in my body.
About a week ago she grumbled about me not eating “real” food and that I’m the reason we don’t have good snacks in our house. I’m about to cry as I type this. I doubt she thought I could hear her because I had headphones in, but nothing playing. I absolutely heard her.
I’ve told my mother so many times that I want her to move out but my mother won’t do shit. My mother’s been making my eating habits worse cause she won’t let me leave the house without eating at least something, but it’s only been discouraging me from eating. Nowadays even the thought of eating feels slightly sickening. Especially if I’m eating in front of my aunt.
I want nothing to do with her. But she lives with me and I can’t evict her. I’m so sick of this. My anxiety and adhd already make my daily life hard enough during school. And now I’m struggling to even fathom the thought of food because of my aunt. She’s made my life worse and she won’t accept that she can be a problem too. She only ever sees the flaws in me and my twin. Never in herself. I want to fight back but I’m so scared that she’ll yell at me again. That she’ll force me to sit back on the couch and yell in my face. I don’t want to relive that. I don’t know what to do anymore..
I just want help.. and I can’t get it. I don’t want to tell my therapist because he wont believe me. He’s already made it clear I can’t talk to him about my problems with speaking after a sensory overload or panic attack because It’s so exhausting to force myself to talk in a place I don’t feel safe. I don’t think it would be safe to be able to tell him about my problems with eating either. I don’t know what to do. I feel so helpless. I have no support that I feel comfortable telling about this. Im scared.. scared of my aunt. Scared of what she’ll do if she finds out how much I hate her.
My life looks perfect but I am a mess. And I don’t have the power to fix it. If anyone has any advice, any at all, I would be so grateful. I just want help. That’s all really..
#vent post#this is pretty dark#I think this counts as disordered eating but idk#tw disordered eating#tw trauma mention#im trying to add the proper tw’s here#let me know if I need to add more
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Hello ladies and homosexuals!!!!
As we know I check the novacaine tags daily
AND SCREAMTOBEHEARD (ONE OF THE BEST FIC WRITERS EVER) HAS UPLOADED A NEW FIC
GO READ IT HEEEERREE: ink
WHY YOU SHOULD READ THIS FIC:
Callum is a little manipulative gremlin
Flirting as a manipulation
Callum Nova is really pathetic
This tag:
Spoilers! Spoilers! Spoilers! Spoilers! Spoilers! Spoilers! Spoilers!
His paranoia set in when he was in his twenties. Being so used to constantly having people wrapped around his fingers, doing exactly what he wanted them to do, it got harder to feel any excitement about it. It got boring really fast, to be completely honest. But what was even worse was the sudden paranoia and doubt towards everyone, all day. He couldn’t focus on other people’s emotions without doubting if he put them there or not. His love life, which used to be great and extremely fulfilling, quickly felt empty. It became apparent that everyone in his life was manipulated into loving him. The thought didn’t make him feel proud as it did before.
THIS IS SO CALLUM! HE CANNOT TRUST ANYONE CAUSE OF HIS POWERS!!
He could make himself king.
REFERENCE!!!!
He had found Tristan during one of his multiple stalking sessions of Atlas’ recruits.
Ohhh Callum you silly little guy XD
Callum said. He felt and heard Tristan’s hitch in breath and the way his pulse kicked up just a notch. He was right. Tristan was checking him out. And interested in him. He was always right about those things though.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO???? This is written so well Callum would obviously think like that and just the way it's shown that Tristan is interested??? Fantastic!
Tristan obediently sat back down, gawking at Callum like nobody had ever flirted with him. He made it too easy.
I feel like Tristan isn't as innocent/easy as he seems, something else is going on here, I can feel it in my bones!! Also, it's very in-character for Tristan to be so surprised that anyone would flirt with him, poor boy.
Either way, he would have to be vulnerable or give Tristan the illusion of vulnerability. Gross.
lololol that's so Callum
“Sadly, yeah. I can’t leave them alone for 5 seconds before they start fucking things up. Out of all the days they could have started fucking around with time travel, they decide to do it now,”
So true about The Atlas Six, they need their emotional support grump!
It was unfair. It was unjust. Callum was used to getting what he wanted. He wasn’t just spoiled, he knew what he deserved and was worth. Which was way more than that pathetic excuse of a man knew. Callum would make sure he’d put his name in that goddamn library, and Atlas Blakely would suffer for having denied him something so important.
YEEAAHHH POP OFF CALLUM!!!
I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE WHERE THIS GOES!!
EVERYONE GO READ IT!!!!! IT'S SOOO GOOD!!!
#callum nova#novacaine#tristan caine#tristan x callum#the atlas six#i check the novacaine tags daily
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Jason swore loudly and had to resist the urge to throw his controller down, pissed that he kept dying cause of the game's stupid glitches (Also known as own mistakes). Still, he regained his composure, and smiled before saying
"Alright chat, we're gonna finish up this one and then we're gonna move on to another game. There should be a poll on top for what we do next"
Jason was a moderately successfully game streamer, averaging about 200 to 300 viewers a night, entirely based on his wit and skill. He knew for sure that they weren't coming for his looks, given his weedy, thin frame, overly pimpled face and large, nerdy glasses. Still, it was enough for him, and he was happy with the progress that he'd made.
As Jason got himself set up for the next game, he heard a shocking sound from above him. The victory theme from one of his favorite JRPGs was blaring through the speakers, and he came up, staring at the screen in shock. He knew what that sound meant. That meant someone had tipped him one thousand dollars, completely out of nowhere.
He looked in shock at the notification on the stream, seeing that it was from someone named JockBro69, with the simple message "Can't wait to get to know you better, cutie~"
Jason was completely stunned. Not only had someone actually redeemed the donation goal that he set as a joke (That being that whoever was stupid enough to tip 1000 dollars got to have a 15 minute private chat with him), it was also someone that he'd never seen in his chat before.
Thoroughly weirded out, but knowing that he had to honor his commitment, he sent the guy a quick private message.
"Dude, I don't know how to thank you enough! Guess I'll see ya pretty soon!"
With that, he sent the man his private zoom link, and said goodbye to the chat, who were still going wild over this turn of events, before pausing,the stream and hopping over to discord for the call.
Not two seconds after his stream stopped, he got a requested video call on discord from the guy, and he opened it up, giving a second for the video to load, but when it did, he was completely dumbfounded again. He was expecting the mysterious donator to be some fat, sweaty silicon valley nerd with too much and money on his hands, but instead what met him was possibly the hottest man he's ever seen, standing up and looking down at his webcam with a friendly expression.
"Fuck, bro! Its so good to finally fucking meet you, I've been such a big fan for a long time, and this is a really big deal for me~
The man had a deep, rumbling, pleasant voice, that shot straight down Jacob's spine and left him feeling strangely... inadequate. Like the fact that his voice wasn't as smooth or melodic as this guy's was his fault, and he should be ashamed of that fact. Still, this guy was pretty pleasant to look at, Jason had to admit. He wasn't gay, definitely not, but he could acknowledge when another guy simply looked good.
Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he should do or say. Still, this guy spent 1000 dollars on this meeting, so he had to try anyway.
"So, umm.... I see your username is jockbro69... What's your actual name thought? I don't think I've ever seen you in chat before..."
The other man actually laughed at this, before looking confused and saying
"What are you talking about bro? Its me, Ethan! I'm in your chat all the time! Man, I guess what they say about playing games so much is true, huh?"
At this statement, Jason actually went pale with shock. THIS was Ethan? This was the guy who's username used to be runningLink? Who was an active fan of the zelda series, constantly begged Jason to play them, and bemoaned the fact that no would date him? It just didn't seem right...
Still, Jason, ever the semi professional, continued on, pretending that he wasn't shocked at the news.
"Well, thanks for supporting me so much! Seriously, this means a lot to me... Ummm... so I guess tell me some of your favorite things about the channel then!"
The man laughed again, the sound coming out in a slow, dumb chuckle, before saying
"What's my favorite thing? Do I even have to say, bro? Its the amazing piece of eye candy I'm looking at right now. You're super hot, bro~"
At this, Jason was shocked, but he chuckled awkwardly while blushing, and said
"Really? I don't think I've ever heard a single person say that before. I guess I consider myself slightly below average..."
The guy looked confused at that, before pressing on
"Really, bro? You look super hot to me, you got those bright, blinding blue eyes that you can just get lost in~"
At this point, Jason knew the man was just messing with him. His eyes have always, and will always be a dark, muddy brown, hidden behind his massive frames. Jason was about to respond, when Ethan continued
"Yeah, and you got that super stylish haircut too, really makes you look super masculine~"
Now Jason was REALLY confused. The guy was right, he did always get complements on his eyes, the bright, shocking blue visible and striking even through his huge glasses. But his hair was always a long, unkempt greasy mess.
"Ethan, are you sure you're okay, you're not just seeing things? Cause I don't know what you're talking about"
Ethan ignored the comment, just continuing to press on
"And you've got that hot, manly face, with your strong jaw and amazing profile"
Jason was confused again. Sure, his stylish haircut did help him look much better, but his face had always been pretty androgynous, with hints of baby fat still present in his cheeks. Again, before he could interrupt, Ethan continued,
"And you've got that smooth smooth skin, that hot stubble, that sexy smirk of yours. You're the full package bro~"
Jason laughed at this. Ethan was clearly being way too complementary. Sure his face had a great shape to it, with strong cheekbones and a square jaw, but his skin was still acne marked as hell, his smile was crooked and awkward, and he'd never been able to grow any facial hair, no matter how much he tried.
"I really have no idea what you're talking about Ethan. Sure I've got some good features, but the overall package isn't much to write home about~"
Ethan smirked again, his eyes lighting up with humor, as if he knew something I didn't.
"Nah, bro, you're underselling yourself. Plus, you've got that body~"
"What about my body? I think its pretty average, though I guess I'm a bit on the skinny side..."
Jason looked down at himself, trying to contemplate what Ethan meant. Sure, he'd been blessed with an attractive, manly face, but it didn't change the fact that his body was still below average at best.
"Again, bro! Putting yourself down. You really think those massive logs you have for arms are below average?"
Jason looked down at his skinny arms, and said
"More like logs than twigs man, seriously."
"And what about your legs? You've spent so long working on em, you've got thighs and glutes to kill for~"
Jason laughed again
"I dunno man! Most people say the exact opposite. They say I spend too much time on arms and not enough on my torso and legs. What can I say though? I love having big, beefy arms."
"Of course you do, bro? Who wouldn't? Especially when right in between em, you got your big, pillowy chest, your sexy abs, and your super toned back~"
Jason was seriously starting to wonder if Ethan was on something. Anyone could clearly see from first glance that Jason's body was badly proportioned, his arms and legs being massive from months to years of work, while he neglected his back, pecs and ab muscles. Still, he thought he looked pretty alright honestly.
"And I especially love how you're not only super sexy, you know it and flaunt it~ I don't think I've ever seen you once wear a shirt. The most you'll wear is a necklace, and even then, not like that covers anything, bro~ Only makes you look sexier"
Now here Jason had to disagree. He knew that he had cultivated and developed an amazing body over his years of going to the gym, but that was all for his own personal satisfaction. He never flaunted it unnecessarily, especially not during a stream.
"And I love the fact that you're such a fucking bro, bro. Every other word out of your mouth is bro and dude, you can't go even five minutes without flexing and thinking of fucking, or going to the gym, or hanging out with your other hot bros. We all know that your brain is basically only good for working out and looking hot. No smart's up there. And you've got your deep, sexy voice, too. Makes it even hotter that you're a gay bro, just like me"
Jason HAD to laugh at that. What the guy was saying was just so ridiculous.
"What the hell are you talking about? Look, I know that I like to show off my sexy body a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of dumb jock. And I'm definitely straight, dude. Don't know why you'd think I'm gay"
Ethan pressed on, completely unabashed by Jason's last comments.
"But you know the best fucking part, bro? Its that power of yours. The fact that any weak ass nerd who looks at you and your huge fucking muscles grows into a hot, dumb bro like us within seconds~"
Jason was busy flexing, staring at his own bicep in awe, as if he was shocked by him impressive he was. He looked up at Ethan blearily, saying
"Sorry, bro, what'd you say? I guess I got a bit fucking distracted. Huhuhu. But who could blame me~"
"Nah, it was nothing bro. You don't need to worry about it. Now should head back to the stream?"
Jason gasped in excitement, having forgotten entirely about the fact that there was a whole stream audience full of lame ass nerds, just ready for him to make as sexy as he and Ethan were.
"You got it bro~ This is gonna be so fucking hot~"
Jason left the call, going back to the stream and restarting, glad to see that a full 300 people were still watching, even through the extended break. The second he turned his camera on, he could see that people were confused for some reason, saying a stranger broke into his house. How stupid could these people be? How did they not recognize him? Still, not like it would matter for long...
"Hey bros! How're we all fucking doing? Welcomes to today's stream..."
He trailed off, looking blankly at the camera, before saying
"You know what? Fuck video games! Who needs them when you can do this~"
And as his pecs bounced and bounced hypnotically, the chat slowly transitioned from messages like "What the fuck is happening?" or "Who is this dumb jock?" to "Fuck, bro! Your pecs look so fucking hot today!" and "Huhuhu, I love making my pecs bounce like Jace's~"
And so the stream continued, Jace showing everyone all the amazing things his body could do, while anyone that was watching, whether they wanted to or not, began to copy him exactly. And as the stream went on, the viewer count rose, and rose, and rose...
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a sister’s sacrifice ; part one ↠
↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; fluff with a lot of underlying angst
↠ masterlist
↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;
your’re philza’s eldest child & only daughter
(for context, i’m placing you about 5 years older than wilbur & approx 15 years older than tommy)
starting off strong: you call will & tommy your boys
“what are my boys up to?”
“has anyone seen my boys?”
“my boys!”
& they’re so used to it they don’t even care
like there is no “we’re not your boys-“ yes, yes they are
coming in right off with the neglectful father agenda, you were more a parent to will & tommy than phil was rip
you do not understand why phil took in two other children when he already knew he fucked up raising you but here you are 16 years later with one brother dead but possibly not for much longer & another who is,,,,, tommy
phil would always go out w/ his friend techno and you’d be home looking after your little brothers
you’d learned to basically completely take care of yourself and wilbur by the time you were 6
& when phil brought tommy home, you knew immediately that it would be up to you to raise him
sometimes you feel bad because you kind of feel at fault for the way tommy and wilbur turned out
but like also you were a child/a teenager when you were parenting them so don’t be too hard on yourself
you honestly took care of phil & techno a lot too
like your caring nature just made you mom (v. to be motherly towards) everyone
so when phil & techno would come home from doing something & they’d be all beat up & tired, you’d patch them up & give them a nice meal
techno has always liked you most out of all of phil’s kids
you’re more reasonable and much much calmer
he thinks you’re a great person & is honestly really protective of you
you are like the only person tommy listens to without having to be scared into it
yes, he’s still a demon child most of the time
but if you tell him to do something he will do it
you always encouraged wilbur’s musicality
you saved up for months to buy him his first guitar for his birthday one year
& just seeing how his face lit up when you pulled it out of its hiding place made it worth it (ಥ﹏ಥ)
yours and phil’s relationship has always been a bit difficult to pin down
it goes without saying that you have taken on more responsibility in your role in the family than most daughters have to
& while phil is nowhere near getting father or the year, he’s not all bad
as much as you should, you have never been able to bring yourself to hate him
he may be gone a lot & not be the most responsible for his children
but he taught tommy to brew potions & never missed one of wilbur’s recitals
he was still “dad” no matter how much he sucked at it
and how could i forget tubbo!
tommy’s been friends w/ tubbo for forever & he’s basically part of the family at this point
you adore tubbo & practically raised him like you did with wilbur & tommy
when wilbur & tommy (+ tubbo) started their drug empire/l’manberg bs, you stayed out of the way
you didn’t necessarily approve
but it was what it was
you lost your first canon life to dream as l’manberg fought for independence, targeted due to your connections with will & tommy
you warned wilbur against the election but when he wouldn’t budge, you still supported him and tommy
when they lost, schlatt basically threatened & blackmailed you into staying in l’manberg
so you did
you even managed to convince him you were on his side & done w/ your brothers
of course you weren’t actually
you were the one who always covered for tubbo when he ran off to help pogtopia
but schlatt still found out
before you even fully understood what was happening, tubbo was in a cage in front of everyone & techno had a rocket launcher pointed at him
you couldn’t just sit there & let this happen
(you) stop!
(quackity) y/n, stay out of it-
(you) no. tubbo isn’t responsible for this. i am.
(schlatt) y/n.
(you) tubbo was only following my orders. i told him to help pogtopia; i told him what information to give them. don’t punish tubbo for my choices.
woohoo you saved tubbo!
but now you’re in a cage with the blade pointing a rocket launcher at your chest
techno doesn’t want to kill you
he likes you
you’re a good kid
(techno) i don’t- this doesn’t really seem-...
(you) techno. it’s okay.
no
it’s not okay
he can’t kill you
he lowers his weapon & refuses to do it
schlatt shoves him to the side & kills you himself
you lose your second canon life to jschlatt, protecting one of your brothers
you kind of fall off the face of the planet after that
you don’t involve yourself as pogtopia takes back l’manberg
you watch from afar as wilbur blows up the country he created
you watch as he is killed by your father
when technoblade “turned” on everyone, you couldn’t help but be understanding
this damn country
the government
the need for control
for power
it’s ripped your family apart
you want to go back to how things used to be
you miss teaching tommy to use a sword & watching as he became better than you
you miss making tea with techno when it was so late it could be morning
you miss will excitedly playing you a new song on the guitar you bought him
you miss tubbo scraping his knee & asking you to kiss it better
you miss your dad tearfully thanking you for everything you’ve done when he thinks you’re asleep
you miss the simple times
you miss your family
how long has it been since you were whole?
#sleepy bois inc#sleepy bois#mcyt#mcyt x reader#sleepy bois x reader#sleepy bois fanfic#sleepy bois fanfiction#mcyt fanfic#mcyt fanfiction#mcyt imagine#sleepy bois imagine#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fanfic#wilbur soot fanfiction#tommyinnit#tommyinnit x reader#tommyinnit fanfic#tommyinnit fanfiction#technoblade#technoblade fanfic#technoblade x reader#technoblade fanfiction#philza#philza minecraft#philza x reader#dream smp#dream smp x reader#tubbo#tubbo x reader
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okay since folks really like my original cockroach party post i’m going to expand a bit and talk about how and why the mighty nein turned into a cockroach party.
but before we do that, i’m going to talk about mechanics on this post. warning: long post ahead.
first, let’s define terms. all adventuring parties find their own play style when it comes to combat. from my experience, these tend to fall into three broad categories that i am calling the glass cannon, the control, and the cockroach. to be clear, no one party style is better than another; the players and characters simply have different priorities and skill sets.
glass cannon: these parties are built for doing damage. that’s basically it. they do damage and hope that they kill their enemies before their enemies kill them. these parties tend to be low on support casters, healers, or both. round 4 is where things start to get really rough for these parties and chances are good that if the fight has gone on this long, someone’s at least unconscious.
control: these parties tend to go around obstacles and enemies. there are a million ways to do this; for example, these parties can regularly avoid conflicts all together via stealth or charisma or some other check. when forced into combat, they excel when they have plans or traps to spring on opponents. they struggle a bit but ultimately triumph because they have a myriad of ways to not get hit or they are able to escape and lose their pursuers.
cockroach: these parties don’t engage in combat, they endure it. their goal is to outlast their enemies via healing, support, and tanking. you hit them? joke’s on you, they don’t care. unlike their glass cannon counterparts, round 4 is where things turn around for the cockroach party. they’ve dug in and are starting to push back.
vox machina is a quintessential glass cannon party. part of that is simply down to player availability; ashley their cleric worked across the country so that made it tough for her to attend on the regular. but. the party technically still had a primary healer who could have stepped in and filled that role: keyleth. druids are pretty dang good healers and support casters, even moon druids. however. marisha and keyleth decided to instead take a dps and tank role similar to grog. this ain’t a diss either so don’t any of you all start anything, especially considering keyleth was often burning her higher slots just to get vm to different places. when keyleth was tanking in wild shape and focusing on dps, it meant that vox machina was reliant on: vex’s cure wounds (and with her being a half caster, you weren’t getting a lot of mileage of it), scanlan as the only support role, and later vax’s lay on hands for emergency healing. percy could heal himself a bit if things got really dicey, grog was taking half damage from most attacks, and the twins could hide as a bonus action or stay at range out of the way. in fact, most of vm had some method for staying at range and letting grog and keyleth tank. and this style worked for them for the most part. their biggest dangers were always the longer fights, with or without pike. longer fights meant more chances for these fragile kids to get hit and possibly drag out the fight even longer by trying to get someone up.
the ashholes from exandria unlimited is a great example of a control party. i count half of their encounters which they’ve been able to wriggle out of without killing their opponents. their liberal use of charm spells, high charisma, and just flat out out of the box thinking (they flipped a fucking crocodile!!) has saved their bacon so many times. during unavoidable combat, they have struggled a little bit, but they’re a low level party to begin with so struggle is expected. all the casters appear to be offensively geared with dariax and fearne having prepped utility on the side. even so, that control vibe still permeates the party; dorian’s most clutch move was that dissonant whispers on mister, which he cast not to harm mister but force him to move away from the rune that transformed and powered him, thus ending the combat.
and finally we have the mighty nein, the cockroach party. we’ll get into the hows and whys later, for now, cockroach parties are built on three major founding principles: action economy, mindset, and versatility. action economy is king in dnd. pcs get an action, bonus action, and reaction per turn. having turns each round is critical to a dnd party's ability to overcome the enemy and the more turns you have compared to your opponent, the better. for large parties, that is a sizable advantage over enemy monsters, which is why even low level monsters are packing multi-attacks, decent ac, and/or good solid hit points. more members means more attacks the creature(s) needs to take and focused fire adds up fast, even at low levels. for example, kylre had about 90 hp and was dead in three rounds, with fjord alone dealing 64 points of that damage. yeah. want to know why mid to high level monsters have legendary actions and resists? action economy. want to know why some silly min-max number crunchers think that cleric healing is severely under-powered? action economy. laura's assessment of healing, that it is better to damage the enemy and only heal to bring people up to make sure they get their turn, is a solid, reasonable assessment of the economy, especially when it comes to the cleric spell slot economy which I elaborated on here.
so, in light of the action economy, let's talk about the cockroach mindset. the cockroach party doesn’t ask ‘how do we beat this opponent’, it asks ‘how do we outlast this opponent.’ it’s a subtle difference in combat focus but an important one. survival of the party is the cockroach’s top priority and all members go into the encounter with that priority in mind. the players aren’t focused on the survival of their character, however, they are focused on giving their party another round to act. they give themselves room to breathe. whether that is stunning the enemy completely, whether it's lowering the enemy's attacking ability, whether it's giving a party member an extra action, whether it’s bringing someone up from unconsciousness, those methods combine with damage generation to win an encounter. cockroach parties don't rely on damage output to keep themselves safe, they rely on their own ability to survive and support their team.
which brings us to versatility. cockroach parties tend to have a wide array of skills at their disposal and aren’t afraid to use them. while they have solid support roles, casters are not the only ones who can bring utility to a party. just ask beau. just ask yasha as she flew caleb out of danger in the first lucien fight. heck, just ask orym and his swip swap battle flop. or damian and the owlbear from the darrington brigade. cockroach parties, more than control and glass cannon parties, prefer to have a wide range of options available to them. the more tricks up your sleeve, the more likely you are to have something to deal with whatever the dm throws at you. marine layer, anyone? at the same time, the party also uses this wide array to have multiple ways to handle the same problem. jester is the backup stealth scout and teleporter. fjord is the emt, able to remove and heal injured party members if caduceus or jester cannot. caleb is the backup backup cleric with polymorph. veth can also stun/incapacitate enemies with her spells. caduceus is the backup backup tank and battlefield control via his shield of retribution and spirit guardians to beau and jester.
these three tricks combine into one inescapable reality: there is no one better or obvious target to take out. the entire party is one giant interlocking trap; break one and the others will reinforce the weak point and make you pay for the effort.
(incidentally, the cockroach approach is so ingrained in the cast that the vm side of the battle royale didn’t play with the urgency the vm playbook requires and that, more than anything, screwed them over. but that’s a different post.)
tune in next time for a break down of how, when, and why the nein went from glass cannon to cockroach because it is a fascinating ride.
#critical role#cr spoilers#cr meta#the mighty nein#mighty nein#d&d mechanics#critical role meta#my meta#tm9#long post#that round 4 thing is real btw#go look at the battle royale breakdown#at the trent fight#at the lucien fights#the avantika fight#vox machina#exu spoilers
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I like Bakuguo but his attitude is starting to really piss me off. He's talking about Daku as if he's just ~crazy~ and as if he isn't partly to blame for Deku's toxic self-worth issues. It's infuriating to watch. If Bakuguo doesn’t admit out loud and in front of his friends that his bullying of Deku played a part in Deku's current destructive state and if he doesn’t verbally apologize and reaffirm Deku's worth then I can no longer like Bakuguo's character or Hori's writing.
tbh I don't really know why this is the discourse of choice for people all of a sudden, but this is already the second ask I've gotten about it, so I might as well address it lol.
I think fandom is conflating fanon!Deku and canon!Deku here again. fanon Deku is of course much more sensitive and woobified and has much shakier self-esteem. fanon Deku is the one that turns evil in so many AUs because of Kacchan's bullying. fanon Deku is the one that actually jumps off the roof in so many fics, as opposed to fishing his notebook back out of the pond a few minutes later grumbling about how Kacchan needs to think before he speaks or else he could land himself in serious shit one day if god forbid anyone actually does take his cruel words to heart.
and just to clarify before I get any further, I am not saying this to excuse Kacchan's actions in any way, because what he did was still completely terrible and unacceptable and WAY over the line, and what's more he knew it, too. the bullying was still shitty and horrible and awful, and definitely impacted Deku and made him miserable. I fully acknowledge that, and that Kacchan has a lot of atoning to do for it. this is not a "Kacchan did nothing wrong" post.
but that being said, I don't think canon Deku's reckless self-sacrificing nature actually has anything to do with the bullying. I think they're two completely separate things. canon Deku actually has pretty decent self-esteem in spite of everything Kacchan did to him. canon Deku doesn't think he is useless. canon Deku had a wholeass fight with Kacchan less than 10 chapters into the series in which he explicitly spelled it out for Kacchan that he had a lot of worth, and was going to prove it to him. canon Deku was persistent in wanting to become a hero and hoping and believing that he could find some way in spite of being quirkless. canon Deku never let go of that dream even when no one else supported it. I don't think he would have even given up on it after being told no by All Might, tbh -- we just never got to see how it would have played out because of everything that happened with the sludge monster shortly afterward. but he's not the type to ever give up on something that easily, and we've seen that. canon Deku never thought he was useless, but rather wanted to prove to everyone else that he wasn't.
the drive that Deku has to save and protect others even at the expense of his own safety is something entirely separate from that. he doesn't break his body for others simply because he has no self-esteem and thinks that his own life isn't important. he does it because he can't stand the thought of someone else getting hurt, and knowing that he could have done something to prevent it. it's as simple as that. like, Spider-Man has the whole "with great power comes great responsibility" thing, right? and he doesn't have low self-esteem; he simply believes that if he has the ability to help someone else, then he has a responsibility to help them. it's a personal creed. and Deku is based on Spider-Man. his philosophy is based on that philosophy, which was one of Horikoshi's core influences and is one of the core creeds in superhero fiction.
Deku is self-destructive not because he doesn't value himself, but because he is literally physically incapable of standing back and doing nothing if he knows that he can do something. he's the type of person who sees a car speeding towards someone and leaps in to push them out of the way. NOT because he wants to get himself fucking pancaked by a speeding car, but simply because he can't sit back and watch the other person get hurt without taking action. his body moves before he can think. and that's where the whole "doesn't take himself into account" thing comes in -- the fact that his thought process simply stops at "get them out of the way of the car", and never extends beyond that to "hey, and maybe I should try to find a way to do this that doesn't involve me getting hit in their place." to him, that's simply less important than the first priority, which is getting the other person out of the way.
and regarding that last part, while that may seem like a self-worth issue if he's prioritizing everyone else above himself, I think what it actually is just selflessness taken to extremes. like for instance, when a parent sacrifices themselves to save their child, them placing the child's life above their own isn't necessarily because they don't see themselves as having value. rather, it's that they love the child so much that they place their well-being even above their own. and that's what Deku is like as well. except that in his case he cares about EVERYONE, and so is willing to sacrifice himself for anyone. and that selflessness is his defining character trait, and simultaneously the most admirable and the most terrifying thing about him. it's both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness, which I think is fascinating to explore.
but anyway, so that's also why we never really see anyone thoroughly chewing him out for this behavior either. because the thing is, it is admirable how selfless he is. it's just that there's also a reason why most people are at least a little bit selfish. and that's because too much selflessness will ultimately and inevitably wind up getting you killed. at some point you either have to learn when to put the oxygen mask on yourself first, or else find yourself a loyal group of friends (or classmates) to watch your back, and make sure that mask gets on you when you need it. and maybe help you land the plane too while they're at it.
anyway so that was a lot of rambling, but basically it all boils down to three things:
when Deku berates himself for being useless (for instance at the end of the War arc), he's doing it out of frustration for not being able to push the others out of the way of the metaphorical car. that's the kind of uselessness he can't stand. the sitting-back-and-doing-nothing uselessness.
Kacchan's bullying was terrible, and it might have indeed played a part in Deku's choice of the word "useless" as a way of berating himself in these instances, but he is not the one who gave Deku this mindset of taking himself out of the equation. that's something that was already inherent to Deku from day one. (but that said, Kacchan has a lot of things to apologize to Deku for anyway, so if he wants to add this to the list I certainly won't stop him. he gets mad about Deku's suicidal attitude because it worries him, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he doesn't feel responsible for it. people underestimated his feelings of atonement before 284/285, and I think they're still underestimating him now.)
and lastly, one last important note, which is that Deku's current "saving" mindset isn't wrong, just as Kacchan's "winning" mindset was not wrong either. the lesson to be learned here is NOT that being selfless and wanting to save other people is bad. rather, it's the fact that he's trying to do it alone that's got him all fucked up right now. basically when you think about it, selflessness is really just selfishness on someone else's behalf. which means that in order for Deku to be saved, it isn't necessary for him to change his outlook or his selfless attitude, even if it is pretty crazy lol. rather, all he really needs is a good group of friends who are willing to act selfishly on his behalf in return. protecting each other through mutual selflessness lol. teamwork as self-preservation. hence why the U.A. kids are here now.
anyway so yeah, I think that's everything. sorry this got so long and out of control lol. this is just a very specific nuanced thing that's hard for me to express, but which I feel is very important when it comes to Deku's character. Kacchan didn't unleash Depressed Nomad Deku on the world (or at least not in this respect). but that being said, he and the others will hopefully be the ones to nudge him back on the right course again.
#bnha 319#midoriya izuku#bakugou katsuki#bnha meta#deku meta#bnha#boku no hero academia#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#makeste reads bnha#asks#anon asks#long post
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Subject: RAPTOR
Nomu!Hawks x Reader (NSFW)
This GIANT is the lovechild of this amazing fanart and this ask:
I twisted the shizznit out of that ask, but the inspiration is still there. A thank you to anyone who makes it through this very long ride.
This fic does takes some liberties in the creation of nomu. Some factors will deviate from canon.
Words: 20k+
You can also read this long-ass story on AO3 if that’s more comfortable.
Heed these warnings: Blood and Death, Teratophilia/Monster-Fucking, Breeding, Mutant Genitalia, Unethical Experimentation, Mutilation, lots of handjobs and cum, LOTS of long tongue action and I’m ashamed, Brief Suicide Ideation, and Shitty Science
——–x——–
Fertile nomu were the greatest breakthrough that the villains could ever hope for. Breeding saves so much time and resources, as opposed to artificially creating each specimen from scratch. There were two major “programs”, as these sick bastards insist on calling them.
The Mating Program, where the nomu were paired together, one with male sexual organs and the other with those of a female, though there was also the occasional subject that managed to possess both. It was an unpredictable process; miscarriages were common, sometimes the offspring dies minutes after birth, or the fetus develops too rapidly inside the womb and the birth becomes a violent bursting out of the parent’s body. Weaker nomu, usually the ones incapable of rapid regeneration, have been killed from such incidents. “What a waste,” those bastards in lab coats would say.
And then there was the Milking Program, in which semen was collected to later be frozen or artificially inserted into ‘other creatures’. Yeah, they say it as if ninety percent of those creatures weren’t humans.
You were an unwilling member of the latter program, but the assholes sure did love making it sound like they were doing you a favor.
“This entire precinct is yours,” they said. “Your very own farm of all-powerful beasts!”
Gee, thanks. Just what you always wanted, to jerk off abominations and collect their cum. To be fair, it could be worse. At least you weren’t one of the unlucky ones being impregnated. Your possession of a quirk, albeit a mostly useless one, probably saved you from that fate. Those without a quirk had a higher chance of passing down all of the Nomu’s abilities. Just another addition to the long list of Why Being Quirkless Fucking Sucks.
The weaker and simpler nomu aren’t an issue. A sort of imprinting drives them to obey your every command. Hell, jerking them off isn’t even needed — you can literally just order them to ejaculate, and the damn things are spewing out their putrid seed before you can even prepare your containers.
The most troublesome part of your “job” was the High Ends. They are powerful, sentient, and God help you, have an actual sex drive. They were obedient to an extent, but you can’t hold complete control over something that was specifically designed for independent thinking. You were responsible for only five of these advanced nomu, and that was too many. The touchy bastards always wanted more than just a handjob, vocalizing their lust through distorted throats. The long, beastly groans of “inside” and “give pussy” echoed in your head throughout the day and into the night.
These things can literally pound you into mush, and the very thought of carrying their horrifying children makes your throat burn with rising bile. You don’t believe it’s worth risking your life just to please their monster dicks.
That was all before they introduced you to a new ‘pet’. You stood in the hallway of your assigned area of the old hospital and watched two approaching figures. Ugh, another damn High End to make things more difficult, but this one made your heart skip a beat.
Most of the creature’s body was a solid black, just like the rest within its tier. It was more slender than the others, upper body leaning forward with the support of long legs with joints that reminded you of a bird. Both its hands and feet were covered in scales and ended in large talons. A grand pair of ebony wings were folded behind its back, and a muscular feathered tail swayed with its movements. Overall, its appearance was a mixture of avian and reptilian.
The feathery wings were a huge hint, but absolute certainty struck you when you made eye contact, gold-filled eyes with a bird-like slant on a face that still managed to stay youthful after so many alterations to its body. You listened in on the villains’ conversations whenever they were around. With no access to any kind of media in this place, it was the only way to stay up-to-date with everything happening outside of these cursed labs. You remember hearing about their latest victory, how they managed to overpower and kill the number two hero of Japan, dreadful news that you refused to believe. But the beast that was eyeing you curiously gave you no choice but to accept the truth.
Hawks has become their newest nomu.
The doctor accompanying him smiled proudly, commanding the monster to take your side. You gulped and tried not to flinch in his presence; you were always extra tense around new additions that didn’t know you yet. “Hawks is dead,” the doctor said calmly. “Say hello to our latest work: Raptor.”
You think you’d rather stick with ‘Hawks’. The doctor doesn’t wait for a response before continuing. “We expect samples from this one daily.”
The shocking demand has you speaking before you can stop yourself. “Why?”
The man’s impassive eyes darkened and you shrink back, considering an apology but deciding that it was best to just keep your mouth shut. Prisoners like you followed a set of rules, the most important one being ‘No Questions’. They’ll feed you to the very beasts entrusted in your care without batting an eye.
Lucky for you, this man was willing to give you a pass. “Analysis, fertilization, storage for future plans…many matters that don’t concern you. Expect me every morning to take it in for testing. Until then, get it settled and collect the first sample.”
You shuddered, sneaking a glance at Hawks, who was busy looking up at the occasional flicker of the ceiling light. It was careless to underestimate how observant the High Ends were, but this is the first time you’ve seen one so openly curious. Normally they would just absently stare at nothing when left idle.
Only when the doctor turned to leave did you finally give the newcomer your full attention. “Hawks?”
He continued to watch the blinking bulbs with great interest.
“Um…Raptor?”
You nearly jumped from how quickly his entire body turned toward you, completely still and waiting for whatever instructions came next.
You scratched at your head nervously. “Right, I guess that really is your name now. Well, come with me.”
He followed you down the old hall and past the rooms where others of his kind rested, talons tapping against the tiles with each step.
x---x---x---x---x
Raptor’s exposed frontal lobe throbs.
He doesn’t remember anything before his awakening in that cold and wet chamber. Was there anything before? Had he just been born?
Perhaps…but it just didn’t feel right.
x---x---x---x---x
Like all the other nomu, Hawks’s private space was nothing more than an emptied patient room. Their loyalty was the only thing keeping them from breaking down the old doors or tearing through the worn walls. Every minute spent alone with these superhumans was a gamble with your life.
But again, the newcomers make you extra nervous.
You stood at the door while Hawks examined his new home. He sniffed and pawed at every nook and cranny like an animal in unfamiliar surroundings, straightening his flexible spine to touch the ceiling before lowering himself on all fours. He seemed just as comfortable crawling as he was with walking; you can only imagine how incredible his agility has become. The beloved wing hero was best known for his swiftness in defeating and subduing villains, and it looks like the mad scientists sought to maximize his talents. The average nomu was built to be an indestructible powerhouse. Hawks was built to be an even more efficient predator than he already was.
As much as you didn’t want to interrupt him, you had a job to do. “Raptor…”
His head whipped around to pin you with a sharp stare, molten yellow slits revealing the red irises that only appear when focused. You tensed, but he made no further movements.
You cleared your throat and took a deep breath. Nomu respond best to a confident and assertive voice. “Just relax and stay still. It’s time for me to collect some sperm, if you even know what that means.” You grab the jar that you had already prepared in the corner.
He shook his wings and soft mane of hair, leaving his head a poofy mess. Well that was…cute. You approached him before setting the container back down and reaching for the pathetic rags they called shorts. It’s beyond ridiculous how these sadistic doctors are willing to completely violate and alter a person’s corpse, yet they force the abominations to keep their junk covered as some form of decency.
A low rumble vibrated from his chest as you dropped to your knees and pulled down his only article of clothing, allowing the not quite human-looking cock to spring free — a thick base with a curved shaft decorated with scale-like ridges on the top and bottom, then tapering to an arrow-like head, twitching and growing each second. You’ve seen stranger dicks, but it still catches you by surprise. Was Hawks’s dick always like this?
Is that a distasteful question? He is technically dead.
The moment your hand made contact, a loud hiss rushed past his teeth and he stepped back, wings flapping as he backed away until he hit the wall.
“Calm down.” His reaction startled you, but your voice remained steady. He wasn’t showing any signs of aggression, his widened eyes and timid posture gave the impression that he was just caught off-guard. “Calm,” you repeated more softly.
A few seconds pass while his breaths slow and he stands straight again to give you access to his fully hardened cock.
You try to move more slowly, at first running just your fingertips along his length to ease him into the feeling. You smiled at the sight of his face relaxing; he was surprisingly expressive. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”
His mouth opened to give you a glimpse of sharp teeth that could easily shred your flesh, but the only sounds that come out are several choked peeps. He winces and brings a clawed hand to his throat.
“Can’t talk yet, huh? Don’t worry, it usually takes a few days for you guys.” You closed your fingers around his shaft in a firm grip and began to stroke him.
The soft purrs must mean that he has fully given in. He thankfully hasn’t made any grabs at you yet; only staring down and watching you explore every inch of his pitch-black meat, taking his leaking pre-cum and smearing it all over for lubrication.
His wings shiver and his tail begins to swing wildly—you flinch at each loud thud whenever the powerful limb whacks the wall or slams into the floor. You briefly wonder if the feathers on his tail are capable of becoming sharp blades like the ones on his wings.
The purrs become low growls as he begins to bend over your kneeling form, muscular thighs quivering around you. His cock was twitching under your quickening pace, notifying you that it was time to grab the jar and get ready. “No need to hold back. Go ahead and cum.”
He obeyed with a high screech and two sets of talons seized your shoulders, tearing through cloth and digging into your skin. You yelped, but didn’t halt your milking of his cock, ensuring each spurt of cum landed inside the container. Blood can be felt trickling down your arms, his grip on the verge of crushing bone until he finally lets go after his final spasm. You release the breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you sealed the jar and stood up. “Good, now rest,” you said through clenched teeth and turned to leave.
A distorted chirp is heard behind you; you twisted your head to see Hawks rushing forward, and your heart jumps into your throat. Fuck, what did you do? Did turning your back excite him? Running wasn’t a smart option at this point. You held the fresh warm sample close to you as you shut your eyes and braced for whatever the nomu had planned.
But when he was close enough for you to feel his hot breath against your back, nothing happened. Then there were fingers, the same fingers that pierced your flesh with their hooked claws, lightly tracing over the bleeding wounds. It was a touch that was way too gentle for a monster created to kill.
You heard the choked sounds again, and you take a look at his face as he strains to form a word, eventually giving up and mouthing it instead. What you read from his lips was something that hasn’t been said to you during your entire time in this hellish hospital.
‘Sorry.’
He retreats to a corner and curls up his entire body like an animal sleeping in the cold.
You felt like the one unable to speak now, mouth opening and closing in search of a response. Eventually you were able to collect yourself. “It’s alright…I guess. Not the first time one of you has handled me roughly. First time one of you showed any regret, though…it’s honestly really freaking me out.” You giggle uncomfortably and decide that you need to hurry up and treat yourself before the scratches get infected. “Rest,” you make sure to command before rushing out of the door.
The restroom held a shabby but functional shower that will rid you of the blood, and the workers were at least generous enough to give you the bare minimum of first-aid along with extra gowns. A couple excruciating dabs of alcohol on the open wounds should clean them up just fine.
You’ll have to think about Hawks’s odd behavior later. You still had other nomu to tend to.
x---x---x---x---x
Subject: Raptor
Field Test
Quirk #1: Fierce Wings
Notes: As the host’s original quirk, we don’t expect Raptor to experience any difficulties with Fierce Wings. It should serve more as a refresher for his memory. With a brain more advanced than any other nomu so far, he should still be quick in attacking and reacting. His slightly enlarged wings will allow for greater endurance during flight, and of course, a bigger arsenal of feathers. The feathers on his tail are also to be tested.
The room that Raptor stood in the center of was filled with targets everywhere—some static, some moving in fixed patterns. The humans in coats were a safe distance away and watching him closely.
“Raptor, strike the targets with your feathers.”
He didn’t even have a chance to see which one gave the order before his body was already reacting. It took only seconds for him to pin the locations and time the movements of each target. In a flash, black sharpened feathers darted in multiple directions and pierced every mark in the room.
He didn’t care about impressing the Coats, but he still released a pleased hum after hearing his entire audience gasp. The whole situation felt familiar for some reason. Completing such a test felt so natural to him, he could probably do it blindfolded.
“Again, but this time use only the feathers from your tail.”
He obeyed. With his body lowered and tail raised, it only took two seconds longer to hit each mark.
Several more tests took place. He chopped objects of different materials and varying thickness, sliced apart a combat robot while using only his tail as a blade, and showed off his speed and aerial maneuvers during a small obstacle course.
His brain pulsed painfully. He doesn’t understand why taking so many commands was such a painful struggle.
He didn’t mind the tests much. At least he can actually do something in these test fields, as opposed to sitting in his empty room all day. After the very pleasant time spent with you, it was nothing but hours of pacing, scratching, and grooming out of boredom.
You mentioned there being others like him in those rooms. How do they handle having absolutely nothing to do for so long?
“Its mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?”
He turns to the source of the voice and finds a pair of Coats that stared at him like they were trying to probe his mind with just their eyes. The rest were scrambling about, discussing the excellence of his performance and scribbling notes.
But these two only seemed interested in watching him get lost in his thoughts. He stared back, waiting to see if they had any commands to give.
One of them only smirked as the loyal creature stood at full attention. “Yes, not very hostile, either. Not only is he capable of higher levels of thinking, he is the first High End that doesn’t host the body of some brutish villain. A more complex mind often comes with very human...quirks.”
Raptor blinks. They really enjoyed saying that particular word.
x---x---x---x---x
When you stepped into Hawks’s room for the second morning, you were ready to step right back out when you saw the state of it.
Claw marks everywhere, covering the walls and floor like webs embedded in the surface. Hawks was looking at you closely while stooped low to the floor, but his body appeared relaxed and not ready to lunge.
Not a single hair on you moved when you spoke. “Are you alright?”
He tilted his head at the question, releasing a puff of air through his nostrils before returning to whatever he was trying to do to the floor. He wasn’t violent with his movements. The talons scraped across wide curves, long lines, other patterns with seemingly no goal in mind. Looking around at the other claw marks, you realize that none of them are the angry slashes of a beast throwing a fit. They all looked to have been drawn in a calm matter, twisting and turning into random non-specific shapes.
“Raptor, are you…bored?”
He paused his carving to look at you again and releases a long and drawn-out groan, throat vibrating along with the vocals. Was that a whine?
All of the High Ends had traces of their original personality, but this was on another level. It wasn’t unwelcomed, however. “You know, when the other High Ends don’t have anything to do, they kinda just…I don’t know, it’s like they put their brains on a power-saver mode. You can’t do that?”
His brain responds with several strong pulses. Gross, you’re never going to get used to that pink-gray matter moving around. After what was apparently deep thought, Hawks gave a softer groan and shook his head.
You couldn’t help but laugh humorlessly at this entire situation. “Incredible. You’d think that these smartasses would know that making a creature of extraordinary intelligence—I bet that’s what they said—would mean that your big gross brain needs regular stimulation. Geniuses, my ass.”
Hawks gave a beastly snort. Seems like he agrees with you. You don’t mean to sound like those insane bastards, but it truly was incredible to see a High End that showed interest in casual conversation, not just commands or any opportunity to cause destruction.
Feeling confident that he won’t maul you out of boredom, you finally approach and kneel in front of him. “Sorry, there’s not much I can do about that,” you said with genuine sympathy. “Not like I have any entertainment of my own. My room sucks too. But—“ You held up your fresh new jar. “Maybe we can kill some time together again? God, that makes me sound like a sex worker for you guys.”
You don’t know if he has a sense of humor, but he clearly understands your hints and perks up. He stands so that your face is leveled with his groin, black scaly hands tugging at his shorts until a loud rip causes him to grunt in frustration. You giggle and decide to help tear the rest off. “They were just shitty rags, anyway,” you said.
He was already growing right in front of you. Your hand wraps around him for a second time, thankful that it doesn’t startle him again. He tenses for only a moment, but quickly relaxes when your stroking begins, a large pair of testes swinging freely now that there was no cloth to contain them.
“Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. “You’re not even built as big as the other nomu, but those are still impressive. I guess you’ve got plenty of samples to give, huh? Good, ‘cause I’ve gotta do this every damn day.”
You received a purr and a swish of his tail in response. It was a one-sided conversation, but it was still pretty refreshing. Milking the other High Ends was an uncomfortable task, one where you always had to be prepared with a loud and strong “No” or “Stop” whenever their excitement evolved into aggression. Every minute was tense, and despite your occasional wish for release from this shitty life, you didn’t want a violent end at the hands of these sex-hungry monstrosities.
His reactions weren’t too different from yesterday; he was being more vocal and less shy about physically expressing his pleasure. The massive black wings blew your hair back with each powerful beat, and his tail was thrashing about even more wildly.
His deep purrs weren’t unpleasant, slowly changing into higher mewls as he got closer. “Come on, just do what you did last time.”
And so he did, delivering another fresh sample straight into your container with a warped cry. His hands lingered right over you, clenched in tight fists that surely had those sharp talons digging into his rough palms. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if he was trying not to grab you this time. Would he really care about that without being told?
Hot, tired breaths blew into your hair as he recovered from his climax. Then, with his head reared back, he let out a yawn. You even heard a faint little whine similar to a dog escape him. It would have been pretty endearing if it weren’t for just how widely his mouth was opened, displaying the scary set of teeth within. Does he really use those in combat?
With his still-dripping member going flaccid, he returned to the spot he was scratching at, lazily tracing the markings that were already made. The thought of him doing this for another ten hours or so made you frown. They probably wouldn’t care if you stayed in this room a little longer than usual, would they?
Shrugging, you kneeled down again, this time resting beside him. Hawks stopped and looked at you curiously.
“Sharpen one of your feathers and give it to me,” you ordered.
Almost immediately a feather appears right in front of you. You grab it, taking care not to cut your fingers on the razor-like barbs. When’s the last time you’ve held a writing utensil? Shifting awkwardly next to the large nomu, you took the quill and began scratching lines into the floor. The hot heavy breaths and overall warmth from his close presence was hard to ignore. You’ve never been this close to a nomu for any reason that wasn’t jerking them off. He remained calm, watching your hand closely until you finished drawing a small grid.
“You know how to play tic tac toe?”
He blinked.
“…Okay, it’s pretty simple. You fill a space with either an ‘O’ or an ‘X’…”
Somehow, teaching a killer monster how to play a common children’s game was weirder than making him jizz. He caught on quickly, favoring X’s. You were winning each game at first, but once he figured out all of the possible patterns, every game was ending in a draw. You drew larger grids, sometimes having both of you move to a different spot for more room. Most matches were still draws, but he will sometimes catch you by surprise and scratch a row of three X’s that you didn’t notice in time, his tail swishing out of what may have been pride or enjoyment.
After a while you decided to show him other shapes. Maybe he can experiment with them more when you were gone. Who knows, soon he might be drawing more than random lines. He wasn’t bad company, to be honest. Then again, your standards have taken a nosedive ever since you winded up in this facility of unethical science. It was nice to spend time with anything that didn’t want to just tear you in half with a massive cock.
Only when you felt like you overstayed your welcome and stood back up did you realize how much of a mess you both made of the floor and walls.
“Oops, it looks like a bunch of kids got in here,” you said while looking at the collage of shapes and lines. Hopefully the doctors won’t find this too strange; he was pretty intelligent, after all. “Well, it’s about time I take my leave. You keep practicing your doodling skills, I guess.” With the jar of white fluid back in your arms, you headed on out, but a large hand grabs onto your arm.
Hawks’s yellow eyes were wider than usual, a scraping, guttural noise leaving his throat as he toyed with his voice.
“Sss…..aaayy…” Just like the other High Ends, his vocals were warped and all-around unsettling, but you could hear it, traces of the playful and smooth-talking hero that you used to watch during interviews and talk shows. It was barely there, but it was still there.
“St…aay.”
You couldn’t help the sad smile that graced your face. He was looking at you like a puppy. “Sorry, but I don’t know what they’d do if they notice me staying here for too long,” you explained.
He winced from the strain of his vocal chords. “Come…back?”
You shook your head. “There are cameras in the halls. I shouldn’t be going in and out of your room.” You tensed under his grip, afraid that refusing him like this will anger him. He has been very docile so far, but you don’t know what it takes to set him off.
Thankfully, he lets go of you and backs away with another one of those whines. For God’s sake, were you really feeling bad about leaving one of these...things?
To be fair, in the two days you’ve known him, Hawks was already much different from the others. Hell, he hasn’t even shown any true signs of aggression yet. The other High Ends are always expressing some desire to attack or break something. You thought it came naturally with all of the engineering. For something that was apparently supposed to be their finest specimen yet, Hawks’s behavior wasn’t fitting for his job at all. You just played tic tac fucking toe with him like two kids on a sidewalk.
That’s probably why you found yourself trying to reassure him. “We can play some more tomorrow. Don’t worry.”
An odd clicking noise was made—he sure had a variety of sounds reminiscent of birds—and he returned to his favorite corner, hooking his talons into an empty spot on the wall to begin yet another drawing.
The slightest hint of warmth could be felt in your chest as you left him to his creative tasks. This place sucks and has deprived you of everything good in life for…you’ve lost track of how long. You’ll take whatever you can get to make things more bearable around here.
And if that ‘whatever’ turns out to be a former top hero who was killed and resurrected into a horrid experiment, then so be it.
x---x---x---x---x
Subject: Raptor
Field Test
Quirk #2: Reptile
Notes: The Reptile quirk will make for a great upgrade to Raptor’s physical capabilities. He may possess wings, but the ability to climb almost any surface will be helpful in enclosed areas and improve his overall performances in stealth. A flexible spine allows him to comfortably be both bipedal and quadrupedal, the digitigrade legs granting him greater speed and jumps.
Also, someone needs to send in a request for a new pair of shorts for the damned thing.
There were many more instructions to follow this time. The Coats were bombarding him with one command after another.
“Climb up here.”
“Slash this with your talons.”
“Crush this with your hands. Try again with your feet.”
His head throbbed painfully as the voices took hold of his movements. They pushed his endurance to the limit when they made him run on a machine, first on his legs, then again on all fours. He was only running in place, but it was much more satisfying than pacing back and forth in that boring room.
It turns out that he can scale walls and ceilings with little effort thanks to the pads on his hands and feet. Maybe he can try drawing on the ceiling when he returns to his room. The only downside was that you wouldn’t be able to sit up there with him.
The Coats observed behind the (assumed) safety of a wall of thick glass. Each one possessed a small microphone so that their voice can still be heard clearly through the speaker on his side of the room.
They always watched him with cold and calculating eyes, and only spoke to him when telling him to do something. You feared him; his feathers easily sensed your tension, unsteady breaths, and quickening heartbeats, yet you still took the time to be friendly. And what you do with those hands…he wishes you’d make him feel that good all day. Yes, his room was small and boring, but it did have you.
“Raptor, to the opposite end of the room,” a Coat ordered. The sensation of being pulled by his entire head forced him to take his place at the wall, staring straight ahead at the door.
His wings twitched from a powerful approaching presence, feathers instinctively sharpening at the possible incoming threat. The door was opened by a small Coat to make way for a beast, a beast with a large powerful form and exposed brain just like him.
Vacant eyes stared straight ahead, looking right through him like it was dead on its feet.
“This is one of Cloner’s spawn, yes?” A female Coat spoke with her mouth close to the mic. He supposes that they don’t care if he hears them.
“Yes. His offspring always turn out even more unstable than him. This one can’t even produce a single proper clone, and no additional quirks were inherited. It’s useless.”
“Well, at least it’ll help us in its final moments.” The man leaned into his mic. “Raptor, kill the nomu. Do not use your wings.”
The woman followed up with her own order. “Nomu, kill Raptor.”
Blood was suddenly rushing through his body twice as fast, the reds of his eyes appearing and locking onto the target that was already charging at him with a horrifying wail.
Kill it.
He ducked under the bigger creature’s closing arms that would have likely trapped him into a crushing hug, causing his opponent to lose balance and fall forward. His hand shot up and dug his talons into thick flesh, slicing it from its chest all the way down to its stomach as he ran beneath. Rising from under the nomu’s legs, he turned to see his gruesome work.
Instead, he sees the blur of a fist right before it smashes into his face and sends him flying. His back colliding hard with the wall accompanied the shattering of his jaw. There was no time to wait for his vision to clear up, scrambling out of the path of the charging silhouette before it slams into the now-empty spot, the impact shaking the entire room.
The pain only intensified when his face and spine began to shift, mending itself back together while he tried his hardest to keep his eye on the much more violent beast. A ghoulish moan was heard as it straightened itself, and Raptor could see the large gash that should have easily disemboweled it already closing up.
Ah, so they can both heal.
It was already charging straight at him again. The thing was fast and powerful, but it was acting like it had a one-track mind, sticking to a simple strategy of running towards him and dealing whatever damage it could.
His wings twitched, but there was a barrier in his mind preventing them from moving. Damned Coats.
The fight became a game of evasion, darting and dashing around the bigger and stronger nomu’s swings and countering with deep slashes. Wearing it down was impossible with such rapid healing, every cut he brought upon its skin was quickly sewn shut.
His only chance was to attack its brain, but the nomu had enough sense to protect its one true vulnerable spot, nearly crushing Raptor’s arm into paste after an attempt to sink his talons into the soft matter.
So he kept dodging, and dodging, until something inside the creature just...snapped. Perhaps it was out of frustration in failing to land any hits, but its haunting moans and wails soon became full on screams. Tightly clenched fists pounded into the floor, the stone floor crumbling under the sudden tantrum. Raptor stood and watched, wings tensing from the burst of tortured emotions.
“Hm, you weren’t exaggerating about the meltdowns,” he heard one of the Coats say, her voice as dull as ever.
“What an embarrassment. Damn thing can’t even carry out a simple fight.”
Raptor looked behind the glass of spectators and saw faces of disappointment.
“A complete waste.”
“Cloner’s children are all wasted potential.”
“What a sad display.”
“Pathetic.”
He looked back at the creature that was now writhing and flailing, its skin oozing a blob that throbbed and squirmed, like it was trying its hardest to take a shape.
But the bubbly pulses stop and the dripping mass melts into a lifeless puddle. The nomu continues to scream after its failed attempt at using its quirk. Raptor’s gut twists with pity.
A sad display, indeed.
“Raptor! Did you forget your orders? Kill him!”
The sharp command smothers all feelings of sympathy, and before Raptor knew it, he was running toward the tormented creature, each feather on his tail sharpening with every step. Ducking under a blind swipe, the black spear thrusted forward and pierced its brain with a sickening shlunk.
The thrashing was reduced to short spasms as the nomu choked out its final groans, its terrified eyes glazing over when the last traces of life faded.
The tail was yanked out and shook off the blood and spongy brain matter to splatter on the ground. Raptor gave a soft whine of distress.
“Well, that was all rather underwhelming.”
“Yep, that didn’t exactly challenge Raptor at all.”
“I’m concerned about his lack of aggression. Did you all see him hesitate?”
“Most likely just confusion and caution after witnessing such a sudden breakdown.”
So many voices, so many comments; Raptor paid no attention to them. His mind was on the corpse that continued to bleed heavily from the large gash in its head. Raptor was the stronger nomu. He won.
Was he supposed to feel proud? Victorious?
“He’s a very smart one. Did you see the markings in his room? He and his harvester have been...bonding.” That voice...Raptor recognized it as the Coat that showed up every morning to retrieve him from his room to enter these test rooms. “I can’t decide if I like the idea of a friendly nomu.”
The woman dismissed his worries. “As long as he knows to kill when he’s told, his behavior shouldn’t matter. But it might benefit us to test his relationship with his owner after we’ve finished observing his quirks.”
His throat vibrates as a low growl passes through.
Raptor doesn’t like it here.
x---x---x---x---x
Maybe it’s just because Friday (you’re pretty sure it’s Friday on your self-made calendar) tends to be your busiest day of the week, or that your wrist is beginning to wear down from the many giant dicks you’ve been stroking. Or maybe it’s just one of those days when you remember just how shitty this life was. Whatever it was, you weren’t in one of your best moods today.
That’s why you felt just the smallest hint of excitement when you reached Hawks’s door. Yes, it’s weird, but he was the closest thing you had to a companion around here, alright?
The last thing you expected was to open the door to an empty room, at least it appeared that way until you saw the black creature resting on the ceiling.
“Aah!” You yelp and drop the jar out of fright, causing Hawks to jump from the sudden noise. You curse and quickly pick up the container and scan it for any cracks while he gracefully twists his body to drop on the floor with a thud. He was as graceful as a cat...a cat that can comfortably sit upside down.
Relieved to see the jar in one piece, you turned your attention back to the waiting High End. “I didn’t know you could climb like that.”
His wings fluttered at the comment and he raised his palms right in front of your face. Ah yes, a hand. Very lovely. But looking more closely, you could see a difference in texture on the rounded pads of his fingertips. “Ooh, little sticky hairs, huh?”
He gave a click of what you assumed to be approval, tail swinging behind him.
“So I guess you’re not just born knowing everything your body can do. Sounds troublesome.” There’s something you wanted to do, something you wouldn’t ever consider doing with the other nomu even in your dreams. “May I, uh, touch them?” You held up your own hands innocently.
Hawks cocked his head, a gesture that you’re always going to find kinda cute, before grunting and bringing his larger hands to yours. All ten of your fingers made contact, and the slightest shiver shot down your spine.
It’s the first time you’ve ever touched one of these monsters outside of jerking them to collect semen. Your curiosity was always there, but the disgust and fear you often felt when in their presence fueled the overpowering desire to hurry up, get the damn job done, and get away from them as quickly as possible.
You never imagined that you’d be standing face to face with a High End, feeling the surprisingly soft pads on his scaly hands, his breaths deep and hot against your face as those red irises watched your expressions. He was still very intimidating with his tall form, glowing glare, and the large imposing pair of wings. But those eyes—they contained too much intelligence and emotion in them.
Too human. It was as uncanny as it was fascinating.
Only when his eyes close and he begins to croon softly do you realize that one of your hands have moved up to touch his face. The black skin feels extra thick when you gently press his cheek, strong and leathery. He leans in and brings his head closer to give you better access, and you can’t help but reward the reaction with scratches against his jaw and chin.
“You know, you’ve been doing a shitty job of acting like the ultimate killer,” you said when he purrs happily.
The purr morphs into a disgruntled whine. “Don’t...like.”
Your hand pauses, hoping for him to elaborate as well as he could. “Don’t like…?” You encouraged him.
He was still struggling to work his vocal chords, but at least he seemed to be showing less pain. “Don’t like...k-killiiing.”
What?
“Raptor, that’s...you know...the very thing you were made for, and you don’t like doing it?” Not that you’re complaining about his gentle nature, but hearing a damn nomu say that he dislikes killing might be the most ludicrous thing you’ve heard here, even more so than the first time you were told to make an abomination cum.
His entire body stiffens, and you couldn’t help but tense up as well. “Maaade-” He makes a harsh hacking sound. “-to kill?”
Shit. You panic and attempt to backpedal. “Not to actually kill. You’re supposed to be, you know, the strongest creature that’s capable of killing whenever he wants...if you, uh, wanted to.” Yeah, that sounds good enough.
It appears to do the trick, his body relaxing again. “Don’t like,” he repeated more smoothly this time.
“I know, I know. Killing sucks. Just don’t tell the assholes in labcoats that, alright? Now calm down.” You return to your ministrations, this time using both hands to rub and scratch his face. His eyes drift shut again as your hands trail down to his slightly elongated neck, brushing past his steady pulse.
Reaching his collar and then his chest, you discover that he’s solid muscle everywhere. He may not be on the verge of bursting out of his own skin like the others, but he could no doubt snap you like a twig just as easily. You feel his chest heave from a deep breath, the strength emanating from his body making you shiver. You shush him when he jolts as your hands reach his pronounced abs, pushing against the hard muscle until you finally arrive at his groin.
You snorted at the new pair of shorts. “Another pair, huh? At least these look a little less ragged.”
You pulled his large member out for the third time. Why did you have to do this daily? What could they possibly be doing with so many jars of jizz? Making cakes?
Sighing, you brushed off the soreness of your arm and wrist and began to pump his ridged length. “Just do me a favor and try to cum quickly, alright?”
He made a rather sad groan at that, curling into himself so that his face was close to yours. His sharp breaths were loud in your ears.
You couldn’t help but smile even through the strain of your muscles. “What, you wanna make this last? Do you know how many dicks I’ve had to tend to today? Cut me some slack, we’re gonna be doing this everyday, anyway.”
Hawks purrs before that monstrous voice shakes your body, his hot breath warming the side of your face and neck. “Feel gooood.”
The primal lust dripping from him triggers a pulse of warmth inside you. You...can’t remember the last time you’ve felt that, and it��s just a tad strange that a nomu caused it. Were you really that starved for attention? “I-” You cleared your throat after an awkward voice crack. “I know, handjobs tend to feel good. But please be a good boy and help me out here.”
He gives a puff that blows your hair back, but he complies. The big sweaty face that buries itself in your neck is so distracting that you almost forget to get your jar ready and fill it with the incoming spurts of semen. There, the final sample of the day has been collected. Now, if you could just push the panting fiend off of you before he starts drooling on your shoulder.
Something warm and slimy touches your neck. It has you pulling back so quickly that you almost fall and spill the vile essence all over you before the jar could be properly sealed.
Hawks shrinks back and quickly withdraws the indigo tongue into his mouth, looking down in what appears to be shame. You touch the licked spot, the thick saliva coating your fingers.
“Sss-sorrry.” Regret can be heard clearly in his droning voice.
“No, it’s...it’s okay,” you stammer. The sensation lingers, and then ignites a spark somewhere inside you.
A sick, disgusting, and absolutely fucked up spark. The next thing you say should horrify you, but instead you feel nothing but a twisted form of anticipation. “You can...um...do that again, if you want.”
His tail slapped the floor in excitement before he slowly closed the distance again, cautiously looking into your eyes before his tongue slithers out and caresses the same wet space.
The smooth muscle is hot against you, extending to inhuman lengths to explore your neck. The slick sounds as it slid across your skin should have grossed you out—all of this should be grossing you out, so you don’t understand why you tilt your head back to give him more room. He licks up and down your throat slowly to savor your taste, breathing heavily and releasing a stale stench from his open maw. You imagined the breath of a previously dead man to smell a hundred times worse, frankly.
With your neck completely drenched in his cooling slobber, he ventures upward, purring louder than ever as he tastes the flesh of your jaw. The tapered end of his tongue begins to curiously flick at your earlobe before circling around the shell of your ear. He seems to take a liking to the flabby cartilage and laps at it playfully while giving the occasional nip and suck and god, it’s all heard so fucking clearly, every schlick and smack traveling right through your canal and setting off questionable reactions all over you. Your hands are clenched and held against your chest, but you don’t tell him to stop.
‘What the hell is wrong with me?’
The licking moves to your cheek, lapping at it shortly before moving to your pursed lips.
‘This is fucked up beyond words.’
You flinch when the clammy tongue brushes over your lips, at first smoothing over them lightly, possibly testing to see how you’d react. His face is so close, your noses almost touching. To allow a nomu this close to you, touching you like this…
When you make no move of resistance, he gets braver and laps at your mouth with controlled eagerness. Your eyes close to hide from the otherworldly gaze, but your lips feel even more sensitive to the weight that continues flicking and pressing at them, covering them in hot saliva. Several times does it briefly part your lips and graze your teeth, making you swallow at the thought of…
‘Don’t do that.’
Hawks pauses when you open up for him, but gives a gleeful chirp and snakes his way into your inviting mouth.
‘I’m really letting him do this.’
Clawed hands grab your arms a little too tightly and hold you in place. It hurts, yet all you can focus on is the flexible muscle exploring your mouth. It rubbed against the roof, pushed at the inside of your cheeks, and eventually stroked and curled around your own tongue.
‘You’re sick.’
But you’ve been sick ever since you got here, haven’t you?
When his grip loosens, you take the opportunity to place your hands around his head, digging your fingers into his...hair? Plumage? Was his hair always this feather-like?
A high-pitched sound of surprise leaves him when you try to pull him in closer. He quickly complies, closing the distance until his lips and mouth are covering yours.
It completely smothers your senses. You see his black wings expand to slowly encase both of you. You hear the wet friction of his tongue and the hungry growls that roll from his throat. You smell sweat and blood, briefly wondering just what exactly was he made to do during those ‘tests’. You taste the thick and flavorless saliva that makes you gag at first, but becomes easier to swallow as you take in more. And most of all, you feel him slowly moving in and out of your wide open mouth, the thrusting motion forcing your thighs to rub together in response to the growing heat threatening to consume you.
You snap out of it before that can happen.
Hawks pulls away when he hears your choked sounds of protest, your hands suddenly on his chest and pushing. Fresh oxygen rushes back into your lungs when his tongue leaves your mouth and retreats back into his. The warmth between your legs doesn’t fade away. Everything that just happened, everything you just allowed this monster to do fully sinks in.
And you fucking enjoyed it.
You back away from him as quickly as you can, ignoring his confused groans. A wave of nausea sweeps over you like a powerful gust that churns your stomach.
“Rest. I need to go.” It was all you said before you picked up the forgotten jar and fled the room, refusing to falter from the sorrowful whines behind you.
The urge to spew the little food you’ve been fed throughout the day all over the hallway floor is strong, but you manage to hold out until you reach the toilet in your room, quickly kneeling and hurling. It wasn’t much, but it still left you teary-eyed and with a burning throat.
What did you do? Just what the hell did you do that warranted getting kidnapped, having your nice comfortable life stolen from you, and the only way to cope was by making out with a horrid creature? You jolt from a painful mix of a sob and a hiccup. It’s been weeks since your last breakdown, but this new discovery was another hard blow to your sanity and pride. You let the tears flow as you flushed away your mess, moving over to your bed and collapsing onto the thin mattress. Fuck this facility. Fuck the scum that created all of this.
And fuck the throbbing wetness between your legs that still won’t go away.
Your sobs transform into humorless laughs. You’re going to have to get rid of the throbbing yourself, aren’t you? They won’t arrive to collect all of your samples for about another thirty minutes, so that should be enough time...
You pulled down the thin blue pants and rubbed your fingers over the slick that had gathered from what had transpired in Hawks’s room. It’s true, you’ve been doing nothing but sick shit since you’ve been tossed into this new life. Why do you even still hold on to feelings like shame and disgust? What good will they do you here?
So you try to drown out the voice of your conscience as you laid back, succumbing to the wonderfully twisted thoughts of a nomu’s tongue.
x---x---x---x---x
Subject: Raptor
Examination
Quirk #3: Regeneration
Quirk#4: Heat Resistance
Notes: Our most advanced specimens deserve the best healing quirks we have to offer. Raptor is no exception. It will also make up for his lack of weight and hard muscle, not that he should ever be mistaken as frail. Most importantly, this should accelerate the regrowth of his feathers and supply him with an endless arsenal. We do not want to risk his regeneration being hindered by burns. After all, it was fire that led to the host’s death. This is why we have added a quirk that should make it almost completely fireproof.
The only people that Raptor disliked more than the Coats, were the Masks. The Coats saw him as nothing more than an attack dog that is expected to obey every command. But the humans in masks...to them, he was just a fleshy object to be dissected and analyzed.
They were poking and cutting to their heart’s content. His mind screamed to get away from the assortment of blades and needles that hovered over him, sinking into his skin in various places while he could only writhe against the cuffs of the metal table he was strapped to. He doesn’t believe it’s their intention to test every ounce of his willpower, but that sure as hell is what they’re doing right now as he tries, really tries not to use his feathers out of desperation.
“Excellent. The cuts begin healing the moment they’re made,” one of them observes. “Try deeper incisions. Maybe I should try removing one of its eyes.”
Raptor’s heartbeat was booming in his ears after hearing those words.
A younger Mask has been flinching from every one of the nomu’s movements. “Shouldn’t we sedate it or something? What if it lashes out?”
“Stop panicking. A nomu won’t hurt anyone without orders, though his responses to pain are stronger than I expected. We may have to fix that.”
Raptor wouldn’t mind that at all. He hisses and howls as he’s taken apart and mended back together in a torturous loop. His brain is throbbing so strongly one would worry that it might burst. He fights to think through all of the agony.
He thinks of your touch. He thinks of your taste. Were you repulsed by what he did that morning?
Sharp pain shot through his wings when his feathers were being forcefully yanked out, his teeth on the verge of shattering from his tightly clenched jaws.
“Perfect! Look at that, they’re already growing back in.”
They were. He could feel the fresh plumes pushing through his skin. The regeneration did well in preventing any real damage, but it didn’t make the violent tearing of his feathers any easier to bear.
The cruel assault on his wings and tail eventually ended, black fluff littering the room’s floor. He remembers when you mentioned other nomu being capable of shutting down whenever they wanted. What he wouldn’t give to just turn off like a light switch right now.
“Alright, it’s time to move on to his heat resistance. Get the torch.”
The what? Raptor searched the fragments of his knowledge; most words were familiar to him, they just took a while to be remembered from...something. He doesn’t understand how he already knows so much, even though his subconsciousness needs time to dust everything off.
One of the Masks was holding a small object that ended in a tube. With a push of a button, a small blue flame appeared.
The glowing yellow eyes that were normally slits were suddenly wider than he thought possible, every part of him hyper focused on the small fire that was getting too close to his sore wings. His mind recovered a new piece of information:
Blue flames are to be feared.
He was thrashing the second the searing pain was felt, fighting to escape, to get away from the blue death that threatened to incinerate his wings again. He has felt this before. He doesn’t want to burn again.
Panic consumed him, unaware of how much his feathers have sharpened as he beats his wings and tail against the table. He can barely hear the Masks’ frantic voices over the ear-splitting screech, a screech that he realizes is coming from his own strained throat.
“–ptor, I SAID STOP!”
“–y arm! Fuck, my arm is bleeding bad–”
“–old you he’d attack! Why is he reacting so–”
“–atives! Into his neck! Hurry!”
Needles are being jammed into his neck, the chemicals working quickly in sapping away his strength, limbs becoming too heavy to move, and his thoughts were too cloudy to even continue panicking. The scorching heat was still present in his wing, but he can still feel the presence of all of his feathers. There was no foul smell of burnt plumage.
“Aaaugh, my arm...” In the corners of his vision, Raptor saw one of the Masks hunched over and clutching a blood-soaked arm. He didn’t mean to hurt any of them.
“Shut up and go patch yourself up.” An older man motioned the rest to come closer to the calmed nomu, which they cautiously obeyed. “Do you all see it? His feathers aren’t damaged at all. Perfect.”
“But why didn’t he stop resisting after you ordered him several times? And why was his reaction to pain so strong?”
The elder grimaced behind his mask and shook his head. “Its pain tolerance is laughable. There’s no use in a nomu having such sensitivity. We’ll need to perform an operation that will dull his nerves.”
They scrambled around the table, gathering new tools and focusing the creaky hanging light on Raptor’s face. He was too doped up to even react to the harsh brightness.
“And if he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”
The nomu tried to make a sound of protest, but in his dazed state he could give no more than a pathetic whimper. He was rather thankful of the drugs for making him unable to notice just how many needles were sinking into his brain, or the blades that opened up the rest of his head, keeping the tools in place to prevent his skull from instantly healing. It still hurt, a lot. But as they tweaked his pulsing organ, injecting unknown fluids inside, the pain began to dim. Raptor would have celebrated and attempted to wag his tail in relief.
But it wasn’t the only thing that was fading. The coldness of the metal at his back was becoming distant, the chill in the air of the room was suddenly so faint that it no longer made him shiver.
He wanted it all to hurt less, but he still wanted to feel.
He has no idea how much time had passed once they finally finished and allowed his bone and flesh to close up. The old Mask stared down at him, gloves drenched in thick crimson.
“That should do it. Going by your weaker reactions, the operation was a success and you now feel less sensation. Good.”
‘No. Not good.’ It’s what he was tempted to say, but Raptor didn’t want to utter a single word to anyone besides you, and the cruel man’s recent threat of robbing him of his free will ensured that he keeps his mouth shut.
Raptor hates it here.
x---x---x---x---x
There were fresh claw marks covering the walls of Hawks’s room, and this time they were angry. The drawings and games you made together were literally slashed out, with spots of blood spread out all over the floor.
He was curled up in a corner, wings concealing most of his shaking form.
“Raptor.” Firmly addressing him is usually all it takes to gain his full attention, just like any other nomu, High End or not.
Hawks doesn’t respond at all.
That’s new...and very unnerving.
You called him again. The mass of feathers didn’t budge. You swallowed a lump in your throat. He had clearly just thrown a violent tantrum, and you don’t know if he has fully calmed down yet. Approaching him is too risky, but the damn nomu won’t even acknowledge you. So you’ll have to get through him in a more natural way.
“Raptor, is everything alright? Do you, um, need some space? I can come back a little later...maybe another thirty minutes or so.” You offered, your body slightly twisting toward the door, ready to bolt if he decided to attack. You ignored the cold hard fact that the door and your legs would do little in protecting you from him.
His tail slowly uncurls like a timid snake, wings following suit and revealing his shrunken form. He was hugging himself tightly, talons peeling the skin off of his biceps. His head hung low, but you can see the spot of red in each eye looking right at you. He looked like an angry and frightened child, and his pitiful plea didn’t help matters.
“Don’t...go.”
His vulnerable state quelled your fears, but you still took caution. “Can I come closer?”
He looks down at the floor for a moment, seemingly pondering the question, before straightening his posture and nodding.
You follow the routine you’ve been getting used to with him, setting aside the jar and taking some time to talk. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
It was supposed to compel him to instantly explain the issue, or at least attempt to with his awkward speech. You instead see him flinch and growl lowly, as if he didn’t appreciate you making demands. Just what is going on with him?
Your anxiety was probably visible since he quickly switched back to a less aggressive stance. You wince when he drags a claw through his flesh, blood leaking out for only a second before the wound instantly repairs itself. “Can’t feel.” He weeps with cracks in his unnatural voice. At least he’s dragging out his words less and sounds less like a moaning zombie.
“You can’t feel?” You repeated, edging closer and placing a hand over the healed spot. Another growl, louder this time, scares you into pulling away. But his bigger hand seizes yours and presses it hard onto the black skin. You feel the tremors that begin to wrack his body and try to stay calm in the wake of his growing distress.
His voice becomes only more broken. “Can’t feel it! Can’t feel you!”
You find yourself shushing him, holding your free hand up like you’re trying to calm a panicking animal. You cup the side of his face, but that seems to upset him even more. “You can’t feel my hand?”
He shuts his eyes and shakes his head, squeezing your hand tightly enough to cut off circulation. How freely he can emote still freaks you out a bit, face looking on the verge of shedding tears. Everything about him continues to be so surreal.
“Raptor, you’re a shitty nomu,” you told him with a small smile. “Not that I mind.”
And there goes that cute head tilt. The thought of him being released in a city to wreak havoc, just like the one that attacked Endeavor and...him, feels less possible after every meeting.
He was still powerful and potentially dangerous, if the state of the walls were anything to go by. You really shouldn’t be pushing your luck or his temper. On the other hand, you did decide yesterday that from now on, you are going to embrace the depraved dumbass within you. Hawks stiffens and starts to slowly pull back, but your hand makes its way to the back of his head. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” you soothed him. “I just want to see if you can feel any of this.”
With no more hesitation, you pressed your lips to his, feeling his shock through a surprised grunt. For a minute, you simply cover his rough lips with kisses while he stays completely still, eyes looking on the verge of bulging right out of their sockets. It looked downright silly. Why was he so shocked by a simple kiss anyway, after the way you let him ravage your mouth yesterday?
Your lips pause when you remember the distraught sounds he made that morning as he watched you rush out of the room. That’s right.
“Hey,” you murmur against him. “Sorry for taking off like that last time. Just...don’t worry about it, okay.” He released a hot breath onto your face. Your trapped hand is finally freed from his iron grip, numb and stiff, but you keep your attention on the motionless nomu. “We’re not exactly supposed to be doing this, but I want you t-mmf!”
He suddenly went forward and attacked your lips, aggressively mimicking your movements with enough force to bruise. You try to keep up and calm his pace, sighing into his mouth once his lips finally begin to slow down. He’s clumsy like you expected, but his intelligence shows when he tries to follow your lead and quickly learns the intimate dance of your mouths. The occasional swipe of that blasted tongue across your lip makes you gasp, and then you feel big strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close, the beats of his excited wings, the throaty growls that rattle your entire being…
You can feel yourself heating up again already.
“Mmm, Raptor...wait,” you manage to say between kisses, your hands pushing against his chest. He gives a grating sound of annoyance, but pulls away like you wished. You were suddenly hyper aware of his size and strength – this monster that was holding you closely and taking care not to harm you. If any other nomu had you like this, they undoubtedly wouldn’t have stopped.
“So, did you feel any of that?” Your hand travels down to his groin and rubs at the bulge that still had a lot of growing to do. “Do you feel that?”
To your dismay, he shakes his head. “No,” he groans as his wings droop closer to the floor.
It has you stumped. How are you supposed to please him when his whole body is numb?
“But…” He licks his lips slowly. “Can still taste. Tastes so good.”
When you let him lap at your lips again, he twitches beneath the ragged cloth.
You put two and two together, and the realization makes you gulp. And ache.
Remember, shame is useless here.
He allows you to back away and create some distance. The sight before you is frightening on its own: The sharp stare of the raven-winged fiend while surrounded by the deep marks of its outburst would do well in intimidating any sane individual. Remembering what exactly he is makes you pause only for a second, your hands grabbing the bottom of your thin blue shirt and lifting it before your pesky conscience can even get a word in.
Hawks’s wings flare out slightly when your breasts are revealed to him, talons clicking against the floor as he shuffles about, at a loss of how to react. Relieved that you haven’t been pounced on immediately, you lean down to remove your pants next, ignoring the trembling in your hands as you pull the garment down and step out of them. They never supplied you with underwear, so with your two articles of clothing removed, you were completely nude in front of the dangerous nomu.
At first you both just stared at each other, until he finally came forward to scan your body more closely, mindful of how nervous you were. The tension made you almost choke and cough on your words.
“I-if you want to…taste more of me, go ahead.” You didn’t mean to squeak out those last two words. You blame it on the chilly air.
The hands that take hold of your hips feel extra hot, along with the breath that grazes your chest. The blue tongue slides past his lips and extends to press against the spot right over your pounding heart, then moving smoothly up the column of your neck and your cheek in one long swipe, the wet trail making you shudder. The mouth ventures close to your ear to utter the word that you remember repeating to him on the first day you got him off.
“Calm.”
It’s followed by a rolling purr that eases you into doing just that. The humming continues while he eyes your breasts, nipples already pert from being exposed to the air. Even in your more relaxed state, the sudden lick across your tit makes your breath hitch. He seems to enjoy your response and repeats the action, giving it several more laps before wrapping around the entirety of the soft globe like a tentacle, squeezing gently.
“Ah, Raptor,” you moan when the tip of the tongue flicks at your nipple, sending the tiniest of jolts through you. “Damn, where did you learn to do that?”
He answers with nothing more than a groan as he continues to show off his tongue’s flexibility. It coils and swirls around the skin until every inch of it is covered in his saliva, making you even more sensitive to the cold air. Satisfied with his work, he moves on to repeat the motions with your other breast.
The pleasure was soothing, like a massage…if the masseuse had sticky boneless limbs. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him, letting yourself enjoy the vile act of a monster sampling your taste.
His mouth suddenly engulfs you, the damp heat adding to the ongoing feeling of his tongue dancing around your tit. The purrs abruptly become a powerful vibration that electrifies your skin and brings forth your moisture to drip and run down your thighs.
But Hawks suddenly pulls away and stares at you intensely, the glower snapping you out of your daze.
“What is it?” You were getting nervous again. Did one of your reactions irritate him?
He breathes in, again and again, sniffing at the air for something. The swaying tail hints that whatever he smells is exciting him. His head lowers in pursuit of the scent and stops at your womanly mound to take a long whiff at the spicy aroma emanating from your cunt.
With his breath now blowing right against your sex and increasing your arousal, your juices trickled freely onto the floor and for him to see. The clawed hands on your hips held you steady, preventing you from collapsing from the nerve-racking anticipation that had you shaking all over. At no point in your life have you ever felt this exposed, being ogled by a pair of eyes in which the irises were bigger than you’ve ever seen them, mesmerized by the source of the delicious smell.
The tongue slips between your thighs before you could even prepare yourself, stretching across the entirety of your lips, over your entrance, nearly reaching your ass before it pulls back toward his mouth, the rubbing of the silky muscle creating buzzes of pleasure. Looking down gives you the unpleasant view of his brain, but you also get to see him swallow and savor your taste, humming deeply in approval before salivating with the need to drink up more.
“Good.”
He doesn’t wait for your response – his face is already being shoved into you, and you’re suddenly bombarded with delightful hot sensations all over your pussy. The ravenous organ travels up and down your folds, collecting every drop of your sweet nectar while you could do nothing but spread your legs to give him more leeway – God you’re such a whore – and cover your mouth in the hope that no passerbys hear your moans in the room.
When your legs officially become jelly and can no longer support you, Hawks tires of holding you up and allows you to fall back a little too hard onto the floor, the impact making you wince. Any other time, he probably would have at least made a sound of apology, but your sopping wet pussy has stolen his attention. He wastes no time in lifting your hips up toward his waiting mouth, now utilizing his lips along with his tongue to loudly slurp up your essence.
His vicious hunger has you seeing stars. Wings open up and expand around both of you like black curtains that darken your vision, like a bird of prey mantling over a hard-earned meal. The only thing you can clearly see between your legs are the eerie glows of red and yellow; the glare of a demon that seeks to devour you from the inside. He starts to suck your folds dry, growling as he inspects every inch of the ravaged honeypot until his lips brush against your neglected clit.
A muffled “fuck!” passes between your fingers, both of your hands tightly clamped over your mouth. The reaction surprises him, and to his delight, it triggers more of your nectar to flow. The most efficient gag wouldn’t have been enough to suppress your scream when he sucked hard on your sensitive bud.
You couldn’t help it. Fighting past the paralyzing pleasure, your hands blindly grab at his head and accidentally bury your fingers into a soft squishy brain. The discomfort makes him shake his head and groan in irritation, raising his head and narrowing those menacing eyes at you as a silent warning.
“Hah...shit...I’m sor–AH! Fuck-oh my god....” He’s already attacking your clit again before you can finish your apology. All he cares about at the moment is your taste, and not even you were going to interrupt him. The surrounding wings occasionally twitch and shudder around you, vibrating along with your approaching climax. But the second you feel dangerously close, his lips leave the perky little pebble and move back down to lap at your fresh flow. It tears you away from an orgasmic finale and brings you back to that sensual middle ground. The audible licks were amazing, but you need to reach that edge. Your hand drifted down to your pussy, right over his tongue where you can give your clit the stimulation needed to cum…
“Hwrrrrrrr…”
You felt the terrifying snarl more than you heard it, shaking you to your very core. The other core, not the one on the verge of bursting. You immediately pull away and freeze, shivering and breathing quickly at the sight of his bared fangs. For a brief moment, the tent of feathers showed off a faint sheen, like they all suddenly sharpened. A quivering, fear-fueled gasp left you.
It felt like the staredown went on forever, but Hawks was eventually convinced that you weren’t going to distract him from his feast again and returned his gaze to the fragrant pussy before him. However, after a few more licks, he grunted in frustration. You weren’t secreting your precious juices fast enough; your body simply couldn’t keep up with his newfound greed.
The insatiable tongue keeps poking and prodding at your opening until it pushes in just enough to slightly stretch your walls. You struggle to stay relaxed and keep your hands to yourself. Hawks was currently as unpredictable as any other nomu, and you didn’t want to piss him off.
When the hot thick muscle is suddenly shoved into you, you don't even have time to cover your mouth and block the next scream that is ripped from your throat. There’s no time to adjust to the completely foreign sensation. It squirms inside of you like a living creature, massaging your pussy in ways you didn’t even know were possible, sometimes hitting that special soft spot.
Your molten center spreads its flames across every nerve. This is far beyond what you fantasized on the night you touched yourself. His tongue was able to fill you completely, all while moving around more freely than a cock or even fingers ever could. Too soon does it leave your pulsing walls and back into his mouth, where he swallows every drop he’s gathered before shooting his tongue back out and penetrating you again before you can even complain.
He was moving with more force, enough to create a visible swell in your stomach that moved along with his tongue. You can’t look away from it, even as he begins to push in and out at a steady rhythm, the pleasure building up to new heights while the bulge in your belly moves up and down. You’re tempted to ask him to move his wings to allow more light for a better view, but interrupting him now is probably a stupid idea.
He pants loudly from his open mouth as he fucks you thoroughly with nothing more than a long powerful tongue, his thrusts moving faster and deeper in search of more of your savory wetness.
Meanwhile, you were dizzy. It was uncomfortable at first. It’s been so long since you’ve been fully stretched, but it all quickly melds into pleasure you have long since forgotten – no – you hadn’t even known. Your interest in sex has greatly diminished during your stay here. Hell, you were certain that your libido was officially dead. But Hawks….
This abomination was going to be the death of you.
Your g-spot is suddenly struck again, and again. Most of your words were incoherent, and the ones that could be made out were nothing more than endless encouragement. “Gah-hnngh, fuck, Hawks, you want more, don’t you? Ah, I’m about to give you more. Keep going Hawks don’t fucking stop.”
Talons are biting into your skin from his tightened grip. With a low bellow of excitement, his mouth moves to cover your entire sex, prepared for the incoming downpour, and thrusts his tongue into your most sensitive spot repeatedly without mercy.
The pressure within explodes violently, completely overshadowing that laughable orgasm you gave yourself yesterday. Each contraction adds more white that flashes in your eyes, moving in from the corners of your vision until it becomes as blinding and unbearable as the bliss that washes over you. There are noisy gulps between your legs, the parched monster happily taking every rush of fluid directly into his mouth and down his throat until he finally has his fill.
Even through your spasms your walls try desperately to clamp around his tongue as it leaves, but to no avail. The looming wings finally move away and return to their usual resting spot behind his back while he sets your lower body down and licks his lips for any remaining traces of your slick. The talons never broke your skin, but they did leave some glaring marks on your hips and ass.
You still tingled all over from the waist down while your muscles make the greatest effort to respond to any of your commands. No use. You decide to lay there covered in the monster’s spit. The work of that amazing specimen of a tongue almost made you forget that this was being done to arouse him. You should probably check to see if he was hard. He may not be able to feel your hand anymore, but he still might be excited enough to cum from the act. Stupid science bastards, making your job more complicated.
“Hawks.”
The single word uttered from the nomu clears your mind instantly. Your weakened arms push you upright to properly face him. He was still crouching, scaly toes supporting the weight of his body like a gargoyle without a perch.
“You say Hawks. What...is Hawks?”
What? When did you…?
Oh. Shit. Your mouth was moving on its own while he was eating you out.
Your mind was zipping in several directions at once, hoping that he wouldn’t find anything odd about your eyes darting about, looking everywhere except at him. You settled on a simple and dismissive answer. “Oh...don’t worry about it. I was just babbling while you had me on cloud nine,” you said with a crooked smile.
Black lips twisted into a frown, accompanied by a quick beat of his wings and then...eww. His brain is pulsing way too much, so much that he shakes his head in agitation, which only adds to the disturbing visual as the organ jiggles slightly in his head. “Hawks...don’t know...I know…” His words jumbled over his inner turmoil. The long tail lifted and began to swing quickly.
You sat there, nude and bewildered. Every High-End still carried traces of who they once were, expressing some of the same behaviors and habits they presumably had before death.
This is the first time you’ve seen one with any sort of recollection of their past life, even if it’s something as minor as feeling a connection to their name. You have a feeling that’s not supposed to happen.
You shouldn’t tell him anything; nothing good will come out of it. He needs to shut up and start being a bloodthirsty killer before the doctors decide that he’s more trouble than he’s worth.
“Raptor,” your shaky legs move slowly, shifting until you’re resting on your knees, face to face with the nomu that still looks interested in your naked body even as his head throbs. “It’s not important. Stop thinking about it.”
The look he gives you is one of hurt and dammit, this is exactly his problem. “But...Hawks. Want to know what-”
“I said stop thinking!” Your volume shocks both of you, but Hawks actually recoils from the unexpected shout. You don’t care, all it does is confuse you more, anger you more. “Why the hell aren’t you listening to me anymore? That’s what you’re supposed to do! Do whatever we tell you! What, did you break?” A full-body chill reminds you of the state you’re in. You were seriously having an outburst while still completely naked with Hawks’s saliva glistening over your thighs. You groan and turn away from the troubled hybrid to grab your clothes and dress yourself, not giving a damn if you pissed him off and he decides to kill you right there. He’d be doing both of you a favor, really.
But it shouldn’t be a surprise when you see that he hasn’t budged from his spot, making no move to retaliate. “I like you, Raptor,” you admitted. “Somehow, you managed to be the only welcomed company in this fucked up hospital slash prison, but you shouldn’t be. What we just did...that shouldn’t have happened. Fuck, I – I should’ve been terrified, and I kinda was, but, I shouldn’t have felt that good!” Your doubts, your conscience, they both return with a vengeance. But this time it’s not you they’re worried about.
“If this is how you act around everyone else, you’re not going to last here.” You hold his face in your hands, a tender gesture that shouldn’t be possible with the likes of him. “These assholes are gonna get rid of you if you don’t do what they want, and they’re going to ask for horrible things. I know you don’t like killing, but if you keep up all of...this, you’re going to lose more than your sense of touch.”
He doesn’t make a sound, only staring at you before gritting his teeth and nodding in your gentle grasp. His compliance both relieves and hurts you.
“I’m sorry, but no more questions. Please? The less you know, the better.”
“No more…questions.” Dammit, you hate how clear the sorrow is in his eerie voice, like the mournful moans of a lost soul. “No more.”
You give him a smile of thanks, it’s the least you could give him. You try to bring the atmosphere back to its usual awkward yet friendly vibe. “Now, let me see if your, um, tasting did you any good.” You move to pull down his shorts. That is, until you notice the large damp spots and stains on the cheap material. Oh, he did not.
“Welp, it obviously worked. Now how am I gonna scrape this shit off?”
x---x---x---x---x
Hawks.
Flames.
Decay.
Death. Everywhere.
But, somehow, he knew it wasn’t his doing.
Maybe he did kill a few...he wasn’t sure. It’s all so blurry and nauseating.
Was he killing people? Was he…trying to save them? A monster like him, saving people?
“No more questions.”
Your voice echoes, bouncing across the shattered fragments of his mind. Raptor tries to obey. He doesn’t know what this Hawks is, or why it keeps plaguing him.
Whatever Hawks was, it’s gone. Raptor wants it to leave him alone.
x---x---x---x---x
Subject: Raptor
Field Test
Quirk #5: Camouflage
Notes: As you know by now, Raptor differs from other nomu in that he is designed for agility and stealth. An invisibility quirk will not only make Raptor into the perfect phantom, it can also assist in infiltration and spying. While the quirk may be called ‘camouflage’ mainly due to how it changes skin pigmentation, it does much more than match the colors of the environment. It hides the user’s entire form as perfectly as any true invisibility quirk. Raptor should be more than capable of destroying targets without ever being noticed.
You were right. It was strange how he doesn’t discover these ‘quirks’ on his own. It was an understatement to say that he was a little lost when a Coat ordered him to activate his Camouflage. Raptor was prepared to feel those words bind his limbs and move him against his will. Whenever his brain was under the Coats’ control, he was capable of doing whatever they asked, even when he himself didn’t understand what they were asking for.
So it was worrying when he felt nothing. He heard the order loud and clear, yet it didn’t wrap around his brain like it always does.
So it wasn’t just you. His mind no longer submitted to anyone’s commands. He would have chirped in celebration if he didn’t have an audience that was still waiting for him to follow through, giving looks and comments of impatience while he stood there.
He can’t let them notice that he was unaffected. The words of the Mask that stole his touch repeated in his head along with the memories of cutting and burning, every nerve seething from raw pain until all feeling began to fade.
“If he ignores us like that again, we may need to alter his brain and ensure his compliance in the future.”
Alter...change...he doesn’t want them to change him. So Raptor tried to pretend, another thing that felt natural to him.
The process of finding his new quirk was difficult to describe; it was more like willing himself to blend in until the rest of his body got the message. All of his muscles tightened, and he almost panicked when black skin began to disappear before his eyes. His wings, his tail, every part of him looked as if it was dissolving, but he can still move and feel the weight of each limb. Once his body relaxed, he was fully invisible. The Coats kept him pinned with their stares, however.
“Completely hidden. Very good,” one of them said, writing something down. They’re always watching, always taking notes on him, always judging. This all felt familiar as well. “Now, walk from that corner to there, and keep a hold on your quirk.”
There was no pull, no sudden fuzziness or loss of control. Nothing. It’s a strange feeling, following orders because he actually chooses to. It will take some getting used to, but it shouldn’t be too difficult.
Has a monster like him ever acted before? It sure feels like it.
He performed several different tasks: running, climbing, flying, and shooting feathers. All while unseen by the naked eye. The feat even earned him a round of applause from the Coats.
“I can picture it already. He could slice apart an entire group of targets, and they wouldn’t even understand their deaths. A flurry of invisible blades!” One of them exclaimed with a smile that was way too wide given the subject matter.
“Don’t worry, we’re going to get a taste of what this is capable of right now.”
Right on cue, the doors opened. Every feather on his wings and tail bristled instantly, ready to shred whatever possible threat that may enter. They wouldn’t be able to see him. It would be so easy, just like the Coats said.
But instead of another nomu that was simpler and more violent than him, a woman was shoved into the room hard enough to make her stumble forward and fall, the door slamming shut behind her. She was dressed like you, wearing only a thin blue shirt and pants. What did they bring someone like her in here for?
She was already back on her feet, scanning the area with wide eyes and shrunken pupils before moving her gaze to the humans that continued to observe from the other side. The fear in the air was so thick that Raptor could nearly taste it as she shook uncontrollably – he wondered if her knees would collapse from the trembling alone.
He was still camouflaged; she couldn’t see him at all. The urge to reveal himself is strong, but one: the Coats had yet to order him to deactivate his quirk, and two: knowing that she was in a room with a nomu will most definitely only terrify her more, so he stayed where he was, motionless and quiet.
For a suffocating minute, the only sound was her rapid breathing until one of the Coats finally spoke up.
“Kill her, Raptor.”
“What?” The woman’s voice was constricted by anxiety. She looked timidly at the man, who only stared back expectantly, waiting for something. “W-what?” She choked out again. She switched her attention to the door, still distressed and shaking. When no horrid beast entered the room like she expected, her panic increased even more, stuttering so badly that it was a challenge to discern what she was trying to say. “I-I-I w-I won’t...I’m s-so...p-p-please.”
Her head whipped upwards to a vent in the ceiling. Nothing happened. The confused woman was now spinning around looking for something, hysterical with the knowledge that her impending doom was coming, but not knowing where or when. The weight of her dread was making him anxious.
The same Coat, however, only sighed in annoyance at the sight of the trapped panicking animal. “Don’t dawdle, Nomu.” The final word dripped with venom. It reminded him of his place: a puppet that should have no will of its own. Raptor didn’t want to kill, but if he defies them, then they will dig into his brain again, and the woman will probably be violently killed by a more enthusiastic nomu. He’s afraid of what they might take from him next. He can’t let that happen.
The shrinking woman is still whipping her head around in every direction as her bare feet take a step backwards, then another, completely unaware of the larger creature that stood right behind her. He can’t guarantee a painless death, but he can make it as quick as possible for her.
Raptor added an edge to some of his feathers, but reconsidered. That would require pinpoint accuracy, not worth the risk with a target that was moving so erratically.
His tongue curiously ran over the points of his teeth, checking their sharpness. No, that would leave too much of a mess.
His hands clenched into fists, and that’s when he practically heard the ding in his head. A simple method, but it should work just fine.
He was originally going to wait until she backed all the way into him, but that would be rather cruel. Killing her before she even recognizes the danger is a greater mercy. His hand struck with the swiftness of a snake, grabbing the back of her neck. The delicate spine could be felt beneath.
Raptor was not as strong as other nomu. That didn’t mean he couldn’t crush a human’s bones with little effort.
He felt her jolt, but that’s all she had time to do before the sickening snap and crunch sounded throughout the room, then she went limp with nothing more than a few final twitches.
Some of the Coats audibly gasped, while others clapped excitedly at the kill they couldn’t even see coming. From their perspective, an unsuspecting woman’s neck was suddenly crushed by an invisible force like an aluminum can.
One of them didn’t look very impressed. “Eh, a bit anticlimactic, don’t you think?”
“We’re not watching a bloodsport,” another one snapped. “Raptor is designed to handle matters quickly. A cervical fracture is fast and effective.”
“She was so terrible at her job. I think she deserved a terrible death in return,” another said.
Their babbling continued while Raptor placed the body on the floor more gently than his audience would have liked. Her eyes were still wide open, frozen in that moment of realization just a millisecond before death. Still, things could have been much worse for her.
“I still think we should have used his harvester instead. She’s becoming a nuisance.”
Raptor has grown to really dislike that voice, the voice of the man that takes him away every morning. He always stares at him like an expensive possession that turned out to be a waste of money. It’s an effort to keep his lips from curling over his teeth whenever the bastard’s around.
An older lady spoke. “Her relationship with the nomu is unique and warrants its own set of experiments after we cover the basics here. We already told you that.”
“Yes yes, I know. But her sample this morning was pathetic. It’s like she’s forgotten her job, too busy turning our greatest achievement into a softie. Call me petty, but I’d get a good laugh out of watching her be devoured by the nomu that she’s decided to become friends with.”
Anger.
“You are petty, and short-sighted. Do you understand just how extraordinary this relationship is?”
Another Coat butted in. “Sure, but what use is sentiment to a nomu? This was supposed to be a cold lethal predator, not a child that likes to draw on walls. I agree that the bond with its harvester is holding it back. It would be better off without her.”
Raptor hates it. He doesn’t want any of them talking about you. To think that they’d consider something as twisted as offering you to him as a helpless prisoner to execute, just like the one whose spine he had just snapped.
How dare they.
The lady was suddenly staring right at him with a look of shock before her aged lips curled into a smirk. Actually, everyone was staring at him now, and they all showed varying levels of discomfort. That’s when he noticed that he can see his hands in front of him again, along with his feet, wings, and the rest of his body. His fury made him lose his hold on the Camouflage quirk. They had all just seen his face of hatred.
And yet the lady continued to smile. “I don’t believe he agrees with you two.”
She then whispered something, lips forming what looked like the word ‘magnificent’ while her eyes bore into him. Even his rage was nothing more than a fascinating process to be examined.
Raptor wants to get out of here.
x---x---x---x---x
You’re alright. You made it out. You were bruised, but you made it out.
That High-End nearly broke your fucking arm when it came. It was always a pretty rough one when you jerked it off but for god’s sake, why did it always have to squeeze you like a stress ball? Thankfully, your painful shriek of “STOP!” was enough to penetrate the horny shield over its brain and it released you.
It wasn’t your first injury, but it’s been a while since you’ve gotten such a scare. It could’ve been worse – it could always be much worse.
The fact that you feel elated when you reach Hawks’s room shows how close the two of you have gotten in less than a week. Two prisoners who agree that this place can go fuck itself; one was pumping cocks on the daily, the other failed miserably at being a ruthless monster. They ought to make a movie out of this.
You enter the room to see him resting in the center while several feathers carve into different areas of the walls and ceiling. His understanding of shapes was becoming more complex at a rapid rate, if the current drawings were anything to go by. They looked to be unintentionally abstract faces, varying greatly in size and structure, but one thing they all had in common was oversized eyes. Every face was furiously scratched in, the sound of chiseling surrounding you and adding to the ominous aura given off by the etchings that lacked skill but teemed with raw emotion.
The scattered claw marks from yesterday are still as visible as ever. Everyday, this place looks more disturbing even with the not-so-hostile creature that occupies it.
Something prompts his feathers to stop abruptly and return to him, followed by him quickly standing up and hissing. The badly-timed hostility makes you jump back. “Raptor? What is it?” You tried to stay calm as usual.
He drew closer, eyes narrowed and teeth bared at the purplish welts on the arm that held your gazillionth jar. Oh, of course. You waved with you uninjured one. “It’s alright. One of the High Ends was being a little heavy-handed. It stings, but it’ll get better.”
Hot air hits you when he releases a snort. While he studies the bruise, you continue to examine the newest artful additions. “So...what do all of these mean?” You ask.
He follows your traveling gaze and mutters. “Watching. They’re always watching.”
He said it so smoothly that it gave you chills. “You’re tripping up less on your words. That’s, uh, good.” When a grunt is his only response, you keep talking. “Are these the doctors?” He nodded. “Did you...have to kill again?”
A beat. Then he nods again, more slowly this time. “It was easier.”
You’re not sure what to say to that, deciding to instead rest a hand on his arm. For some reason, what he said didn’t scare you. It was you who asked him to act more like a nomu, anyway.
You both stayed like that for a few minutes, standing side-by-side in the middle of the room’s crude composition that illustrated his short life. Innocence, rage, and now a feeling of powerlessness. You can relate; your progress here was very similar except that the ‘innocence’ part can be replaced with ‘grief’, having lost contact with everything you were familiar with.
“You know, maybe I can add my own additions to this sometime, if you don’t mind. Make this place our own little mural.” You giggle when his tail swings at the proposal. “There’s no way they haven’t noticed how odd of a duo we are by now. I wonder how those assholes feel about all of this.”
You’re grabbed and pulled into him so quickly that the jar slips out of your grip, rolling away as you’re pushed into a hard black chest. The tight embrace squeezes your swollen arm painfully. “Shit, that hurts!”
He whines apologetically and loosens his hold. Pain and lack of oxygen aside, it’s oddly comforting. You haven’t been hugged in ages, and here you were being held by this. A song of soft coos calm you, but there is a noticeable sad tone to them. You look up at him, chin resting on his pecs. “Raptor, I know it sucks here, and I don’t really know what to say to make things better, but I’ll keep trying to hang out with you for as long as I can, alright?” You reassure him while rubbing his chest. “Remember, you’re kind of the best thing that ever happened to this place. Not that my standards in this shithole are very high – they’re actually lower than a regular nomu’s sex drive – but it’s still an achievement you should be proud of.”
Your words did their job, if his lighter hums are anything to go by. His comforting heat was gone too soon when he gently pushed you back, following up with a press of lips against yours.
There’s no more clumsiness in his movements. He switched from light brushes that had you craving more to deep smooches that took your breath away. There wasn’t much else you could do except follow his lead. The teasing licks against your lips never fail to get you going, and he probably knows that by now. Unfortunately, you had to break apart for a breather, allowing him to cradle you as he waited.
“Who the hell have you been kissing while I’m not around to learn so fast?” You joked.
You didn’t expect him to look away and hesitate to answer before uttering, “I...remembered.”
If he was expecting that to upset you, it didn’t. You can’t stop his brain from working, and he no longer automatically gives in to any demands. You still don’t know what’s up with that. “Right,” you sighed. “Are you remembering anything else?”
“No...same things. Hawks...fire...death...I want to forget.” He pulls you in again, this time taking care not to add too much pressure to your bruises. His strangled attempts at speech have become smoother over the days, but hearing the winged hero beneath the layers of grotesque sounds that create his voice is going to take a long time to get used to. “Can...you...make me forget?”
A twinge of sadness and pity. Are his final moments the only parts that keep playing in his head, in a cruel loop? You direct all of your strength into your voice and speak. “Forget about it. Forget about Hawks and all of those foggy memories.”
He sits there and blinks with no clear sign that your words had any effect.
Then he wilts and groans in defeat.
“No good, huh?” You shrug. You truly did wish you could help him. “There’s not much else I can do, sorry.” A pause. “Must feel like nightmares, I guess. I get plenty of those.” You rest in his hold while recalling some of the fears that manifest in your sleep. “Dreams about what they’ll do when they don’t need me anymore. I never had the guts to put myself out of my misery – don’t have many options to work with anyway. Maybe I can ask a nomu to chomp my head off.”
“No.” The word was growled out, felt all around you like a small quake. You quickly try to calm him by raising your uninjured arm to hold and caress his face. You know that he couldn’t exactly feel it anymore, but the memory of your touch is probably what still managed to soothe him. It was an intimate image, touching him so lovingly while in his arms.
“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around. We can make things easier for each other.” Without a second thought, you straighten up and begin pushing down your pants, Hawks already chirping in excitement and fumbling with your shirt, his talons ripping the cloth. You were naked in front of him once again, and the memories of yesterday already have your pussy lubricating itself in preparation. Samples...semen….you weren’t thinking about any of that. You just wanted him again.
“Let’s help each other forget.”
And just like that, you were devoured. His mouth was everywhere and you happily took it all. You were addicted to his touch as much as he was addicted to your flavor. The dark blue tongue moved gracefully across your face, the small grin and lidded eyes telling you that he quite enjoyed the sight of you covered in his saliva. You opened your mouth wide as an invitation that he gladly took, the strong muscle charging straight into your mouth and hitting the back of your throat. It makes you gag and has tears pricking at your eyes, yet you continue to throb between your legs.
He fucks your mouth so fast and roughly that you’re forced to only breathe through your nose. You’re clinging onto him as you gurgle around the ravaging muscle, your nails unable to pierce his tough hide no matter how hard you grip.
Something solid rubs right against your sex, grazing your clit and leaving you moaning into his mouth. His hips were bucking into the air with a very prominent tent that constricted his growing cock.
It’s the first time a nomu’s dick actually touches you there.
And it makes your walls clench.
You get closer for more friction, trying to grind against the massive erection while he finally removes his tongue from your mouth. That’s when he notices just how hard you’re trying to get off on his bulge.
Heat is rushing to your face at his puzzled expression. “You-” You gasp, still catching your breath after having him squirm down your throat for so long. “You feel pretty good.”
He simply watches you continue to rub against him – you don’t even notice that his hips are no longer moving, you just press closer to him and grind harder in desperation. His wings flutter and the rest of his body shakes lightly, his breaths coming out in short huffs.
He was laughing.
The look of amusement is so unexpected that it has your hips stopping out of embarrassment. And here you thought nothing else could leave you flustered at this point. “You don’t have to laugh. Trust me, you’ve looked way more desperate than I have,” You tease him.
He clicks his tongue, then with a yank and a loud rip, his shorts are in tatters and his cock springs free right onto your belly. Another short round of huffs are heard from him when you squeak in surprise. Just where did this attitude even come from?
Beads of precum ooze from his pointed head and drip onto your stomach. Maybe it’s your lust-tinted lenses, but his cock is looking much more attractive than usual. Its curved perfectly to hit all of the right spots, and those ridges probably feel amazing when moving inside you.
“Want more?”
The low-pitched voice right in your ear has you shaking, like it was a question from the Devil himself. Thirst aside, you don’t know what you should say. You trust that he won’t fuck you to shreds like the other High Ends would, but the biggest issue…
“I don’t know if I should risk that,” you murmur, a hand reaching to rub the textured flesh. “As tempting as it is right now.”
His confidence is replaced with disappointment. That is, until he immediately perks back up and grabs your hips.
“Wait what are yoooo-whoa!” You’re being lifted off the floor, legs dangling uselessly as he holds you easily, your body hovering right over his twitching dick.
Panic begins to set in. “No! Nononono I said-”
“I won’t.” He says softly. As softly as he can with such a voice, at least. “Calm.”
Instead of penetrating like you feared, he lowers you until your flushed lips are resting on the length of his scaly shaft.
And then, slowly, his hips push forward.
The bumps and creases slide against you in all of the right ways. “Oooh fuck.” You adjust yourself to ensure that he rubs your clit as well. The sensation has you shuddering in his hands as the pressure inside you builds quickly. Your slick makes his dick smoother after each thrust, and when Hawks sees that you’re comfortable and lost in the rhythm, he begins to speed up.
Your legs are swinging madly at a complete loss on how to handle the electrifying friction, but the nomu grunts and takes hold of your thighs. They close around his cock, greatly increasing the pressure as he continued to fuck past your thighs. “Stay there.” The vibration from his deep raspy voice only arouses you more. His hips collide with yours after each buck.
As amazing as it feels, your hazy mind recalls that Hawks shouldn’t be able to properly revel in this outercourse. “I-I thought...you couldn’t feel this.” You say shakily.
Hawks is eyeing your bouncing form with great interest, his hips not missing a beat as he answered. “Can’t. Just watching.”
He presses down on you more, slowing down his pace with his eyes still locked on your face. His tongue quickly swipes across your forehead to taste the sweat that has mixed with his saliva. “You look good.”
Goddamn him.
You felt close, so close, but even as your limbs tingle from the pleasure, your orgasm remained out of reach. The most severe ache that had yet to be sated, to be given any attention, was inside you. You have never throbbed this much in your life, you didn’t even know that your muscles down there could even contract this tightly. The dragging of his cock against your drenched lips isn't enough. You don’t care about risk anymore. Not after feeling what he has to offer.
There’s no voice telling you how stupid you’re being right now. It already gave up on you.
Good.
“Haw–shit–Raptor, inside. I need you inside.” You beg between your moans. He stills completely, which has you whining and squirming even more.
“Inside?”
Hearing him say it sobers you up a bit, but not enough to kill your desire. “Just pull out before you cum, alright? Think you can do that?” You ask.
He nods eagerly, wings and tail moving with glee as he lifts you off of his dick that was already lubed up by your natural fluids. He angles himself until the head is pressing at your twitching entrance.
You can’t tell if you’re trembling from excitement or fear. Probably both.
The fine tip already has you being stretched wide, burning and stinging in spite of your pussy’s preparation. It makes you wince and want to close your eyes – to create some distance between you and the pain – but your curiosity has you looking down to watch him enter you, inch by inch. You can once again see your stomach distend as it attempts to accommodate the large intrusion, much bigger than the slithery tongue that previously invaded it.
But it’s exactly what you craved, the unique texture feeling even more delicious when inside of you. Your toes curl and legs quiver from his girth; not as meaty as the other dicks that you’ve treated, just enough extra thickness to give you a stretch that you’ve never experienced, without causing serious harm.
He reaches the end of your cavern with a few more inches to spare, and the drawn out moan slipping past his lips surprises both of you. You try to relax around him while he fights the urge to move. Black shaky wings expand behind him.
“Feel…” He gasped and choked, one would think that he was trying to learn speech all over again. “Can feel...squeezing. So gooood.” The last word came out as a strong rasp against your face.
The new discovery has you smiling, one of your hands rubbing at a much larger one around your waist. “You can feel it? You feel how tight I am, Raptor? How badly I want you to stay inside me and never leave?” He may not be able to feel your heat or your dampness, but it looks like he can’t escape the pressure from a cunt’s death grip.
He twitches inside, making you jolt. Oh, how quickly the tables have turned.
You scratch under his chin. Numb as he is, he still tilts his head like a pet dying for affection. “Then I want you to fuck me. Stop thinking, and just move...” You bring your face close to his, pulling off a seductive look and tone even when impaled on him. “...Just like a good nomu.”
Perhaps Hawks had a submissive kink when he was alive. It would explain why that riled him up so much that he was already slamming into you with absolutely no warning.
It hurts. It hurts so fucking good. Every thrust tears a helpless cry out of your body. The scales grind against every nerve around your hole, while the ones deeper inside nudge your velvety walls as they move in and out, in and out.
You couldn’t talk between your screams, not with how violently he was pounding you. Your arms and legs wrapped around him and hung on for dear life with your face buried in the crook of his neck. His own muscular arms wrap around you in a deceptively loving embrace, pumping into you with a rhythmic smack smack smack. All you can do is reap what you sow and take it.
This wasn’t just for you, this was for Hawks as well. You gave him something that he could feel again. What began as whiny gasps for air soon became rolling growls that vocalize a need for more.
Your orgasm barely sticks out of the continuous blinding pleasure as he plows harder through your spasms, your contracting muscles wrestling with the merciless cock to hold it inside.
His tone is dark. Vicious. “Tight. So tight!”
It makes your greedy body want even more. “Oh, good job, Raptor. Such a good boy.” You praise him, feeling the brief falter in his movements. He really does like that. “Go ahead and take it all, as much as you need-ah. Don’t worry about me. Fuck me until I can’t think.”
The violent sex stops and you’re being ripped away from that wondrous cock in the blink of an eye. Before you can even question what’s happening, your world begins to spin until you’re suddenly on the floor. You’re getting adjusted onto your hands and knees right before being pierced again with a force that shoves you forward.
Your thoughts struggle to keep up with the lightning-fast sequence of events, hindered even more by the warmth of the body hovering right over you. Hawks too was on all fours, though he looked much more comfortable and natural, wings fully spread out in a proud and dominant display as he throbbed inside of you.
His hips snap forward, already at a rapid pace that rocks you with each hard impact and soon has you howling again. The floor was filled with uneven cracks and scratches that scraped your knees, not that the discomfort was easy to notice while you were being drilled into. As you latched onto one of his arms for support, you noticed right in front of you, was your first game of tic tac toe.
Drool dripped down from the snarling jaws above you and onto the innocent group of lines and shapes.
The mounting beast humped you with every ounce of energy he had. Your aching pussy couldn’t take it. Too hard...too big... you’re cumming again around his pistoning cock, moans melting into defeated sobs. The huge pair of swinging balls occasionally smacked right into your oversensitive clit. You were losing the will to hold yourself up, gripping his supportive arm more tightly while your thighs quivered. Even if you had the strength to, you had no plans to ask the feral savage to stop.
He currently wasn’t anything like the gentle experiment you’ve befriended in just a few days. Right now, with his head thrashing around and flinging spittle everywhere as he barked, and wings beating hard against the floor, he was terrifying. Powerful, hungry, and single-minded.
So this is what it’s like to give in to a nomu.
It’s scary.
It’s thrilling.
Every fast agonizing stroke right against your cervix takes your breath away, your mouth eventually just hanging open in an attempt to capture whatever oxygen it could into your lungs. Hawks curls into himself so that he can crane his neck and look at you, saliva flowing freely down his chin. Each breath came out as a throaty growl wafting against your sweaty face. He takes one look at your parted lips, and stuffs you with his tongue.
If your thoughts were more coherent at the moment, you’d wonder how the hell the muscle was strong enough to be able to move into your throat as hard as the dick that continued to wreck your insides. His hips assisted in gagging you even more with each thrust. The threat of asphyxiation only brought you closer to your next orgasm.
Your mind was empty, save for the immoral thoughts that have long since driven off their more honorable competition.
Just use me.
Your entire body was on fire, getting pummeled from both ends.
Just use me however the fuck you want.
Hawks is suddenly bombarding your cunt with short and speedy ruts of his hips, and that does it. Your limbs give out and leave you to plop onto the floor as your pleasure blooms all over. But his long tongue follows you, still pushing into your whimpering mouth to deprive you of much-needed air. He simply lowers himself and proceeds to fuck you hard into the ground, pressing your skin into his many carvings.
His tongue leaves...your eyes rolling back….
Hawks releases a horrid cry that sounds like both a roar and a bird-like shriek.
Exhaustion…
Hawks is too lost in the surprising sensations, dull but still intense, to realize that he’s shooting his thick load into your womb
Warmth...full...sleep.
x---x---x---x---x
“Get up.”
The voice is muffled as you slowly come to. Whatever you’re resting on doesn’t feel like your bed.
“I know you’re awake. Hurry and get up.”
You’re surrounded by warmth, by something breathing. Pain shoots through your back and legs when you stir. When you open your eyes, you see the golden eyes of a High End.
The fear does well in masking your aches as you scramble out of the arms of what turned out to be Hawks, who was lounging on his side like a giant cat.
And standing at the door, was the damned doctor that you had the privilege of seeing every day.
His stare looked even more judgmental than it usually did. Full-on disgusted, actually. Realizing that you’re still naked, you grab one of Hawks’s wings that were splayed out on the floor to shield yourself.
He simply shakes his head. “I’ve already seen enough. And heard enough.”
Oh shit.
Oh shit.
“I-I…” you stammer, panic rising in your chest as you’re unable to come up with any sort of explanation. You even turn to Hawks, like he’d somehow provide you with the answer.
“I normally don’t care what deplorable methods you people use to collect your samples, but going by the filth between your legs...” That prompts you to look down, and the second you do, you already feel a dense fluid oozing out of you and running down your legs that were stained with white. “...you actually allowed Raptor to inseminate you.”
His words, along with your accelerating heartbeat, thunders in your ears. Hawks is watching his seed leak from your raw pussy. He remains still and quiet, uncertain of how to act in the presence of a doctor.
“To think that someone would deliberately let a nomu breed them. I know that the two of you have gotten close,” His eyes skimmed past the many images and markings in the room. “But just how depraved do you have to be to go this far with a nomu?”
If this was before the days you allowed Hawks to touch you, you would have felt embarrassed. You are scared. Not only did he cum inside you, you’ve also been caught right after the act.
But any sort of shame?
You had the nerve to huff, still hiding your body from him not out of shyness, but because the asshole didn’t deserve the view. “I guess we’re all sick fucks around here,” you retort.
The glare on his glasses add to the intimidation factor of his glower. He takes a step forward and gives a quick tilt of his head. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”
Both you and Hawks are taken back. “For what?”
He scowls even harder. “Still asking questions? You’re lucky that you’re valuable right now. You have most likely been impregnated. This is an unexpected opportunity to observe one of Raptor’s offspring. We’ll be watching over you until the birth.”
You don’t move, still soaking in every word. This most definitely was a mistake. Not only are you going to be taken away from Hawks to be cooped up in a room with constant surveillance, you’re going to have a...fuck.
You feel the wing in your grasp vibrate softly, Hawks sensing your distress and attempting to silently reassure you.
“I said get dressed,” the doctor ordered impatiently. “Or are you still basking in the afterglow?” He snickered at his own joke before walking forward, ready to take you by force.
That’s when the nomu in the room finally stood up to step right in front of you, standing tall in all of his naked glory and easily towering over the man.
You had to give the guy credit for not looking phased by the very dangerous creature blocking his path. Then again, maybe he was just so sure that Hawks wouldn’t harm him in any way.
“Out of the way, Raptor.” Strong and firm. It’s the tone that ensures a nomu’s obedience, but you know by now that Hawks’s mind has grown beyond that.
As expected, Hawks doesn’t budge, still looking down with eyes of liquid gold.
The doctor only looks more annoyed, not afraid. “I knew you were defective,” he sneered. “Always hesitating during tests. Such wasted potential, yet the others insist on keeping you around. To do what? Decorate rooms? The idiots should have altered your brain by now.”
What?
Hawks still didn’t move. The lack of reaction was beginning to get to the man’s nerves, his hands balling into fists as he contemplated what action to take next. You stayed mostly hidden behind Hawks, anxiously looking past his wings.
When he accepted that the nomu wasn’t going to move, and forcing his way past him was too dangerous of an option, he smirked. “Fine, then. You’re only making yourself look worse. I’m certain I can convince them to move forward with that operation after they see how defiant you’re being right now.”
No! You feel so damn useless. The bastard wanted to change him into something more compliant. How much would that change Hawks himself? You don’t know if there’s anything you can do that won’t just end with you being thrown into the lion’s den.
The doctor placed two fingers to his temple. Fuck, his quirk.
“Backup needed in South Hall, room five o’ ni-”
He stopped. Pure shock took over his face, words replaced with the faintest choked sounds. You truly considered asking if he was feeling alright.
Until a thin line of red appeared at his throat, blood oozing out, the bleeding getting heavier by the second.
“What. The. Fuck?” Your breaths were becoming too short as you watched him crumple, the liquid crimson quickly pooling around him. “What the fuck is going on?”
The confusion and fear was making you delirious. God, you were going to pass out again, this is too fucking much, this asshole was about to take you away because you have a monster growing inside you and then he was going to turn Hawks into a regular High End but now he’s dead but who the fuck killed him and what’s about to happen to you-
“Calm.”
A large hand on your shoulder grounds you, steadying your breathing and expanding your tunnel vision. Hawks is in front of you, releasing soft coos.
“Wha–how–wha…” Your shaky lips are unable to form words, but he seems to understand. Something materializes right in front of you. Small, black, and sharp. It’s a feather, floating between the both of you. “What?” You finally spit out.
“Camouflage,” that’s all he says, as if that explains everything. Since when was he able t-
Whatever. There’s too much shit happening right now.
Still shaking, you look to see the doctor still bleeding, some of the blood flowing into the engravings and painting them red.
“Y-you killed him?” You whisper.
He nods, staring apathetically at the body.
“But, I thought you didn’t…” You trailed off, too stunned by everything that has happened to finish.
He turned his attention back to you, red irises – as red as the blood that continued flow – staring into your frightened eyes. “It gets easier.”
Once again, you’re not sure what to say to that.
He looks to the door. “More coming soon.”
Right, whoever the doctor was contacting must be wondering why his telepathy was suddenly cut off.
“I want to leave.”
“Leave? Like, you want to escape?” Another nod. “That’s...I don’t know if that’s possible. There are villains around here. Strong villains. Shit, they might release some of the nomu on us!”
“You want to stay?”
Your mouth opens, then closes.
“I’m strong, and fast.” His wings unfurl and sharpen every feather, his tail curling around you so that you can see the knifelike plumes on it. “Can heal very fast and blend in. Can do a lot.”
The display and simple explanation reminds you that you haven’t seen any of his combative skills firsthand. This is what they made him for.
Well then…
“Right, then how about we give them a final test?” Just when you were finally calming down, adrenaline is already being pumped back into your veins. “Let’s show them how unstoppable their latest work is.”
His little peep of agreement nearly ruined the moment, but it reminds you why you’ve grown so fond of him.
He turns around and crouches, motioning you to climb onto his back and wrap your arms around his neck. It was awkward, mostly due to the wings that you were squishing under you, but when you voiced your worries he just gave you an “It’s fine.” He warned you to hang on extra tightly whenever he gets low to the ground. He’s a much faster runner on all fours.
Stepping over the corpse that has bled dry, he stopped at the door and braced himself.
“Ready?”
Your arms and legs were secured around him. You breathed in through your nose then out through your mouth.
Breath in. Breathe out.
A lot of death and destruction is probably about to come your way.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
It would be great if you never had to fill another jar ever again.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Your clammy skin hasn’t felt sunlight in fucking forever. Are the heroes even still alive out there?
Breathe in. Breathe out.
You try not to think about what’s happening in your womb.
“I’m ready.”
The door is pushed open.
x---x---x---x---x
Targets first spotted at 12:50
The old surveillance cameras flicker and lag. It makes noticing the running black figure all the more difficult. On most screens, you’ll see nothing more than a blur. There will be the occasional confrontation with villains, sometimes accompanied by researchers with incapacitation quirks. More often than not, the escapees easily outmaneuver them, crawling and leaping on every surface and zooming past their potential captors before they can even follow.
Some of the stronger villains and nomu slow the duo down only briefly before they collapse from an unseen force. The recovered bodies possessed deep cuts across major arteries or accurate punctures in their major organs.
Some footage shows the two sometimes climbing into vents, temporarily escaping the cameras.
The woman on the High End’s back was injured during the fatal showdown at the hospital’s exit, enraging it to the point where it swiftly killed everyone in its vicinity, including fleeing researchers that were only caught in the crossfire.
Targets escaped facility at 13:09
x---x---x---x---x
Subject: Raptor
SUBJECT HAS ESCAPED.
NOMU IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS. TAKE EVERY PRECAUTION IN RETRIEVING IT.
Some things are too good to be true. It turned out that Raptor’s brain has, shall we say, faulty wiring. Several observations have noted him hesitating upon certain commands. This should not be a constant problem with any High End. I don’t understand why they did not immediately work on this issue. It’s possible that they feared irreversible changes to his unique mind.
I personally believe that many of these flaws are the result of a compassionate host. The hero Hawks was unmistakably a gifted combatant, probably the most gifted individual the facility has gotten their hands on, but his attitude did not translate well into the role of a nomu. On the bright side, I never thought I’d ever see nomu, let alone a High End, show such genuine fondness over a human. I believe it’s worth another try in the future.
But for now, we should stick to what works. There are more than enough lowly criminals to go around.
#Hawks#smut#nomu#noumu#terato#monster fucking#hawks x reader#shh the doctors don't know about shirakumo#happy october?#tw blood#tw death
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Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts
For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.
Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!
Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!
Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.
Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.
Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.
Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!
Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.
Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)
Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)
Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”
This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.
I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.
#ted lasso#ted lasso s2 spoilers#ted lasso 2x11#meta by me#ALL THE FEELINGS!!!!#a lesbian watches ted lasso
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"Dude" — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader.
Summary: Your former bully, Midori, has confessed her undying love for one of the most famous guys at U.A.; you're just venting gossiping about it with Mei, not knowing Bakugou Katsuki is right around the corner, listening;
Warnings: None. Well, Bakugou Katsuki having various anger induced strokes > the normal > no warnings; light crackfic? subtle ending;
Word count: 4.5k;
[ Part 2 ];
"She confessed to him." You grinned, throwing a bunch of fries into your mouth like the absolute animal you were.
Mei on the other hand continued her work on whatever in the world her new prototype, or "baby", was. Still, you had the honor of having half of her attention, which was a compliment to say at least.
She just smiled, shaking her head, leading you to continue, not knowing a blond was quite literally behind the corner, just outside the door leading to the support department, frown on his face.
"She came to class giggling like an idiot saying she's got a plan." You made a face into the distance, remembering your classmate's obnoxious squeal. "Ugh, she started telling the Divas how she's gonna have The Bakugou Katsuki in the bag." An ugly snort left your body, which earned an amused chuckle from Mei.
Both of you were pretty well known to be very good friends, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were both quite the social pariahs too. She was a little bit strange or weird, as some called her, but not for a single second she cared, which was the reason you admired the girl so much in the first place. Meanwhile you've taken the role of the bitch of the whole school by far. Sadly, you were placed in the same class as your archenemy, only increasing your chances of being called said endearing term.
Middle-school was a nightmare to say at least, getting bullied for your looks, the way you spoke or dressed, anything really as long as you were the one being mocked. And who was the one doing the bullying? Midori. Stunning, graceful, baby-faced Midori. Petite yet elegant, a devil in disguise. Whoever crossed her path suffered her malice unless she had something to gain from them.
And now, sweet Midori was in the U.A.'s General Studies, coinciding with you in the majority but not all classes. It had to do with the tragedy that your quirk was so rare that the principal Nezu had to adjust a new schedule just for you. Just kidding, it was amazing. The actual tragedy was seeing her face every day.
Back to your heartbreaking backstory and origin; time made you tough, comments made you build a wall so tall and thick nobody could crumble it. Backstab after backstab made you learn that not everyone has good intentions, but in your loneliness you found Hatsume Mei. So honest and dedicated, so raw and passionate. A good person. The type of person your parents promised you'd someway cross paths with and gain such a strong friendship that nothing could tear it apart.
Becoming friends with her was easy, kinda. It took snapping back at Midori when she started her normal bullying routine on Mei, which ignored it without a care. You stepped in and the rest is history. It did feel good though, calling her a pathetic bitch before turning to the stranger with a cool gadget in her hands to compliment it. And, since she's a sucker for her babies, you had to deal with an hour of sparkly eyes and monologues about her plans and prototypes.
Funny girl, Mei. You remember thinking but the following day you passed by her usual spot to fill your curiosity, asking if she did solve the problem she was complaining about.
"He was the one she was planning to ask out?" She screamed at you, head inside a giant metal gauntlet and the reason you two started talking about said man in particular. News were extra-fresh anyway.
"Oh, yeah!" You shook your head, ashamed to exist in the same general proximity as a person like your former bully. "He's gonna be so rich and famous!" A high pitched squeal left your mouth as you tried to copy her voice. "Poor fucking guy, if only he knew."
"But people know she's a bitch!" She screamed again, repairing or adjusting something with almost all of her body inside the gauntlet. A smile, genuine and soft this time, formed on your face. The pink-haired girl wasn't one to talk bad about others or even care, but it was clear she wasn't particularly fond with Midori either, although the conversation was more for you to vent rather than gossip. Sure it was.
"Like the people from the Hero Department even care about us, the commoners." With a roll of the eyes, you followed. "If he's smart, he'll run away. If he's an asshole, he could use her too."
"What do you mean?" Pink flocks of hair suddently submerged from the gadget, eyes curious zooming on you. That probably got more than 50% of her attention and it was a new personal goal while she was at the workshop.
With shrugged shoulders, your answer came nonchalant. "He could date her and dump her like she's nothing. Would serve her right for all the shit she's talking about him." But the only response you got was a short quizzical look, followed by your exagerated sigh. "She's talking shit about him constantly, but then says he's hot and that his personality doesn't matter anyway. Money, fame, looks. She has a whole fucking life-plan! Then calls him a rabid dog!"
"Woah—" that surprised her.
"Woah indeed! Insane. It's insane. I don't know the guy but no one deserves that shit." When you got no response, you continued your speech, munching in the food with passionate hunger, words coming out almost indistinguishable. "Doubt he'd play her though. He looks like a smart guy. I've seen the Sports Festival—" you picked up your burger, giving it heart eyes. "—and I've seen the news. He's probably a good guy too, the issue is people don't see that and... Well, I understand what's it to be judged... Not many have what it takes to be a real hero but he does. Hope he finds happiness in life." Much talk for someone that doesn't know shit about the guy in particular, but even so faint, your gut instinct was trained well enough to spot malice and he lacked that. "And a therapist." And there's the little shit in you that had to drop a cheeky comment.
Mei's gaze turned downwards and even if you could see her brain do mental gymnastics to solve whatever problem she had in front of her super-eyes, she also contemplated your words with great care.
"He comes here from time to time—" she grins, smacking the grenade looking gauntlet with her weird utensil. "I noticed you two are similar." Your face twisted, eyes wide towards the girl.
Similar how? He was loud, bold with a foul mouth, definitely needed a therapist for those unresolved anger issues... But he was also bright as in whenever he went, people looked in his direction, like he shined; obviously strong, also from what you've heard smart, popular, lucky to be surrounded by kind people. Example being that very nice pink girl that had a joyous conversation with you the very first day of school and, much to your surprise, continued greeting and having sweet small talks with you every single time you saw each other. Or the blond haired guy that showed off a little bit too much and made dumb flirty comments with no bad intentions, the same blond that waved at you with enthusiasm when you'd cross paths. There was the red-head, Kirishima, that was an absolute gentleman, opening doors for you even if you had two functioning hands and smiled so bright it made your corneas burn, or also the dark haired guy, Sero, that you've seen helping literally anyone in need around the school campus with an easy going attitude and gentle grins. Bakugou Katsuki was surrounded by good people, good heroes just as amazing as him and if they liked him, he must've definitely had some good in him, right? Another point appeared in your mental presentation about the brash hero in the making was that he was way too attractive but the wise burried deep inside of you made that particular point dissappear. No need to think about that. Overall you weren't even remotely similar. Not even close. Two completely different human beings from two completely different worlds that would never collide. With that being said, there was the small chance that Mei hinted for you to get a therapist too, who knows.
"How even—"
"I mean!" She screwed something in place. "I mean in your— determination?"
"I wouldn't know that." You muttered.
"He screams I'm gonna be the best every time he's here—"
"Cute..." You vomit that endearment without thinking, but thankfully it got ignored.
"—and it always reminds me of you." A small chuckle left your mouth.
"Don't make fun of me."
"You say it too~"
"I just heal, Mei, it's not the same." Principal Nezu's speech, the speech he gave your parents months into the first year as they found themselves aware of your power made you hold your words. You had it in you. The potential. If incredible people like your teachers, like Shuzenji Chiyo or Principal Nezu twisted things around for your quirk, for how rare and powerful it is, you'd accept it.
"But you're gonna be the best healer ever, aren't you?" She taunted.
"Of course. Which reminds me—!"
"Hmm?" Her attention faded away slightly, but it wasn't a problem.
She cheered, both at you and at her finished masterpiece and proceeded to eat too, passing through the lunch hour without interruption.
"Recovery Girl is putting me on active duty at the infirmary from now on. Finally!"
Innocent pale purple eyes stared into deep crimson ones, furrowed brows covering them.
—
Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to enjoy being annoyed or surprised and this extra managed to make him feel both things in a short notice.
Everyone around him froze in fear or wonder, awaiting his response without breathing or moving an inch. Meanwhile Whoever-she-was held a pink envelope in front of him, a perfume too sweet coming from it making him want to literally gag in the spot.
Another thing the boy did not appreciate was to have someone bullshit him. His senses were telling him to back off, alarms ringing in his head and those purple eyes held hidden intentions; he wasn't having any of it.
"Fuck off." He snapped, yet his stance was casual as he refused to move out of her way since she was the one that had the audacity to run into him.
Some gasps, even coming from his so-called idiotic friends, could be heard and an indignant Bakubro behind him as he got slapped in the shoulder but he did not care. Not until her lips started to tremble as she retreated her confession letter towards her chest dramatically. His eyebrow started to twitch at the sight.
It was a spectacle for anyone surrounding him.
"What's going on?" Shushes and whispers.
"Bakugou Katsuki just got a confession!" Gossip.
"What!? Who?!" Confusion.
"You said Bakugou Katsuki?!" Shock.
"Oh, she's pretty!" Awe.
"He told her to Fuck off! What an asshole!" Outrage.
"Is that Midori?" Surprise.
"The nerve—" Anger.
"Midori from—" Disbelief.
"Oh, my God, she's really doing it~!" Giggles.
He frowned deeper. If people were to talk about him, they should be talking about all the crap he's been doing and all the lives he saved, not because of a fake bimbo decided to cross his path.
Bakugou wasn't stupid either. With time he knew these things would eventually come in his direction, stuff he'd have to deal with in the future as fame would take over, but not now. He did not have time to entertain this show anyway.
There was only one destination in his mind and she was keeping him in the middle of the whole school cafeteria with prying eyes on them both.
"Bakugou, do something, she's about to cry!" Dunce Face harshly whispered, but turned towards the white haired girl that looked devastated in front of them. "Ignore him! Ask me out, I would never make you cry!"
He rolled his eyes so back in his head it almost hurt. With a need to hurl the food he just ate, he made a step to leave the scene but small hands with claw-like fingernails gripped his arm and he looked at her in utter disgust.
"No, I would never! He—" she sniffled but had no tears in her eyes. He gave her a scowl, trying to take his arm out of her grip but she scratched him in place with her tiny rat hands. "You're the one I love! I—" her bangs covered her face as she continued her show.
"Bakugou! Dude! Do something!" Shitty Hair said, his dumb and blind trust in people buying the act. A vein almost popped on Bakugou's forehead.
"I fucking said—" he pulled his arm so hard she fell on her knees by his side. "Fuck. Off."
Another set of gasps filled the room.
"Bakugou!"
One thing he did not want, even if he could tell it was a foul theater, was to hurt somebody. His asshole act ended at that but his pride stopped him from saying anything.
Glancing to see if she's hurt, Pink Idiot was by her side, helping her up and asking way too many fucking questions.
"No, I'm fine..." she said with such a meek voice he scoffed, also hearing all the shit everyone around him was talking.
"He's such a brute."
"What a mean guy—"
"She's crying!"
"Fucking asshole."
He gritted his teeth.
After the disaster with the League of Villains in the first year, people started to respect him for who he was yet one single, minuscule shit like this and they were all at his jugular.
"I took Bakugou-san by surprise." She excused his behavior to Ashido, which then suggested they should eat lunch together sometimes to make up for the trouble after apologizing in his behalf.
"Yeah, we'd love to have you around! Isn't that right, Bakugou?" The apologetic and almost pleading voice of his blond friend, if he ever was going to call him that anymore, just made him bare his teeth. If they wanted to get played like fools it was their problem, not his.
And that's how he found himself eavesdropping on the weirdo and an extra.
And with a single "Whatever." he left the cafeteria, going to check if his gauntlets were ready, annoyance oozing off him, making the sea of people part from his path. Except he didn't notice you rushing away a little bit in front of him, holding a bag of food, all amused.
Why the fuck was everyone talking about him? Can't they fucking keep his pretty name outta their mouths? With time and without finding a reason why the hell he was glued in place, he listened attentively, his suspicions confirmed and his ego hurt, but whoever was talking about him calmed his nerves a lot. He just needed to put a face to that voice. Just to see who's gossiping about him, nothing else.
—
With a full belly and a whole afternoon to study by Recovery Girl's side, you marched towards the infirmary after you bid your farewell to Mei. There was still time to walk around, grab something sweet for later and save any poor soul that Midori decided to sink her teeth in. It was common at this point, you getting in between her and her victims and taking the hit, yet somehow also being called a bitch by everyone. That's how high-school worked. She did have friends and they spread any word she spat. Vultures.
It was fine though. Hero [Y/N] is there to save the day no matter what. You scoffed at your own stupidity, turning the corner just to step on a leg that was sprawled on the floor.
He clicked his tongue, getting up with no worry in the world, but made no action to leave, settling for observing and analyzing you way too intensely.
"Watch where the fuck you're going, idiot." The man of the hour, the guy you've defended in front of your friend just screamed at you as he dusted off the imprint of your shoe left on his pants. Meanwhile you just paled in place before regaining your composture.
"Why are you sitting on the floor?" You said, tilting your head with a frown, already knowing you will not apologize.
Unimpressed by what was going on, even if you truly couldn't point out what really was going on, you made an attempt to move past him towards the vending machines not far behind, but he caught your arm in a firm grip.
You blinked stupidly at the skin contact.
"Heard you were talkin' shit."
Your stomach dropped. Legs almost gave up too if it weren't for his iron grip holding you still. In the silence and at the satisfaction of the reaction you let out, he smirked and raised his chin, only Mei's singing voice coming from her workshop could be heard. Realization hit you. Hit you? Bitchslapped you in the face and left a mark for sure, because your cheeks started feeling heated, tingly.
He dragged you away, maybe to have the privacy to murder you in peace, but your common sense kicked in and you came back from the land of the mortified.
Much like he did before, action you saw with your two own eyes and repeated, you pulled out of his strong grip and stared as he turned towards you, mouth already opened to probably eat you alive.
"I wasn't talking shit about you, dude." You quickly spoke first.
"You don't fucking know me." He growled back, taking a step towards you but like hell you'd back down.
"Don't need to be besties to say what I said." Without understanding why he was so agitated, the only thing left to do after this beautiful turn of events was to defend the honor remaining in you, so you raised your chin to be at par with him. The action clearly took him by surprise, making him glare more, if even possible.
"I don't fucking appreciate when extras talk about me behind my back!"
"I don't give a shit what you appreciate, dude." Your laugh was the complete opposite of his menacing loud voice, like ying and yang.
"Bakugou, the name's fucking Bakugou, you extra!" Bakugou recovered quickly at your snappy self, getting more bothered as you talked.
"Okay, dude." His hands fisted, shaking in place as he stared you down but did not continue.
Silence; the hallway was now filled with silence as he boiled in his own anger and as you raised your brows in confusion. Now what? Was it time to leave? You've never met anyone like him, this was peculiar—
"NOW IT'S WHEN YOU FUCKING TELL ME YOUR SHITTY NAME, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!"
A second passes; two; at the third you're wheezing your lungs out, laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario.
"What the fuck are you LAUGHING AT?!" His voice got louder just to top your howling. You did not expect that.
Through a sigh, regaining your breath, you say "It's [L/N] [Y/N].", seeing him retreat in his form and cross his arms. He was still seizing you up.
"If you have shit to say to me, say it to my fucking face, understood?"
"I—... Say what now?"
"I—." He copied in a mock, getting an incredulous look from you. "You stupid or what?" Your upper lip lifted, ready to cuss him to infinity and beyond but he continued. "Like about that bitch from before and shit—" even if he still was loud, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked more interested in the way the tiles on the wall were placed instead of your person. "An' like you told the weirdo—"
No time to be shocked at the implied; his last word enraged you, making your body shake with rage. "Don't fucking dare to call her a weirdo ever again."
Like a challenge, he snapped his face back at you, ready to take it.
"Or what?"
"Listen here, fucker—" now that was a nice surprised face he was pulling. "Just because I gave you a pat on the back in there doesn't mean you can disrespect people just because you think you're the shit. You're not. Now get out of my fucking way." With a final push to his shoulder, your mind was focused on going to the infirmary, steam almost coming out of your nostrils.
"Hey, extra!"
Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. went through your mind, marching away without a glance back. Not until—
"[L/N]! You're a healer, hah?" That's interesting. He stood where you left him, watching.
"What's it to you?"
Someone sane would've left at your tone but this guy walked towards you then showed you his arms, recently scratched. Images came back to you about the cafeteria incident but did not underst—... did he want to get healed?
You scoffed.
"They're scratches, dude."
"They annoy me. Now heal." All the energy you had left in your body was channeled towards the slow blink you threw at him, at which he scoffed. But they did look nasty— and Midori did them. It was a curse by itself to look down at your own arms and remember that face, so the guardian angel in you decided to take control and be the better person.
Gentle fingers barely tapped his muscular arm. Smile crept up on your lips, feeling absolutely delighted at his obvious stiffness at the skin contact and the clear interest in his eyes, specially when the scratches started disappearing into nothing, leaving smooth silk skin under.
"Hey— Wha— Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" raspy voice got lost in the distance and one thought in your head.
"Want a lollipop for being a good patient too?" You mock and his face explodes in all shapes of red. It would've been great to mock him more, enthralled by his reactions, but with that you turned and left, ignoring the tingling under your fingers that should not be there and your stomping heart.
Did he wait all the lunchbreak to talk to you?
—
A long queue was ahead of you, earning the longest sigh out of your lungs. Life was pain sometimes. Mei couldn't hang out, food was too far away, the delicious croissants Lunch Rush made ran out as far as you could see. Pain. Just pure pain.
And disappointment. When you walked away with your food in a bag, maybe to sit under a tree and enjoy some peace and quiet, you saw her. Midori sitting at a table you did not expect. At the same table where Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijirou and Hanta Sero sat at. Good people. Honest, good people about to get bitten by a snake. If she was there, then Bakugou decided—
"You. Sit."
Thinking about the boy somehow summoned him behind you. Food in hand and bored expression on his face, he passed you not without giving you a stink eye. Indeed, disappointment.
You shrugged, trying not to pay much attention to the pang in your heart as you moved forward, but a voice— his voice stopped you in your tracks.
"You. Get the fuck out of my face." His growl made everyone around him turn to watch, you being one of them. There was no excuse to what came next, no way to run away past it and dissappear. He nodded his head at you out of all people and pointed at the seat still occupied by Midori; her purple eyes big, shocked, running between your frame and the blond's.
Do you know what it felt to be put in the spotlight without warning? Well, congratulations because that was your life now.
"Ba—Bakugou-san?" Her voice, now highed up and meek followed, then a small scream as Bakugou slammed his food on the table. His friends sat there, wide-eyed, but made no attempt to interrupt.
"Did I fucking stutter, bitch? Or want me to turn into a rabid dog for fucking real?"
You choked on your own spit, bag of goodies about to drop on the floor once you saw her horrified face. She knew that he knew. And when her pale eyes, filled with sudden malice, act dropped, turned to you it's when you realized she figured out where he found out from.
Not like you cared, really, but the little shit that always had to poke out every time she was in the same room as you decided to finally show up, making you wave and send her a wink.
"I said MOVE!" now— that growl, raspy and filled with anger startled her. The orange juice in her hands spilled all over her uniform and woke her up from whatever delusion she was in. With zero time to reconsider, every belonging of hers was picked up with trembling hands and she ran away to her group of cockroaches.
A smile was already settled on your face; your brain was storing that whole interaction deep within, ready to bring it back up whenever you needed a good laugh.
Life was pain and disappointment, you say? No. Life was great. Or more importantly, Bakugou was. Not like he needed to know. But he was a decent guy as he proved—
"THE FUCK YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS?! I SAID SIT!" —to be a pain in the fucking ass and the bane of your existence.
You gave him a face then turned to walk away, even rushing more when you heard his chair screeching on the floor. The exit was so close, so near, freedom never felt this great, the sunlight kissing your skin giving you a new hope to live. But not for long because he grabbed your hand and started dragging you towards his table.
Your hand was in his hand and he was dragging you—
Your hand— his big, warm, a little bit sweaty hand—
How could you ruin such a beautiful moment? Eyes on you two, shocked, silence, his adorable red ears being the only thing you could see as he was completely in front of you, still dragging you towards his friends...
"Did you wait all lunchbreak yesterday to talk to me?" You collided into him as you finished the sentence, his way taller form stiffened so much you felt you single-handedly broke Bakugou Katsuki for good.
But when he turned... Oh, when he turned. Biggest deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes you've ever seen on anyone, cheeks painted so red you almost melted in the spot, lips trembling as his head worked a thousand miles per second just to find a retort. And you prepared yourself for—
"NO, I FUCKING DIDN'T! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKING EXTRA? I'D NEVER WAIT FOR SOMEONE LIKE YO— ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" Mina's waving hand caught your attention and smiled at her. Your hand was still in his, gripped harshly as he still hasn't noticed it's still there.
"Hey! [L/N], long time no see!" She cheered, ignoring the living shit out of her screaming friend, like she's used to it.
"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU—"
"Hey, chill, dude. Now let go of my hand, I wanna talk to Ashido." You smiled sweetly, making extra effort to wave your linked hands arond until he finally noticed. He zapped his hand away so fast, like he's been bitten by a wild animal. Maybe even a rabid dog, if you will.
You couldn't ignore your own flustered state as you walked past him, giving him a one up, adding the absolute scandalized face he had into the back of your mind for safekeeping.
"Come sit with us!" The pinkette offered.
"Oh, hey, I know you! You're by Hatsume's workshop all the time!" Kirishima intervened with a surprised face that broke into a grin. "Nice to officially meet—"
"I fucking said." he appeared, sitting in front of you. "My name's Bakugou."
"Ok, dude, but I'm talking to someon—"
"BAKUGOU KATSUKI!" Could be heard from the stratosphere.
Note: I just realized Midori means Green [ fucking duh ] but I'm not gonna change the name or her description. I think her parents fucking up her name was the start of many accidents leading into the Midori we all know and hate. Also, I know you understand. We all know a Midori in our lives. Much love.
Note 2: I keep editing it but tumblr dot com slash Install App on Phone fucks my editing and switches paragraphs all around! If you find any PLEASE tell me, I'd really appreciate it!!!
#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha#noire writes#bakugou x reader#bnha x reader#i just wanted to make myself uwu#reader is op
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Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader
Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.
Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff
Masterlist
It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it.
No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.
Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.
Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them.
Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.
With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.
For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.
Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.
And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.
Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.
The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.
Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.
Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.
Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.
Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.
Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.
For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.
You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.
You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.
You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.
Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.
——
Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.
All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.
oh, Bucky.
Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.
In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.
You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he���s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.
It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.
Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.
Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.
It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.
You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.
He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.
He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.
Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”
Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”
You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”
Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”
Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.
“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”
“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”
“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”
“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.
“Wait.” You pause.
“What?”
“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”
Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”
Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.
“Yep.”
“Gross.”
Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”
“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.
“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.
“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”
“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”
“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”
His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.
Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.
To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.
Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”
“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”
It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.
Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”
Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”
“Always is.”
“Yeah.”
Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”
A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.
“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”
“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”
“You remember Yori?”
“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”
Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”
Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”
“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”
“That’s almost a sick joke.”
“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”
“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”
“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”
“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”
Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.
“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”
Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”
“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”
Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Me too.”
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#Bucky barnes x reader#Bucky Barnes#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier x y/n#the winter soldier#marvel imagine#marvel x reader#marvel x y/n#marvel x you#marvel#tfatws#the falcon and the winter soldier
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payback’s a bliss | taehyung | m
snippet: “This is going to sound so cliché,” Taehyung starts after too many seconds of awkward silence pass between the four of you, “but this is not what it looks like.”
pairing: taehyung x female reader, seokjin x jeon soyeon from (g)-idle
genre: smut, slight angst, slight fluff
au: coworker, office, valentine’s day, strangers to lovers to friends (s2l2f)
rating: explicit/18+
word count: 9.6k
warnings: y/n and taehyung get dumped :(, seokjin and soyeon are heckin annoying, gross pda, no one does any work in this office, dirty dancing, trash talk, sabotage :)
sexual warnings: voyerism!! sex without orgasming, uncompleted sex, office sex, public sex!, protected sex, lots of hand roaming wink wink, taehyung dig bick gang, lots of makin out!, table sex, slight choking, scratching, smol strip tease, dirty talk, they both question if they really want to do this for the right reason, the sex is kinda short tbh so not much actually happens,
a/n: banner made by @kimtaehyunq!!! thank you so much maggie!! and thank you for asking me to be a part of your collab! i’ve had so much fun writing this! thank you to @feliix and @ughseoks for the endless amount of support from both of you
this is mostly unedited :( i’m sorry
this is a part of the be my bangtanvine collab! make sure to check out all of the other amazing stories!
The sharp edges of the invitation card threaten to prick through your skin as you grip it too tightly. Seokjin and Soyeon are currently skipping about the office, merrily handing out an invitation to every co-worker insight to their fabulous Valentine's Day party they'll be throwing.
"And we got it approved by the big man to host it here! Everyone must come!" Soyeon’s shrill voice echoes throughout the padded cubicles.
A groan slips past your lips before you can stop it. Normally you'd be down for office parties and festivities, you're a fun gal after all. But the idea of attending a Valentine's Day party that your ex-boyfriend is hosting with his "newer and better other half" just doesn't sound as appealing as one might think.
You desperately want to crumple the invitation in your fist and you outwardly seethe as Soyeon clutches onto Seokjin's chest as she leans into him with laughter, him naturally moving with her, chest rumbling before placing a passionate kiss on the top of her head. In a gross quirky fashion, Soyeon kicks up one of her feet, giggling with each second Seokjin’s lips are on her skin.
Her stupid gorgeous skin that glows when the sun shines through the windows.
You hate her stupid skin, the sun should burn her, not make her look like an angel descending upon this earth.
Which, she totally acts like on a daily basis, sunshine or not.
All you can do is remind yourself that you are a better person than your hostile instincts and negative thoughts want you to be.
Taking in a deep breath, you slowly exhale through your nose, lowering the invitation painstakingly slow and delicately placing it to the side of your desk. You will show no weaknesses. They will not get to you.
A loud huff of breath behind you breaks your concentration, and you turn around to see your co-worker Taehyung failing at being the better person; his jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face are twitching. His invitation is in pieces scattered across his lap and desk, some bits still stuck to his clenched fists in between his fingers. His entire body reads fire-angry and pissed off, but there's something in his eyes that tells you there's more going on deep within his mind. The way his eyes shake and glisten, it's clear as day he's just as hurt as you are about this situation.
Taehyung is one of the handful of coworkers you’ve worked beside for years but have never exchanged more than ten words with. He’s quiet, tends to his work, and keeps to himself. Even when he and Soyeon were together he shied away from the PDA and loud declarations of love. The few times you cared to spare a glance in their direction, it always seemed that Taehyung was uncomfortable having all eyes on him with a bright red face paired with fidgeting hands. It was enough to make anyone feel bad for the guy.
Glancing around, you make sure the coast is clear, (AKA: all the attention is still on Seokjin and Soyeon), and you scoot your chair across the short way to Taehyung's desk.
"Hey, Hellboy,” you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “extinguish your flames will ya?"
Taehyung's jaw relaxes as he looks at you for a moment before turning back to the mess around him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a more tender sigh, carefully picking up each piece one by one before sprinkling them into the garbage.
"Thanks," he says weakly. "I didn't realize I was expressing outwardly. Nuts isn't it?" He forces a chuckle, shaking his head as he goes back to watching the couple of the year receive their compliments and adoration from the other office sheep.
"Completely nuts." You agree, scooching closer until your chairs touch and you’re sitting side by side.
"She's acting like we weren't ever even together. Seokjin seems to be doing that to you too. It's crazy! Weren't you guys together for like three years?-"
"-Three years."
Sighing together, you both lean back into your chairs.
"Soyeon and I were together for four."
The pout in his voice breaks your heart, even more than it's already broken. That feeling alone surprises you. It's not like you're an overly compassionate person, not saying you're exactly heartless, but you and Taehyung have barely interacted. Ever. Even amongst your years and years of working together, nothing more than a simple head nod or raised coffee in acknowledgment has passed between you two. Now, you feel like you need to reach out, rub his arm comfortingly, maybe even offer to take him out on lunch where the two of you can freely be irrationally angry and bitter together. Really, it's just that if you were him, (and you basically are in this situation), you'd want someone to be there for you. Being alone in the midst of a breakup this painful just doesn't seem like a comforting option.
So, stepping out of your comfort zone, you decide to do just what you'd want someone to do for you.
"Let's get lunch together," you blurt out.
Albeit slightly confused, Taehyung smiles and kindly accepts your lunch offer.
"And then he said, 'You're a little too much to handle sometimes.' Who fucking says that!" You yell over the bustle and noise of the restaurant, voice muffled by the decent amount of food still in your mouth.
"He said that? About you?" Taehyung scoffs, throwing his fork down onto his plate and throwing his body back against the seat cushion. "You definitely don't seem like the type to be described as "too much to handle". I'm insulted on your behalf!"
"Thank! You!" You can't help but raise your voice as you throw down your fork as well, the utensil clattering against the now clean plate. "I can't believe Soyeon gave you such a stupid reason for dumping you. Who just says, 'We were too attached and I need to learn how to be my own person.' then goes around and is immediately in a super clingy relationship? I don't get it. Plus, in my own personal opinion, I wouldn’t have described you guys as too attached. I don’t think I even saw you guys kiss in public. Which makes this thing with Seokjin even more absurd!"
Expecting a fiery response, Taehyung surprises you by staying silent. His shoulders drop as he stares into his half-eaten chocolate cheesecake. The intense, angry emotions surging in your own veins quickly simmers down seeing how truly upset he looks in front of you.
"Hey," you dip your head down, trying to make eye contact, your hand naturally falling on top of one of his own, "don't worry about them. What she told you was bullshit and does not define who you are as a person. What she did was low and was clearly not the real reason she broke up with you. You seem like a great guy and she's going to have to live the rest of her life knowing she let you go." You see a faint smile finally grow on his face, making you smile in return.
"Thanks, Y/n. I wish I was as strong as you are. I wish I could just be angry and secure with myself." He sighs and leans one elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand as he breaks up pieces of his cake, not making any motions to actually eat it.
You think about what to say and how honest you want to be. You've only just really started talking with him and talking about your feelings and insecurities has never been easy for you to do. Which was exactly one of the reasons Seokjin claimed during his breakup speech.
And fuck that guy. You can be emotionally vulnerable anytime you want!
"I'm not as tough as I'm making it seem," you admit slowly, "It honestly hurts so much it feels like I can't breathe sometimes, you know? I really thought I had opened up to him, really thought I had someone who loved me truly for who I was. I thought he saw the real me. A part of me almost feels violated knowing how much he knows about me." You can't help but chuckle softly to yourself. "Don't give them the power to determine your self-worth, okay? We'll get through this together. You're stuck with me now!"
Taehyung looks up and smiles warmly at you. Genuinely, you believe that you'll be able to make it through this. And it doesn't hurt having someone else here to understand what you're going through.
Finally going back to eating his cake, Taehyung thinks thoughtfully for a moment, his head tilted in a curious fashion.
"Do you think-," he starts but pauses, scrunching up his mouth to one side as he ponders over what to say. Sighing and looking down once again, he softly says, "Do you think they cheated on us?"
It's a sentence that instantly gives you chills, freezing you in place for a moment because no, you didn't think that, the thought never occurred to you in the first place. Despite how mad you were at Seokjin, he didn't seem like the type to cheat. Now that the thought is in your head, you can't help but rethink situations you may have looked over.
Like the late nights leading up to the breakup, Seokjin stepping out of the room when he got phone calls- something he never used to do before. These things were out of character- yes. But you didn't think twice about it because it just seemed like something everyone did in the midst of a rough patch in a relationship.
Or maybe your subconscious just couldn't handle it at the time.
"She acted differently...in the end. I just wasn't sure if you knew or not."
"No," you shake your head, "the thought honestly never crossed my mind. But now that you mention it, he acted differently in the end too."
For a good, heart-bursting moment, you both sit there and silence and you let yourself feel truly sad about your breakup for the first time. You're not sure what's worse: the blinding anger or the heart-wrenching poignancy.
"This is stupid!" Taehyung finally breaks the silence, his fists firmly planting onto the table as he stands. "We didn't do anything wrong! Why are we the ones who have to be sad and cry into delicious cheesecake? They should be the ones crying into a creamy dessert!"
You can't help but laugh. And once you start, it's hard to stop. The entire situation still doesn't feel real to you, so what else can you do except clutch at your ribs as all the air in your body is used to laugh? Taehyung laughs with you, sitting back down and scooping up the remaining bites of his cheesecake.
"It really is dumb." You finally manage to choke out the words, the laughter slowly dying out between you two. "I wish there was some way to make them feel what we're feeling right now."
Mouth full of food, Taehyung offers a muddled: "Isn’t revenge...ya know...bad?"
Reaching for a napkin, you pause and stare at the lines in the fabric, an idea sparking in your mind. Slowly sliding the napkin over to your new friend, you decide to continue to be bold today and think out loud.
"What if we went to that Valentine's Day party they're hosting?"
Gasping on instinct, Taehyung accidentally inhales part of his cake, spiraling him into a coughing fit. "You want to what? I thought we agreed it would be a terrible idea!"
Smiling devilishly, you wait for Taehyung to notice the mischief in your eyes, wait for him to see that you wouldn't just simply be attending.
"What have you got planned?" He asks carefully.
"Let's go...together." Quirking up one of your shoulders, you play with your fork, spinning the utensil slowly against the point of your finger. It was hard trying to appear so casual, mysterious, and nonchalant when all you wanted to do was shout out your idea.
"I'm honestly such a bad guesser and I'm way too intrigued, but at the same time I'm not stupid enough to fall for the casual 'let's go together' so please tell me what you have brewing in that devilish mind of yours, Y/n, please I'm DYING!"
Taehyung's flair for the dramatics will definitely make this idea of yours even more pleasurable.
Dropping the fork, you look around the restaurant before leaning in, beckoning Taehyung to do the same until you can see the tiny flakes of freckles painted across his cheekbones.
"Okay. So, here's the plan..."
The next few days go by so fast it's been hard to enjoy the festivities.
And by festivities, you mean the fun going on between you and Taehyung.
The office has become so much more enjoyable having Taehyung in your life. Every day you come into work wearing one of his sports jackets, graciously draping it on the back of your chair after he politely pulls out your seat for you. And every day, after pushing in your chair, Taehyung leaves you a quick, yet passionate kiss on the top of your head, to which you always end up looking up at him with pure joy.
It didn't take long for you two to become the talk of the office.
Like a wave of wildfire, everyone began wondering just when you and Taehyung got together, if it was serious, a playful situation, just how far things have gone. You never paid much attention to office gossip before, but you never would have dreamed it was as juicy as this. Being in the spotlight was never your thing, but this was completely different. It felt different at least. Speaking of, you were usually the type of person to shy away from being the center of attention or the talk of the town. You liked that, in this instance, this spotlight was controlled by you and aimed at you just the way you wanted it. Walking around the office with a new wave of confidence felt empowering. Seeing Seokjin's jaw drop to the floor when he saw you, even more delicious.
It's true. Along with the new relationship, you switched up your wardrobe as well. Oh, and getting a new haircut after a million years of avoiding the salon definitely gives you that extra umph that you needed. And, let’s face it, moving on after being mercilessly dumped isn’t official until you do something different with your hair.
"You look..." Taehyung whistles as he not so discreetly eyes you up and down, biting his bottom lip as he does so. "Amazing." Very quickly you see some heads pop out from their cubicles out of your peripheral vision. It makes your smile all the more genuine.
Acting like you think the two of you are all alone in the office lobby, you giggle and lean into Taehyung. "Thank you for buying this outfit for me. It fits me in all the right places." You wink and pull at his tie slightly, turning around and walking away with it slipping through your fingers.
All of the heads quickly return to their computer screens, pretending to not have heard or seen a single thing.
It’s almost too easy.
Seokjin's cubicle is near the front of the lobby with yours and Taehyungs near the middle of the floorplan. Without a doubt, Seokjin's head had to have been one of the ones who was watching you just now.
Gliding across the floor with Taehyung quickly following behind you, your heels click delightfully against the tile floor. In a split minute decision, instead of trying to discreetly glance into Seokjin's cubicle, you decide to turn back towards Taehyung and reach for his hand, giggling all along the way.
Taehyung grasps your hand in his, the other hand pocketed in his tightly fit slacks. You weren't the only one with the wardrobe upgrade. If you're being completely honest, he won the makeover competition.
Your partner retired the contacts and went for a classy chic pair of black glasses that fit his facial frame so well, he could be the poster boy for all eye doctors across the nation. He made you want to have poor eyesight so you could sport some fancy eyewear. The two of you also found some new hair product for him and found that curling those chestnut locks made him go from Average Joe to chiseled supermodel. It still baffles you that this was the same Taehyung who's sat behind you for all these years.
Throwing out the cheap button up collared shirts, Taehyung now sports some fancy looking sweaters, sporks jackets, and silk button-ups. He looks like a million bucks and ever since the makeover he's been getting the attention from strangers from all sorts of people, rightfully so. You’ve also gotten your fair share of head turns and whistles from folks on the street and each one only adds more fuel to your steps.
It's been a confidence boost for the both of you, to say the least.
Once you're near your own office spaces, Taehyung holds onto your fingers instead of letting you go, pulling you quickly back into him so fast that your hand automatically flutters against the swell of his chest.
"I'll miss you," he mutters softly for only you to hear, kissing your knuckles before guiding you to your chair to do his usual routine. Chills dance across your skin as your mind panics for a moment, briefly forgetting that this is all for show.
"I'll miss you more," you recover with a purr. Then, for good measure, ditching the nervousness echoing in the back of your mind, you let out a louder Shhh! noise, resulting in immediate whispers surrounding your not so private cubicle space. You let your finger linger over Taehyung’s lips before sashaying to your desk, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway staring after you.
This was going all too smoothly.
Throughout the days you and Taehyung manage to find ample time to grossly flirt with one another. One of your favorite hobbies now was deciding where exactly you wanted to meet up and get a little frisky.
Your favorite spot by far is easily the copy room, however cliché it may be. Having Taehyung pressed up against your body as his lips roam your neck, your back either against the copy machine itself or the counter just adjacent to it, it was all too much fun.
Like today, for instance, things might have gotten out of hand.
Taehyung's hands roam your body from your hips all the way up to your shoulders as he murmurs things too quietly for you to even understand. Well, let’s be honest, it’s definitely not necessarily because they were too quiet, but because you were so distracted by just how electrifying his touch feels. It never meant to be this serious. A touch here, a kiss there, outward flirting and such. But now you're starting to think it's becoming more of a game between the two of you instead of an office game you set up to make your ex's jealous. Technically, you didn't need to start this game so early before the party: it's only a week away now. You were way too eager to put your plan into action, and that meant sacrificing the workplace and those that worked around you.
You don't even remember why you were in the copy room to begin with. Usually, you try to plan it so either Seokjin or Soyeon walk in. Lately, it's been everyone but.
Your breath becomes heavier as Taehyung's tongue swipes up along the backside of your ear, a little spot he quickly found brings out some not so innocent sounds from you.
Wanting so desperately to enjoy the attention your body is getting, you can't help but fight against the bliss. You're losing sight of the plan ahead. And you can't help but notice just how naturally you're responding to Taehyung's antics.
"Taehyung!" You gasp, glancing at the clock above his head, not realizing just how hot and heavy it was getting between you two. "I think we need to cool it a little bit. We've been in here for fifteen minutes now and no one has even come close to this room."
He chuckles under his breath, a slow, deep raspy sound that hums like a string quartet on a fine and breezy summer day. "Sorry. Seems I got carried away."
Without hesitation, he backs away from you and you can't deny that your first thought is how much you want him back up against you.
"I'm thinking we came on too strong. Now everyone is afraid of being around us." Taehyung ponders outwardly, a finger slowly tapping against his chin. How the hell is he able to be so sexy and passionate one minute and easily go back to acting like nothing happened?
Gulping, you clutch your arms to your chest, suddenly feeling cold without Taehyung’s warmth. “What do we do now?”
“I guess we can get back to work, there’s plenty of time for more shenanigans later.” He winks and walks out of the room wondering just when he became so carefree and confident.
A spur of the moment shopping spree sprung at you and Taehyung the night before the Valentine's Day party at the most opportune of times. After all the scheming and planning, the one thing you forgot to plan for was what you would be wearing for the event which blossomed said scheming and planning. Even when you both upgraded your wardrobe before, it was all simple business casual outfits, not a night out attire.
Taehyung calls you in a panic, words blurring together through the phone as you try to make out what he's trying to say. Eventually, you're able to put two and two together.
"Holy shit we forgot our party outfits." You exclaim dumbfoundedly.
So, that's how you got here. Sprinting down isles with your hands out batting against the edges of the clothes. Some of the fabrics feel soft against your fingertips as the wind blows through your hair. As you look over to Taehyung, you can't help but to smile, not even noticing the gross feeling of old velvet pants going against the groove of your fingertips. Any other day, your body would have recoiled in disgust. But somehow, staring into Taehyung's earthy brown eyes, it's all become manageable.
As the night continues and fashion show after fashion show occurs, you start to think about how you look at and feel around Taehyung. He's doing everything he can to stay positive in this terrible situation you've both been thrown into, and yet, you find yourself comforted in his presence. While comforting is the best word to describe it, it's also starting to become confusing. Are you starting to look at him romantically? Is he thinking the same about you? It's definitely not an appropriate time for you to jump back into a relationship. Come to think of it, you barely know much about the guy other than what you two share in relationship baggage.
The rest of the night you seem to move in slow motion, caught up in your thoughts and not really feeling present in the moment. You catch Taehyung sneaking glances at you and it seems he's trying extra hard to be funny with all the ridiculous outfits he's put together.
"How about this!" He jumps out of the dressing room with arms wide open; a bright green feathered boa, red and yellow vertical striped pants, and a shirt that definitely could have belonged to a middle-aged man who loved to go fishing every weekend. There's a certain disconnection you feel with yourself even though it feels like you should be happy.
"You didn't even try to smile," Taehyung’s entire demeaning softens instantly. He walks towards the cushion you're sitting on and joins you, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours, "what's on your mind?"
Not exactly ready to admit your confused feelings about him, if they’re even feelings there at all, you decide to talk about the other thing that’s been disturbing your thoughts: Seokjin.
“I just wish it were easier, you know? Moving on?”
Taehyung huffs and juts out his bottom lip, quickly coming to your rescue by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You let him consul you, lowering your head onto his chest as he rubs comforting circles on the side of your arm.
“It’s okay. I’ve been having a hard time getting over Soyeon too. It seems that no matter how hard I try my mind always drifts back to her. I still don’t really understand how she could just jump into a relationship with Seokjin and be in love so quickly. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Do you think they could be faking too? Like us?” The thought honestly makes your stomach turn and twist into all sorts of complicated knots. Why would you and Taehyung get dumped only for them to rub it in your face on purpose?
“I’m not sure,” Taehyung sighs, “I honestly wouldn’t put it past Soyeon to do it. There were more than a handful of times when we’d be around a bunch of people and she’d be all over me, couldn’t leave my side. Then, when we’d get home, she’d want her space and do her own thing. Super weird. I think she just needs everyone to see how loved she is. I don’t know. She has her own insecurities she still needs to deal with.”
Nodding your head into Taehyung’s chest, you also reflect on the way Seokjin treated you when you were in front of other people vs. how he treated you at home. And you can’t really think of an obvious difference. He was an amazing boyfriend who just couldn’t seem to fully commit to you.
“Sometimes it’s nice to think that they want to see us upset, doesn’t it?” Taehyung smiles and pats your head, standing up and offering a hand out to you. “Kinda shows us that we mean a whole lot more to them than they’re willing to admit. C’mon. Let’s find you a killer outfit and show Seokjin exactly what he’s missing.”
“Taehyung. Has anyone ever told you that you could have a future in fashion design?”
You keep staring at yourself in the mirror, looking at every angle possible of the attire you have on. Taehyung picked out everything himself, more than proving that his taste is far beyond more exquisite than all of your project runway knowledge combined. Right away in the store, he commands that blue is the only color he wants to see you in, none of that typical pink or red Valentine’s Day bullshit. “We need to stand out in all the best and worst of ways. Plus, blue is one thousand percent your color.” He had said to you, reassuring you along the way that he’ll find something for you both to match in.s
And he was a thousand percent right. Blue is most definitely your color. The way it brings out the natural highlights in your hair and even that small spark in your eyes, you’ve never been so confident with just a shade before.
The style of the dress itself is something you would expect to see in an over the top beauty pageant with just enough elegance to make it red carpet-worthy; pools of tool and fabric cascade down your legs, a long slit going up until your mid-thigh. The top half of the dress is strapless and slightly exposing the best of what you have to offer. You protested heavily on the attire in the store, it needed more than a little TLC with some rips and tears in the squirt and some stains on the front. But Taehyung had insisted and told you he had a plan in mind.
In less than two hours Taehyung had successfully stitched and sewed his way to a beautiful masterpiece. You couldn’t even tell this was the same dress he had picked out in the thrift store.
Fondly, he smiles at you as he looks at what he’s created, a hint of shyness overtaking him as he softly admits that his mother and older sister would make their own clothes to save some money. Naturally, Taehyung picked up on what they had learned and actively partook in it as well.
“One year, for my mother’s birthday, my sister and I both worked on this really grand dress. It took us nearly two months to make. I used to be made fun of for this stuff, but nothing feels as good as seeing someone’s face light up when they put on something you’ve made. It’s the same face you have on right now actually.”
You turn and smile back at him, feeling a sense of comfort between the two of you. The warmth from his words is something you’re not quite used to; your connection seems to run deeper than you were ultimately expecting it to be. And you like the feeling of it.
“I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they make fun of you,” you say boldly, hands on your hips for emphasis.
Taehyung throws a pillow at your back, the both of you laughing like high school best friends.
Pacing back and forth in your driveway, you can’t help but think you might have been stood up. Taehyung said he would be at your apartment a good hour or two before the party so you could help each other get ready and hyped.
You are definitely not ready. You are definitely not hyped.
Glancing at the clock on your phone only makes you more anxious as you fight the urge to call him for the fourteenth time. The party has started by now.
This didn’t seem in character for Taehyung. Unless, you dreadfully think, you said something that offended him. Maybe he caught a whiff of your little crush on him. Or maybe he just couldn’t bear to see Soyeon on such a romantic holiday night. Your thoughts are spiraling out of control, you take off your heels in a defeated huff, tempting the idea of shucking them into the neighbor's shrubs.
You take a seat on the front porch, heels still in one hand, and laugh to yourself. This is what you get, huh? You wanted revenge and karma did not feel like taking its time in giving you exactly what you deserve.
Thoughts of Seokjin and Soyeon slow dancing under paper hearts spinning on a string from the ceiling leaves you feeling emptier than ever before.
As a large teardrop drips down your cheek, a car turns into your driveway.
“Y/n?” Taehyung slams his door shut and rushes over to you. He’s wearing his blue suit, the one he picked out to match yours. His hair is styled so that part of his forehead is showing. Emotions overtake you and the tears flow more consistently before you’re able to even attempt to compose yourself.
“What’s wrong? Oh, Y/n what’s wrong?” Taehyung sits next to you and pulls your head to his chest, wrapping one arm around the back of your shoulders while the other one wraps around the front of your body. You clutch your hands to your face, embarrassed beyond belief that you’re sobbing on your front porch on Valentine’s Day to your fake date of the night.
You think about mentioning Seokjin and Soyeon, or the fact that you really don’t want to go to this party anymore. Instead, what comes out is, “I thought you weren’t going to show up!”
Pushing you back so he can see your face, Taehyung takes your hands gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles while he looks into your eyes. “I could never leave you behind.”
It feels like your heart plummets down a ten-story building and you want to melt into him.
Continuing before you can get ahead of yourself, Taehyung says, “Did my texts not go through? I said we got the time mixed up. The party starts at eight, not seven. I also stopped by to get you this-” He looks around at the ground beside him for a moment, then motions for you to hold on while he trots over to his car.
“Close your eyes!” He yells while laughing. You wipe your eyes one last time before placing your hands over them.
You hear his footsteps on the pavement as he gets closer. It’s probably some flowers, a corsage even.
There’s movement on the top of your head and you flinch, nearly opening your eyes before being stopped by Taehyung. “It’s just me, hold on.” He places something on your head, adjusting it and fixing your hair.
“Perfect!” He steps back. “Go ahead. Open your eyes.”
Slowly, you remove your hands from your face and look around. Taehyung is standing in front of you holding a small compact mirror. Leaning forward, you look until you can see your reflection and the small tiara on your head.
“I saw it on my way over here in some small shop window. I just had to get it for you. It really brings your whole outfit together!” Taehyung’s smile is big and warm, rendering you speechless.
“No need to thank me!” Taehyung puts the compact mirror in his pant pocket, reaching for you to pull you up. “Seeing everyone’s reaction to how amazing you look is all the thanks I need.”
He walks you to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for you, assisting with your dress to make sure not a single string of fabric gets caught.
“Thank you, Taehyung,” you whisper just before he closes the door. There’s a shine behind his eyes as he nods his head softly, his smile still not wavering.
A nice intense pep talk goes down in Taehyung’s car before you’re both able to walk up to the office hand in hand. You had thought you would be the shaking mess of nerves, but instead, it’s Taehyung’s hand that clutches yours tightly, a slight murmur disrupting his cool demeanor.
All of the office desks have been pushed against one wall with cupid cutouts and (as you predicted earlier) paper hearts hanging from the ceiling. A red light is cast throughout the room giving it a nice sultry feel as light music plays over the speakers. You never realized just how big this floor is. Easily seventy or so people could fit in here for a party. Instead, there’s only about twenty of you.
Everything looked so magical, and yet, it felt oddly prom-like.
You and Taehyung were fashionably late, so as soon as the front door opened with a loud sha-shunk sound, all eyes were on you two.
“Game on.” You smirk, feeling as ready as ever.
“Taehyung! Y/n!” Soyeon’s usual peppy voice wavers over the music. “You’re here!”
The crowd parts slightly, leaving a space so Seokjin and Soyeon could greet you at the front door.
“Oh, we just couldn’t miss the party of the century!” You laugh, clinging to Taehyung’s upper arm.
“The chance to show off this beautiful lady? Wouldn’t pass that up for anything!” Taehyung is saying this in response to Soyeon, but his eyes are only on you. He gives you a wink for good measure, leaning in slightly until the tips of your noses touch.
“Yeah, like anyone would describe Y/n as a party person,” Seokjin quips. Your eyes narrow, looking over to your ex for the first time.
You can’t deny how great he looks in his pastel pink suit that perfectly matches Soyeon’s party dress. It accents every curve of his muscles in his arms, his suit jacket practically draping on his wide shoulders.
This might be harder than you were expecting.
“You never really were the type of person to think on their feet, huh, Seokjin?” You chuckle knowing that he really was trying to hurt your feelings in front of everyone. Seokjin glowers at you, his lips a fine, thin line.
Soyeon looks like she wants to say something, but instead grabs Seokjin’s elbow and turns him around, heading back to the middle of the dance floor.
Without looking, you and Taehyung give each other a satisfactory low-five.
“So, snacks? Or dance floor?” Taehyung asks.
“Oh, definitely snacks. I see a bowl of chips calling my name!” You not so graciously speed walk over to said bowl and pick it up, cradling it the same way one would a newborn baby.
Taehyung picks up a large pink cupcake and runs his finger around the frosting, sucking on the digit slowly as he observes the crowd before him.
Soyeon is bent forward slightly, wiggling her butt against Seokjin’s lower regions. The co-workers around them cheer, raising their glasses as they continue to jump to the music. Seokjin doesn’t even look slightly embarrassed.
“You know, if I would have even dropped low like that to pick up a can of soup or something that fell on the floor, he’d hide his face in shame,” you say with a mouthful of chips.
Taehyung scoffs, shoving the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth. “Ehdgeeut.”
“I bet we could out dance them,” you say more confidently than you actually feel. Without waiting for Taehyung’s response, you grab his greasy cupcake hand and drag him to the dance floor.
Relaxing as much as you can, you try to empty your mind of all fears and anxieties and mimic what you’ve seen in movies and music videos, using Taehyung more as a prop than an actual dance partner.
At first, no one notices you two. But as more co-workers break to grab refreshments, they come back and form a crowd around you two instead of mindlessly migrating back to Seokjin and Soyeon.
And eventually, that left the pair without an audience to flaunt their love in front of.
Taehyung is getting more and more into the movements, and you bet he’s also blocking out the nerves like you are. It’s beautiful watching him smile and enjoy himself, not even noticing the people around him. It definitely helps you feel more comfortable in the spotlight as well.
Pulling you closer, Taehyung lifts up one of your legs and hooks it as his hip, one of his hands roaming up your thigh. Your heart races as his face gets closer to your own, both your foreheads connecting and it feels like you’re breathing the same air.
At this point, you know Seokjin and Soyeon are watching you.
The song ends right as Taehyung pulls you closer and kisses you. It isn’t like any of the fake kisses you’ve exchanged in the office previously. This one is laced with something sweet and spicy, a want you can’t even begin to explain.
And you don’t want to stop kissing him. You don’t want this feeling to end.
“Get a room!” Someone yells from the back, the crowd erupting into laughter as some shield their eyes away from you.
“Maybe we will!” Taehyung yells, grabbing your hand and running with you out of the room and into one of the office hallways.
And as you run, you see Seokjin’s wide, regretful eyes, his shoulders sagging into his suit jacket.
Quite the victory if you’ve ever seen one.
Giggles and shuffling feet is all you can hear throughout the hallway. The cool breeze is barely noticeable against the warm touches from Taehyung's hands around your body. Each time his skin presses against yours, it leaves a ripple of warmth throughout your body, so much so that it feels like you'll never be cold again.
Your hands grasp the edges of his suit firmly as you momentarily take control, pushing him carefully against the wall so you can kiss him again. Taehyung smiles into the kiss, chuckling deep from his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. His lips are soft and familiar now and it's become a little too easy to get lost in them.
At times like this, you forget this is supposed to be pretend.
Pushing those thoughts away, you continue to dive in.
These kisses start to feel different than the ones from before. Originally, they were nothing more than quick pecks, not even five seconds long at their most intense. Now, they're slow, both of your lips molding together in slow motion, giving you plenty of time to let your hands roam with minds of their own. Your bodies start to connect like puzzle pieces, like the way your hip naturally leans into his or the way your chest rises up flush against his own. Every time Taehyung's tongue barely sneaks past the edges of his mouth sends a warm chill that blooms deep in your chest, rippling until you feel it in the tips of your fingers. You almost want to sigh in relief the way one would sigh when sinking into a nice warm bath after a long day.
Seokjin never kissed you like this.
Slow and steady turns into fast and furious. All of a sudden what you're getting is just not enough. Taehyung pulls at the fabric of your dress, guiding you away from the wall so he can lead you into one of the conference rooms, the very conference room Seokjin and Soyeon will be coming up to in order to exchange Valentine's Day gifts.
You can't help but wonder if this was done on purpose.
Maybe it's an extreme coincidence that this conference room just so happens to be the closest one for you guys to tumble into.
Once you're past the threshold, Taehyung's in control. He breaks apart the kiss and turns you around, lightly pushing against the small of your back until the front of your body can't go any further: you're now flushed against the conference table. His hands find your hips, moving up and down for a moment, hesitating before boldly moving up to your breasts.
"Is this okay?" He murmurs with a kiss on the back of your neck, just under your ear as he massages your chest.
It's never felt more okay. Your mind is turning into white static with the built-up attraction.
"Oh yeah, this is okay." Chuckling, you let your eyes flutter shut, somehow making the experience even more enjoyable this way.
Wasting no time, Taehyung shucks off his suit jacket in one clean motion, tossing it aside carelessly and diving back into your lips.
“Nuh-uh,” you moan against his lips, indicating to his shirt, “off.”
Chuckling, Taehyung breaks away and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt.
“Are you punishing me now?” You laugh, already missing the feeling of him on your skin.
“I can go slower than this,” he plays, the tip of his tongue poking past the side of his lips. Normally you wouldn’t mind a little strip tease or the build of anticipation. But right now, you’re anxious to get him inside of you.
Sauntering over, Taehyung is only halfway down his shirt when he’s close enough for you to grab.
And so you do.
You take his tie into your fist and pull him close, his face now inches from yours. Taehyung’s breathing is heavy, his chest moving up and down almost as quick as your heart is beating.
You move in like you’re about to kiss him, but stop short just as your lips barely brush against his.
“I don’t play games,” you whisper, showing your teeth as you smile.
“Funny,” Taehyung murmurs back, grabbing onto your hips and flipping you around until your ass is flushed against his crotch area, his tie still laced between your fingers, “Didn’t seem that way when you asked me to play along with your little scheme.”
All you can manage is a soft sigh, allowing yourself to relax against his body and letting his tie slip past your fingers.
This is all a game, you remind yourself. Or, at least, it started out as one.
Taehyung unzips the back of your dress, leaving a trail of kisses along the way. If there is a world record for the most amount of times a person has shuddered with chills in the span of ten minutes, well, you would have beaten that record by a mile.
And although you enjoy each kiss and each touch, it’s all going far too slow.
Using what goods you have in the back, you push out with enough force to back Taehyung a step. It was just enough for you to be able to spin around to face him and drop your dress to your feet.
“Wow,” Taehyung gasps, “you are absolutely beautiful.”
“Thanks,” you raise an eyebrow confidently, “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”
Without question, Taehyung moves to undo his belt, still moving rather slowly as he unbuttons his pants.
Your eyes follow his hands as they move back up his legs. Eyeing his frontal area, you’re surprised to see that he isn’t hard yet.
You try not to show your disappointment, but Taehyung notices right away.
Bashfully, he grips the back of his neck with one hand, looking down and apologizing. “I’m just kind of nervous is all.”
“No, no! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I was just a little surprised! If you’re not ready we don’t have to do anything.” It suddenly feels very cold in this room.
Taehyung smiles again, this time more innocently than before, “I want to. Trust me.”
Closing the distance between you two, you kiss him on the lips slowly, waiting for him to take the lead.
It doesn’t take him nearly as long as you had anticipated.
Taehyung’s mouth moves feverishly against yours, that fire instantly igniting back between your two bodies. His hand grips the side of your neck gently, his thumb resting just behind your jawline. It isn’t until your fingernails trail the edge of his spine that his grip hardens slightly, taking your breath away.
Taehyung’s free hand moves to your back to unclasp your bra, doing so in an impressive one try. His hand is instantly on one of your breasts, massaging it roughly.
That is all the touch you need before you’re ready for him.
Your thumb slips past the hem of his boxers, pulling them down and away from his skin. Taehyung steps out of them now completely naked before you. As you continue to kiss, you can’t help but chance a peek at what he has lying below.
And what he has does not disappoint.
“Wow!” You gasp, “Soyeon left you for Seokjin? No wonder she seems more high strung than usual.”
Laughing, Taehyung stops his ministrations and rests his head on your shoulder in embarrassment.
“And then you,” he returns, “Soyeon may be pretty, but she’s also flatter than a piece of cardboard. You?” He whistles and manages to bring his head back up, eyeing you up and down while biting his bottom lip.
“He’s stupid,” Taehyung concludes.
“And she’s an idiot.” You smile.
“Enough about them,” Taehyung takes both of his hands and grasps your panties. With one swift motion, he rips the fabric in two and is moving you back to the table, back to the original position you were in, “this is about us.”
In his hand, Taehyung shows a condom he must have pulled out of his pocket before. You honestly don’t remember seeing him do it, but you nod your head quickly up and down. Taking it between his teeth, Taehyung rips the fabric and promptly places the condom on the tip of his cock, unrolling it carefully. Your thighs tingle with anticipation, your vagina yearning to be filled by him.
Spreading your legs out so that your feet rest on the tops of the neighboring chairs, you nod your head once more for Taehyung.
Slowly, he inches the tip of his cock to your entrance.
Taehyung’s arms are placed on either side of your hips and you use his stance to grip his biceps, holding on for dear life as you try to mentally prepare for the massiveness that’s about to enter your body.
Taehyung guides his cock up and down your folds just once before diving right in.
The stretch is absolutely delicious, immediately your eyes roll back with bliss. He’s only able to get inside of you a quarter of the way before he slides back out, repeating the process until he’s able to inch further and further. For a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to bottom out in you. But if you’ve learned anything from this time you’ve spent with Taehyung, it’s that this man is determined.
One final thrust and it feels like he’s pushing straight through your G-spot.
You’re out of breath as you cling to him more aggressively, not able to even comprehend what it would feel like for him to pound into you with everything he’s got.
Taehyung searches for your mouth, planting a long, deep kiss on your lips as he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth. There’s a tense hunger from his lips that you try to match, but the pleasure you’re feeling down below is distracting your every thought.
After a few moments pass and the strong build-up, you initially felt seems to simmer out.
Despite the intense need for one another, there's something between you and Taehyung that's different than what you had with Seokjin: spark.
The thought hits you. Hard. So much so that it stuns you into a motionless blob. In retrospect, it isn't even that big of a revelation, but it's enough to put some ease on your mind.
"Y/n. Are you okay?" Tentatively, Taehyung stops for a moment and makes sure to meet your eyes.
Opening your mouth to respond, instead of words an eruption of laughter takes over you growing gradually until your entire body shakes with it. You clasp your hands over your mouth to try to contain it, but it only seems to worsen the giggles.
"I'm so sorry, Taehyung," you finally manage, "I just realized— I don't think…” you take a deep breath, ignoring the screaming voice in your head telling you to shut up, “I don’t think I like you in this way."
There's a moment where Taehyung and you both look down at where your body's currently intertwined and for a second you're afraid that you've possibly hurt his feelings.
He inhales slowly, releasing the air quickly soon after with an 'ahhh' sound. "Oh thank goodness! I wasn't sure if it was just me, but I started to realize the same thing about two minutes ago."
Laughter bubbles from your throat naturally, your lips vibrating as you try to hold it in. But, it’s no use. Taehyung sees you laughing and he can’t help but do the same.
“We should probably get out of here before we make an even bigger fool of ourselves. We can get Chinese? Hang out at my place and talk and watch a movie? I feel like we should talk.”
You’re about to verbally agree when a blinding light interrupts your thoughts.
“Oh my god!” A squeaky voice trills by the doorway, echoing throughout the room.
You and Taehyung freeze in place; he hasn’t even had the chance to remove his cock from your pussy.
The intense feeling of drowning consumes you as your vision finally comes to focus. At the doorway are Seokjin and Soyeon.
“Y/N?” Seokjin’s voice cracks in disbelief at the sight in front of him.
Panic sets in. How stupid was this idea? Who thought you should go to a work party, strip naked, and start having sex with one of your coworkers on the table in one of the conference rooms?
If it were just Seokjin and Soyeon, your embarrassment would still be there, but at a much more containable and manageable amount.
The entire office staff on the other hand...you were not prepared for that.
“Everyone leave!” Seokjin yells, turning his back to you and ushering the other coworkers away. As he’s doing so, Taehyung slips out of you, running over to where your clothes were discarded and throwing them at you with haste as he rushes to dress the lower half of himself.
Your arms feel numb as you pull your dress over your head, not even bothering with your bra or panties.
Seokjin returns and closes the door. Soyeon is covering her eyes, her back turned to you and Taehyung slightly as she’s muttering something to herself. Her perfect black hair cascades into a perfect curtain to shield her eyes from your nakedness.
“This is going to sound so cliche,” Taehyung starts after too many seconds of awkward silence pass between the four of you, “but this is not what it looks like.”
Soyeon makes an abundance of gibberish sounds with an aghast look on her face before finally blurting out, “Look like what? Like you weren’t caught having sex with each other?! Jesus, Taehyung! We knew you guys were all over each other but I thought you had enough decency to keep that stuff in the bedroom!” She puts her palms out towards you both and shakes them before turning away once again with her head down, shaking it in disbelief.
“That’s the thing! It’s complicated!” You shout, desperately trying to zip up the back of your dress by yourself.
“Were you or were you not just having sex?” Seokjin says sternly, looking directly at you like a disappointed father. You give up the fight with the zipper and sit down in one of the chairs behind you. It’s you he wants the response from, you can tell by fact that he hasn’t given Taehyung a single glance.
“Yes, but-”
“Then that’s the answer, Y/n. We get it!” Seokjin turns to Soyeon and gives her a gross affectionate kiss on the cheek. “You guys are jealous of the love we found and you didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day. So, naturally, you turned to each other!”
Taehyung looks at you, and you at him, once again neither of you being able to look at each other seriously and you both start to laugh, yet again.
“We aren’t actually seeing each other!” Taehyung leans against the wall so casually, you wonder where this confidence has come from. It looks good on him.
If it weren’t Taehyung, you wouldn’t be so calm about confessing your conniving plans of fake dating. The way he’s so casually laughing and accepting the fact that you were both caught helps ease the anxieties you know you would have felt. And in this moment you realize why he’s not upset and why he’s not embarrassed: he’s finally moving on from Soyeon.
And, you guess, the same thing is happening with you with Seokjin.
“We faked it all,” you smile genuinely, “Of course we were upset when you guys got together, but honestly for myself, I would have had an easier time moving on if you two weren’t constantly shoving your love down everyone’s throats.”
“We’re surprised you haven’t been in a hallmark movie yet,” Taehyung adds.
“Exactly!” Pointing at Taehyung as he nods his head, you relax even more.
Seokjin and Soyeon stare at the two of you, stunned on an entirely new level. Looks like you and Taehyung are the first to tell them how gross and obnoxious their PDA has been.
Soyeon looks at Taehyung with a weird glint in her eyes, one that makes you instantly suspicious of what she’s about to say.
“Taehyung, let’s get out of here,” you suggest. “I may not be in love with you romantically, but I think it’s safe to say we’re pretty great friends. And as your new great friend, I suggest we quit our jobs and run off together into this sunset!” You jump up quickly and hold out your arm for him to take.
“I agree completely, Y/n!” Taehyung jumps with just as much fervor as you and gladly takes your arm.
As the two of you start to skip past a dumbstruck pair of exes, you pause before Seokjin and boop the tip of his nose playfully. “You’ll tell the boss for us, won’t you?” You wink and continue on with Taehyung.
Deep down, you’d give anything to go back in there and explain the situation entirely with your ex, to have one last heart to heart and really see just what’s going through his head and to get some sort of closure. But you know it’s not healthy to act that way anymore. It’s better to move on and enjoy the day with your newfound friend. So what if you’re single this Valentine’s Day. At least you get to be single with Taehyung.
Later that night, as Spongebob plays in the background of Taehyung’s living room, you look around at all the empty Chinese takeout boxes and at Taehyung passed out on his side of the couch, and you realize for the first time you feel genuinely at peace. Sure, you know it’s going to take some time to fully get over Seokjin.
With a friend like Taehyung by your side through it all, though, you know it won’t be so bad.
let me know what you think! :)
𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinned 02/12/21
#taehyung smut#smutcentralnet#thekpopnet#bangtanarmynet#btswritingcafe#btsghostie#btsguild#kim taehyung#bts#taehyung#bts smut#taehyung x reader#bts x reader#taehyung x y/n#bts x you#taehyung x you#bts reader insert#taehyung coworker#taehyung fic#taehyung fanfiction#taehyung fics#bts fic#ex seokjin#ex soyeon#taehyung s2l
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(first official post!!! pls enjoy and support!!! sorry in advance for any typos! T^T)
♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
♡✰ 𝕤𝕙𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 ✰♡
♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
synopsis:
(bts taehyung-seokjin centric)
taehyung has never had the best eating habits, indulging in junk food to his heart's content. what happens when it finally catches up with him, and his roommate/crush happens to notice?
tw: weight gain, mild feederism, eructo, mentions of past abusive relationships, mentions of insecurity, language, slight nsfw (barely)
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it was no secret to anyone around him that taehyung, as sweet as he was, gave absolutely no fucks about his eating habits. that was one thing he would tell you straight off the bat, and he was completely shameless about them too. if it was yummy, it was yummy. and if it was yummy, he was going to eat it. life was short, and wasn't the point of life to enjoy yourself and be happy?
that's what taehyung believed, anyway.
taehyung wasn't shy by nature; a social butterfly, if you will. he loved making new friends, chatting, and bringing people out of their shell. he was naturally charismatic and funny, and with the added-luxury of movie star looks, a deep and sultry voice, and a great physique, he always had a group of buddies around him. that's just how he was. he loved making people smile and laugh, enjoying the warmth and love that radiated off of those close to him. so, as it seemed, taehyung's life was a blissful stream of joy. he didn't have a care in the world, especially about his food.
that was until he graduated highschool and went off to college. you see, taehyung was quite athletic in highschool. participating in track and field and being in dance with his best friend, jimin, gave him plenty of, if not excessive exercise to burn off all those calories he consumed throughout the day. perhaps he was able to get away with his atrocious eating habits back then. however, there was a teeny problem. now, taehyung wasn't pursuing athletics or dance in college-- he was majoring in fine arts. that meant he wasn't getting the amount of exercise his body was used to. turns out, he didn't have as fast of a metabolism like he'd falsely believed, he just did a lot of cardio. so, factoring together the absence of any exercise (minus walks to classes and to the fridge), no changes in his diet, and the constant late-night junk food binges, things quickly started to add up.
literally.
it started with his cheeks. taehyung had been thin, bordering underweight, most of his life, so of course the little bit of newfound plumpness to his face would be noticable. yet, despite his soulmate's comments over 2 am facetimes saying "jesus, taetae, you look so young! drop the skin care routine, bestie," taehyung didn't see the changes. his cheeks poofed out and softened like freshly baked bread, and they always seemed to be puffy, like he'd just woken up. well, he had been taking a lot of naps lately, maybe that's why? he didn't really care, anyways.
the next noticable change was his hips, thighs, and ass. not only was taehyung blessed with a face sculpted by the gods, he also had a body to die for. if there's any higher power, they CLEARLY pick favourites. with a slim, trim waist and a naturally curvy figure, the weight gain only accentuated his hourglass shape. his hips widened generously, thighs thickened like heavy cream, and ass plumped out lusciously, filling up any seat he sat on to the brim and earning him more whistles and lustful stares then he was already receiving. yet, despite the constant catcalling from other students on campus, and the snugness of his pants, taehyung remained oblivious to his altered form.
the final shift in taehyung's appearance settled itself softly on his midsection. although he'd never had chiseled, drool-worthy abs like his new friend jungkook, who practically lived at the campus fitness center, his stomach had always been completely flat. now, it had softened entirely; he had a bit of a tummy. it wasn't very noticeable, at first, due to his knack for wearing baggy clothes, but it began to show over time. it was chubby and pudgy, and spilled over the waistband of his pants when he sat down. his belly was fluffy like the stuffing of a teddy bear, the surface doughy, as if you could sink your hand into it and leave behind a handprint. it was even more noticeable after he'd eaten. taehyung always bloated terribly. whether he'd had a bellyache, gas, or had just eaten something rather filling, his tummy always swelled up and pushed over his pantline and into his shirt. as well, love handles began to form, curling around his middle and warmly hugging his sides.
he was by no means overweight, but he wasn't exactly skinny anymore. he was softer, warmer around the edges. it suited him.
strangely enough, taehyung hadn't really noticed. besides a passing comment from a loved one, or a short-lived "hmm, that's new," in front of the bathroom mirror before dashing off to an already-late-to lecture, taehyung was pretty ignorant.
but how long can you ignore such a growing issue?
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leaning back and gazing up at the tile ceiling, taehyung sighed. he was currently in his friend jungkook's tiny dorm, sitting on his bed and waiting for his roommate, hoseok, to return with pizza. he really hoped he'd hurry up already. his belly was growling like it was angry with him. it was getting kinda scary.
"i really don't know, jungkook-ah, he's just... ugh." he mopplingly prompted his chubby cheeks in his hands and huffed.
"what do you mean you don't know, hyung?" jungkook asked crossing his beefy arms and shooting his friend a skeptical look. "you're like... the hottest and most outgoing guy i know. how haven't you scored a date with him yet?"
the "him" in question was taehyung's new roommate, seokjin. well, he wasn't exactly new. he'd been his roommate for over 5 months now, since his last roommate dropped out. yet, honestly, taehyung didn't think he'd ever get used to seeing that worldwide-handsome face in the same vicinity as him everyday. that would always be a shocker, no matter how many times they saw one another.
having a crush was new for taehyung. to put it bluntly, he knew he was good-looking. he definitely wasn't conceited or snobbish about his natural attractiveness, he honestly didn't care about looks. however, he was used to having a secret admirer or two, and unfortunately had to let many people down with his unrequited feelings. he never had any romantic attraction for anyone, even if he knew he was bisexual. in fact, romance really didn't play a role in his life. taehyung liked to paint, watch cartoons, eat snacks and play videogames. he chose friends and food over chasing after boys and girls. he hadn't even watched porn before, that's how uninterested in sex and relationships he was. call him immature or weird, but romance just didn't do much for him. it seemed boring. why would people waste there time on a silly boyfriend or girlfriend when they could be having fun? it just didn't make sense to him.
that was until he met his roommate. now, that was all he could think about. well, besides school and food, that is.
"that's rich coming from you, mr. i have muscles and a six-pack and tattoos and a fucking eyebrow piercing but i'm still too shy to even talk to jisoo." taehyung shot back with a smirk.
at that, jungkook flushed completely. it was true, despite being a 5 course meal plus desert, jungkook was the shyest person taehyung had ever met. he didn't have many friends besides taehyung, his roommate, hoseok, and hoseok's boyfriend. and the latter was just a friend of circumstances. the younger man also couldn't even look a girl in the eyes without blushing profusely and damn near pissing himself from nervousness. jungkook had a slight lisp and an occasional stutter as well, but taehyung found it quite endearing and sweet.
"t-that's not the point, hyung, and you know it!" jungkook replied hastily, still blushing. "why don't you just tell him how you feel? you've been pining after this dude for months!"
taehyung sighed heavily, the sigh morphing into a deep groan.
"because i literally don't know how! jin-hyung isn't going to take my confession seriously if i just say it! he's already rejected half the campus! he needs a gesture! some bold statement," taehyung explained in an exasperated manner, not caring if he was kinda rambling. "he deserves more than some half-hearted bullshit. i have to find a way to catch his attention, something to show him i'm different than the others. that i'm not just another idiot underclassmen trying to win him over! i just don't know what-!"
taehyung took a deep breath, ending his rant. he was beginning to feel upset, having a tendency to work himself up easily. he took a moment to collect himself, or at least try, and looked at the younger expectantly.
"don't look at me like that, hyung." he said after a moment, watching warily as taehyung took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "you know what you gotta do, so do it." he shrugged, still observing his friend. "leth' talk about something else, okay?" jungkook suggested, not wanting his hyung to get anymore upset.
before taehyung could protest, there was a knock at the door.
"that must be hobi-hyung." jungkook spoke, getting up to let his dormmate in. taehyung stayed seated.
as the elder entered the room, the heavenly aroma of pizza followed, wafting around the dorm and into taehyung's nose. his mouth watered. pizza was the perfect comfort food. it always made him feel sated and happy. he could never get tired of it.
"hey tae-ah, i didn't know you would be here!" hoseok beamed, as he brought the pizza boxes over and placed them on the table. "how are you?"
"stressed and hungry."
hobi laughed loudly, his sunshine-like smile lighting up the room. taehyung always liked him. he was sweet, funny, and very handsome. he had a slim build, was a hip-hop dancer, and taehyung had seen his abs before. he'd be jealous if he cared about looks.
"aren't we all?" he joked, before he turned around and looked back at the still open door. "aish, yoongi-hyung, get your ass in here already!"
a low, "i'm coming, fuck off," emitted from beyond the threshold, before hoseok's boyfriend entered the room with a goofy grin and cases of beer and soda in his arms.
looking up at him, taehyung was taken aback.
the last time he'd seen yoongi, at least long enough to get a decent look at him, he'd been skinny. not just skinny, but nearly malnourished looking. his face had been gaunt and he was tiny in comparison to a healthy body. a good wind could have knocked him over. that was months ago. the yoongi he saw now looked quite different. he was filled out, his cheeks plumped and colored as apposed to pale and lifeless like before. his midsection as well, was that a belly? small, yes, but it was there. he looked so much... different. he wondered why.
taehyung had heard about relationship weight many times, and had seen it first-hand as well. when someone gets into a safe and loving relationship, they naturally gain weight. hoseok had opened up to jungkook and taehyung a few times, admitting that yoongi had been in an abusive relationship in the past. however, he was in a healthy one with hoseok now. honestly, it warmed taehyung's heart to see the once frail and sad-looking boy happy and healthy-looking.
it made him wonder if he would ever find a relationship like that. would he put on weight as well? probably not. his metabolism was way too fast, anyways.
"i brought some beer, jungkook don't drink it all this time." yoongi grunted, setting the packs by the desk and plopping down next to his boyfriend on his bed. "oh, taehyung's here. good thing we bought too much pizza."
the others chuckled. taehyung cocked a brow and frowned slightly. what was that supposed to mean?
"i'm starving." jungkook stated to no one in particular, grabbing himself a slice of pizza and a can of beer. taehyung wouldn't be having any alcohol, though, because it always made his cholinergic urticaria act up, and he wasn't in the mood for an itchy rash. besides, he liked soda much more.
"i thought you were on a diet, kookie-ah!" hoseok fake scolded. jungkook scoffed playfully.
"it's called bulking, hyung." he joked. everyone knew he rarely let himself eat like this. he was extremely disciplined. taehyung might've been jealous. "and what about you? thought you were on a diet!"
"i am." the elder replied. "this is all i'm eating. i've still got that dance competition next week- yah! yoongi, don't get sauce on my sheets, you pig!"
he swatted weakly at the mint-haired boy, who nudged him in return and rolled his eyes. it made taehyung smile.
"you can have some too, taehyung-ah." hoseok spoke after a bit. it was then taehyung realized he hadn't gotten any yet. "i know how much you like pizza."
once again, another comment.
"i mean, i don't like it that much." he mumbled, grabbing a slice and and taking a bite. he knew he was bluffing. pizza was the best.
jungkook snorted.
"bullshit tae, you almost always eat an entire pizza whenever we hang out!"
it was true. on an empty stomach, he could scarf down a whole pizza. more if he was especially hungry.
he decided not to reply, finishing his first slide and heading for a second. sinking his teeth into the slice, he all but moaned. it was supreme pizza, his favorite.
"honestly, i have no idea where he puts it all." the redhead commented, finishing up his slice. that was all he'd probably eat, seeing as he's on a diet and all.
"i-i do!" jungkook teased, stuttering slightly from the excitement. "he puth' it all right here."
suddenly, taehyung felt a finger poke his belly. he froze. he looked down to see jungkook's tattooed pointer finger sunk into his plush middle.
"wow, taehyung-hyung." the younger softly exclaimed. "i didn't know your tummy was this squishy."
taehyung felt himself blushing. not out of embarrassment, but something else. jungkook was still touching his belly.
"no way, let me feel!" hoseok reached over, but all too late. taehyung swatted them away and curled into himself, arms wrapped firmly around his middle.
"don't! i'm ticklish!" he lied. yes, he was ticklish, but that's not why he didn't want them to feel his stomach.
it was a strange sensation, really...
♡
☆
♡
a pizza and a 2L of soda later, taehyung felt warm and fuzzy and full.
hoseok and yoongi had left for yoongi's dorm. taehyung was assuming they wanted some alone time, and he knew yoongi had his own private dorm. he didn't want to think about what they'd do, though. ew, just... ew.
taehyung leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling sated. he gently patted his taut tummy and let out a deep burp, sighing afterwards. that was another thing he was shameless about. if he had to burp, he always just let it out. leaving the trapped gas in his belly only made it hurt, so he didn't hold back. besides, it felt good and it was only natural. he usually didn't even say "excuse me." he didn't understand why he had to. everyone burped; why excuse yourself for something completely normal? unlike jungkook, who'd probably die from humiliation, taehyung wasn't shy about it. the only person he'd be even remotely embarrassed in front of was seokjin, but that's a different story.
"mmm, that was yummy, kookie. i'm stuffed."
jungkook was drinking another beer, beyond drunk by now. he mumbled something incoherent, followed by a hiccup and a groan.
"aw kookie, are you drunk?" taehyung teased, ruffling the maknae's soft, black hair. the younger grumbled again. "tired, little guy? let's get you to sleep, bun."
gently, taehyung guided the nearly-passed-out jungkook's head to the pillow of his bed.
"sleep well, bun." he whispered sweetly, leaving a feather-light kiss on the younger's forehead. he'd probably have to stop by tomorrow morning to take care of him when he woke up with a hangover. he was bound to have a killer one with all the beer he guzzled down, and taehyung knew hoseok didn't do well with vomit. he didn't mind, however. taehyung loved to take care of his friends, anyways.
before he left, taehyung cleaned up, ate the last couple pieces the boys left, and did some of the dishes for them. he also really needed to pee, so he made a quick trip to the bathroom.
once he'd gone and washed his hands, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror.
i looked really good today, taehyung thought, peering into the mirror and adjusting his gold-framed glasses. despite being quite handsome, he still felt insecure sometimes, especially as of lately. with some of the comments his friends had been making, he wasn't sure what to think. it was almost as if there was some kind of big joke, and he was the only one who wasn't in on it. he really didn't know.
before taehyung could turn away and exit the small bathroom, his eyes caught something in the corner, by the shower.
a scale.
he had forgotten that jungkook did weight training. it was probably his to keep track of that. or maybe it was hoseok's, since he was on a diet and all. it didn't matter. it shouldn't matter.
however, for some reason, he wanted to try it. knowing your weight couldn't hurt, right? it's just a number, anyways. besides, he was curious.
taehyung pulled the digital scale out and stepped on it, waiting patiently for the box to calculate his weight. it couldn't be too much. he was thin, after all.
looking down, his eyes widened.
78.1kg.
he blinked.
huh. so that's how much he weighed.
the last time taehyung had been properly weighed was his physical exam before freshman year. that was nearly a year ago. he was so thin, weighing in at 60.3 kg. since then, he'd gained roughly 17.8 kg.
wait a minute, that couldn't be right, could it? but he had a fast metabolism! not to mention, he's fairly active. well... sometimes. but he does do a lot of walking! something had to be wrong.
taehyung stepped off the scale, allowing it to level back to a clear screen. he then stepped back on.
78.1kg.
this didn't seem possible. maybe it's because of his clothes. maybe he needed to strip down to his underwear like when he had a checkup at the doctor's. quickly, taehyung peeled off his corduroy pants and baggy sweater, leaving him in his undies and tata-themed socks.
what? they were cute!
standing back on the digital scale, taehyung peered down at the number expectantly.
it was the same, the clothes only weighing a little.
maybe it was all the food he just ate, or maybe he had to use the toilet? but that doesn't explain all those kilos...
he placed himself back on the ground, dumbfounded. how did he manage to put on that much? that was like the freshman 15 (lbs) tripled!
taehyung sighed lowly, before turning to face the mirror.
in just his undies, and for the first time since freshman year, taehyung noticed his body.
his thighs were thick, clinging together like chunky glue. gentle stretch marks adorned the insides, which weren't new, seeing as he's always been a bit thicker than his peers growing up. however, they were more prominent. spinning around, he viewed his ass, which giggled almost lewdly with the slight movement. the plump, golden globes looked even plumper than they had. he had always had an ass, but now? he could probably play a pixar mom in a live-action film.
last, but certainly not least, his eyes settled on the most obvious change: his stomach. his tummy hung over the waistband of his underwear, extremely bloated and round from his big dinner and all the soda he drank. yet, despite being stuffed with pizza, it had softness to it. taehyung ran his hands over his belly, pinching the excess pudge. it wasn't too big, but it was noticable. more than noticable.
taehyung wasn't skinny anymore. he had gotten a bit chubby.
and, strangely enough, he didn't care. infact, he liked it.
taehyung knew he ate a lot of unhealthy foods, that was just who he was. why would he deny himself all the yummy things he liked to eat, just to maintain an "attractive" body? so what he wasn't slim like hoseok or muscular and shredded like jungkook? his body was perfectly fine. it did it's job, and that was the important thing.
above all things, taehyung was shameless. having gained weight didn't mean a thing to him. he was an artist, after all, not a model. his figure really didn't matter in the long run. he was still the same handsome guy, just with a little extra chub. and, honestly, he wondered what he'd look like with just a little bit more. just another layer of cream on his body. he's sure he'd like it, especially with how he reacted to having his tummy poked earlier by jungkook.
so, with the new information tucked in the back of his mind, taehyung dressed and left the small bathroom, making his way out of his sleeping friend's dorm. after double checking on jungkook and leaving the wastebasket beside his bed, just in case he woke up sick, the fluffy-haired boy exited the dorm and began his walk down the hallway, back to his own dorm.
after eating, taehyung usually felt sleepy, so it was no surprise to him that he found himself growing sluggish and drowsy as he strode back to his room. it was a pleasant feeling, really. he'd probably take a nice nap when he got back. maybe make some hot chocolate and catch up on some dramas. yeah, that sounded nice.
as he opened the door to his dorm, he was met with a flush of warmth and soft light. faint music played in the background, and a scent immediately met his nose as he stepped in. it smelled delightful. that could only mean one thing.
taehyung hadn't expected seokjin to be home so early. he wished he'd known; he'd like to have put more time into his appearance. welp, baggy sweater and messy-haired taehyung would have to do.
"ah, tae! you're home!" he heard seokjin call from the stove as he shucked off his loafers. he suddenly felt uncharacteristically shy, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right as seokjin walked up to him, all broad-shouldered and stupidly handsome. "how was your day?"
taehyung smiled as seokjin went in for a gentle hug, sinking into his warm embrace and inhaling his calming scent. seokjin was a real hugger, which taehyung appreciated because he, himself, was an absolute cuddle monster and jumped for any physical affection. it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach, however. he'd hope to just digest them already and move on from this silly crush.
"my day was a happy one, thank you," taehyung replied, nearly pouting as seokjin pulled away from the embrace. "how was your's, hyung?"
"better now that you're here." the elder smiled warmly, and taehyung felt his face heat up. seokjin always knew the right things to say to get his heart racing like mad. "come sit in the kitchen and keep me company while i cook?"
the younger nodded timidly, feeling pleasantly small next to his hyung. he followed him like a puppy to the dorm kitchenette, taking a seat at the small bar table.
"so," seokjin began, as he stirred a pot of glass noodles, keeping an eye on the vegetables and pork strips in the frying pan. he was making japchae, one of taehyung's favorite dishes. "have you eaten dinner yet?"
"oh, i ate pizza at jungkook and hoseok-hyung's place," he answered, hand going instinctively to his still-bloated tum, giving it a fond pat. "truth be told, i probably overate." he let out an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to distract himself from the warmth growing in his lower belly. what was happening to him?
seokjin waved him off.
"there's no such thing as overeating if it tastes good," he countered, and before taehyung could understand what was going on, a steaming plate of japchae was placed in front of him. it was a heaping serving, the small plate only making it look bigger. "here, have some of this."
taehyung flushed, gingerly sliding the plate away.
"um, i-i shouldn't, hyung," he stammered, hand still on his middle, almost defensively, as if he were guarding it. "thank you, but i'm still pretty stuffed."
seokjin chuckled deeply, full lips curled into a smirk. he pushed the dish back in front of him. taehyung gulped.
"taehyung-ah, i've seen you demolish three times this and more in one sitting. i'm not exactly convinced that 'stuffed' is in your vocabulary."
there it was. another comment about his eating habits. however, this time, instead of irritation, he felt something... else.
"jin-hyung, i-"
"you wouldn't let all my hard work go to waste, would you?" seokjin questioned, pouting. taehyung felt his heart jump. "i made this all just for you."
"well... alright. i'll have a bite or... two." taehyung finally spoke, unable to look his hyung in the eye. picking up the pair of chopsticks, he hesitantly began to eat.
it was delicious. of course it would be.
in all his time, taehyung had never met as good a cook as seokjin. not even his own mother --who could whip up a mean bibimbap like nobody's business-- could compare to his skills. the younger male couldn't even count on two hands how many times he's had his belly nearly bursting out of his pants from seokjin's cooking. whatever it was he was making, taehyung was sure to gorge himself to new heights every time; now was only proof of that. seokjin didn't seem to mind. infact, he encouraged it.
"taste good?" the elder quizzed, taking a seat in front of the eating boy and gazing at him fondly, if not a bit intently.
taehyung took a moment to finish chewing his mouthful and swallow. he grinned.
"amazing," he answered, licking his lips. "your cooking always is the best, hyung. it's, like, ethereal."
seokjin let out his iconic windshield wiper laugh, which only made his dongsaeng giggle.
"well, if it's good enough to pull out the 50 cent words for," be mused, leaning a tad closer. "then it's good enough to finish, yeah?"
taehyung's smile faded, as he peered up at the taller man wordlessly.
"you know i don't like leftovers, taehyung-ah. scrape your plate. clean."
he didn't have to tell taehyung twice. something about the subtle command in his tone --the sprinkle of dominance within the seemingly innocent words-- sparked a flame that licked into taehyung's belly.
he continued to eat, and before he could really process anything, his chopsticks clinked against an empty plate. instantly, a crimson heat spread over his face. it was as if he were a different person for a moment.
"all done?" seokjin questioned, taking the plate from the boy as he nodded sheepishly. "good job, tae-ah! you did so well!"
taehyung felt his pants become tighter at his elder's words of encouragement.
"feeling full?"
taehyung's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat.
"i-" a burp interrupted him. he stayed quiet for a moment, hand covering his mouth, before he spoke up again. "excuse me, sorry."
he was blushing like mad. shameless taehyung who?
seokjin snorted. "guess that answers my question."
the slight teasing only increased the tightness of his pants, though he remained oblivious.
to say taehyung was full was a gross understatement. he'd passed the limitations for being full. he felt like if he moved even an inch he'd explode, literally. he looked 7 months pregnant.
"jin-hyung," he began with a taut hiccup, a slight whine to his voice. "i think... i think i ate too much."
and there it was, the rarer side of shameless taehyung. the one who needed affection after overdoing it, and wasn't afraid to beg for it.
"aw, you poor thing," his hyung cooed, helping the younger stand. his belly felt heavy and stuffed to the brim. "let's get you to the couch yeah? how's some hot chocolate sound? sound nice?"
taehyung nodded and hummed, blissed out from the tight fullness. he'd never felt this way from just eating before.
he took a seat on the couch as seokjin scurried off to make hot chocolate, and he used the opportunity to unbutton his pants. although he wasn't exactly too keen on being so unkempt in front of his love interest, his pants were digging into his bloated stomach something fierce. slowly, he undid the buttons and pulled down the zipper, freeing and allowing his tummy to rest atop. he sighed in relief, though it was short-lived when he noticed the slight bulge in his pants. well, that's new?
wait a minute--
oh fuck.
he frantically attempted to pull his sweater down to cover his lower region, but it was too snug around his plush middle to budge much. thankfully, it wasn't entirely noticable.
"here you go, taebear," seokjin said as he walked back into the small living room, two mugs of hot chocolate in his hand. one of them had tata all over it: you can guess whose it is. "careful, it's hot. let it cool before you drink it."
taehyung nodded bashfully in reply as the older of the two turned the tv on, switching the channel to some random drama taehyung had seen bits of but couldn't remember the name of. when jin sat down next to him, he immediately snuggled up to his side, head on his broad shoulder.
this. this was heaven right here.
seokjin smiled sweetly, arm wrapping around the younger. his fingers carded through taehyung's fluffy brown hair, earning a quiet sigh and pleased noises from the latter. taehyung's eyes fluttered shut as his scalp was scratched lightly.
soon enough, after finishing his hot chocolate, he felt himself grow drowsy. his belly felt warm and heavy, rising with every deep breath he took.
just as he had nearly dosed off, he felt something warm slip under his sweater and dance against his stomach. it felt like a hand.
he sighed. he must have been dreaming.
slowly, the palm of the hand traced over his swollen tummy, fingers ghosting over his navel. he all but purred at the feeling.
it began to rub circular motions onto the bloated skin with a gentle pressure, releasing a few soft burps from taehyung, who mewled at the lovely sensation. he began to fall deeper into slumber, the warm feeling being the last thing he could remember before he completely fell sound asleep.
when taehyung awoke, he was in his own room, in his own bed. he was under the blankets, glasses neatly placed on the bedside table. yawning, he looked around, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
had he been dreaming this whole time?
placing a hand on his middle, he was shocked to feel how bloated and round it was.
nope. it was all real.
and it felt completely, utterly, shamelessly good.
♡
☆
♡
"hey hobi-hyung, what's up?" taehyung spoke into the receiver of his phone after answering hoseok's call. he was currently working on an oil painting while munching on the oreos he'd bought at the campus snack venue on his way home.
"hey tae," he heard a strained voice answer. someone was in the background coughing. "could-" hoseok was cut off by what sounded like a particularly loud heave "ugh. could you do me a solid, tae. i'll pay you back, i promise."
and just like that, taehyung was on his way over to jungkook and hoseok's dorm. he'd debated bringing his painting with him, but eventually decided against the idea. he didn't want to make sick jungkook even sicker, nor did he want hoseok to complain about him stinking up the dorm with his paint.
the second he opened the door, hoseok rushed out.
"thanks a million, taehyung," he spoke frantically, clearly frazzled but trying to stay calm, though it was evident he was hanging on by a thread. "i hate to do this to you but you know how i am."
taehyung gave him a reassuring smile.
"hobi-hyung don't worry, it's alright! i don't mind!" he explained, placing a hand on his hyung's shoulder. "how's he doing?"
hoseok closed his eyes.
"ugh, he's just... ugh."
taehyung laughed and shook his head.
"aish, i told that dummy not to drink so much," he playfully face-palmed, giggling. "alright hyungie, head over to yoongi-hyung's. i'll take it from here."
hoseok sighed a breath of relief.
"you're a little saint, you know that, taetae?"
he pinched taehyung's full cheeks, kissing his forehead before rushing off. taehyung blushed and giggled to himself softly.
hoseok was really something else.
upon entering his friend's shared dorm and turning on the light, his eyes instantly landed on jungkook, who looked like he'd seen better days.
"taehyung?" he heard the younger croak from his bed, eyes squinted nearly shut. "shit, kill the lights will you, please?"
taehyung quickly flicked the switch off.
"oh, sorry kookie-ah," taehyung apologized, making his way in the dim room to the bed, where he sat.
"it's alright hyung, my head is just absolutely murdering me right now."
"feeling pretty bad, aren't we, bun?" taehyung murmured softly, rubbing the younger's back tenderly.
"god, 'm never fucking drinking again."
taehyung chuckled, shaking his head. he knew that was a lie; he'd probably be in the same position next weekend taking care of the hungover boy.
"okay, bun," he replied, fondly. "can i get you anything? painkillers, perhaps?"
jungkook shook his head, instantly wincing at the movement.
"no i already took some before you came." he answered. "could you just hold me for a bit, please?" his doe eyes found taehyung's gaze in the dark.
the elder boy swallowed back an 'awwww' as he laid down on the bed, taking the sick boy into his arms. he ran his fingers through the younger's silky, black hair. jungkook sighed.
"thanks, hyungie." jungkook mumbled into taehyung's warm chest. "you're the best."
a soft smile melted onto taehyung's lips. the two boys sat in a quiet trance for a while, the only sound being breathing and the hum of the ac. after some time had passed, jungkook broke the silence.
"um, hyungie?"
"what is it, bun?" taehyung replied, looking down at the boy.
"i-i um..." he began, stuttering from what taehyung assumed was nervousness. his stutter always worsened when he was nervous, the elder noticed. "i'm s-s-sorry about what i said yesterday."
taehyung haulted his movements, cocking a brow in confusion.
"what are you talking about, jungkook?"
"yes'therday," he paused to grimace at his lisp, before going on, "with hobi-hyung and yoongi-hyung." jungkook responded anxiously. "i-i shouldn't have c-commented on your body or how much you eat like that. if someone had made a comment about m-m-my stutter or lisp, i'd have been sad. it wasn't cool of me to point out an insecurity like that. i'm- i'm sorry." his voice broke a tad at the last part, though taehyung nearly didn't catch it.
taehyung blinked, taking a moment to process his dongsaeng's confession.
"okay, kookie, three things," taehyung replied after some thought, returning to stroking the boy's hair. "one: it's alright, don't worry about it. i'm definitely not upset with you, honey. two: your stutter and lisp are perfectly fine. they make you unique, make you you, so don't be embarrassed about how you talk, and don't take shit from absolutely anyone about it. got it?"
jungkook nodded, eyes still glassy.
taehyung smiled and continued.
"and three: what makes you think i'm insecure about my body?"
jungkook froze for a moment, clearly trying to conjure up an answer that wouldn't hurt his hyung's feelings.
"um..."
"is it because i'm chubby?"
jungkook didn't say anything, causing taehyung to sigh audibly.
"i have no reason to be insecure about my body, you know, jungkook?" taehyung calmly retorted, not in a mean or scolding manner, but in a blunt one. "i love my body. my tummy's job is to digest the food i eat and convert it to energy. that's it, and he's doing a pretty good job at it. so, therefore, i have no real reason to be insecure, and i'm not. a little tummy fat never hurt anyone."
jungkook looked up to gaze at his hyung.
"so, it didn't hurt your feelings when i t-touched your belly, then?" he asked, voice still slightly broken. taehyung wiped the stray tears from his dongsaeng's cheeks.
"of course not, kookie-ah," the older boy reassured, lips spreading into a grin. "in fact... i liked it."
jungkook went stiff.
"u-um... i-i'm flattered, hyung, i really am... b-but i like girls..."
taehyung let out a deep, rumbly laugh.
"don't be silly, bun!" he teased, still chuckling. "i wasn't talking about you! i wouldn't date your lame ass anyways, even if you did like guys!"
this earned him a playful slap.
"but you did... like it?" jungkook questioned after a comfortable silence.
taehyung nodded a bit stiffly.
"yeah, i... i guess i did." he admitted. "to be honest... i wouldn't mind if seokjin touched m- woah! sorry about the tmi! literally forget i said that, please. like, erase it from your memory."
taehyung flushed in embarrassment as jungkook burst out laughing.
"yah, don't make fun of me! i'll kick your ass you little shit!"
despite the teasing, taehyung definitely wouldn't mind if seokjin touched his belly. infact, he'd fucking love it.
and, well... this all was... new. he'd like to explore this more in the future.
however, little did taehyung know, he wasn't the only one with a bit of experimentation in mind.
♡
☆
♡
♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
hi!! hope you enjoyed this!! maybe a part 2?? please let me know what you think!! love you!!
~ jelly ૮ᴖﻌᴖა
♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
#bts feederism#feeder kink#eructo#bts emeto#fantasy feeder#feedist#bts sickfic#feeder series#feederisn
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like I was already brave enough to let go
7.2k || Chapter 1/2 || ao3
Enzo understands that leaving New York in the wake of everything is what's best for TK, but that doesn't make it any easier. Watching his stepson pack up all his broken pieces and move across the country hurts him in ways he can't describe, mostly due to the knowledge that there will be a distance between them that has never existed before. So he takes the time to check-in, to keep track of TK. To be there for him, no matter what.
He's just starting to wish that he had picked somewhere other than Austin, because he is quickly discovering he is not built for this level of stress.
After reading @futures-tense’s Enzo fic (that everyone should read, it is phenomenal) I couldn’t get thoughts of him and his relationship with TK out of my head, so naturally I wrote this. It fits into canon evetns and this is only chapter 1 of 2, because while I so have an outline for season 2 events, this was getting long so I figured I’d at least post what I had.
Massive thanks to @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon for all their help and support with this, you’re both the best!
-----------------
He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when TK opened his apartment door, but the sad shell of the boy Enzo had come to love as his own wasn’t it.
Or maybe it was, but it hurt all the same.
“Hey kid,” he said softly, stepping carefully around him and into the apartment. He looked around the small space, taking in all the boxes haphazardly labeled and partially packed. “So, it’s true. Your mom told me but I don’t think I believed her. Never thought I’d see the day TK Strand willingly left New York for Texas, of all places.”
“Who says it’s willingly,” he said dully as he shut the door behind Enzo.
Enzo turned and studied him more closely, taking in the downturned eyes and anxious fingers thumbing the seam of his hoodie pocket, “Do you not want to go? Because you can stay here. I’ll talk to your mom, you can stay with us if you…”
But TK cut him off with a shake of his head, “No,” he said, “I think I need to do this. Dad’s right, I need a fresh start. I can’t...I don’t think I can be here anymore. When I think of staying here, I don’t see a way forward. I think if I stayed here I’d…” he trailed off, but Enzo felt a chill rush through him at the implication of what TK hadn’t said. He tried to meet his eyes but TK looked away, casting his gaze downward and away from Enzo’s sympathetic eyes.
It hurt him more than he could say to see TK like this. For all his struggles he had always been a happy kid. He had always been someone who found the joy in life where he could and he had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, for better or worse. Seeing him like this and knowing what had happened hurt Enzo in ways he couldn’t fully describe because he didn’t know the right words. All he knew for sure is that this was not the TK he had known and loved for 16 years standing before him. This was a stranger; someone he had only seen once before during a time he had hoped to never revisit.
He hadn’t asked what happened because he knew enough and he wasn’t about to make the kid revisit it just so he could fill in some blanks. He might not know everything but he knew enough to feel hot anger course through him at the thought of someone breaking that too big heart of his. TK had always been someone who loved fully and completely, and to see that thrown back in his face so spectacularly made Enzo—a typically steady and calm man — strongly consider homicide.
He had every confidence that Gwyn could get him out of any charges too, but he pushed that thought aside to focus on the scene before him.
“This isn’t your fault, TK.”
TK turned away from him, absently picking up some books from the table and dropping them into one of the boxes. “I know I didn’t make Alex cheat,” he says eventually, “but the rest of it? That is completely on me Enzo, no one else.”
He could sense that the kid had more to say so he let him go, watching from the doorway as he listlessly picked up other odds and ends from around his apartment, tossing them into boxes without any real care as to what the labels on the side said. He knew TK would speak up when he was ready and it was only a few more minutes before he did.
“Eight years,” he finally said, his rough voice breaking the silence of the half-packed apartment. “Eight fucking years of sobriety, all gone. And that’s all on me. It doesn’t matter what Alex did, I’m the one who made the choice. I am the one who let him have that power over me and…” he broke off, meeting Enzo’s eyes for a moment before looking away and swallowing. “I do need to leave,” he said eventually. “I don’t trust myself to stay here anymore. I don’t know if I’d survive it.”
Enzo could feel his heart breaking for the kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore — now 26 and an adult — but in Enzo’s eyes sometimes he was still the 10-year-old who met his eyes shyly when Gwyn first introduced them, the 14-year-old who had admitted to him in a terrified whisper that he thought he might like boys, the 19-year-old who had come to him because he wanted to enroll in the fire academy and didn’t know how his mother would take it. The feeling he had now was just like the feelings he had had then. This overwhelming love and desire to protect him from everything bad in the world; from anyone that ever told him he wasn’t enough.
And just like he had then, he stepped forward, closing the space between them to pull him into a hug. He held him close, pressing his face into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re making the smart choice then,” he said evenly. “And, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m proud of you for doing what you have to do. You’ve beat this once and you’ll beat it again, I have no doubt about that.”
He knew he wasn’t imagining it when the body in his arms sagged in relief. It made him clutch him that much tighter as he spoke again, hoping what he was about to say was a given but needing to say it anyway: “And I will always be here for you, no matter where you live. I’m always just a phone call away, you know that, right?”
TK’s voice was muffled by the material of Enzo’s sweater, but he could still hear the tears in it clear as day, “I do.”
“Good,” Enzo replied firmly, releasing his grip on TK and stepping back so he could meet his eyes. “Because I will be calling to check-in, that is a promise.”
---------------
Watching him leave was bittersweet, but he believed TK when he said it was something he needed to do. He took some solace in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone. Enzo and Owen Strand may have had their differences over the years (many, many differences) but if there was one thing Enzo had never doubted it was the other man’s love for his son. He knew that TK was in good hands, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He got confirmation they had arrived in Austin in the form of a text that included a picture of a shop selling cowboy hats that simply said, “turns out people actually do where these here. Yes, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds.” It is followed by another two days later that noted the crimes Texas has committed against pizza and though Enzo was still filled with worry, he allowed himself to smile and take it as a sign that he was healing, be it ever so slightly.
He gave it almost a week before he called. He wanted to hear TK’s voice; to have proof that he really was okay, but he also wanted to give him time. His patience was helped by the fact that Gwyn had spoken to her son but eventually, he decided that he needed to hear from him himself.
TK answered by the third ring, sounding out of breath. He greeted him warmly, and Enzo could hear the commotion of construction in the background. He raised an eyebrow, “What, did you decide to leave the fire department and become a contractor when I wasn’t looking?”
This pulled a laugh out of TK and Enzo took a moment to savor the familiar sound. It felt like far too long since he’s last heard it.
“No. Dad decided we should re-do the firehouse, to give everyone a fresh start. I figured I might as well help out. Besides,” he added with a shrug Enzo could almost hear, “demolition is the far healthier method of coping with feelings, right?”
“When done with permission,” Enzo quipped in response. “How are you doing kid, has the pizza chased you away yet?”
TK scoffed, “No, but it was a close thing. Honestly, I really haven’t had that much time to dwell. I’ve been helping with the demo and construction, as well as the candidate interviews and paperwork. I haven’t really taken too much time to think about anything.”
TK said it matter of factly and Enzo almost moved past it. But he knew TK better than most. “You don’t have to punish yourself, kid,” he told him gently. “All you need to do is heal.”
“I’m not punishing myself,” TK objected, “I’m just...trying to keep busy. To distract myself.”
TK might very well think that, but Enzo was pretty sure it wasn’t true. But he was willing to move past it, for now.
“Tell me about the new crew,” he said instead, and smiled as TK launched into stories about a daredevil from Miami and a possible psychic from Chicago. He seemed enthusiastic and Enzo didn’t realize how good it felt to hear that until he had. It was like there was a little bit of life back in his voice and though he knew TK still had a long way to go to make this better, he was relieved to see that he was at least on the way.
------------
For a while, everything seemed to be going great. TK called and texted him from time to time, sharing anecdotes from calls and his new crew, and each time Enzo thinks he can hear just a little bit more of his old self returning to his voice. Sure he complains about one of them, for a while, but that too seems to sort itself out.
He could tell there is someone new in his life too, even if TK is hedgy about it at best. But Enzo was the first one to know that TK was gay at 14; he knew how to spot the signs.
“Why won’t you tell me about him?” he asked him one day, voice light and teasing as he stuffed his papers into his bag. “Is there something horribly wrong with him?”
“No,” TK countered emphatically, “there is nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing,” he added, almost an unconscious mutter Enzo was not entirely sure he was supposed to hear.
“So if there is ‘absolutely nothing’ wrong with him, why aren't you going for it?”
There was silence on the other end as Enzo slid his bag onto his shoulder, patiently waiting the younger man out.
“You know why,” he eventually said, voice low and sad. Enzo grimaced at how pained his voice sounded and he dropped back into his desk chair with a sigh.
“TK…” he began, but the younger man cut him off firmly.
“No, Enzo. I...I thought I could. I thought we could have something casual and that I could handle it. But then he wanted more and I hurt him. I don’t want to do that, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s too good to get dragged into my shitshow.”
“Have you asked him what he wants?” Enzo asked gently.
The bark of laughter TK gave at that was sharp and harsh, “Yeah, that should go well. Definitely won’t lead to me having to explain to this guy I’ve hooked up with a handful of times all the ways I’m fucked up right now.”
Enzo sighed again, leaning back in his chair, “It won’t always be like this, T. Someday you will be ready to try again, but only if you let yourself consider the possibility. Can you at least promise me that?”
There was silence for a long stretch and Enzo was about to ask him again when TK’s voice finally responded quietly, “Yes.”
“Good,” Enzo responded firmly, “because no matter what happened, you still deserve happiness. And someday you’ll be ready to let it in again — maybe sooner than you think.”
The sound of acknowledgment TK made sounded skeptical at best, but Enzo would take it. He knew he was right and he knew that someday TK would realize it too. Maybe even sooner than he thought.
------------
It’s about a week later when Enzo’s phone rings, nearly making him jump as he is pulled abruptly from his stack of midterms. It took him a few moments of shuffling blue books to even locate his phone and when he did he frowned at both the time and the name displayed on the screen.
“Hey kid,” he said lightly as he answered the phone, “what’s up?”
He had hoped he was overreacting, that TK was just calling him late because he was on shift and had lost track of the time. He had hoped that maybe the universe was finally giving the kid a break.
The despair and fear so clear in TK’s voice quickly prove him wrong.
“Hey Enzo,” he said softly, “fuck, I know it’s late and I’m sorry to bother you, but I just really needed to talk to someone.”
“You are never a bother,” Enzo told him firmly, capping his pen and setting it down on his desk. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” TK began before stopping, taking a deep breath and trying again, “I don’t know for sure yet, but I know something is.”
And Enzo believed him. The fear in his voice is so raw Enzo could feel every ounce of it even from a timezone away. “I’m going to need more than that, kid,” he told him gently, leaning back in his chair as he waited TK out.
“I found something,” TK said eventually, “that I definitely wasn’t supposed to find. And it means something awful. Something I don’t know if I can handle. But it also means he doesn’t trust me,” TK continued, “and somehow that almost feels worse.”
Enzo frowned, pondering all the non-specific details in his mind. He didn’t know all that much about his stepson’s life in Austin, but he knew enough to know that while he was close to his new crew, he wasn’t close enough to be this upset by an omission from one of them. That left him with two possibilities: the mysterious man he was not seeing, or Owen.
And Enzo knew which option was more likely and it made his heart sink. TK might not be sharing but Ezno knew both the Strand men better than most. If there was something Owen felt strongly enough to keep from his son that TK was this upset about, it wasn’t good news.
“You don’t have to tell me what it is,” he said cautiously, “but is it something about your dad?”
There was a deep, shuddering breath before TK responded, “Yeah.”
And Enzo shut his eyes, the hurt and fear in TK’s voice telling him all he needed to know.
“I don’t know what this is about,” he said eventually, “and you don’t have to tell me. But I do know you, and I know whatever it is you are going to want to be there for him, because that’s who you are. Let him know that, and the rest will follow from there.”
There was silence again, but Enzo waited TK out. He was familiar with this rhythm; when something was bothering TK he often took his time to make sure he had the words right before he spoke. Over the years Enzo had learned to wait him out knowing that he would get to his point when he was ready.
He did a few moments later, “I do want to be there for him,” TK agreed, “I just know why he didn’t tell me. He doesn’t think I can handle it — and he’s right,” TK confessed softly, “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” Ezno assured him firmly, “you can do anything you set your mind to. You always have.”
He let his words sink in for a moment before he added, “And I would talk to your dad before you make any assumptions. Let him know he can rely on you, let him know you want to be there.”
“You make it sound so easy,” TK said dryly, and Enzo huffed a laugh.
“In a way it is. It’s just words. It’s the actions behind them that are hard.”
There was silence again before TK spoke, his voice so quiet Enzo almost missed his next words, “I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” Enzo reminded him, “sometimes fear is the appropriate response.”
But even as he said it, he could feel his heart breaking. He didn’t know what was going on and while he was sure he would find out soon enough, he couldn’t help but hate whatever it was. TK deserved some time to find himself, to heal and simply exist. He didn’t understand why the universe kept throwing such curveballs at him, but he wished with every fiber of his being it would stop.
“Sometimes it is,” TK agreed in a tone that made Enzo wonder even more what this was all about. But he didn’t ask; TK would tell him when he was ready. For now he would just be here for him. Sometimes that was all he could do.
--------------
As much as Enzo couldn’t help but worry about the younger man, sometimes the updates were a sign that things were getting better for him, slowly but surely.
One such time came as he and Gwyn were sitting on the couch together, Enzo making a case for watching Jeopardy with Gwyn adamantly refusing.
“No,” she said again with a firm shake of her head, “it always ends the same way.”
He shrugged, “I can’t help that you’re too competitive, or that I’m better at it then you are,” he added, giving her a sly grin.
“We can’t all have PhDs in history,” she said wryly, “some of us need to work for a living.”
He opened his mouth to fire back a retort but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Saved by the bell,” he said instead with a shake of his head as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw the familiar name on the screen and turned it so Gwyn could see.
“Hey T,” he said cautiously as he answered, “everything good?”
There was a lot of noise in the background but he could hear TK’s voice clearly as he answered, “Yeah, I just had a question for you. These people don’t believe me so I need your cred as a Columbia history professor to back me up.”
Enzo raised an eyebrow at Gwyn, who had leaned closer to hear. She bit her lip against a laugh and he shook his head fondly, “I’ll do what I can. What’s the question?”
“Hang on,” TK said, “I’m going to put you on speaker.” There was the sound of fumbling before the background noise grew louder and TK’s voice returned. “Okay guys,” he was saying, “this is my stepdad Enzo. He’s a history professor at Columbia and if you don’t believe me maybe you’ll believe him. You want to ask him the question, Paul?”
“Man, you didn’t need to…”
“No, this is a point of pride now.” TK objected indignantly and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to see that she had fully pressed a hand against her mouth to stop any laughter from slipping out and giving away her eavesdropping. “Ask him,” TK prompted and there was a sigh before a new voice joined the conversation.
“Sir, we are so sorry to bother you. TK’s just being a sore loser.”
“Paul, right?” Enzo asked and got a sound of confirmation in return, “You don’t have to tell me that, I helped raise him.” There was an indignant noise in the background, likely from TK, but Enzo ignored it. “What’s the question?”
“Who invented the first movie camera?”
“Louis Le Prince,” Enzo replied without hesitation, unable to suppress a chuckle at the sound of TK’s triumphant ha! In the background. “You guys thought it was Edison, didn’t you?”
“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted sheepishly and Enzo chuckled lightly.
“That’s understandable. Edison was the first person to mass market it and the first to get recognized for it, but Le Prince was actually the first. But he mysteriously disappeared in 1890, right before he was set to take a trip to the US to talk about his invention. So he never got a chance to market it.”
There was silence for a moment before Paul spoke again, “So is there any proof Edison had him killed or…?”
“No,” Enzo admitted, “but that is one of the theories for sure. Another is his brother did it over the family will. Either way, Edison was not the first.”
“Huh,” Paul said thoughtfully, “that’s actually fascinating. Dude, I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“It’s fine,” TK said evenly, “I am more than a pretty face you know.”
There was a collective snort from the other end of the phone and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to roll his eyes. She shook her head fondly and he returned his attention to the call, “Any other burning history questions or was that it?”
The background noise lessened as TK took the phone off speaker. “No, that’s it. Thanks, Enzo.”
“Anytime kid,” he told him, “you know I love to flex my random history facts.” That got another laugh out of TK, but Enzo could still hear the background noise of a group in the background. The sounds of easy comradery set his mind at ease in a way not much else had since TK had left for Texas. “Why don’t you get back to your friends and I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay, thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it. I love you kid.”
“Love you too. Say hi to mom for me?”
“You’ve got it.”
With that the call was over and Enzo was left back in their silent living room, Gwyn looking at him with a soft smile.
“He sounds happy,” she said after a moment, her voice warm but thick. He nodded.
“He does. As much as I do hate to admit it, I think going to Austin may have the best thing for him.”
“You just hate that Owen was right.”
“And you don’t?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.
“Well that’s a given,” she quipped, leaning closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed them as she rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad he’s doing better,” she said softly after a moment, “I’ve been so worried about him.”
“Me too,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. That sat in silence for a few more moments, each lost in their own thoughts before he spoke again.
“So is that still a no to Jeopardy or…?”
She swatted at him and he grinned, ducking away from the light hit. Things seemed to have returned to their equilibrium, and that was a relief.
He just hoped it stayed that way.
-------------------
When he was wrested from sleep by the shrill sound of his phone ringing cutting through the late-night silence of his bedroom, Enzo groaned. He swore under his breath as he fumbled for the device, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he did. But when he managed to grasp his phone and saw the name on the screen, all thoughts of annoyance fled his mind. Owen Strand calling him was rarely a good sign. Owen Strand calling him at 2 am promised nothing short of disaster.
“Owen?” he said as he answered, skipping any and all attempts at pleasantries. “Is everything okay?”
He could afford to give the universe the benefit of the doubt, he decided; even if only for a moment.
When Owen’s reply came it was in a voice Enzo didn’t recognize. It was shaky and uncertain in a way that the other man never was.
“Enzo, hey. I’m sorry to bother you but Gwyn’s not answering her phone and…” he broke off with a shaky breath, “I really need to talk to her.”
“She’s in Beijing,” Enzo replied, sitting up and switching on the lamp beside him. “And given the time difference, probably in a meeting.”
He heard Owen swear distantly before he felt fear rise up in him. Owen calling him at 2 in the morning looking for Gwyn and out of sorts only added up to one thing, but Enzo so hoped he was wrong.
“Owen, did something happen to TK?” he forced himself to ask; the stress of not knowing was worse than anything else.
He could hear Owen take another breath, deep and shaky and filled with something else Enzo couldn’t identify on a phone call from half a country away.
“There was an...incident,” Owen said softly, voice still unsteady, “on our last call.”
Enzo’s mind was already spinning, stumbling from one horrible possibility from another.
“There was a man with dementia who broke into his old house and a homeowner who had a cardiac event and TK broke down the door and….he was shot.”
Enzo heard the words, he knew he did. But he couldn’t have. If he had heard them that would mean that TK had been shot and that was not something that could be true. His stepson was a firefighter. It was a profession that came with enough risks of its own. He had spent countless days worried and fearful at the thought of rescues gone wrong, of untamable flames and unstable buildings. Never once had he even entertained the thought of a bullet being a risk to watch out for. Bullets were supposed to be the problem of other people with other jobs — not his stepson, who already had so many dangers to face.
But it was true. The fear and pain in Owen’s voice told him it was true. There was an edge of both hysteria and despair in his words and that more than anything scared Enzo more than he could say.
“Where?” was the first coherent thought he could form.
“Just below his left shoulder” Owen repeated mechanically. “His...his lung collapsed before we were even out of the hallway. Enzo, he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying but he couldn’t and there was so much blood....” Owen trailed off and Enzo could hear the unmistakable sound of a sob in the background even as his own hands trembled and his eyes watered.
“Is he…” he started, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. He couldn’t speak the awful possibility into existence.
“He’s headed to surgery,” Owen replied. “I don’t know anything more than that, we only got here about 15 minutes ago. I just...I just hope it was fast enough.”
There was silence then as the two men allowed the same fear to consume them from opposite ends of the country. Enzo felt a morbid camaraderie with the other man in that moment. In the 16 years they had known each other it was safe to say that they had never exactly gotten along. They had always been polite and cordial for the sake of Gwyn, TK, and family gatherings but they were too different in too many ways that mattered to ever truly be friends. They had only ever agreed on one thing, and now that was the thing that tied them together — loving TK.
“You got him there as fast as you could Owen,” Enzo assured him without hesitation because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it wasn’t true. “You did everything you could. Any chance he has is because of you.”
“I think the credit lays more with the paramedics,” Owen objected, “but I appreciate the effort all the same.”
Enzo opened his mouth again, not quite sure what he was going to say but feeling the overwhelming need to say something, but he was interrupted before he got the chance to figure it out.
There was a noise on the other end followed by the sound of shuffling as Owen attended to whatever it was. When his voice returned, it was tight.
“That’s Gwyn on the other line, I’ve gotta take it. But listen, Enzo…”
But Enzo just shook his head, “Don’t worry about it Owen, talk to her. Just, keep me updated?”
“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, “as soon as I know anything.”
Then with another hurried goodbye, the call was over and Enzo was left in the dark and quiet bedroom, alone. It wasn’t long before the tears he had felt threatening began to fall in earnest as he wrapped his mind around this reality and allowed himself to dwell on it. There was a chance — a very real and terrifying chance — that they could lose TK. That Gwyn and Owen could lose the son they had brought into this world and loved for 26 years. That Enzo could lose one of the people he loved the most. The thought of TK not existing anymore was too horrible to dwell on.
Enzo was a religious man. He had been raised by a small Jewish family in a large community and his faith had been something that he had always had. It had seen him through so much. But now, with this, he had to wonder. It didn’t make sense that TK — his wonderful, caring stepson who had dedicated his life to helping people — should have to suffer so much in such a short time on earth. It went against everything he had ever believed about putting good into the world. Why should TK — who had never done anything to hurt anyone — have to suffer so? Why should he? He didn’t want to know what life without TK looked like.
More than anything, he hated that he might find out.
When Gwyn called him a few minutes later he pushed his own tears aside. He murmured soft reassurances as she sobbed in a quiet corner of a Beijing office building, consumed with fear and grief a world away from her child who was slipping further and further from them with every passing moment. He gave her empty platitudes, reassured her the best he could.
But all the while the fear was drilling a hole straight through his chest. This, he decided, was the worst fear he had ever felt.
The worst part was there was nothing he could do but wait, and hope desperately for the best.
----------------
The next several days were some of the longest of Enzo’s life. Each day he woke up and went about the day. Each day he kept his phone volume on, not wanting to miss any news either way. Each day an update came from Owen and each day it was the same: no change.
He debated going out to Austin — he had been halfway through buying a ticket online half a dozen times — but each time he stopped himself. Logically he knew that being there wouldn’t change anything. He would still be waiting, he’d just be waiting there. He told himself he was needed here, that he couldn’t just pick up and go across the country with no warning. It was the end of the semester and he had students to help to finish the course or their dissertation. He told himself staying was the responsible option, but he knew that it was largely just a distraction. But he would take any distraction he could get and so he pushed the guilt of not being there to the side
He taught his classes, he went through the motions. He fielded calls from Gwyn, still stuck in China and frantic with worry. Each day he reassured her; reminded her that TK was strong, young, and healthy. Above all that, he reminded her, he was stubborn. No bullet or coma was going to take him from them before he was ready.
Of course there was the private fear, the one he didn’t want to share, that he didn’t want to hang on anyone else. The one he was afraid to say out loud.
It was the thought that maybe, after everything, that was exactly what he did want. That maybe this was an out and that maybe, he would take it. That maybe he didn’t want to be alive anymore.
But that was a possibility too horrible to accept. Maybe it was selfish, but Enzo knew that even if that was the case, he wasn’t ready. He doubted he ever would be, but he certainly wasn’t now. He knew both Gwyn and Owen would agree. No time was a good time to lose your child — step or otherwise — but now, after this — after everything — was not the time.
So he waited, and hoped.
Time seemed to blend together and before he knew it one day had become two, which had stretched into four. Each moment passed the same way — tensely, with no news.
He knew he had been distracted too — keeping his ringer on during class and checking in throughout his lectures and office hours. He had apologized to his classes after the second telemarketer had caused him to drop everything and lunge for his phone, citing a family emergency and word had slowly gotten around. Soon it wasn’t just him hoping for the best, but most of the Columbia history department as well. Their well wishes were touching, but nothing short of good news was going to make him feel any better.
So when his phone did finally ring on a Thursday afternoon, 5 days after the fateful call, he picked it up with trepidation. The name on the screen sent his heart racing and he nearly dropped his phone in his haste to answer it.
“Owen?” he asked tersely, “Any updates?”
Because since that night they hadn’t spoken. All updates had come in the form of texts and the thought of Owen finally having something to tell him one way or the other simultaneously thrilled him and nearly froze him with fear.
But it wasn’t Owen’s voice that answered.
“Hey Enzo,” TK said, the sound of his voice rushing through Enzo’s body like a current of electricity. He sank back into his seat with a wobbly laugh, feeling nearly a week's worth of tension fall away as he listened to the miraculous sound of TK breathing on the other end of the phone.
“Hey kid,” he said warmly. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he answered, “I really don’t feel too bad at all. A little sore, a little tired, but overall not bad.”
“I hear getting shot will do that to you,” Enzo retorted drily before sighing and running a weary hand down his face. “You scared the shit out of me, TK,” he admitted.
“Sorry,” TK replied softly, “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”
“It’s not your fault,” Enzo rushed to reassure him, “I know you didn’t ask for this to happen but...shit TK, I am not built for this. Do you think you could avoid getting shot in the future, for my sanity at the very least?”
“I’ll try,” TK responded with a chuckle, “I don’t remember most of it but I don’t think it’s anything I want to revisit.”
“No, I’d imagine not,” Enzo retorted wryly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts and taking comfort from the presence of the other even if it was only over a phone call from half a country away. “So,” he finally said, leaning into normal conversation for the sake of normalcy, “is your dad driving you nuts yet?”
“Yes,” TK responded emphatically, “he has been hovering non-stop, and he brought a date.”
Enzo could hear indignant sputtering in the background and Owen muttering something about him not bringing a date, that his date had simply come to visit him to see how he was doing and, maybe because of all the fear and stress of the past week, Enzo could only laugh.
“That sounds like your dad,” he retorted once he caught his breath, “and I wouldn’t count on that changing anytime soon.”
“She seemed cool at least,” TK allowed, voice teasing, “I don’t know why he was trying to keep her a secret.”
“Excuse you,” Owen’s voice objected from the background, “I am not the one who had a hot cop sitting by my bedside. You don’t get to talk about keeping secrets.”
“Dad,” TK groaned and Enzo’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh, so the mystery man is a cop,” he teased, “and the plot thickens.”
Now it was TK’s turn to splutter, “Nope, we are not doing this. That is more than enough from both of you,” he declared and Enzo could hear Owen chuckling at his son’s indignation from the background. It was a slice of normal that he had feared he’d never get again. To be sitting here hearing TK’s voice, teasing him about something so simple as the guy he had a crush on seemed like a miracle and Enzo was grateful for it.
Everything was normal again, at long last.
----------------
Sometimes he thinks that turning on news alerts for Austin was the worst decision he had ever made.
It seemed practical, at the time. An easy way to stay in the know, to have an idea of what kind of calls TK may have seen on any given day. But now he was frozen in the middle of the hallway after one of his classes staring at a notification about a solar storm that had blasted through Austin, leaving devastation in its wake; regretting every decision that led him to this point.
He knew TK was still on medical leave. He knew that he should be home and resting after only being released from the hospital two days before. But he also knew his stepson and knew that whenever there was trouble, TK was usually not too far behind.
It was with that thought in his mind that he stepped out out the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall as he waited anxiously for the call to connect. The sound of a pleasant robotic voice informing him that his call could not be completed filled him with dread, but he forced himself to take a breath. It didn’t mean anything. The grid was likely overloaded right now; Enzo couldn’t say he knew for sure what kind of damage a solar storm could do but he was willing to guess that it wasn’t great for the electronic infrastructure.
Left with no other options he went on about his day, the familiar anxiety he had only recently shed slipping back over him like a worn winter coat. He tried calling a few more times, trying to ignore how the dread in his gut grew each and every time the call didn’t go through. He resisted the urge to ask one of his science colleagues to explain the specifics of a solar storm; reasoning that dealing with his own uncertainty would be far kinder than having confirmed facts. At least this way, he decided, he could tell himself he was overreacting.
It was far too many hours before his phone rang; an unfamiliar number appearing on his lock screen. He frowned at it but swiped to answer. He did list his cell number on all of his course syllabi, but for the most part his students stuck to his campus email, or — in desperate times — text.
“Dr. Cohen,” he answered, mentally placing bets as to whether it was actually a student or a robot trying to inform him about the extended warranty of the car he didn’t own.
To his immense relief, it was neither. Instead, a familiar voice answered, sending a rush of relief through him at the sound, “Hey, Enzo, it’s me.”
“TK,” he breathed, setting down the paper he had been reading and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”
“More or less,” he answered sheepishly and Enzo was about to push for more than that when he caught the distinct sound of a hospital intercom in the background.
“Tyler Kennedy Strand, are you in the hospital again?” he demanded and he heard a weary sigh from the other end before a quiet “yeah” was muttered.
“It’s not a big deal though,” TK rushed to explain, “I’m fine. I just pulled my stitches.”
There was another voice in the background that Enzo didn’t recognize and could barely hear, but what he could hear made it clear that the other voice was not impressed either.
“Well, what was I supposed to do?” TK demanded, and Enzo was not entirely sure who he was speaking to, “Let her drown in a burning bus?”
“You just got out of the hospital!” Enzo objected when he could form words again, “What were you doing somewhere where there was a burning bus?!”
“We just went out for boba,” TK retorted, “I didn’t expect there to be a solar storm that caused a bus accident.”
And Enzo forced himself to take a deep breath because that was fair, he supposed. There was no way anyone could control anything like that. Still…
“The next time you move we’re going to need to do some research,” he declared. “Because if it is anywhere as chaotic as Austin, I’m going to have to object.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” TK assured him, “I think I’ll be in Austin for a while.”
There was a smile in his voice and Enzo somehow had the feeling he was intruding on something, even though TK had been the one to call him.
“What number are you calling me from?” he asked, testing his theory.
“I borrowed Carlos’s phone,” TK answered in a voice that said he knew what was coming and he hoped it would at least be quick.
“Oh,” Enzo replied, “and Carlos wouldn’t happen to be the name of a certain ‘hot cop’ your father mentioned, aka the mystery man I have been trying to get you to tell me about for months?”
“Yes.”
“And when you say ‘we’ were trying to get boba…”
“Enzo…”
“And he wouldn’t happen to be with you right now, would he?”
“Are you done?” TK demanded, and Enzo only laughed.
“Not nearly, kid; I’m just getting started.”
And despite TK’s muttering, Enzo could tell that he sounded happier than he had heard him sound in ages. He marveled at the fact that somehow, despite everything, TK had managed to find the happiness and peace he had hoped for him ever since he left New York all those months ago. Between the disasters he had managed to take his broken pieces and fit them back together, maybe even stronger than they had been before.
It was all he had ever wanted for him, and he was relieved beyond belief that he had found it.
“You know, this means I’m going to have to come down there soon,” he said instead, “I’ve got to meet this mystery man for myself.”
He could practically hear TK rolling his eyes, but his voice was impossibly warm when he assured him, “You’ll like him, Enzo.”
“Do you like him?” he asked.
“Yeah,” TK responded without a moment’s hesitation, “I do.”
“Then I already do,” he assured him.
If this Carlos had anything to do with the happiness he could finally hear returned to his stepson’s voice, he couldn’t do anything but.
#911 lone star#911 lone star fic#my writing#tk strand#enzo#userkimmy#userjilly#userac#userbones#reyesstrand#reyeslonestartag#tuserpaige#tuserjamie#buckybarnesalways#laelipoo#I know for sure I usually tag more people but it's been so long I can't remember
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