#--but the one they trust the most is the guy on the left !

[hqwkeyes]

Falling for the Devil

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k+ Warnings: swearing, uhh fluff, slight angst?, matt is a flirt, i edited this while fighting 6g melatonin Summary: Matt Murdock is a known flirt, and a successful one, at that. You've seen him work his magic on women dozens of times. But one night, he attempts to use that Murdock charm on you. He might've fallen first, but you just might fall harder... maybe.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

Matt Murdock is many things: a great lawyer, a great friend, but most of all, he's a flirt. A merciless flirt, at that. A charmer and a tease. He has a way of making people, specifically women, feel special. It comes naturally to him, much to Foggy's dismay in his pre-Marci days.

You've been working at Nelson, Murdock, and Page for a while now, and you just sort of clicked with the group early on. There have been several occasions when you were all out at Josie's and Matt would work his magic on a woman. You would all watch as he'd flirt with them, charm them, and often times leave with them. It was a running joke in the group, at this point, that Matt was sort of a...philanderer, if you will. He didn't lead these women on, though. Matt was still pretty much a gentleman.

Although he keeps to himself more than the others, you've always been pretty close friends with Matt. He looks out for you the same way he does for Karen and Foggy, and you trust him—like really trust him. Was there a vibe you got from him sometimes? Sure, but you were also well aware that Matt could probably charm a brick wall if he wanted to, and you generally try not to fall for antics like that.

It's been a long week, and this case you were all working had dragged on for weeks in court. You all had done your best work for your client, but you weren't sure how the verdict would pan out. In the end, you guys won the case, and now it was time to celebrate.

Josie's is fairly busy. Foggy brought Marci tonight, and you all get yourselves a drink before claiming the pool table, which is thankfully free. The five of you toast to the big win in court before cutting loose a bit and playing a few games.

You're sitting at a table nearby with Karen, chatting a bit while Foggy plays against Marci—which is incredibly entertaining. Matt is by Foggy's side for emotional support, which he definitely needs. When both your drinks are empty, Karen gets up to get the two of you another round. After a few minutes, you peek over at the bar, wondering what's taking your friend so long. You're only a little surprised to find her talking it up with a guy. She's the friendly sort, but this seems like a bit more than just friendly. He's handsome and very much her type. Another minute later, Karen pops back over with your drink, and asks if you would mind if she stepped away to talk to Evan. You give her a suggestive grin and shoo her away before calling out to your friends that you're playing the winner in the next game.

In a shocking twist, Foggy beat Marci in the last game. Unfortunately for you, that just meant that she was on his side, cheering him on and distracting him from the game. Matt is sitting at the table you and Karen had been occupying, and you call him over.

"Come on, Matt, I need someone to root for me too," you tell him, and he laughs as he joins you by the pool table.

The two of you chat as you play, but after the next few shots, you lose Foggy to Marci's attention. He's practically drooling over her, and you would think it's adorable if it wasn't his turn.

"Earth to Foggy," you call out, but it's no use. You'll have to wait for him to turn his attention back to the game.

"Can you believe this?" You ask Matt, shaking your head in disbelief, and he laughs at your mild distress.

You lean against the table, grabbing your drink you'd left on the edge of it.

"You know, you really pulled through for us on this case," Matt says suddenly as he leans against the table beside you.

"Thanks, Matt. It was nothing though."

"No, really, I don't think we could've pulled it off if not for those documents you found."

"I'm just happy to help," you tell him.

"And we're very happy to have you," he says with a smile.

Matt holds out his glass, and you clink yours against it before taking a sip. You glance over to where Karen is to check on her, and she seems to be having a great time. Her eyes meet yours and she gives you a big smile.

"This is nice," Matt says, drawing your attention back to him.

"Hm?"

"We haven't spent much time together like this lately."

"Well, we've been so busy with the case, it's been hard to find time outside of work. And we all know you're always busy," you say, nudging him with your elbow.

"That's true," he says with a chuckle. "So what have you been up to outside of work?"

"Oh." You weren't expecting that.

"Um, well I've been watching this show lately." You explain the plot of the show before telling him about this new hobby you have. He listens attentively with a small smile. He shows genuine interest in what you're saying, asking questions here and there. After a few minutes, you realize that you've been babbling on.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I've been rambling."

"Don't apologize," he says, leaning a bit closer. "I like listening to your voice." You recognize his tone. It's that seemingly innocent one he has when he's trying to charm someone. Something bubbles in your chest, and for a moment, you understand why so many women fall for his flirtations.

"I bet you tell all the girls that," you say with a laugh before taking another sip your drink.

"Hey, I mean it," he says, feigning hurt before finishing off his drink.

"Sure you do," you say, voice laced with amusement.

"I do, really. I could listen to you talk all day."

"You do listen to me talk all day," you joke, earning a chuckle from him, though his pride is a bit wounded.

Trying to keep his composure, he casually snatches your drink from your hand and takes a sip.

"Do you want me to get you another drink?" You ask with a laugh.

"I thought maybe we could share." His reply is quick, smooth, and it comes with that signature smirk again.

You roll your eyes. You know Matt and how he is. This case was tough and he's probably looking to blow off some steam, which is fine, but you're not sure why he's looking to you. Being friends with your bosses/coworkers can be difficult enough. Sleeping with Matt would likely complicate both of those relationships. You wouldn't want to risk it all over a one night stand, although, once again, you can see how he manages to captivate all these women.

You play it casual. "Sure, we can share if you want."

At that, you can see the twinge of frustration in Matt's expression. His brows draw up in what looks something like confusion.

"I heard Karen say she was talking to a guy at the bar?" He asks after a moment.

"Oh yeah, she said his name is Evan."

"Nice, nice."

A moment passes. You take your drink back for another sip as your eyes dance over the small crowd to check on Karen again, who still looks like she's having a great time.

"So, are you seeing anyone new?" And you almost spit that sip straight onto the floor. Josie would probably make you clean it yourself, or it would stay there until the sticky puddle dried.

You clear your throat from nearly choking. "No, I'm not." Matt's grin returns. He fumbles with his fingers.

"Oh, no?"

"Nope. You?"

"No, not lately." he says, taking your drink back again and draining half of what's left. He lets out a sigh after. "There's someone I've been interested in for a while, and I just can't quite get over my feelings," he says.

You freeze, your heart kicking up a fuss. Matt smiles at the floor. You try to maintain your composure.

"Oh, really?" you say, trying not to sound too interested. "Who's the lucky lady? Do we all know her?"

"Yeah, you do actually." He finishes off your drink. "Can I get you another?" He asks, holding up your glass.

"Umm." You glance at your watch. It's a Friday, but you don't want to go home so late that you have to call a car.

"Just one more? To celebrate our win." He plays it cool, but there's a slight edge to his voice, almost pleading.

"By one more, do you mean one of my own or one to share?" He laughs at that.

"What's wrong with sharing," he jests with a grin, then heads to the bar before you can reply.

He returns a couple minutes later with a drink for each of you, but his smile deflates when he finds that Foggy's attention has returned to the game you were playing.

"Thanks, Matt," you say passively as you take your drink and set it on the edge of the table before lining up your next shot.

You end up pocketing two balls in one go, letting out an excited shout.

"What's happening?" Matt asks.

"She just pocketed two balls," Foggy says, exasperated.

"My last two. And now I can go for the winning shot," you tell him. He smiles.

"Nice," Matt says, trying not to seem dejected.

"The odds of you making that shot are slim to none," Foggy says. He's right. Based on the placement of his remaining balls, it's unlikely that you'll make the winning shot in this turn, but you get competitive when people doubt you.

"Wanna bet?" you say.

"On you not making the shot? Hell yeah."

"How much if I do?"

"Twenty bucks."

"You don't sound too confident," you say, goading him.

"Fine, fifty." Marci lightly smacks his arm. Honestly, you shouldn't have pushed it with how slim your chances are, but you're feeling a little lucky tonight.

"Deal."

You call your pocket before taking a moment to line up your shot. You inhale deeply, hold it a second, exhale. Shoot. The 8 ball knocks against one of Foggy's, then against the edge of the table before slowly rolling toward the pocket you called. And it's in.

"Holy shit!" Foggy yells. You're cheering for yourself and Marci joins in the excitement.

Foggy comes around to your side of the table to give you your fifty dollars. "You definitely earned it," he says with a laugh. "Wanna go again?"

"I'm good," you tell him. "That was more than enough excitement for me."

You walk over to Matt, who is standing near the table you had shared with Karen earlier.

"I take it you won?"

"I did," you say, your voice oozing with pride.

He chuckles. "Of course you did."

He holds out his glass to toast to your win, and you clink yours against his, a bit spilling on the floor.

"So, what are you gonna do with the money you won?" he asks, setting his drink down on the table.

"Hmm, I'm not sure. Maybe I'll treat myself to dinner tomorrow night."

You go to step closer to the table to set your drink down, but slip on the puddle you'd left, falling forward. Matt catches you against his chest, his arms falling around your waist to steady you.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you say, removing your hands from his chest once you regain your footing, but Matt's arms don't move.

"You're finally falling for me, huh," he says with that smirk. Your heart skips a beat. Or maybe several. Actually, it feels like it might burst right out of your chest. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks growing hotter by the second.

"I– um, I–" you stammer, unsure of what to say.

"How about instead of treating yourself to dinner tomorrow night, you let me treat you."

"But what about–" you pause as the realization hits you. You were the woman he had been talking about. "Oh." You feel the tips of your ears reddening.

Matt lets out a soft chuckle at your reaction.

Now that you think about it, it's been more than a few weeks since Matt has flirted with anyone here at Josie's. Women have approached him, as usual, but he hadn't left with any of them or even accepted any of their offers to buy him a drink. He was still charming, but that's just natural with him. At the time, you attributed it to him being busy, as you all were with work. Matt had a way of really locking in on work when there was a heavy caseload, so it didn't seem unusual then. You would all just stop in at Josie's for a quick drink before heading home.

You're pulled from your thoughts by Matt tugging you a little closer to him.

"So how about it?" he asks quietly once he has your attention again. "We can go to that little Italian place you like near the office?"

Have you, at some point, considered what it might be like to be with Matt? Admittedly, yes. He's a sweetheart of a guy, always kind and courteous. He's a fierce lawyer—you're constantly impressed by his ability to captivate a jury and spin a narrative. And he and Foggy are always looking out for the little guy, taking on clients that don't have much—or anything at all, sometimes—but need help, and so they do just that. But at the end of the day, you're friends, and he's also your boss.

Your heart is in your throat.

"Um, as friends?" you ask.

He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Well, I was hoping it could be a date if you're comfortable with that."

You bite your lip. "I– I just don't know if I want to risk what we already have," you admit.

"Understandable," he says, and one of his hands comes up to rest on your cheek, the other remaining firmly on your waist. "But what if we could have so much more?"

Well, the joke's on you for trying to argue with a lawyer.

"You can think of it as a trial run if you want," he offers, his hand coming down to your jaw. "If it doesn't feel right to you, we can just go back to how things were."

It might not be that simple, you think, but maybe it's worth the risk, like he said. And besides, Matt is someone you love having in your life. If things didn't work out romantically after a date or two, you're sure you could still be friends.

"A trial run, then," you say with a small nod. Matt's smirk blossoms into a smile.

"Perfect," he whispers, his hand finding it's way back up to your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone. Your eyes flutter closed.

And then they're shooting back open as Foggy's voice cuts across the room.

"Look at all this love in the room tonight!" The volume of his voice makes you wince, and Marci bats at his arm, scolding him for ruining the moment. Both you and Matt burst into laughter at the pair.

You finish off your drink before getting ready to head out with the others. Karen bids Evan a good night as she readies herself to leave with the rest of you, but not before she gets his number. You link your arm through hers as you move toward the exit, asking about her night. She gives little away in the short walk to the door, but promises to catch you up at work on Monday.

"You had an eventful night too, didn't you?" she says with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I won fifty bucks off of Foggy."

"Wait, what? I was talking about with Matt. I saw the two of you over by the table," she says, nudging you playfully.

"Oh, you saw that?" You wear a bashful smile.

"Yes, and I expect to hear about that on Monday too," she says with a laugh, and you agree.

The cool night air greets you as you exit the bar, leaving goosebumps on your skin. Foggy and Marci get a cab first, calling out their "goodnights" as they get in the car. Karen calls another cab over, and she offers it to you, but you insist she takes it as she lives further than you.

And now you're left here with Matt.

"I don't see anymore taxis," you tell him. "I can call one for you if you'd like?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine to walk," he says, tapping his cane against the pavement. Neither of you live far from Josie's. It's about a ten minute walk from you.

"I was going to walk too," you say.

"Then, can I walk you home?" he asks.

"How about I walk you home? You're not far out of the way."

He shakes his head. "I don't want you walking alone if you can avoid it. It's late."

"Fine," you say. Then, "thank you."

He smiles at the ground before taking hold of the crook of your arm. "Of course."

The two of you walk in silence for a moment before he speaks.

"You know, I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night," he says.

A small smile makes its way onto your face. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he says. "Thank you for giving me a chance. I know you might think I'm some kind of... I don't know, playboy or something, but I'm– I'm serious about this—about you." Your cheeks burn hot at that.

"I don't think that about you," you say quietly.

"You don't?"

"No. Although, I do think you have an uncanny ability to charm pretty much any woman." He smiles again. "You're a flirt and a tease, but I wouldn't go as far as to call you a playboy." His smile falters a bit at that.

"I believe you, though," you tell him. "Admittedly, I'm a little hesitant to, but you've never given me a reason not to trust you."

"Then, I'll just have to keep proving that you can trust me."

You smile. "I'm looking forward to that."

The two of you walk together in silence for a bit.

"The moon is so bright tonight," you say as you look up at the sky.

"Is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I can see it shining through the clouds, but there are too many to see any stars."

Matt sighs. "I'd give anything to see that one more time." Your heart constricts at that.

"I– I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "I like that you describe things like that to me. You do it more often than you might think. It feels like you want to share it with me, and I enjoy hearing how things look through your eyes. I remember what it was like, you know, seeing the night sky, all the stars up there—or at least what we could see from the city. When you tell me about it, it helps me keep those memories alive." You tear up just a little bit, smiling sadly.

"I'm glad I could do that for you."

A few moments pass, and you come up to your apartment building.

"This is me," you say with a sniffle, coming to a stop.

Matt turns to face you, bringing his hand up to cup your face once again.

"I take it back," he says softly.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"I take it back," he says again, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "As much as I wish I could see the sky again, I'd do anything to see you just once."

"Oh, Matt," you breathe, and a tear slips free. He brushes it away as he closes the gap between you, pressing a featherlight kiss to your lips. And then he's pulling away, but your hand comes up to gently tug him back by his tie. His hands find their place on your hips as you pull him into another kiss, this one a bit deeper. One of his hands comes up to rest at the nape of your neck, and his glasses bump against your nose as he angles his head. The two of you break apart in a laugh, and his hand comes down to take hold of yours.

"I wasn't planning on kissing you tonight, just so you know."

"Oh, no?"

He shakes his head, a small grin on his face. "Nope."

"Well, I guess you can just try not to kiss me tomorrow night," you say with a small smirk.

"Oh, I don't think so," he says, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he leans in to press one last kiss to your lips.

"Until tomorrow," he says once he pulls away.

"Goodnight, Matt," you say as you take a step towards the stairs to your building.

"Goodnight" he says, finally releasing your hand.

He waits until he hears you get safely inside your apartment to start his walk to his own, a smile on his face the entire way home.

You're practically giddy as you ready yourself for bed. There's a good chance you won't be getting much sleep tonight, not with the anticipation of tomorrow night lingering.

Matt feels it too. Despite the late hour, he's wide awake, his heart thumping wildly as he recounts the past hour or so. As he lies in bed, he can't help but miss the way you felt in his arms, like the piece he didn't realize he was missing. Some would say it's too soon to tell, but to him, you already felt like home.

Masterlist // Buy me a coffee!

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[rowinablx]

Sentry has one of the most twisted and convoluted origin stories in Marvel Comics, and it’s a big part of what makes him such a compelling character. His backstory is a mess of trauma, addiction, and cosmic power, all wrapped up in a fractured psyche that’s as dangerous as it is tragic. Here’s the breakdown:

Sentry’s origin starts with Robert as a junkie, a lowlife meth addict desperate for a fix. He breaks into a lab where he stumbles upon a secret super-soldier serum—a leftover from the Weapon X program, juiced up with some experimental cosmic sauce. He drinks it, and boom, he’s suddenly got “the power of a million exploding suns.” That’s not hyperbole; it’s how his power level is described. Instantly, he’s one of the most powerful beings in the Marvel Universe, on par with or exceeding heavyweights like Thor or Hulk. But here’s the kicker: the serum didn’t just give him power—it split his mind and birthed the Void, a dark, apocalyptic alter ego that’s basically his ID unleashed. The Void isn’t just a villain; it’s a part of him, a reflection of his guilt, self-loathing, and repressed rage.

What makes this so fucked up is the psychological toll. Robert’s not a hero by nature—he’s a broken man who accidentally becomes a god. He tries to do good as Sentry, but his mental instability and the Void’s constant presence mean he’s a walking disaster. Early on, he’s retconned into Marvel history as this Golden Age-style hero who’s been around forever, but his mind’s so shattered he can’t even trust his own memories. Turns out, he begged the world—including his best friend Reed Richards and Doctor Strange—to erase him from existence because he couldn’t control the Void. They mind-wipe everyone, including him, to forget he ever existed. That’s some dark shit: a guy so powerful he’s a threat to reality, yet so fragile he’d rather be unmade than live with himself.

Then there’s the reveal that the Void killed his wife, Lindy, in a fit of rage—or maybe he did it as Sentry and blamed the Void. It’s ambiguous, and that’s the point. His whole deal is unreliable narration. He’s schizophrenic, delusional, and his perception of reality is a mess. Every heroic act he does is shadowed by the fear that he’ll snap and end the world. In Siege, he loses it completely, and the Avengers have to take him down—Thor yeets his corpse into the sun. Even then, he comes back, because death doesn’t stick for a guy like him.

Why does this matter for Thunderbolts? The upcoming MCU movie is bringing Sentry in, played by Lewis Pullman, and it’s heavily implied if not outright shown he’ll be the major antagonist. If they water down his origin—make him just another strong guy with a generic villain arc—they’ll miss what makes him tick. Sentry’s not a straightforward hero or villain; he’s a cautionary tale about power without stability. The Thunderbolts are a team of antiheroes and misfits, and Sentry fits that vibe perfectly—a wildcard who could save them or doom them. His addiction, his mental illness, the Void—it’s all crucial to showing why he’s not just a Superman knockoff but a deeply human fuck-up with godlike power. Strip that away, and you’re left with a bland cape guy. Keep it, and you’ve got a story that could rival the best MCU character arcs, like Tony Stark’s or Loki’s. Messing it up would be a disservice to one of Marvel’s most unhinged and tragic creations.

*just found out that Sentry's creator has been involved from the beginning with Sentry's character in Thunderbolts and is basically contracted to write a Sentry project!!!

[hivemuthur]

In Thy Name - Ch.1. - Dark Entries

viktorxfemale!reader nothing filthy yet but will be :v, gothic AU

Reader is a highly renown linguist hired by Viktor, a paranormal investigator, for a case he cannot crack himself.

MASTERLIST next chapter ->

word count: 5,7K

author's note: Story time, it's boring, you can skip it. So: one day my cat dies. I start to write. Then, another day a person asks, can you write a Bridgerton AU? And I'm like yeh, sure, why not. It swells in my hands until I can't control it. From it blooms a crushing amount of beautiful artworks from you guys. Then, a person says, I like Victorian Era the most. The rest is history. I'm convinced that's how covid has started. If I ever end up doing a McDonald's AU hire a hitman and kill me painfully, make me fucking suffer. So, here you go, a gothic AU :') Playlist here! @rennethen and @mithrava thank you for beta-reading! And art, of course, by @cringemaster3!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Surrounded by the scent of dust and the faint aroma of melting wax, you lurk in the academy’s library. What was once a sanctuary of solace now fails to provide the comfort you so desperately seek. In your hands, an envelope rests—its paper crisp and unmoved, despite the wear of its long journey. The wax seal bears the mark of a sharp V, devoid of ornamentation, one corner slightly crumpled, though you are certain you are the only one to notice.

Hidden among the towering rows of books, you grasp a letter knife, its blade gleaming faintly in the light of the candelabras. You regard it as though it were a life you were about to claim— as if it were not merely paper that would yield to your blade, but something far darker, its insides spilling only words, no organs to be bled.

Wincing, expecting red to spill from its violently torn mouth, nevertheless, you open the letter, still unbelieving that the V might mean what your mind has conjured. The paper inside is equally crisp, as though it had arrived directly from the pocket it was kept in, folded neatly, and its bloody insides glare at you in sharp, elegant strokes of a fountain pen.

13th of October 1851

Greetings,

I trust this letter finds you in good health, though it is with some urgency that I extend my proposal to you. I have been made aware of your commendable accomplishments in the field of linguistics, and I am of the belief that your expertise would prove invaluable for a certain task that I currently undertake.

Should you be amenable, I wish to offer you a temporary contract under the following terms:

A fair monetary payment, the sum of which can be discussed upon your acceptance.

Provision of food and shelter for the duration of your engagement.

The understanding that your services will be required until the task at hand is resolved.

This offer shall remain valid for a period of ten days from the receipt of this letter. After this period, the proposition will no longer stand, and I shall seek other avenues to fulfil the task.

Should you accept, I expect you at your earliest convenience.

Yours sincerely,

Viktor Velesny

You read the letter thrice, your hands trembling ever so slightly as you unfurl its edges, the sharp, crisp folds of parchment yielding to your touch. The words blur, then sharpen in your vision, each stroke of ink etching itself deeper into your mind with every passing glance. The third reading is out loud, your voice sounding foreign to you, hoarse and thick from hours of silence in the library. You had feared opening it for seven days, dread mingling with an eagerness you could not wholly suppress. The envelope, now empty of its contents, still weighed heavily in your palm. With only three days left, you knew tonight was the last opportunity to make a decision. You could either close the book on it entirely or surrender yourself to whatever unknown awaited you at his mansion.

For days you had worked relentlessly, pushing your research on ancient Greek texts to its absolute limits, your fingers aching from the effort. But it had not been clairvoyance that drove you to finish; no, it was the whispers that travelled faster than any letter. Gossip—blistering, scalding gossip—had swept through the academic halls like wildfire, and the tale of Viktor Velesny seeking external aid, however vague and fleeting, had reached your ears before he’d even put ink to parchment. The notion of this strange request—coming from a man whose reputation already stirred both dread and intrigue—had made its way to you before you even realised it.

You pointed a figurative finger to three other colleagues, even though you knew, deep down, that this particular invitation would ultimately find its way to you. It had to. As it arrived, your heart quickened in a strange mixture of fear and excitement, your colleagues' inquisitive eyes watching, perhaps with the faintest trace of envy or disbelief. Some were astonished at your consideration, others appalled you hadn't immediately leapt at the opportunity. That look—the one that lingered long after they caught wind of this peculiar summons—reminded you of the well-known truth: people were intrigued by the unknown, yet they feared it just the same.

And Viktor Velesny? The subject of this gossip? His reputation preceded him like a ghost, each whisper darker than the last.

Some spoke of him as a conman, a trickster who built his name on the broken backs of others’ credulity. He was said to be a charlatan, one who sold illusions of grandeur, pretending at knowledge he did not possess, preying on those desperate enough to trust his word. He was known to swindle patrons with false promises, only to disappear as swiftly as he’d arrived, leaving behind a trail of victims too ashamed to speak of their losses. His name was tied to failed endeavours, to reputations destroyed, to whispered accusations of dishonesty that always seemed to vanish into thin air, just as quickly as they were spoken.

Others, however, viewed him as a mad scientist, a delusional visionary whose fevered mind spun tales of grandiose ambition. The more extreme among his critics claimed he was a man who flirted with the very edge of reason, throwing his humanity aside for the sake of uncovering the forbidden knowledge that could undo the natural laws themselves. His obsession with the occult, with science, with all things esoteric and unnatural, bordered on madness. They spoke of experiments gone awry, of strange and twisted works that few dared to witness. Was he truly a genius, or was he simply a madman too lost in his own pursuit of the unknown?

And then there were the darker rumours—the faintest voices murmuring of a man of no honour, a man who would descend into the deepest circles of hell to fulfil his sickening ambitions. Dangerous. Delusional. A man who had supposedly sold his very soul to the devil in exchange for powers beyond mortal comprehension. Few dared to speak these words aloud, for to do so was to risk their reputation—or worse, their very sanity. Those who whispered of his brilliance did so in hushed tones, almost afraid that the mere utterance of his name would invite calamity. Some believed he was more than human, that he had crossed a threshold no one should ever cross, and that to aid him was to invite a curse upon oneself.

Your cheek is relentlessly chewed, your lips reddened from being constantly pressed together as you try to read this mysterious man’s intentions, deciphering them only from the curvature of the letters he’s bled in ink. From what you can comprehend, this is a linguistic investigation into something he cannot complete on his own. The unknown time frames for the endeavour unnerve you especially, but what excites you—this feeling crowns over all others—is the challenge.

An opportunity like that comes perhaps once in a lifetime, and the thought of spending another couple of decades—if you were so lucky—waiting for another after letting this one slip from your grasp fills you with no hope.

With trembling fingers, you dip the pen into the ink jar and scribble only a few words, the quiver in your hand preventing you from writing more.

20th of October 1851

Dear Mr. Velesny,

I accept.

Yours sincerely,

Jane Hathorne

Your name is signed with a flourish countering Viktor’s reserve with letters. Then, you blow out the candles and call for a messenger.

***

You spend the following day wrapping up last-minute errands and packing your trunk. The woman in you mourns all the garments you cannot fit, while the researcher side scolds her, insisting on taking as many books and papers as possible. They eventually reach a compromise by introducing another trunk to your previously planned, limited inventory.

It is only when you are about to step into the carriage that one of your colleagues comes running into the rain after you. The sound of your name echoes across the academy courtyard, and a few heads twist on their necks as eyes snap and ears perk up, eager to drink in the latest gossip.

“Have I forgotten something?” you ask, startled.

“No, I—” John, one of the few souls kind enough not to talk behind your back, stumbles out of the building’s mouth, chasing after you as if his life depends on it. “Are you certain you wish to go?”

“Oh. Yes, quite certain.”

“What if—” He hesitates, eyes darting with concern.

“What if? Do you fear for my health?”

“I’ve heard terrible things about him, you know,” he says, voice low but urgent.

“You and me both,” you reply with a sardonic smile. “And great things. And absolutely ridiculous things. So, if half of everything is true, he adds up to an utterly mediocre man.”

John looks unsure, wringing his hands as the rain soaks his coat. “Will you write?”

“Weekly. I will,” you promise, forcing a more reassuring smile. “You needn’t worry.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but finally nods, his concern still written across his face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

With a final nod, you step into the carriage, leaving behind the academy—and John’s worried gaze—just as the rain begins to fall heavier. In its warm cloister, you drown in what you do best—research.

The texts before you vary in nature, some profoundly enlightening, others more dubious in their claims. There are scientific treatises, dense and methodical, dissecting the latest advancements in physiology and human anatomy—works penned by Viktor himself, sharp and logical, written with a mind that had clearly observed and analysed the minutiae of life with a surgeon's precision. You find his approach to medicine both bold and exhilarating, especially in his attempts to bridge the gap between the known and the unknown.

Interspersed with these are his more obscure writings, some of which veer into the realms of the occult. One text, On the Nature of the Soul and Its Astral Travels, delves into theories of spiritual manifestations and possession—strange, perhaps, but compelling in its rational structure. Another, The Resurrection of the Dead: The Theory of Reanimation, blends pseudoscience with arcane knowledge, positing that the key to immortality lies in unlocking the hidden potentials of the human body, a claim that strains credulity, yet has an undeniable allure.

Alongside these, you pore over an assortment of occult texts that were allegedly penned under Viktor’s tutelage or at least influenced by his growing fascination with the supernatural. The Aether and Its Influence on the Material World, written in florid prose, is far less scientific than his medical texts, but nonetheless an intoxicating read. You find yourself drawn to the rhythm of the language, and even as you question the plausibility of the claims within, you cannot help but be captivated by the intensity of the author's convictions.

And then there are the darker ones—tales of demonology, possession, and the dead who walk amongst us. The Unseen World: The Threshold Between Life and Death is a chilling account of the various occult practices that Viktor had reportedly studied, exploring ghostly apparitions and the interaction between the living and the dead. Some of it makes sense, neatly fitting into the framework of what you know of the natural world. But others… well, they stretch the boundaries of reason so far that they threaten to snap.

What connects them all, however, is their sheer passion. The fervour with which they are written grips you, pulling you deeper into the labyrinth of Viktor's thoughts and obsessions. Whether grounded in science or swirling in the more dubious realms of the supernatural, each text is a window into a mind that pursues knowledge with an almost feverish determination, unafraid to venture into realms others might consider madness. You find yourself lost in them, turning page after page, unable to pull away from the intense, consuming brilliance that flows through every sentence.

Impressed, is what you are at first. As a linguist, of course, most of all, you admire his ability with words, drawing his reader right into the realms of his mind. Intimidated, comes second, as Viktor begins to grow in your thoughts into a man who will indeed stop at nothing to satiate his passion and curiosity.

One of the treaties bears a picture—it is a portrait of Viktor, you presume. His expression is intense, almost ferocious in its focus, the kind of look that suggests he is not just observing the world, but dissecting it with a hunger that goes beyond simple understanding. His eyes are bright, sharp, as if they could see straight through to the very marrow of things, and they stare out of the page with an unsettling intensity. His features are aristocratic—high cheekbones, a square jaw, and sharply defined nose with a slight curve to it. His dark hair is neatly combed back, but there is a wildness to the way it catches the light, as if it rebels against being tamed, much like its owner. Two dark spots mark his face, decorating his undereye, and oh—his lips. Those you don’t dare to look at for too long.

The portrait captures him in an almost unnatural stillness, the kind of quiet that precedes a storm. His posture is upright, rigid, a man of discipline. Yet, his hands—gloved, resting on a cane—seem poised on the verge of motion. The background is dimly lit, offering no distractions, leaving Viktor’s imposing figure to dominate the frame. The entire picture is bathed in shadow, except for a faint light that seems to follow the contour of his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the gleam in his eyes.

It's a haunting image. An impression of a man driven by something darker, deeper—an insatiable desire for knowledge, perhaps, or something far more dangerous. There is an undeniable allure in the way he is depicted, a magnetic pull that you cannot put a finger on.

You trace a gloved touch through the paper, trying to read more into it. Your heart flutters when the carriage jolts over a cat’s head, and the parchment falls from your hand. With your mind full of ideas and presumptions, you decide to lean against the window and spend the rest of your journey memorizing the images flashing past.

And those, too, grow progressively more unfamiliar. The landscape outside the window unfolds like a painting, drenched in the muted light of the fading afternoon. The sky, heavy with brooding clouds, casts a pallor over the earth, as though the very air trembles in anticipation of something inevitable. The fields roll in endless waves of withered grass, their once-vibrant green now a weary brown, hanging on to life with a final breath before the frost comes to claim them. The hills, distant and indifferent, stretch out like weary bones, sloping gently, only to fall into a vast, oppressive nothingness—a barren, lifeless expanse that stretches endlessly before you. The land seems to sag under its own weight, as if the very earth itself has given up hope, awaiting the final kiss of winter's cold embrace.

The gloom thickens, devouring what little warmth remains in the air, until the world outside becomes a blank canvas—void, desolate, and endless. In the midst of this eerie silence, a dark shape slowly begins to emerge on the horizon, its form rising like a spectre from the desolation. A shadow, strong and commanding, breaks the monotony of the emptiness—the shape of Viktor’s home. Its silhouette looms against the darkening sky, an imposing presence rising out of the desolation, a dark monument to something unknown. Its walls, heavy with the weight of secrets, stand like a watchful sentry, ready to consume you whole.

It stands alone—a place that seems to absorb the very light around it, as if it exists in a perpetual twilight. The closer it draws, the more foreboding it becomes, pulling you into its vast, dark heart. And as the carriage moves ever closer, you wonder if the land itself, stretching out in weary despair, is simply a reflection of what lies within.

Your chin slides off your hand as the carriage approaches the main gates. A tall, stiff butler steps out, holding a black umbrella, ready to escort you the ten steps that part you from your future. He keeps his gaze lowered as he walks toward the vehicle, opens the door for you, and—before greeting you—swings the umbrella open.

“My lady,” he says, bowing his head. “Allow me to escort you. Master Velesny awaits you.”

“Oh, I take it the messenger got here safely?” you ask, taking his hand as you step out of the carriage onto the muddy ground.

“Yes, and he arrived with haste, for which Master Velesny is grateful,” the butler replies with practiced politeness and signals to two young footmen to take care of your bags. “I see you come prepared, my lady. Allow the boys to handle your luggage.”

“Ah, yes, forgive me—I couldn’t decide which books would be useful,” you say, neglecting to mention that one trunk is, in fact, full of velvets, not books. “May I ask your name?” you say, craning your neck, trying to take the house in.

Beyond the rim, the mansion looms—a stark silhouette against the slate-grey sky. Its façade, once grand, is softened by time; ivy clings to the stone, withered by autumn’s touch, its skeletal tendrils retreating from the ornate window frames. The first floor boasts tall, pointed arch windows, their leaded glass darkened by the overcast day. Above, a row of smaller lancet windows punctuates the steeply pitched roofline, lending the structure a solemn air. At its highest point, a narrow tower rises—a third level in miniature—its presence lending the house an air of quiet vigilance rather than menace. A pair of weathered statues flank the entrance, their faces softened by rain and years, watching as you step forward.

“Certainly, my lady. My name is Algernon Griffiths, and I have been in Master Velesny’s service for many years.” Butler’s voice makes your head snap back. He talks with pride as the rain drums against the stretched black membrane, and ensures you remain completely shielded from the drops, though his own shoulder is undoubtedly gathering dampness. “I am at your service whenever you may need me as well.”

“Thank you, Algernon, that’s—” You pause as you both step through the main door.

The hall is… intimidating and impressive at once. Something vaguely unsettling nestles in your throat at the strange shadows cast by the flickering candelabras, and you notice that not all of them are lit. Some remain empty of candles, while others hold fresh, unused wax, presumably reserved for the evening hours. Yet even in the husky daylight of this gloomy day, the space remains dark.

The ceiling stretches high above your head, where a wrought-iron chandelier hangs, its spiked ornamentation promising a clean kill to anyone unfortunate enough to be standing beneath it should it fall from its hook.

A curved double staircase straddles the far end of the hall, its dark wooden steps worn down at the edges near the winding handrail. The floor beneath your feet is polished to such a gloss that every sound bounces off it. And indeed, it is not the beauty of this space that has made you gasp, but the suffocating silence that presses against your ribs like a held breath.

“Master awaits you in the study, my lady,” Algernon urges gently, noticing your hesitation. “I assure you that you will be given a proper tour of the house and introduced to all the staff, but I’m afraid Mr. Velesny has insisted on escorting you upstairs as soon as you arrive.”

“Oh, certainly. Forgive me, it’s all very—” You gulp down the stale air and force a smile. “Enchanting.”

He nods, unimpressed, passes the umbrella to a footman, and extends his hand, motioning you up the staircase.

Your footsteps echo as you ascend, the creak of the worn wooden steps swallowed by the hush of the house. The balustrade curves beneath your gloved fingertips, polished but old, its edges softened by time and touch. The hall above yawns before you, lined with closed doors and dim sconces casting long, flickering shadows against the wallpaper—dark green, its pattern faded, some places curling at the seams.

The air is scented with books, wax and smoke, as if the house itself has been holding its breath for years. Your skirt brushes against the wooden floor, and the fabric's whisper is the only sound apart from the occasional groan of the planks beneath your feet.

At last, you reach a heavy wooden door, already ajar. Inside, dim afternoon light filters through the tall window, throwing pale, skeletal patterns across the floor. The scent of parchment and ink lingers here, richer, untainted by the cold draft of the corridor.

Algernon knocks anyway, his knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. “Master Velesny,” he announces, “your guest has arrived.”

Viktor stands by the window, his back to the door, gazing out into the grey afternoon. He does not turn fully, only angles his head, revealing his profile—sharp, as you’ve expected.

“Thank you, Algernon. That will be all for now.”

It is the sound that catches you off guard—something neither his writings nor the picture you studied in the carriage could have prepared you for. Heavy, thick, a slow roll of his tongue as it wraps around the vowels, his accent settling into the room tangibly. It complements his visage perfectly, and suddenly, you are grateful for the house’s silence, allowing his voice to echo undisturbed.

With a polite nod, Algernon steps back, retreating down the hall. The door closes with a soft click, sealing you inside the study.

As soon as it does, his shoulders slacken, and he turns to face you. His hands, bare, rest atop the handle of a cane. His stance is uneven, weight shifted onto one leg, his hips set at an angle beneath a pair of tightly fitted high-waisted trousers. A ruby velvet vest, its surface pressed with winding patterns, hugs his chest, and beneath it, a crisp white shirt peeks through. No cravat, you note—his high collar instead nudges against the sharp line of his jaw.

His throat peaks from thick material—a long, pale column, crowned by a chin that hangs low from his cheeks. His face is all sharp planes and hollowed angles, the skin stretched over pronounced bones beneath deep, sunken eyes. His brows, thick and furrowed, lend him an air of permanent concentration as he studies you—or, at least, you presume that he does.

And his eyes—oh. No picture, dulled in shades of grey, could have prepared you for them. Two rings of amber glide over your body, sharp and bright, like mead set aflame. Embarrassed, you drop your gaze, and it lands on his leg, hugged tightly by a contraption of metal and leather.

You shift, rid yourself of your cape, and wrap it around your forearms, suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of his gaze. If there are thoughts stirring behind those eyes, he does not betray them. His expression remains unreadable, sculpted into something close to stone.

"You took your time to reply," he says finally, blinking as slowly as an owl would. His voice curls around each syllable, daring.

"I... I had to run some errands before accepting," you reply, forcing yourself to maintain his gaze. Then, steadying your breath, you add, "I have met the deadline, have I not?"

"You have, for which I am grateful," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower. He takes a few measured steps toward you, graceful, you notice. Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for your hand, fingers cool as they close around yours. He lifts it to his lips, the warmth of his breath pressing through the fabric of your glove.

"It is a pleasure to meet you in the flesh, my lady," he mutters against your knuckles, eyes still locked onto yours when lips come to press against the thin leather.

"Have we met in the spirit, then, without my knowledge?" you ask, your voice lighter than you intend, a thread of uncertainty winding through it.

His lips curl into the shadow of a smirk. "Ah, if you wish to go that far," he muses, rising and tilting his head, yet not letting go of your palm. "I am familiar with your work. And if I allow myself some presumptions"—his thumb brushes briefly along the side of your hand—"such as this: if you are as meticulous in your spirit as you are in your craft, then I would expect you have done your share of research on me." His eyes glint. "Therefore, our spirits have met. Metaphorically, of course."

"Bold of you to presume this much, Mr. Velesny," you counter, though there is no denying the way his words have wound their way beneath your skin. Presumptuous and cunning, this man has your curiosity piqued.

"Have you expected me to be anything but?" His lips quirk at one corner, the ghost of amusement there before it fades into something gentler. "And please—call me Viktor."

You speak your name in response, and the moment it leaves your lips, his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours. A slow squeeze. He smiles then, small but certain, as if tasting victory in the syllables.

Then, your hand is free, and Viktor turns toward the desk. Only now do you take in the room as it is—a cavernous space, dim, just as the rest of the house. Heavy drapes of deep burgundy frame mullioned windows, drawn back just enough to let in a reluctant sliver of day.

To your left, a fireplace yawns, unlit, its carved mantel adorned with a single brass candelabrum and a clock that ticks with an unsettling steadiness. The dark wood panelling along the walls bears the weight of countless bookshelves, their spines pressed tightly together, some worn to near illegibility, others pristine, their gilt titles catching what little light the room allows.

Viktor’s desk, positioned near the window, is a grand but cluttered thing—an ocean of scattered papers, maps, and instruments of his trade, the chaos strangely at odds with the meticulousness of the man himself. An oil lamp with a green glass shade casts a dull glow over the mess, illuminating the glint of a letter opener resting atop a half-folded letter.

A chair sits across from his own, clearly set for you. “Take a seat, please. This won’t take long,” Viktor says, gesturing with a tilt of his head. “You must be weary from your travels. I will leave the debrief for tomorrow, but I would like you to take a look at what we are dealing with.”

The we rings pleasantly in your ears—infuriatingly so—as you gather your skirts and lower yourself onto the chair. The leather creaks softly beneath you. Viktor does not sit. Instead, he leans over you, one hand braced on the cane, the other pointing a long, precise finger at the papers sprawled before you. His proximity is unexpected, his scent even more so—fresh, unadorned, untouched by perfume or powder. Like moss in an undisturbed forest. Freshwater drawn from a deep spring. Skin sunbathed and warm.

An insistent tap of his finger against the desk pulls you from your daze. You blink and focus on the papers. Letters—familiar yet unplaceable—are scrawled across countless sheets, some rough and uncertain, others more refined, as if Viktor had been attempting to capture them with increasing accuracy.

“This… looks like some proto-Slavic dialect,” you say slowly, tracing the edge of a page with your fingertip. Your brow furrows. “Forgive my bluntness, but have I wrongly assumed your accent to be Slavic?”

“Not at all. I am,” Viktor confirms, his voice smooth and clipped. His gaze flicks to the documents. “But this is no known language to me. I am at my wit’s end. Otherwise, I would not be calling for aid, as you may know.”

You nod, intrigued. “I have brought some books with me. We could compare sources tomorrow?”

“That would be perfect,” he says dryly, as if he’s expected you to do exactly that.

“How did you come across this?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“I was called upon for a job. Usual business. Seemed like a mediocre haunting at first.”

“Mediocre?” You tilt your head. “Are you truly this well-versed in ghosts, Viktor?”

His lips twitch, but it is not quite a smile. “Ah. By mediocre, I mean possibly a con,” he corrects. He shifts, standing upright again, his hands folding over the handle of his cane. “A family member trying to scare their relatives. A neighbour hoping to chase people away from valuable land. Hauntings of that sort are what I usually come across.”

“Usually, but not always?” you ask, studying him.

“Not always,” he replies offering nothing more.

“So… are you a myth buster, then?” you tease, watching him closely.

“No,” he says without hesitation, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “I am a truth seeker.”

His gaze is sharp—challenging—but something beneath it feels measured, a shield. You sense a restraint in him, a man who has learned to temper his own excitement, to speak in careful tones that reveal nothing. And you wonder—when was the last time he had the opportunity to speak with someone as an equal?

“But I suppose you have heard many names granted to me,” he continues, tone even. “A con man. A devil worshiper. A mad scientist.”

“I’ve also heard of your brilliance,” you offer quietly

“Ah,” his lips curve, knowing. You hope he doesn’t read it as a pity. “And which one do you think to be true?”

“I do not know yet.” You hold his gaze. “I suppose I will have to find out for myself?”

“That you will, hopefully.” He exhales, straightening, the flicker of an expression unknown to you vanishing as he retreats behind composure once more. “I shall keep you no longer. Algernon will give you a short tour and escort you to your rooms. Your luggage should already be there.”

It’s a gentle but firm dismissal, and soon after, Algernon returns, inclining his head and ushering you politely through the study door.

As he guides you down the dimly lit corridor, his steps are even, his voice smooth and practiced. “I shall show you the most necessary rooms first. There will be time for a proper exploration tomorrow, but for tonight, I believe you will wish to settle in, my lady.”

The first door he gestures toward reveals a vast library, lined floor to ceiling with shelves of aged leather-bound tomes. A single chandelier sways faintly above, its candlelight flickering against dark wood and gold filigree. A sturdy desk sits by the window, and near the hearth, two deep armchairs face one another, waiting for occupants who never came. The scent of dust fills the air.

Next is the music room. Though smaller than the library, it holds an air of quiet grandeur. A grand piano dominates the centre, its polished surface reflecting the dim light. A violin and cello rest nearby, their strings long untouched, and in the corner, a harp stands draped with a fine sheet, as if to protect it from time itself.

“The guest quarters are also on this floor,” Algernon notes, leading you past a series of doors. “Though I do not expect they will be occupied anytime soon.” He moves along without pausing.

Descending the staircase, the house’s shadows stretch in strange ways, the flickering sconces offering little comfort against the vastness of the halls. The dining room is stately yet stark—long enough to seat far more than its apparent master keeps for company. The drawing room, in contrast, is lived-in, with a decanter of dark amber liquid resting on a side table, books left slightly out of place on a chaise, and a few logs stacked beside the fireplace.

At last, Algernon stops by a set of wide glass doors leading into the winter garden. The panes are fogged, obscuring what lies beyond, but the skeletal shapes of vines press against the glass. “You may visit the garden tomorrow during daylight,” he says, his voice lowering slightly. “But not tonight. The day has been especially dark.”

His words are peculiar, but you say nothing.

When you come back one storey, Algernon points to another set of stairs, far less impressive than the main staircase. “The master’s chambers are upstairs,” he states simply, and you wonder why on earth Viktor would choose to climb two stories daily when he clearly uses the cane not only as an accessory.

As you continue, one door remains conspicuously closed, and Algernon makes no mention of it, his stride never faltering.

Instead, he turns to you. “The household staff is minimal but sufficient. A maid will attend to you in the mornings and evenings, should you require assistance.”

At last, he stops before your own quarters and steps aside, allowing you to enter first.

Your bedroom is unexpectedly inviting, with a large canopy bed draped in heavy fabric, its dark wood carved with intricate detailing. A fireplace rests along one wall, unlit, but stacked with fresh logs. A writing desk sits beneath a wide window, its curtains drawn, and across from it, a modest yet elegant wardrobe stands ready for use. A faint scent of lavender lingers in the air—perhaps a lingering touch from the maid who prepared it for you.

Algernon lingers just outside. “Dinner is served at six. If you require anything further, do not hesitate to ring.” A pause, then with a slight bow, he departs, closing the door behind him with a quiet finality.

And for the first time since your arrival, you are alone.

Wasting no time, you sit on the bed and kick your shoes off. You sigh deeply and heavily, stacking the events of today in your head. Viktor is... nothing and everything you expected. Driven, yes. Eager, even more than you anticipated. And still, he manages to remain reserved, as if torn between reaching out and closing in on himself. A sadness of some kind lingers around him, but you try to withhold your pity. Is he the demon they paint him to be, or the genius you wish him to be? You do not know, but you itch to find out.

[drop-dead-dropout]

@plague-agent I DID IT I DID THE THING!!! sorry it took so long I literally ended up rewriting the while thing and adding a semi-hopeful ending and it turned into a 2.2k words oneshot 😭😭😭 thanks for the motivation lol!!

ANYWAYS OVERLY ANGSTY KIMHARRY ONESHOT UNDER THE CUT SFHJFJNSYXGJVHB

"Really? Of all the things you could've put in there?"

You look up from your chocolate ice cream, into which you're unceremoniously dumping an entire bag of potato chips. "But I don't remember what I used to like with my ice cream! This could've been my favorite, for all I know!"

Kim wrinkles his nose in obvious disgust. "I seriously doubt that, detective," he mumbles, before raising a spoonful of tiramisu to his lips. He hums pleasantly at the taste. "I'm glad we came back here. This tiramisu has certainly redeemed that awful blueberry pie from last time."

"Hey, it's not the baker's fault he didn't account for your ridiculous sweet tooth! Honestly, Kim, shame on you, blaming an honest working-class business owner..." You shake your head sternly, as if telling off a misbehaved child.

DRAMA — You're a terrible actor, but it serves you well here. Kim finds it endearing.

COMPOSURE — Though his ears flush at the mention of his "sweet tooth". He coughs awkwardly, going back to his tiramisu, a bit too embarrassed to continue the conversation.

As you often do when silence lulls between the two of you for any stretch of time, you find yourself saying, "Hey. Hey, Kim. Tell me a secret, Kim."

He chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'd think you knew enough about me by now."

"Never! As long as there are still things left to know, I'm going to keep asking."

EMPATHY — He gives you an odd look when you say that. I shouldn't be surprised by his curiosity anymore, he thinks, or his sincerity, for that matter. But sometimes...

He clears his throat. "Yes, well. Sometimes, it's good to not know everything."

You gasp playfully. "Fuck you, that's, like, the most mysterious thing you could've said! Now I want to know even more!"

"That's too bad," Kim says, sipping demurely at a cup of hot chocolate. "Since I won't be telling you."

With a frustrated groan, you take a bite of your ice cream. "Oh, hey! It's actually not bad!" As you tear into your dessert, Kim merely rolls his eyes with an unmistakable fondness.

SUGGESTION — Psst, Harry, over here. You're always asking Kim for secrets, but you don't really seem to get anywhere. Why not just ask us?

I can do that?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Success] — Oh yes, Harry-boy. Give me a turn, I could tell you all about speedfreak Kitsuragi over here. Did you know he pierced his—

VOLITION [Success] — No no, nothing like that. Please, not when he's right there. I don't trust our ability to keep our face neutral. No offense, Composure.

COMPOSURE — None taken. Trust me, I know better than anyone, it's a shitshow in here.

LOGIC — You could ask another one of us, though. I'm sure there's some sort of reasonable compromise here, it doesn't have to be inappropriate sexual fantasies or nothing.

You take another bite of ice cream, trying your best not to look like a deranged lunatic staring off into space. Kim doesn't look too concerned, though— he's used to this, and he appreciates the moments of quiet, too. So what sort of things could you guys tell me? Which one of you should I pick?

SHIVERS [Success] — I could tell you about his life. I witnessed his childhood firsthand: summers and birthdays, mostly spent poor and alone. If you wanted, I could tell you things even he doesn't know— about the parents he never met, two young communard revolutionaries in love. I could tell you how they were killed, and who killed them, too.

SAVOIR FAIRE — Okay, that sounds like a huge bummer. Do me a favor and don't pick that one.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Success] — I could tell you about how he organizes his thoughts, lists and compartments and pages upon pages of notes, both in his notebook and, when it's not available, in his head. I've spent a lot of time pondering what it's like in there, and I think I've got an accurate guess.

INTERFACING — I like this one. It's not quite as interesting as ms. war-and-bloodshed's idea, but it's still good. Besides, learning how Kim approaches problem-solving might actually make us a better detective.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — I could tell you how he feels about you. As a partner, of course, anything more than that is beyond my area of expertise.

EMPATHY [Failure] — I could tell you more. But... No, I'm sorry, I don't think I will. I can't be the one to show you the inner workings of his heart, I just can't, not when I know exactly how badly he wants to remain unseen. It would hurt too much.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — That's too bad. But hey, my offer's still on the table—

VOLITION [Success] — Behave.

1. — Turn to Kim. "The voices are currently offering to explain all your secrets to me, by the way. So there." (Do not say this???)

2. — [Shivers — Legendary] Tell me about Kim's life.

-1 Way too depressing to think about on some random Sunday

3. — [Visual Calculus — Legendary] Tell me about the way Kim thinks.

-> 4. — [Esprit De Corps — Legendary] Tell me about how Kim feels about me. As a partner.

+1 Professional rapport

+1 More than professional (you guys are pretty good friends by now, right?)

5. — [Empathy — Impossible] No, I want more than that. Tell me more.

-3 It's not happening, Harry. I won't do it.

6. — [Electrochemistry — Heroic] No, no, tell me more about this "speedfreak Kitsuragi" stuff.

-1 Volition is disappointed in you

+1 You really do want to know, though

7. — Actually, maybe I shouldn't do this. (Leave)

HALF-LIGHT [Success] — WAIT! Don't pick that one, please. It's dangerous. It's going to hurt.

REACTION SPEED — What? That one seems like one of the less dangerous options, actually. What are you freaking out for?

ENDURANCE — Ugh, don't listen to that thing. It's just a mangy little dog that jumps at its own shadow.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — The shadow is dark and cold, and it wraps itself around the one you love, its fingers coated in yellowish-white grains of sand, but it will turn him blue. You cannot save him.

RHETORIC — ... What are you even talking about? There's no sand here. We're in Central Jamrock, not Iilmara.

1. — This is getting weird. (Pick a different one.)

-> 2. — No, I'll stick with my first choice.

[CHECK SUCCESS]

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Oh, no... Harry, I'm so sorry. This was supposed to be the safe option. Just a quick peek into his psyche to see what he thinks of working with you. If I'd known it would be something like this, I never would've...

What, does he hate me or something?

EMPATHY [Success] — Don't say that. Please don't say that... You have no idea how much pain I'm in. You have no idea how wrong you are.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — When Pryce first assigned him as your partner, after a few weeks of begging, you heard Lieutenant Kitsuragi mumble something under his breath. You weren't paying attention at the time, too excited to care, but you did hear him, in the back of your mind:

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Success] — "I won't live through the death of another partner," he'd whispered to himself, his small smile tensing at the corners like he'd suddenly had to fake it.

LOGIC [Success] — He wasn't saying he didn't want to be your partner. Clearly he did, because he is.

EMPATHY [Success] — It was worse than that, so much worse... A promise to himself.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — He would only do it if you were gone. Ghosts can't save anyone.

INLAND EMPIRE — You cannot save him.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — I told you it was going to hurt.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is a practical man, more concerned with privacy and efficiency than anything else. He would never drive his beloved Kineema into a ravine, for example— instead, three bottles sit in a lonely box in his bathroom cabinet: cimetidine, metoclopramide, and sodium nitrite.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Success] — The first two are just over-the counter drugs. Their only purpose is to counteract the side effects of the latter.

PAIN THRESHOLD — A small comfort he would allow himself in death.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — None of them have not been opened since their purchase three years ago, but if ever he felt the need, he would not hesitate to do it.

EMPATHY [Success] — No. He would hesitate. Even if just for a minute, the weight of it all would be difficult for him to shake. Kim Kitsuragi is a man with an incredibly strong survival instinct; it's just how he's wired. In that moment, he would feel as though time itself was slowing down as he struggled to move through the thick miasma of dread and fear, like swimming upriver through the Esperance. But it would not be enough to stop him.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [Success] — His extremities would be blue in minutes. He would be dead within hours, at most.

[-1 MORALE]

COMPOSURE [Success] — You wonder, did his hands shake when he purchased these supplies? Did his eyes shine with the thin film of unshed tears when he packed them away in that cabinet? Or was he as calm as ever, save for the slightest difference in the set of his jaw?

VOLITION — Does it even matter? Either way, he is not nearly as sane as you believe him to be.

ESPRIT DE CORPS — Don't feel too bad for not noticing. He prefers it that way.

EMPATHY [Success] — And do you want to know the worst part? He's happy. He really is, Harry. He loves being your partner and he loves being here, with you. This is just what happiness looks like to him. How it's always looked, since...

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Success] — He refuses to let himself be happy without an exit strategy. One foot out the door. A finger on the eject button. Just in case.

[-1 MORALE]

HALF-LIGHT — Whatever fancy thing you want to call it won't change the fact that he's in DANGER. We need to help him!

EMPATHY — No. You were never meant to see this. Any of this.

RHETORIC — And besides, what exactly are you going to say? Accusing a random person of wanting to kill themselves, specifically of wanting to kill themselves in response to you dying— it would make you look like a delusional egomaniac at best.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Lieutenant Kitsuragi is NOT a random person! He's our partner. What even are we if we can't protect our own partner?!

HAND-EYE COORDINATION [Failure] — He asks himself the same question, every single night.

[!] [MORALE CRITICAL] [!]

EMPATHY — Stop it! Please, you're hurting me! I can't take this anymore—

INLAND EMPIRE [Failure] — YOU CANNOT SAVE HIM, HARRIER. YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM YOU CAN'T—

"Detective?" Kim is shaking your shoulder, looking a little worried. "Apologies. I usually don't interrupt you when you're..." Communing with the voices in your head, he doesn't say. "... But you started crying. Here, I have some magnesium— you can take it with your potato chip ice cream abomination." He smiles a little, and you know he's just trying to cheer you up.

SUGGESTION — And because you are a pathetically easy creature, it works on you.

[+1 MORALE]

Grinning back at him even as tears continue to well up in your eyes, you down the magnesium with a spoonful of your ice cream. The chips are soggy by now, and it tastes much worse than before, but the magnesium does its job.

Kim huffs a quiet laugh at the disgruntled look on your face. "That bad, huh? Well, I won't say 'I told you so'."

-> 1. — [Volition — Impossible] Stay calm.

2. — [Pain Threshold — Legendary] Punch yourself in the mouth. You won't be able to say anything if you're missing teeth.

[CHECK FAILURE]

VOLITION [Failure] — I'm sorry. It was never going to happen.

"Kim, y-you wouldn't—" Your fragile smile crumples like wet paper as a sob wrenches itself from your chest.

Immediately, Kim's eyes widen, and his hand tightens on your shoulder. Protective. "Harry," he says, softly, too softly, almost like it's not something you were meant to hear at all. Then: "We should get out of here. I was planning to let you stay at mine anyways. Hopefully my couch won't start calling you names, like last time— I was sure to give it a stern talking-to, you know," he adds, forcing levity into his voice.

EMPATHY [Success] — He cares about you so much. It's going to break you.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Success] — Go with him. You know what you need to do.

"Of course," you croak out, wiping your face with a napkin. "Thank you, Kim."

—

ESPRIT DE CURIOUS [Success] — The next morning, long after his partner has left, Lieutenant Kitsuragi stumbles out of the shower and puts on his glasses. He opens the bathroom cabinet to look for his razor, so he can shave the patchy stubble under his chin— only to blink in surprise when he sees that a familiar box, tucked away in the back, is open and empty.

EMPATHY [Success] — He feels so many things at once that it's almost as if he feels nothing at all.

INLAND EMPIRE [Success] — But it's not nothing, is it? It can't be nothing. If it was nothing, it wouldn't hurt this much. If it was nothing, there wouldn't be any hope.

SHIVERS [Success] — In this moment, no one can see the few stray tears gathering in the corners of his eyes— no one except you.

[cremeful]

you love your friends alot, you really do but sometimes they act a certain way towards you everytime you even imply the fact that you are interested in someone. — possessive. 

especially rafe cameron. you’ve been best friends with him since the second grade and inseparable ever since, so much so that people started calling you two eachothers shadows.

you didn’t trust anyone but rafe, but as you two got older he started getting into “relationships” and overtime his hookups of the week didn’t really like you lingering around him, which ultimately led to him always calling the quits and left you feeling like you needed your own friendship away from him.

so eventually you started getting into the field of dating and your friends did not like that.

“no, i won’t tell you again so stop asking.” rafe being the stubborn born boy that he was, was firm on his answer and didn’t let up. he didn’t have time for your nonsense, not that he would have an entirely different answer if he did have time for it anyways. 

kelce and topper sat on the couch watching all this play out. you were on keens with your chin propped up on rafes leg giving him your best puppy dog eyes hoping he would give into your ridiculous question about helping you get shane faultons number. 

“this is my first time asking!” desperately whining out, you hear topper let out a little laugh, “why do you even need that bastards number anyways princess?” you know exactly where this is going by the tone of topper’s voice, so by default you lie.

“for my friend! she really likes him and i promised i would help her get his number, you know girls code and what not.” you let out a nervous laugh.

the three boys exchanged looks as if they are calculating what one of them will say next and it was kelce to speak “you shouldn’t have volunteered yourself for that, the answer is still no.” as quiet as kelce is, he is just as scary as rafe.

you drop from your knees with a pout from your glossy lips “this isn’t fair, why do you guys even have friends if you aren’t going to give me their numbers.” you know the answer to that question yourself. you grew up with these three boys, you knew the crowd they accustomed themselves with and they be damned if they let a sleazy college kid get their hands on you.

rafe let out a sigh leaning forward reaching for the blunt on the coffee table, lighting then bringing it to his lips to take a hit. “faluton isn’t our fucking friend, so cut the shit.” his voice is firm laced with irritation, your still sitting arount rafe’s feet, back is against the couch with your arms folded with a scowl on your face.

“this is fucking stupid.” you muttered. obviously pissed at the known outcome of your little situation, it was indeed stupid but did the three boys care? no. not one bit, not when it meant keeping you on a tight leash and most importantly safe.

“you are being a fucking brat, i don’t got time for this shit, you knew the answer before you even came up with the idea.“ rafe laughs in disbelief while shaking his head, you ignored him of course and began texting your friend already coming up with another way to get the boys number.

if they aren’t going to help you then you’re going to find another way to get it yourself.

eventually you get shanes number with the help of cleo, which results into you being invited to a frat party. you have no clue why you agreed in the first place, you have never been to one without the company of either rafe. he would literally kill you if he found out where you were.

you ignored the pit in your stomach and the voice in the back of your head telling you it’s a bad idea; of course its a bad idea. you are lying to your best friend and you also went behind his back and got a number he specifically told you no too. so yeah this could potentially blow up in your face but at least outfit is cute! 

you soon arrived to the party, the music vibrating the floor as you walk in being guided by shane. you weren’t quite out of your comfort zone but still the scene was new for you. you were briefly introduced to shane’s friends, most of them already intoxicated by the time you arrived. “yo! aren’t you rafe’s girl?!” loud and obnoxious, one of his friends that you can’t remember the name, yells. you go wided eyed unsure of what to say you try sputtering out a answer but another one of his friend’s chime in before you can deflect, “oh shit! that is her, yooo shane how did you manage to get set up with her?” overly hyped, like you are the shiny new toy in kindergarten.

shane chuckles awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, “um her friend cleo set us up together.” you shuffle uncomfortably at the conversation. shane senses your discomfort and makes an excuse to get away from whatever that was.

you two find an unoccupied couch in the living room, “im sorry if my friends made you uncomfortable.” shane sounded genuine. it made you smile a bit, “its okay, i guess i was more so taken back by them knowing who i was.” you let out a smile giggle.

you and shane sit on the couch for a while talking about your childhood memories and whatever else you two have in common until you saw out the corner of your eye a very familiar blonde haired boy with the two that come along with him, your heart dropped. you quickly slid down the couch tucking into shane’s side who is looking at you confused by your sudden action, “w-what, why are you doing that? what happened?!” concerned, he looked around the room confused.

“shane we have to go right now!” you say it faster than your brain can keep up, you should’ve listened to your gut and stayed home but no! you just had to agree to this stupid date. shane still oblivious to what is happening, is trying to figure out what made you act so frantic. he was about to ask you why, until your phone flashed indicating you received a text, you froze.

he stopped fucking answering, you never been so scared in your life. you frantically looked around not seeing the blonde or topper and kelce near you until about 3 mins later when you heard kelce’s voice from behind you. “you got to be fucking kidding me.” you shut your eyes and clasped your hands together and silently prayed that for once the universe would have your side, but again you would be asking for too much.

you slowly turned around with a guilty smile to see kelce staring directly at you, you were just about to beg him not to tell rafe or direct his attention over to the three of you but before you could even get the words out he cuts you off “he is going to beat your ass.” he says matter factly, you grab kelce by the arm and beg him to help you but even he couldn’t save you from rafe.

you totally forgot about shane until he spoke, “lol whats the big deal? she is grown.” you whipped your head around and stare about the brown haired boy and mouth “shut the fuck up!” trying to at least lessen the situation for him, but he doesn’t take the hint and suggests that your friends get to know him first, stupid and reckless.

in all honesty if you thought shane was this stupid you wouldn’t have considered going out with him, he seemed intelligent at the time but its hard to tell when you were to busy trying to defy at your friends.

so here you are, sat across from shane as kelce is sat next you. it’s awkward, kelce being kelce doesn’t say anything but just stare at shane, shane shifts uncomfortably under the boys stare. “this is fucking ridiculous, all because you wanted to go against what we said.” kelce mumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed at you and your actions.

you roll your eyes, picking at your nails. you clear your throat and clasp your hands together, “anyways, let’s start with introductions! kelce this is shane, shane this kelce!” you say trying to lift the mood but kelce was budging, scoffing at you actually trying to make an impression.

shane sits up straight and starts talking about his intentions with you, going in one ear and other the other kelce cuts him off, “your telling me like i would ever be okay with you being around her. it’s not me who you need to be kissing ass too. its him.” he says, nodding to the boy thats walking over, face stern, eyes holding irritation in them.

kelce says it like its a fact; it is. — before you can even speak your piece rafe is on you like a lion on its prey, he is now standing in front of you not acknowledge shanes out reached hand waiting for a handshake. rafe’s chest is raising rapidly, you never seen him like this, not this mad ever.

“you must be out of your fucking mind, not only did you lie. you went behind my fucking back and came to a fucking drug fueled party, what someone you don’t know!” you look like a deer in headlights, unsure of what to say, rafe knows you are more than capable of speaking for yourself but shane once again speaks over you. “dude chill the fuck out. she’s not your girl, she can do what the fuck she wants.” you are convinced shane has a deathwish.

before you can tell rafe to stop, he is across the coffee table and yanking the boy up from his seat. “the fuck you just say to me, huh?” shane tries to pull rafe off of him but rafe’s grip isn’t loosening around the boys collar, you gasp uncertain of what to do, by this point kelce is in front of you trying to shield you from the scene unfolding in front you and topper has you pulling to his side, rafe’s voice is low “you don’t know shit, you think just because you waltz into her life and say a few sweet words, that youre gonna fuck her?”

shane is still trying to prove that he knows more than rafe, that he knows whats best for you and rafe isn’t having it. “i know that when it comes down to it, she’s going to be in my bed, crying out my name.” shane says it confidently, which makes rafes movements stop and face drop. he sees red, he slams shane on to the floor and starts punching, by this point a crowd of people are looking and shouting, some are trying to get rafe to stop and some are encouraging it.

“SAY THAT A FUCKING AGAIN. I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” rafe is seething, and by this point you are full on sobbing because you now realize that rafe, kelce and topper were right as always. you should’ve listened when they told you to say away from the boy to begin with.

rafe grabs the boys face forcing him to look at you, leaning over him, gritting through his teeth “ she will always be mine. i kill you or anyone for that matter behind her. if i see you talking to her or even looking at her, i swear to god that will be the last time you ever did.” rafe sits back up, roughly letting go of his face before topper pulls rafe off of him.

your face is ruined from the crying you had been doing, you felt guilt for lying to rafe all while feeling horrible for what the situation caused for the other boy. you sat on the couch waiting for rafe to come back downstairs, lost in thought you felt someone softly kick your feet, looking up you see rafe.

you stare up at him with glassy doe eyes, your chest unsteady you feel yourself getting worked up again, your brain overworked and overwhelmed. “im sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen, i didn’t think that he would actually turn out to be an asshole” rafe sighs, sitting on the coffee table in front of you, wiping your tears stained cheek. “oh, sweetheart..of course you didn’t know, im not blaming you.” he says it so softly like every word will hurt you.

“are you mad at me? i don’t like it when your mad at me ray.” your playing with his fingers, he looks down at your hands cupped against his. yours are so much smaller and soft than his; dainty. he shakes his head, before clearing his throat “no not anymore.” your hands stops, he sees your brain working..overthinking. “i know im hard to handle as a friend-” before you could even finish, he grabs your face in between his hands and pulls you in for a kiss.

you gasp, hands clutching against his black tshirt. you melt into his touch, kissing him back. he pulls away, “i always know how to handle you, just gotta keep a short leash on you now, isn’t that right pretty girl?”

[hana-a-chattic]

Tsukishima's arc is (kinda) subversive and I need to talk about it!!

Also known as: Tsukkiyama is so everything for me pt 3 (but it's not shipper-y, it's about canon) (and I haven't written pt 2 yet??? lol)

Haikyuu!! is definitely a Shōnen Jump series, with great execution of old & gold tropes: the "light" and "darkness" double protagonists, multiple rivalries, training arcs and tournament arcs one after another etc. But Tsukishima Kei's character arc, specifically, kinda... breaks? and maybe even makes fun of the classics? (Which, if it is- very fitting for Tsukishima, huh)

You're probably familiar with "talk no jutsu" meme. In case you're not - it comes from the prequel to absolute banger series Boruto (I know this joke is overused. I like it, leave me alone), which involved its main character resolving so. many. troubled characters' arcs by leading them to light with his mid-battle speeches about hardships and hope and friends and trust, that people couldn't help but meme it. However, Naruto is indeed one of generation-defining sort of series, and as overused as it may be, this plot point creates many a powerful, emotional moments.

Haikyuu!!, of course, also does this. Having Hinata first blindly (literally and figuratively) trusting Kageyama, then (also literally and figuratively) grabbing Yachi's hand to help her take a step forward. Oh, also giving Asahi a thing or two to think about? All that jazz.

And I, personally, fully expected this to happen with Tsukishima. When the time comes, it will be mostly left to Hinata to, Idk, annoy him into character development I guess? This is shōnen, he's the "I can show you the world~" hero, that's just how it is, right?

Wrong.

We get the tense lead up. We get the flashback. We get the "Can ye help him, o protag-kun?" scene with Yamaguchi. And Hinata goes, basically: Uhhh... seems kinda like a you problem? 🤨 (Off-topic, but I l-o-v-e this as a Hinata character moment, too. This was maybe when I started legit liking him: realising how actually emotionally mature he is? The dude knows when it's not his time to get into someone else's mess, he sees the "do not enter" sign and is chill about it. I'm so sad this part of him gets overlooked so often)

The dialogue here is very simple, but very significant:

"Hinata, what would you say to Tsukki? Like you did to Kageyama and Yachi" <...> "What would you say to Tsukishima, Yamaguchi?"

This is where my theory that this is a little jab comes in - because in meta way, you can read this as, wouldn't it make more sense if the person he's connected to the most would be the one doing the talking? Not the random passerby protagonist like y'all like to do. But maybe I'm just weird. Even without any sort of meta reading though, this is still a great character writing.

Because yeah, why would Hinata talk to the guy? They don't even like each other. Hinata says it as it is: I have no idea what his deal is, there's nothing for me to say. They're also very different people, and whatever Hinata would say, honestly, is likely to not even resonate with Tsukishima. And that's not even accounting for the fact that Tsukishima might not listen to Hinata, at all. With all his defensive walls that Hinata is never shown to be invited inside or breaking through. But it's told to us ahead of this with visual language that Yamaguchi is.

Yes, I am talking about the headphones off while they walk together despite both being silent scene. Which seems a pretty obvious showcase of Kei's willingness to listen, if not him actually waiting for Yamaguchi to say what's on his mind.

And- of course it's him! If there's anyone there Tsukishima might allow himself to not build a front for, that would be the childhood friend who's known him since elementary school. Who knows him inside and out. Who knows why he's like this. With anyone else, it would be so easy to brush them off by a simple "You don't know what you're talking about, why do you even care". But... Yamaguchi knows. And Yamaguchi cares. Because that's his best friend. And Yamaguchi is the one person Tsukishima never just brushes off, actually, if you pay attention.

It had to be Hinata.

But in Haikyuu!!, it had to be Yamaguchi. To get Tsukishima Kei moving, it had to be his caring, supportive, strong-willed but not pushy, and very, very cool best friend.

P.S. For ppl who wanna say this type of rule-breaking isn't that uncommon nowadays, please also note Haikyuu!! did this in 2014, ie 10+ yrs ago.

[mblue-art]

out w these tall clowns 🌲🌸

[oklotea]

Sooooo I haven't moved on from the trolls world tour bounty hunters.

The reggaeton trolls and their really cool designs and music....

Hickory and Dickory's entire thing with playing the long haul in trying to get close to poppy to steal her string.......

THE KPOP TROLLS AND THEIR MISSED POTENTIAL AND AND THEIR DESIGNS AND THEY'RE REALLY CUTE AND LOVELY

And CHAZ THE FUCKING SMOOTH JAZZ TROLL!??!??!??!?! need I say more. I mean just look at him.

I am going to start. A fandom. Surrounding these guys. Just watch me.

They are so silly and I love them

[tacticalthaumaturge]

I'm starting to see seemingly unironic posts to the tune of "Biden's useless because he's not taking advantage of the 7/1/24 presidential immunity decision to persecute his political enemies" and

Is that *really* the hill the tumblr left wants to die on? Is it really? That authoritarianism is good, actually, as long as its one of "our guys" doing it?

All I'm saying is that if we're gonna clown (because we gotta process somehow), just be mindful of Poe's Law. And if you're being serious here... the idea that unchecked power is a good thing, actually, is one I don't see compatible with a pluralistic society, and I'm curious why you think it is.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[flovverworks]

after a billion yrs i added a lil line about my gbf verse.....<3 one day i might flesh it out to something in-universe, but since gbf is so "oh ure from another world? ya that happens..." i....am gonna keep w that..........(also cuz i do think discussing the different ways of magic, moon-enemy & this n that is more fun like this

[gatheryepens]

Week 2 of exams done one more week babyyyy ;)

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

Leos are people to befriend, not date lmfao

[bunnis-monsters]

A bunny breeding his pup

Commissioned by @dumbdoggygirl

Bunny Hybrid x Puppy Hybrid!Reader

warnings: breeding, knotting, pregnancy sex, pheromones, lactation, cervix kiss

summary: Bunny hybrid Momo stands up to a wolf hybrid and walks you home. The two of you become friends then start dating, but when you go into heat you’re afraid he might not be able to keep up with your puppy hybrid stamina. Little did you know, the saying “breeding like rabbits” was very accurate…

Word count: 5k words

You have had trouble trusting people lately. Male hybrids only wanted one thing, and that was mating.

The thought was always in the back of your mind when you went out into town or wandered back home a bit too late at night. If you didn’t keep yourself safe, no one would.

This was all before you met him.

It had been a long day, and all you wanted was to pick up something sweet before going home to your little cottage in the woods. It was always a bit scary coming home from work, especially when the moon wasn’t able to guide your way due to the fluffy clouds blocking it.

You were planning on plopping down on your soft, warm bed and passing out as soon as you walked in your door… but fate had something else in mind.

“Hey, pretty girl!”

An annoyed sigh left your lips as you turned to look to your left. There was a wolf hybrid approaching, his shoulders relaxed and his stride confident.

“You look like you’d appreciate someone walking you home. There’s a lotta bad guys out here, you know?”

His arm wrapped around your shoulder roughly, causing you to stumble forward before you steadied yourself.

You, politely as you could manage, pushed his arm off of your shoulder, trying to give him a smile. “Ahh, I’m okay, but thanks.”

When he kept following you, your heart began to race. You could feel his eyes on you, and knew he saw you as something to prey on, a slab of meat to a hungry predator.

“Come on, pup. You’re gonna turn down a nice guy trying to help you out. Don’t be a bitch…”

He attempted to reach for your wrist, but you wrenched it away. “I said I’m okay… please, just leave me alone…”

This only seemed to anger him, the wolf puffing out his chest as his ears pinned back. A low growl could be heard as he advanced on you.

“Leave you alone? I-“

Before he could speak any further, a figure rushed between the two of you, standing with his back to the wolf.

“Hey, sweetheart. I saw that you weren’t home yet and came to meet you halfway. All our friends are waiting for us, I said we’d be back in five minutes.”

The person in front of you was a bunny hybrid with soft, curly hair and fluffy bunny ears atop his head. He gave you a sweet smile as if he had known you his entire life and looped his arm with yours.

“Ahh, do you know this man?” the bunny hybrid asked, his eyes cutting to the wolf hybrid, his yellow orbs losing all the warmth they had when he looked at you.

The wolf spluttered, holding up his hands, obviously turned off when he heard there were people looking for you. “W-was just gonna walk her home. Never mind…”

The bunny hybrid stayed by your side, his eyes never leaving the wolf as he scurried away.

“Damn wolf hybrids think that they can scare people like that, but the second they know they could be caught they run off!”

The bunny’s foot thumped against the ground rapidly, indicating he was pissed at the situation. You smiled, reaching out to tug on his sleeve.

“Thank you for that. Most hybrids would be too scared to stand up to a wolf like you did.”

He turned back to look at you, a smile stretching across his face. When you really looked at him, your first thought was that he looked… really cute.

“No problem. Are you alright?”

His cotton tail twitched as your puppy tail perked up. “Yes, I’m okay. Just…”

You winced, and he noticed your wrist that had been grabbed was a bit swollen.

“Ahh, that asshole… if you put some ice on it when you get home, that should help with the swelling and hopefully prevent a bruise from forming.”

The bunny tilted his head as your ears lowered, your tail wagging a bit. “Can I… ask your name?”

His ears flicked as he nodded rapidly. “Yes, I’m Momo. And you?”

You smiled, offering a hand. “I’m (Name), nice to meet you.”

Momo ended up walking you home, making sure that he kept you safe from anything that dared to come close. For a bunny hybrid, he was quite tough.

And as far as males went, he was the sweetest thing you’d ever encountered. To no one’s surprise, you were quick to exchange numbers with him.

The two of you became friends rather quickly. It wasn’t until long that you found out Momo was single, just like you. He was so soft and sweet, and every morning you received a text asking how you were doing and if he could come over when you weren’t busy.

It made your heart beat faster, a fuzzy feeling taking over your body that made your tail wag uncontrollably…

Was this… what having a crush was like?

You met up with him one afternoon, wearing your favorite dress, one he had said made your eyes sparkle. Momo always knew how to make you feel shy and flattered.

“Hey, pretty pup!”

You turned at the sound of his voice, your tail wagging as soon as you caught a whiff of his scent. His own cotton tail twitched, a smile lighting up his face.

“Hi, Momo. What did you want to talk about?”

The bunny had called you a few hours ago, asking for a last minute meeting at a cafe. This was strange to you, he usually asked to come to your home or his to spend time together. You had only known him for a few months now, but you felt like you knew him enough to tell something was different about this.

Momo scratched the back of his head, his fluffy bunny ears twitching. “Well… I thought a public place would be better for the question I want to ask.”

Your curiosity was piqued, and it was obvious by the way your tail picked up speed that you were excited. “Well come on, let’s order some coffee and talk!”

After settling into a booth and some small talk, Momo suddenly became very serious, looking at you fondly.

“I’ve… really enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together.”

Your cheeks heated up, and you found yourself fidgeting with your skirt. “I have too. It’s really been the best part of my day when you call me.”

His bunny ears twitched, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“Will… you be my girlfriend?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, your heart thundering inside of your chest as your tail wagged furiously behind you. It was obvious how you felt just by the way your tail thumped against the booth behind you.

“Y-yes!”

The two of you shared bashful smiles, and he nuzzled his nose against yours. The rest of the date was filled with giddy giggles and yummy snacks, and by the end he was ready to take you home.

For the next few months, the two of you fell in love, unable to stay apart from each other for long. He visited you often, his soft bunny ears making him easy to spot in crowds when meeting up together.

It didn’t take long for you two to kiss for the first time. It was on your third date, and seeing his cute cotton tail twitch when your lips met was the cutest thing you had ever seen.

The first bit of intimacy the two of you shared was while the two of you watched a movie together at your apartment. It was a sappy romcom, and he was feeling a bit bored… so his hand trailed down your thigh, playing with the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“Mmm, you keep watching the movie, princess…”

Your puppy tail wagged a bit as he moved to kneel in front of you, his soft nose nuzzling against your thigh. He looked up at you for permission, his teeth nibbling on your soft flesh.

This was the first time a male had ever been so close to you, but you nodded, trying to pay attention to the movie while he kissed your pussy through your panties.

It wasn’t long before you were soaking through the thin fabric, unable to concentrate on the movie anymore. The lewd sounds of him lapping up your slick and sucking on your clit through your panties was too loud, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“P-Please, Momo… more, I need it…”

He tilted his head, looking up at you through his soft lashes. “More..? Okay, puppy…”

Momo pushed your panties to the side, giving your bare pussy a sniff before burying his face between your thighs.

You let out a muffled moan, covering your mouth as he latched onto your clit, sucking and keeping your thighs apart so he could taste your sweet juices.

The way he looked up at you with those sweet golden, yellow eyes of his with such lust and adoration had you cumming within seconds.

He stayed between your head like that for at least 30 minutes, bringing you to orgasm several times before you were too blissed out to even think.

Momo smiled, his cotton tail wagging as he crawled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over the two of you and pulling you to his chest.

“Goodnight, puppy…”

——————————

You felt embarrassed, almost… shy. Your heat cycle was coming, and you had a date with Momo. It was going to be your 6 month anniversary, and you really didn’t want to miss it!

But…

Although Momo had saved you and was so sweet to you, there was always a voice in the back of your head saying he would never be able to handle your heat. He was just a bunny hybrid, and you were a puppy.

It made you sad, really… would you have to break up with him one day and be with someone with a similar heat cycle to you? Maybe a wolf or puppy hybrid…

As the date approached, you told yourself that you would just go… but when it was finally time to get dressed, your heat hit you like a tsunami.

You writhed on the bed, fingers doing nothing to ease the ache in your cunt. It took everything you had to text Momo that you couldn’t come. You didn’t bother to read his reply, just turning onto your belly, lifting your hips to try and shove your fingers deeper inside.

It felt like you could just burn alive, a pit in the bottom of your belly forming. It had never been so intense before, all you wanted to do was scream! Maybe your body was reacting to Momo’s scent. It was all over your apartment after all, and you buried your face into a hoodie he left behind, whimpering in absolute agony.

Your heats had never been easy, but in the past at least you had been able to deal with them without too much struggle. Now it felt impossible, you couldn’t even orgasm by yourself!

As you began to cry into his hoodie, you thought you could almost hear his voice. Your mind was a bit hazy from your heat… but it felt comforting.

You wish you would have just asked him to come over… now you were too weak to do anything besides sniffle and cry into his hoodie.

“Puppy!”

The sound of Momo’s voice became much clearer. Your puppy ear twitched, and you picked up his scent in the air. That wasn’t just some of his lingering musk…

“Puppy, I’m here! Please, let me in. I n-need you!”

You could only whimper, blabbering out a reply through your tears. “C-can’t! Can’t get up!”

It was silent for a moment, but then there was a loud BANG!

You looked on in shock to see the door beginning to splinter. Momo was breaking it down!

Momo wasn’t weak, but you had never thought he was capable of such feats of strength! Even the wolf hybrids you met in college wouldn’t be able to do that…

He kicked through, his leg breaking through the wood. He used the hole to reach his hand in and unlock the door. As soon as Momo was in, his eyes scanned the room for you.

“Baby…”

He walked over, dropping down to his knees by your bedside. His eyes scanned over your form, and you noticed how hazy those golden orbs of his were as he sniffed the air.

“You’re in heat… why didn’t you tell me?”

You struggled to speak, your pussy clenching around nothing as he stared down at you. The way he was looking at you… was he..?

“I w-was… embarrassed… and I didn’t want you to know. You’ve probably never been with a puppy hybrid before, you don’t understand how intense our heats are…”

You had heard tales from friends and family about how smaller hybrids would try and take on canines, seeing it as a challenge. They assumed they could take it, and would come out with good offspring because of the strong wombs of their mates.

But most failed to properly satisfy their mates, ending in unhappy partnerships and tears. You had been hoping to marry Momo, but you were afraid he may also be chasing some tail…

He was kind, you really liked him… but could he handle you like this? You were so desperate, you wanted to pounce and use him until his body broke! It was scary… you were losing the little control you had over your body!

Before you could speak again, you helped, feeling him pin you down with strength you would have never expected from such a small hybrid. He leaned over you, his face flushed but his eyes sharp.

“Oh, my sweet pup…”

He cooed, his pants stretching painfully over his aching cock. Precum leaked down his leg, his red cock barely contained by his pants.

“You’ve never been with a bunny hybrid, have you?”

Your eyes widened, and you were silenced when his mouth landed on yours. It was an instant connection, your tail wagging furiously as his tongue tangled around yours.

Though your cunt pulsed and ached with need and lust, your heart was soaring with love. His lips on yours always made you happy, but now you could almost feel his love and desire from you just from this kiss alone.

“Y-you’re… in rut?”

You gasped this out when he broke away, finally able to pick up his scent over your own heavy pheromones. Momo smiled, nuzzling his forehead against yours. “Yes… I am. I was hoping to spend it with you… if that’s alright.”

Your ears lowered and you tucked your puppy tail between your legs, considering his suggestion. Part of you wanted to say no, fearful that you may hurt him. You loved Momo after all, and would rather have an agonizingly painful heat cycle than lose him.

But the other part of you needed him. You could already feel his clothed cock rubbing against your fat cunt, begging to breed and mate with you. Your heat riddled mind was begging for you to say yes and mate, to be filled with cum and covered in his marks!

“Please…”

You looked up at him with hazy, teary eyes, playing with your own pussy to try and ease the searing heat in your loins. The only thing on your mind now was being bred by your lover and your belly swelling with his young. It’s all you could ever want or need.

Momo panted, his bunny ears twitching as he tugged his pants down, his fat red cock resting on your belly. He was much bigger than you expected, and your pussy yet again clenched around nothing while you imagined him inside of you.

“Gonna be inside my puppy…”

He prodded at your cunt, rubbing his precum and your slick together before pressing in. Momo hissed at how tight you were, his soft pink nose twitching as your sweet, warm pussy envelopes around him.

It was like heaven, being inside of you. Nothing could have prepared him for the utter bliss of mounting his pretty little puppy and taking your for his own.

Without much thought, be bit down on your neck and shoulders, his hips rutting into yours. You were so wet, so needy for him that he started thrusting right away. The sounds that came from your love making was lewd, loud squelching and moans filling the air.

Before long you were cumming, your cunt squeezing and milking his cock, but even as he filled you up with his seed, he didn’t stop.

After a few rounds you began to get tired, happy that he was able to last…

But Momo was far from finished.

You whined softly as he lifted your leg, continuing to fuck into your fat, warm cunt as his fingers played with your clit. Your neck was covered in hickeys, your chubby tummy protruding with his cum…

“M-Momo…”

You whimpered, your pussy swollen from abuse, but your lover only kissed along your neck, placing you on your tummy before climbing back up to mount you.

“Shh, puppy… not even close to being done…”

You yelped as he held onto your arms for leverage, his cock kissing your cervix as he fucked you deep. Your own fingers could never reach that far, and you knew Momo was trying to get you pregnant!

The only thing on his mind right now was his vision of you in a few months. You’d be waddling around, your breasts heavy with milk and belly swollen with his babies. Even since he laid eyes on you, he knew that he would be the one to breed you, to lay claim to your womb. You were his, and he’d make sure everyone in the world knew this fact.

He grabbed your tail, holding onto it as he knotted your sweet, warm pussy. You were just too cute, crying and overstimulated. Momo couldn’t wait to make you cum so much you couldn’t even think anymore!

Even after his knot swelled up inside of you, his hips continued to stutter and plap against your fat ass. He just couldn’t help it, you felt too good and he wanted to fuck you on his knot!

Your body felt so warm and exhausted, you could barely manage to lift your fluffy tail to give him access to your abused cunt so he could continue to pump you full of his cum.

Momo was too far into his rut to notice your exhaustion. His body was reacting to your pheromones and he was driven by pure instinct to knock you up.

He bit down on your neck, holding onto your hips as his knot deflated. The second he was able to properly fuck you again, Momo slammed his cock into you, kissing your cervix.

The night of mating was filled with tears, whines, and so, so much cum. You had never as tired as you were the next morning, your body covered in love bites and stuffed full of cum.

Momo was already awake, his cotton tail wagging as he played with your soft puppy ears. “Good morning, princess…”

He looked down at you, his cheeks pink and his eyes darting from your face to the side then back to you. With the way he had fucked you until you saw stars and cried, he was a bit embarrassed with how fat he had gone.

The bunny could remember knotting you several times, just to continue fucking you the second it deflated enough so he could move.

You whined as you turned to snuggle into your mate, burying your face into his neck. “Mmph… you really wanna give me a litter?”

His heart thumped against his chest so hard you were sure you could feel it. “Yes… I… I love you, (Name). I want to be with you, and make you a mother…”

You touched your nose to his, both of you letting off soft purrs and happy sounds as you spent the morning tangled together in an intimate embrace.

From a young age you had been taught that bunny hybrids were quite fertile. Even when mating with other species, it was almost guaranteed that with just one sexual encounter, pregnancy would be in your future.

And that information had been completely correct.

Momo was absolutely thrilled when he began smelling pregnancy hormones on you, and from then on he became insanely protective and touchy.

Watching your belly begin to grow made him… feel many things. It was physical evidence of the love you two shared, the intimacy and touch that created life within his beloved mate.

As your pregnancy progressed, he caught himself getting hard and horny every time he watched you go up a size in your pants or shirts, or when you had to stop wearing bras because your tits were too heavy and full of milk.

Getting to witness you in the morning when you leaked through your shirt and seeing your cute flustered face as he lifted the soiled fabric and lapped at your darkened nipples… it was pure bliss for him.

Sucking and nipping softly at your sensitive buds allowed the milk to flow, filling his mouth with that tasty, creamy liquid he had come to crave.

Momo could feel his cock hardening, and he felt almost shy. Just as your own body had been becoming sensitive and needy through your pregnancy, his was responding to yours.

When you whined and tugged at his pants, he sighed. “Puppy, I’m not sure if it’s safe for us to mate when you’re this far along… your belly is heavy and swollen, I don’t wanna hurt our kits…”

You pouted at him, puffing out your chubby cheeks at his hesitation. While he was so close, you could feel your body aching to mate with him. Momo’s scent made you feel so hot and bothered, if he didn’t fuck you soon you’d go crazy!

That’s when an idea came to your mind. Momo wasn’t exactly hard to seduce. In fact, he was usually more horny than you most days, much needier as well. If you played your cards right, he might not be able to help himself.

“Baby…”

You opened your legs a little, letting him get a whiff of your arousal. The mix of that and your pregnancy pheromones made his body tremble.

“Yes, my love..?”

You leaned forward, pouting as you nuzzled your face into his neck, rubbing your scent on him. “Can you please take care of me? I need you…”

That was his tipping point. How in the hell was he supposed to just sit by when his beloved mate was desperate for release?

‘Just have to be gentle…’ he thought as he lowered you onto the bed and rubbed his throbbing bulge against your clothed cunt.

The feeling of your soaked panties pressing against his hard on was enough to make him hiss out in a mix of pleasure and need. Momo wanted to be inside of his mate more than anything.

“Momo… please!”

You struggled to move your hips against his with your baby bump in the way. His hand settled over your swollen belly, keeping you in place. It made his heart and sick throb thinking about how he had put kits into that round belly of yours.

“Don’t worry, puppy. I’m gonna take care of you, I promise…”

He pulled your panties off before lifting your shirt, his eyes on those perky, darkened nipples of yours. Once you were bare, his hands explored your body in a reverent way.

The changes you were going through were because of him. He had bred his sweet pup, leaving you pregnant and heavy with his kits.

“You’re beautiful…”

His fat cock rubbed against your clit, and he lined up his lips with your nipple. Milk was already beading at your perky bud. Your breasts were heavy and swollen, something you had been complaining about earlier.

Momo was going to kill two birds with one stone. He would satisfy you sexually and milk your fat tits.

His cock pressed into you, almost agonizingly slow. Momo was being as gentle as possible, sinking into his gravid little mate while his tongue lapped up the milk bearding to the surface of your nipple.

“So good… like honey…”

You arched your back, whining and struggling to take his cock while you were so heavily pregnant. You felt stuffed full… in the best way.

“M-Momo… faster…”

His bunny ears flicked, his eyes half lidded as he struggled to keep himself from pounding you into the mattress.

Your puppy cunt was just so tight and you were begging for him… Momo wanted to go faster, to feel your spongy walls tighten around his knot.

But he continued to fuck you at an agonizing pace, making your puppy tail wag. He loves you so much, he didn’t want to hurt his precious mate!

It was when your milk spurted into his mouth when he hit that special spot that he lost a bit of control. His cotton tail began to wag with yours as his thrusts sped up, his hips rutting against you.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

You let out a whine as Momo lifted your leg, pressing it against your pregnant belly so he fuck you deeper. Every time his cock hit your g-spot your milk spurted out again. His hand squeezed and teased your other breast.

The sight of your milk spraying out of your nipple in little streams made him go crazy. He began fucking you like an animal, his mind gone. All that he could think was that he wanted to breed you, to stuff you full of his cum again.

He couldn’t remember you were already pregnant, he was trying to knock you up again!

“Momo, g-gonna-!”

Your puppy cunt clenched around him, causing Momo to grunt and grab hold of your fat hips. He was frustrated, it was already hard enough to fuck you with your pregnant belly in the way, now you were clenching around him and preventing him from being able to move.

Suddenly you were on your side, a pillow propping up your belly as your mate crawled behind you. His arm snakes under your side, grabbing onto your fat tit and groping it as his cock sunk into your again.

“F-fuck, you’re perfect…”

He lifted your leg, now able to fuck into you as deep as he wanted, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix.

Now he could properly please his mate and satisfy his need to breed you and unleash his seed into your womb.

Momo nipped at your neck, your tail brushing against his chest as he milked you. You felt sticky and warm, milk running down your chest and pregnant belly.

He could feel his knot beginning to swell, he was going to cum soon!

“Puppy… fuck, I love you so much…”

The feeling of your fat pussy being stretched so his knot could fit had you cumming again, and his cum spurted into your puppy cunt.

The two of you were left a panting mess, tails wagging and ears twitching as you came down from your respective highs.

Momo looked at his mate, his cheeks red and heart full of love. You looked beautiful like this, flushed from sex and pregnant with his kits.

He kissed the top of your head, nuzzling his face against your hair as the two of you waited for his knot to deflate.

“Did I satisfy you, pup? Seems like you’re pretty happy to me…”

You smiled, your body heavy with exhaustion. It took great effort to lift your arm and cup his cheek.

“You always do… my mate always takes care of me.”

You both shared a kiss, tails wagging in sync.

Two months later, Momo held your hand as you gave birth. It was a difficult process, but in the end you were able to give birth to 5 happy babies. Some had fluffy little bunny ears and cotton tails like their father, while others looked like you.

“Mmm, it seems like they like you.”

You smiled, watching as your mate helped you hold onto your little ones. He was easily able to soothe them as they fussed, it was clear they already knew who their father was.

Momo sat at your bedside, his cotton tail wagging excitedly while he watched you breastfeed the kits ans pups for the first time.

“They’re hungry little things…”

His mouth was watering, and once all of them were fed, you lifted your shirt up and smiled. “C’mon, it’s Papa’s turn.”

He nearly knocked over his chair rushing to join you in the hospital bed, making sure to keep his weight off of you as he settled and latched onto your breast.

Momo looked up at you with those golden eyes, and you gently scratched behind his fluffy ears. “Mmm, my big baby.”

He yelped and turned red when you slipped your hand into his pants, jerking him off. You knew that he got hard while drinking your milk, and you just loved toying with your cute mate.

“P-puppy, what if the nurse comes in-“

You continued you pump his cock, making him moan against your breast. “Shh… just lemme make you feel good…”

He stared up at you, nipping on your perky bud. “I’m going to get you back your this, pup.”

“Mmm, I know…”

It didn’t take much to make him knot your hand, his hips bucking as he groaned, cum staining his pants. “Maybe I wanna rile you up for later…”

Momo gave you a lazy smile, his eyes hazy from pleasure. “Someone wants me to knock her up again…”

“As soon as I’m recovered… I’m all yours. Promise you’ll take care of me during my next heat?”

“And every single one after that. We’re bonded, pup. I’m yours… forever.”

[obsesssedblerd]

“Oh, Nanaminnnn!” 

At the familiar, cheery voice, Kento looks up to see no one other than Satoru Gojo, leaning against the doorframe of his office with his usual grin. “Saw with my Six Eyes that you came to fill out those reports here instead of doing it from home. Been so long since you showed your face here and—” He cuts himself off with an excited gasp, then walks closer as his smile grows wider. “You brought my little mochi!”

In Kento’s left arm, his daughter—who had woken up from her nap about ten minutes ago—coos excitedly when Satoru enters her vision, reaching her hands towards him. “Well, hello there, sweetheart! I was wondering when I’d see you again!” He slides his hands under her plush arms, then picks her up, skillfully—and safely, Kento notes—holding her in his arms. Tiny hands brush against Satoru’s blindfold, and he lifts it so his niece can see his blue eyes. They immediately soften when the baby girl laughs when he gently tickles her tummy. 

It’s so cute that Kento can’t stop the corner of his mouth from lifting. 

“Wait—Did I hear that right?! Nanamin’s here?!” 

“Itadori, wait for us!” 

“Kugisaki, you dropped your bag—Oh, come on, guys, slow down!” 

Rapid footsteps approach, then the three first years appear at the door, gasping in unison. 

“Oh, my gosh!” Yuuji, the pink-haired teenager shouts as he points at the baby in Satoru’s arms. “Nanamin, when did you have a baby?!” 

Nobara’s question comes a split-second after Yuuji’s is finished. “Is that why [Y/L/N]-sensei quit a while ago?!” 

Megumi walks to stand beside Satoru to analyze the little bundle in his teacher’s arms. “She’s… adorable.” He mumbles, gently smiling when she wraps her hand around his finger. “Very adorable. She has [Y/L/N]-sensei’s laugh.”

“Isn’t she just so precious?” Satoru asks, proudly showing her off to the first years. “So sweet and friendly, just like her Uncle Gojo.” 

“Hopefully she won’t be as reckless as you,” Kento says as he holds his hands out, and Satoru returns his daughter to him. “[Y/N] and I already believe that she’ll be the exact opposite of me.” 

Yuuji sits beside Kento to get a closer look at her. “She’s so cute. How old is she, Nanamin?” 

“Four months as of yesterday.” 

Nobara crosses her arms and pouts. “How come only he knew?” She asks, gesturing to Satoru. 

“Well, when I had to go away on a long mission, she was only a month old,” Kento explains. “He kept an eye on her and [Y/N] for me; made sure that they were both safe. I’m very grateful. We had plans to tell you about our daughter soon.” 

“Where is she now?” Megumi asks. 

“At home. I wanted her to have the morning and most of the afternoon to herself. I’ll be heading back shortly.” 

Satoru and the students share similar looks with each other, and Kento knows what they want to ask. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. “Hi, baby,” you greet when the line connects, “how’s our girl?” 

“Hi, love. She’s amazing, as always,” he says as he looks down, playfully poking the little one’s nose. “I’m with Gojo and our students. They want to know if it’s alright to come and see you.” 

“We’ll cook dinner if you’re too tired!” Nobara chimes in hopefully.

“Actually, better yet, I can just order something for everyone,” Satoru suggests. 

“And we’ll clean up,” Yuuji and Megumi say at the same time. 

You laugh, then answer Kento, “That’s more than alright. Bring them here.” 

“Thought you’d say that. See you in a bit.” 

“Yes!” Yuuji cheers. “Alright, I’m gonna ride with Nanamin so I can sit next to the baby!” 

Nobara glares at him. “Not if I get to the car first!!” 

When they sprint out the door, Megumi groans before rushing after them. “Didn’t I just tell you guys to slow down? We’re going to the same place!” 

Satoru laughs, then waits for Kento to finish up so they can walk out together. 

—

there was an ask in my inbox requesting a cute drabble for dad! nanami ft. gojo (as a trusted friend of his) and the first years, but it disappeared. hope u like it, anon <3 

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) condom or no condom .ᐟ 

🖇️📂 who in skz likes to fuck with or without a condom

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, slight breeding kink with chan cause grrrr, humiliation kink, overstimulation, small size kink with seungmin (his dick is too big for you cause i said so) creampies 🗣️🗣️🗣️ note: got super carried away and this is kinda dog but let’s gooooo

방찬. BANG CHAN

condom. he already has seven other kids he doesn’t need one more. mainly uses them cause he can’t be trusted when he swears he’ll pull out and cum on your stomach or tits instead. the faster his orgasm is to approaching the less he’s able to think about what he’s actually doing, every single coherent voice inside of him screaming for him to pull out is ignored as his cock fucks into you deep and sloppy - the promise of finally filling you up until his cum is spilling out past your little hole just makes it far too appealing to stay buried inside of your tight pussy, determined to leave you a sticky used mess once he’s done. hates himself for it but his breeding kink is dangerous, this man has to battle himself everyday to not fuck you until you’re full and pregnant, so convincing him to ditch the condoms will take some work. beg cutely enough and he’ll give in. swears he’s only doing it to shut you up but the second he sinks his bare cock into you he’s losing every lousy ounce of self-control he might’ve had, mouth drying up and eyes trained on the way your cunt struggles to take him. and he can feel every single nook and cranny of your plush cunt in ways the condom just doesn’t allow and he just can’t find it in himself to rid himself of the pleasure of finally filling you up the way you so desperately crave.  he can normally hold his orgasm out for a few good rounds, ensuring you’re completely fucked out when he finally does cum - but the first time you go without protection he’s busting inside of you within minutes. always buys you the morning after pill though and apologises for cumming inside of you, trying to ignore how good it felt to fuck your pretty pussy with no barrier.

리노. LEE MINHO 

no condom. when he cums, he cums hard. so wearing a condom just makes no sense to him and he’ll just end up ripping it off mid fuck, filling you up over and over until it’s leaking out of you, cussing under his breath that he should’ve fucked that stupid thought out of you for even suggesting to wear one in the first place. prefers having you on some type of brith control instead cause with the amount of cum this guys feeds into your pussy a condom isn’t gonna do shit. he’ll wear them when you first start dating just cause he wants to make sure you feel safe and comfortable with him but the second he catches wind you like it RAW?? he’s taking a lighter to every single condom he’s ever owned, in the trash, never to be seen again. and anytime you try to suggest using them again he’ll act so fucking offended, knowing fine rightly how much you love receiving the loads of cum he gives your greedy little pussy to even humour the idea. far too addicted to the feeling of filling you up over and over until your pussy is left all creamy and sticky and you’re crying that you can’t take anymore to ever think about going back, especially not when he’s felt the addicting press of your cunt smothering his dick and milking him for all he’s got, he couldn’t even fathom the thought of wearing them again.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

both. he’ll always try to remember one but gets such a bad case of pussy tunnel vision that most of the time he’ll forget about the stash he keeps in his bedside drawer. tries to keep one on him cause the amount of times you’ve found yourself getting fucked in some random empty supply cupboard or bent over his studio desk have been too many to count cause this man can’t keep his dick in his pants for the life of him, only realising he doesn’t have one when it’s far too late and he’s already painted your pretty pussy sticky with his cum. he’s far too impatient and just can’t ignore the feeling of needing to get his dick wet no matter how hard he tries, somehow always manages to convince you to let him fuck you raw when he doesn’t have a condom, swearing he’ll pull out but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d love filling your little cunt up again and again until you just can’t take anymore of him. hates the part of him that gets off on seeing you stained and dripping in cum, and might even start telling you he ‘forgot’ to buy more while he was at the store - just to have the sight of your cute cunt all used and spilling over marked into his brain. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

no condom. nothing gets him off like fucking you with no condom. he loves the risk of it all and the fact that he can turn you into a pretty mess with just a few pumps of his dick. loves fucking you raw so much that he’ll have videos saved on his phone of his cock stretching you out - soft praises of, ‘taking me so well angel,’ hardly audible over the sloppy sounds of his cock pumping into your pussy. needs to be as close to you as humanly possible so wrapping a piece of rubber around his dick to devoid himself of the heavenly feeling of your cunt suffocating around him just makes no sense. completely loses himself in the heat of your pussy, locks his jaw and rests his forehead on your shoulder when he’s fucking into you - just so he doesn’t lose all sense of sanity just from the mere feeling of your cunt milking him for all he’s got, and he’s prepared to give you it all. in the early stages of your relationship he’ll try to at least pull out for your sake, but the more he did the more he noticed your thighs locking around his hips to keep his dick firmly planted inside of you, forcing him to empty his loads into your greedy cunt and he just has to thank whatever god there is out there for blessing him with a girl that’s as eager for his cum much as you are. 

한. HAN JISUNG

condom but he forgets half the time. jisung gets so pussy drunk so quickly that protection will be the last thing on his mind, especially when he gets the chance to finally bury himself deep into his favourite place - your pussy. he likes the idea of being safe and protected but his hunger for your pretty little cunt to be wrapped around his cock any chance he can get just stands in the way of actually doing so. it’ll get to the point where you’ll have to carry them instead cause this man is prepared to fuck you nearly everywhere you go, doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, he’s gonna beg to have your sweet walls wrapping around him near daily. if you actually do make him wear them it won’t last for long, he’ll whine and beg and near damn cry cause it’s just not the same :( and you have him so pussy spoiled that he might actually get blue balled all thanks to the rubber separating you both, might even pull out and take it off just when he’s fucked you dumb enough that you won’t notice, slipping back in and near sobbing the second your pussy swallows him up again, every raw twitch and spasm making his dick swell up even more. likes making a mess of you far too much to commit to condoms so they’ll become an increasingly rare occurrence in your relationship. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

condom. as much as he wants to he’s just far too paranoid about accidentally knocking you up to actually fuck you raw. also likes knowing you feel comfortable during sex and as appealing as thought of making your pussy all creamy with his cum is, he’d be a worried mess afterwards. makes sure he always has one in his wallet, cause with the amount you beg this man for his dick he’d rather be safe than sorry. even when you’re being all needy and he’s teased you to a state of being completely fucked out, whining about how much you need him to fuck you when the heavy weight of his cock bumping against your clit just isn’t enough - he’ll still find the will to ignore the painful swell of his dick to pull away and go grab a condom, chuckling and kissing away the cute pout of disappointment that sits on your lips when your hope of having him fuck you raw was once again shattered. tells you to stop being so goddamn ungrateful and take what he gives you :( with or without a condom this man KNOWS how to work his dick so he’ll fuck you stupid no matter what. the further you get into your relationship the more willing he’d be to finally ditch the condoms, but the second he slips into you with no rubber for the first time is the second he loses every ounce of control - fucking into you like an animal and suddenly your sweet, doting felix is gone and is now fucking you deeper and harder than he ever has before, wondering how he’s went all this time without the feeling of fucking you raw. 

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN 

no condom. this man will laugh straight in your face if you ever try to make him wear one. he knows fine rightly how greedy you are for his cum so he won’t take you seriously at all, fully arguing that a pussy as cute as yours shouldn’t be left all empty and sad without a cock in it and would look much, much prettier if it was dripping in cum. and he’s more than happy to be the one covering your little cunt in it. anytime you try to suggest using a condom he’ll make sure you regret it, forcing you to sit on his dick and fuck yourself over and over until that stupid thought was completely rid out of your pretty little head - pumping load after load into your pussy until it’s left all messy and sticky and begging for a break. loves reminding you how much you’d miss the feeling of his cock filling you up if he actually used one and deep down you hate that he’s right. sometimes he gets a little carried away cause the sight of you covered in his cum just goes straight to his dick, likes fucking you in public and making you walk around after with his cum dribbling down your thighs, knowing if you bent over just a little everyone around would get an eyeful of your cute ass painted in it peaking out from under your tiny skirt. and he’ll just have to fuck another load into you later that night from the thought alone. his cock is too big for you, and he gets such a nasty kick out of this fact, watching the way his cum from earlier that day trickles out of your pussy when he’s fucking you - only for him to push it back in with his cock and force you to take even more of it. loves seeing his cum drip to of your used cunt when he’s done and no amount of condoms is gonna take that away from him. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

condom, but he’s easily persuaded to ditch it. jeongin is just there for a good time and as long as he gets his dick wet he doesn’t really care. he’ll always have one in his wallet just in case but the second he gets a taste of your pretty pussy he’s only able to think with his cock and completely forgets the concept of protection. this man needs you almost every hour of the day and most of the of the time wrapping a condom on his dick is the last thing on his mind, he’d much rather it be your pussy instead. can’t think straight when he’s turned on and the only fix is you. you’ll literally have to pry him off you when he’s this eager, lips chasing after you with a small whine of protest when you pull away from him in the backseat of the company car he’s somehow managed to squeeze you into after the rest of the boys and managers were busy setting up for rehearsal, trying to get him to focus long enough to grab a condom but he’s just too busy rubbing the fat head of his cock into your cunt. he’ll be so pouty when you stop him again, ‘forgetting something jeongin?’ and he’s just like, ‘uhhh, no? i remembered to turn my computer off this time,’ and just gets right back into trying to stick his dick into you finally. only realises he forgot a condom when he’s already fucked a load into you, letting out a small sigh of relief once he pulls his softening cock from your used pussy, watching the way his cum follows and dribbles out past your folds. but he can’t find it in himself to care cause you’ve never looked prettier. always helps you clean up after though :( 

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