#y: year two

[novacqnes]

✩ sore loser // vi

summary: with an undefeated streak of nine wins victory is sweet for pitfighter!vi, but losing can be even sweeter.

⋆ warnings: pitfighter!vi, brief mentions of blood, alcohol & violence, smut; oral, squirting & fingering [fem receiving], top!vi

⋆ pairing: vi x fem reader

⋆word count: 2.4k

⋆ a/n: stop the vi hate, she’s so hot and sexy and kind, i forbid it!

nails scraped feverishly against the scarred skin of vi’s arm. needy and sharp, they littered the rough surface, leaving behind deep pink crescents with each touch. back and forth, back and forth, they dug into her flesh almost mechanically as she remained fixed between your thighs. desperately bringing her tongue against your wet clit. she lapped up your fluids, allowing her soft lips to slide against your pussy effortlessly as you shook against her, fighting through a blurred haze. fiery tears crept from your eyes; one by one they surged forward, setting your cheeks aflame along with the rest of your body. it took everything—every last drop of unbearable desire and greed—to steal a glance at vi. 

slivers of jet black and red hairs clung to the crown of her forehead. her features were frozen; misty blue eyes caught on you. she wanted more, eager for it, as every aspect of your being entranced this woman. your taste lingered on her tongue as she sank back in for more, drawing desperate whines from your lips. your smell, sugary and thick, filled the room just the way she liked, overwhelming all her senses. or the way you moved against her, jerking your body with each flick of her tongue against your folds. down to the cries—your cries, which were lewd and slick, permeating the humid air around you. allowing her this small fragment in time where she could truly win.

her knees hit the ground first, a loud thud rang through your ears as vi sank onto the blood-stained concrete. her hands found their way there next, gripping onto the ground as they fought for an ounce of stability among the animalistic screams. they pierced the putrid air, trapping your body in the middle as hundreds of people pushed against you. they demanded she rise and fight for the very status that had left her undefeated for weeks, but she didn’t move. rather she pressed her eyes close, shutting out the light, her opponent’s bashed face, and any possible connection you may have had to her. her heart pounded against her chest, pleading with her to breathe, to no avail. 

a crushing weight pressed against vi’s chest, forcefully expelling the air from her body. every one of her muscles begged for her to stop. she slid forward, a gasp crawling up her lungs as a wave of agony consumed her. she could shrug off pain. she’d done it many times before, but each movement left her with that same dreadful sensation. her mind and body vied for two opposing sides, both resulting in her losing this match, yet she was relentless. her fingers scrapped the ground as she pulled herself up in one swift motion, violently suppressing the nerves that writhed in her stomach. once more, violet brought her arms to her side, guarding her face as she swung a bruised fist at her opponent. 

the white sheets felt damp in your palms, providing a gentle substitute for vi’s skin. in your hands it compressed, shrinking with each stroke of vi’s thumb against your clit. the pressure was light at first, growing more fervent by the second. she pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, her breath warm as she moved up hovering over your pussy. she lingered for a moment, teasing you with the slightest bit of contact before pulling away. tension bloomed at the pit of your stomach, taking hold of your hips and drawing you to vi’s mouth— begging her to come closer. your movements were shaky; you wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer, but vi had to let it. she gazed up at your body, a mumbling mess covered in a thin film of sweat at her efforts. it gave her satisfaction beyond any victory in the pit; this was just for her.

“fuck—t-there still may be a follow-up—you can try again,” you moaned, vi slipping a finger inside you. she curled them sharply as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to yours. 

she began slow; you leaned into vi’s warmth, savoring the taste that lingered on her tongue. euphoric was an understatement. this was everything vi was lacking, splayed out across her flimsy mattress. there was something about your pleasure being in her hands that pulled the best from her—and it wasn’t a matter of control. whether it was you on that bed or her, vi adored the fact that it was with someone. her fights were isolating, in spite of the dozens of people that filled the pit each night. they weren’t fighting with her—but right here you were.

“they don’t wanna see me, sweetheart.”

“violet—“she spat against your core, moving down until her lips met your pussy. her tongue traced against your folds, flicking up and down as her index finger moved in and out. she soon slipped in a second, third, and fourth, sinking them inside your cunt at an unfathomable pace. her body showed no signs of slowing down. thick veins bulged from her forearm, and splotches of pink colored her cheeks, but she was on overdrive. determination clouded her senses, erasing any semblance of pain that arose in her. 

she muttered into you, “i’m good right here, just relax for me, yeah?” her voice was silky smooth, with sultry lined at the very top of it. she kept your legs open, solidifying her place between them as she hummed, furiously lapping at your clit. she smacked obnoxiously, pressing herself deeper and deeper into you until you had no choice but to make more room for her. and your hands acted first. they snaked their way around your hamstrings, forcing each leg to your sides as vi hummed in praise, sending a soft vibration up your core. 

the pleasure was beyond words, propelling you to an alternate realm as you pulsed around vi’s fingers, sucking them in with each charged stroke. she molded to you perfectly, pressing against the spongy tissue of your g-spot for as long as she could. it was evident; every fiber of her being was in this room, pushing you towards ecstasy. soon, black dots crept into your vision, distorting vi from your view, and before long your eyelids followed suit, shutting the rest of the room from you. 

“oh you’ve such pretty eyes, keep them here, right here,” she cooed. that fucking tone. so gentle and attentive it was nauseating. her gaze was unwavering; as if this wasn’t enough, she refused to look away from you, forcing your eyes to the glassy wetness smeared across her face. those eyes—they latched onto you, urging you to watch your girlfriend sink herself nose deep into you over and over again. the pressure magnified with each brush of vi’s lips against your clit. 

the words were trapped in your throat, “fuck vi—oh“ halting as you rapidly began to unravel. your gaze finally broke from hers, pulling your eyes to the feeble ceiling lights. a string of profanities fell from your lips as you shook against her mouth, surrendering to the adrenaline that mercilessly ripped through your body. 

“you don’t know what you do to me... so needy and beautiful. push yourself back on to me,” vi whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. it sent a shiver up your spine, as the sensitivity followed. the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, but to say you wanted it to end would’ve been a lie. the sensations were purely addictive, bringing your body to her lips while in the same breath employing your hand to block her. making sense of it in the moment was nearly impossible thus, it took everything in you not to faint right then.

you gasped, “i-can’t—“

“move your hand y/n, let me hear it sweetheart.” 

vi’s brows furrowed slightly, dipping down as her eyes landed on your fingers, shakily obscuring her view. she watched as they moved mere inches, pausing at your lower stomach. she brought a hand to them, softly caressing your skin with her thumb, and carefully noting how you shuddered, whining at the slightest hint of contact. you were close, yes, but this couldn’t be rushed. 

vi moved from your legs, pressing her pink lips to your neck as she toyed with your clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into you. she kept a steady pace, not budging even when you grinded against her. rather she peppered your clavicle with kisses, running her tongue along the tender skin of your exposed neck. heat simmered at your cheeks, consuming the rest of your face as vi wielded your pleasure for her own satisfaction. every whine and gasp served to fuel what was left of her tattered ego. the control intoxicated her, restoring vi with a confidence that she hadn’t experienced since she set foot in the pit.

yet it was also about you—pleasing you—that drove violet insane. her body was quickly approaching its limit; it ached with dark purple bruises that covered her knees and fingers that were raw from the constant friction of bandages. vi adored this. she fell in love with the idea of giving every last bit of what she had to offer, and after her loss, she was destined to prove that even more. 

“holy shit,” you muttered, pressing your forehead against hers. desperation oozed from your voice as you cupped vi’s face in your palm. beyond your voice, the surrender was palpable. heavy eyelids shielded most of your eye, leaving visible only small glints of pigment. it grew increasingly difficult to focus on her but the same couldn’t be said for vi. she pushed the black strands from her face leaning against you as she picked up the pace. adding more and more pressure to the bundle of nerves—but it wasn’t enough. she would move her arm, delicately flexing the muscles in her forearm in restraint. her mouth would hover over your ear, teasing you with her tongue. she used it against you deliciously, following the long veins that trailed your neck until you were a whimpering mess. it was a tireless endeavor that vi trekked for hours. all of her efforts culminating in this one moment before ruining it all with a sudden halt. 

“vi please—“ 

she shook her head. “beg, baby.”

“please let me cum for you.” weakly you took her hands in yours, moving them from your clit, you slurred, “i wanna cum all over you.

she laid a soft kiss on your cheek, slipping her index back as you wrapped around her beautifully, blanketing her skin in a unique warmth that drew a gasp hum from vi’s lips. she curved them upward, meeting your g-spot once again. you shifted underneath her body, moaning into her ear completely unabashed. the anticipation reveled inside you with vi building on her speed. sweat dripped from her temples, sticking the dark black strands to her forehead. slowly, she came undone with you. her jagged breaths began to match yours, and her movements were growing more and more shallow.

streams of euphoria rifled through your body as the pit returned at the bottom of your stomach, paralyzing you from the waist down. torturously vi’s fingers met your g-spot, prodding and teasing the surface. your heart continued to race, beating out of your chest until it was the only thing that vi could hear; your moans slowly taking a backseat. limb by limb, the heat consumed you, leaving you victim to the overwhelming pleasure that began at your pussy, sending the rest of your body into a tailspin. 

she egged you on, “just like that, sweetheart, fuck, just like that." you could no longer make out vi’s beautiful face; the slight curve of her cheek was faint along with the rest of her features as you writhed against her. quickly losing control of the autonomy you once had. the pit within your stomach only sped up the process, bringing tears to your eyes as you cried, sinking your nails into the mattress. with one last thrust of vi’s finger, fluids rushed from your pussy, soaking the sheets underneath you in one swift motion. you were falling, silently surrendering to the emotions that took hold of your body. for that time, your body wasn’t entirely your own but a vehicle that only vi could steer. 

she took her place beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist as a pervasive silence fell upon the room. her hands soothingly rubbed the skin of your thigh, almost lulling you to sleep as the bright lights faded from view. you could feel her slowly succumbing to fatigue yet she moved closer, snuggling against your back. 

you tapped her arm, “hey, you did your best.”

“that’s what scares me,” she shrugged. there was always this slight divide between vi and what she did in the pit. you could see it. it was draining, extracting every bit of light from vi’s soul like an eternal vacuum. if anything, you were slightly grateful for this loss; it alleviated some of the pressure that burdened her, yet this wasn’t enough to put an end to it. truly the only person that could pry vi away from this place was herself. 

you turned to face her, “maybe that means it’s time to stop.” 

vi pressed her lips shut, her blue eyes briefly meeting the ceiling before falling back on you.

“if not, then you’ll probably lose again, which totally sucks but I’ll be here when you do,” you sighed. she allowed your hands to roam her sculpted arms. thumb tracing the ink etched into her tricep. uncertainty steadily filled the room as you both sat in silence, taking in the sight of one another. it offered you a slight glimmer of hope beyond the pit, a hope for a brighter future. one in which vi could simply be, without tirelessly fighting to prove her worth in every fight. she was worthy of love, and hopefully this moment of you two merely admiring each other was enough to begin that process. 

“i’ll make sure to lose each time then,” she chuckled, jumping up from the mattress. a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but you refrained from pointing it out, basking in the joy that settled over your girlfriend. it was small moments like these that made it all worth it. 

you began, “that’s not what i meant—“

“i’ll go check out that follow-up fight; you stay right here.”

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[miya-rin]

“what the fuck do you two think youre doing?”

shit, you think, you didnt notice the balcony door had been slid open until you heard the voice of one of your brothers. you start to pull away from suna’s lips which earns you a small whine from his end, his grip tightens around you and honestly it its quite cute the way he is trying so hard to savour the moment. “come back later, we’re kinda busy.” the boy mutters before trying to move your face away from the distraction so that he can kiss you once more.

“suna you get your hands off of her right now, i dont give a fuck that its your birthday.” osamu pipes up, he looks furious and a little bit disgusted, if it hadnt been for the situation youre in right now you would think its kind of funny.

“samu lay off him, it was a mutual agreement, im just as guilty as he is ok?” that does not seem to help the boys understand, if anything they seem even more angry with you both.

“what the fuck do you mean it was a mutual agreement? are you two hooking up or something? yn he just turned 18 a few hours ago are you forgetting that?” atsumu says, he is rambling on with every excuse he can think of as to why this is “so wrong”, from the corner of your eye you can see suna trying so very hard to hide the grin that is creeping its way onto his face, his hands still all over you despite the fact that you arent alone anymore.

“listen, it was his birthday wish ok? i swear it didn’t mean anything,” sunas grip begins to loosen ever so slightly, “i just though it would get him off my back and get him over his little crush on me.” suna’s facial expression shifts but you choose to ignore it, you have bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

“no this is not ok, how would you feel if me or samu kissed one of your friends because it was their birthday wish?”

“that’s different, why would my friends want to kiss either of you?”

“excuse me? ill have you know that many women want to kiss me! and dont think youre getting off the hook either suna, ill make sure you never-“ you dont even want to hear the threat that is about to come out of his mouth, you just want to get out of this shitty situation.

“boys please, just give us five minutes to talk and then we will be back inside ok? i promise.” your efforts to plead with your brothers finally work.

“…fine,” atsumu mumbles, “but this better be a one time thing. im not gonna deal with you two being all lovey dovey around me.” and with that he lightly tugs on osamu’s sleeve, signalling him to walk back inside and continue the party. he closes the balcony door but not before bringing two fingers up to his eyes and then pointing them at the two of you. its a warning.

you turn back to suna and notice the sad look on his face - he looks kinda cute like this, “so, what do-“.

“did you really mean what you just said to them?” the poor boy looks heartbroken, after waiting three years to finally have a chance with the girl he loves wants the moment is ruined like that? “did you actually just do that so i would leave you alone?” his hands fully leave your body now and he takes a step back to put some distance between you two.

“well i mean sort of yeah… ive never looked at you in any way other than my brothers best friend if im going to be honest, i dont know if thats because of the age difference or what but ive never thought we could be anything.” the look of hurt is prominent on his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it, normally playful banter would have been thrown back and forth between the two of you but rintarou just stays silent, an indication that youve fucked up.

“listen suna i dont know what you want me to say, i wasnt really thinking when i said that to atsumu it just came out. i am 4 years older than you and many people would not approve of us if i decided to give you a chance.”

“who cares? i could treat you so right if you would just let me. i have waited entirely too long for this moment, all im asking for is one date.”

“you said that about the kiss too, one thing is never enough with you is it? you always need more.” a playful smile creeps onto your face which is outshined by the one on sunas, he knows that your smile means that you agree to go on a date with him.

“i really hope you arent fucking with me right now, that would be so cruel, especially on my birthday.”

“oh give the birthday excuse a rest now will you? you dont need to keep on at me you have already got what you want.”

“mhm i absolutely have,” he walks closer and once again wraps his arms around you, placing a hand under your jawbone to make you look up at him, “and i couldnt be happier.” he states as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss once more <3

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: death mention / sibling death mention / isolation / ]

Thinking about how Leo’s portal and teleportation powers have both directly (and in one instance, indirectly) been the cause of him being separated from his brothers at least four times now.

There’s that time in Portal Jacked, where his inexperience leads to his portal being messed with and his brothers ending up in Tahiti.

There’s the Bad Timeline, where Leo’s portaling led to them losing the Key, therefore indirectly leading to the apocalypse and in turn, ending with Leo being the last of his brothers alive (though just for a few minutes.)

There’s him teleporting him and Krang into the Prison Dimension, cutting him off from his family so wholly that the only way to fix this was a literal mystic miracle.

Then there’s the comic, where Leo’s powers act up again and make him lose months of time completely isolated from everyone and everything he knows.

Just, looking at all of this, it’s like the universe gave him the powers of distance on purpose to test him (and his bros), literally seeing if they can overcome unimaginable space and still make it back together. Imagine if it doesn’t stop here, and Leo has to learn to either deal with the occasional complete isolation or deal with time travelers coming back to stop some terrible event his powers (whether directly or indirectly) have caused, events that always lead to separation in some way, shape, or form.

It’s worth noting, too, that his portals often led to accidental separation, but his teleportation was the one power of his that was used to isolate himself on purpose…and was also the one that in any other scenario would have been the most permanent.

[portalhan]

*ೃ 10:03

↳ your favourite pastime is teasing your boyfriend. it just so happens that his is making you laugh...

PAIRING: seo changbin x gn!reader ^__^

GENRE: fluff, established relationship

WARNINGS: n/a... bad breath idk

FAE'S NOTES: WE ARE SO BACKKKKK!!!!! CHANGBIN BICEP LOVERS CAN I GET A BOOYAH!!!!!!!

"your breath reeks."

changbin's face contorts as soon as he hears you say those three words. the corners of his lips slowly begin to turn downwards into a scoul, his already puffy eyes squinted as he stares daggers into you.

you watch intently as he shows you the face, your own just inches away. in stark contrast, you light up like a firework – your eyes turning into little crescent moons, your hearty laugh filling the bedroom. you couldn't contain your laughter any longer, and changbin is visibly annoyed. he feels your shoulders shake as they rest above his bicep, cheeks flushed, your hair getting all up in his face as you are both laying on the bed, in the same cuddle you were in from the night before.

he keeps his silence as you continue to let more waves of laughter roll through you, and watches you intently. how could he ever stay mad at you when you look so happy?

"you get sulky so easily!" you finally manage to tell him between chuckles, your tummy starting to feel like it's getting wrapped in a knot from all the laughing. changbin loves when you dote on him, so he pouts extra hard when he noticed you were beginning to calm down (he just wants you to tell him he's cute). your face is still lit up like a bulb when you finally stop and reach out to pinch his cheek, which makes him drop the act just as quickly as it began.

"hmph," changbin shrugs and spins his head around, but you spot the tiniest smirk on his face. his head is faced entirely away from you as he says, "you're so ungrateful. this is what i get for giving my baby a kiss first thing in the morning...hmph!"

you double over again, somehow laughing even harder than before. changbin snaps his head back at you with incredulous speed, mouth agape and eyes wide in a fit of faux shock and offense. you just laugh even harder. changbin swipes his arm back from under your back in retaliation, causing you to make an abrupt landing back onto the mattress.

"ow!" your turn to grumble this time, he just chuckles. "that hurt."

"no it didn't," he confidently says with a chirp in his tone almost, arms reaching to scoop you back into his warm embrace. changbin is satisfied. "you're being dramatic."

you hum with joy and relief from cuddling again – mornings are getting so much colder now and changbin is just toasty – and give your boyfriend his favourite kiss. a loud smooch on each cheek and then his lips. you both know you're going to have to get up eventually, but this is one of those moments you pray you could live in for just a little while longer.

[noira-l]

Just the Two of Us

chapter summary: amid a heated argument about Megumi and the pressures from the higher-ups, tensions flare between you and Satoru, but the exchange ultimately softens into mutual understanding. The realization that both of you are stretched too thin underscores the need for a break, as small gestures of comfort remind you that you’re still in this together.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

wc: 5 k

warnings: swearing, argument, adult life is kinda hard, higher-ups are old geezers, Satoru is tired, reader is also tired and frustrated, summer heat, Megumi is an angsty teen a little, mentioning of Suguru defection, mature themes, slight mentioning of sexual activity, spoilers (manga, anime, movie).

author's note: well, we began here. I hope you like it, and I can write you more. I'm still experimenting with style, and genre, so please be understanding. You're welcome to leave some notes and comments to help me grow :3 I would appriciate it.

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻.

s.masterlist

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭 - 𝗘𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵

You used to love summer.

The air always smelled like sun-warmed asphalt and blooming hydrangeas, and every day felt like an invitation to adventure. Long bike rides carried you through the tucked-away veins of Tokyo—where narrow streets whispered secrets in the afternoon light. Suguru would race ahead, teasing you to keep up, the arcade flashing neon promises of victory just around the corner. The beach trips with Shoko and Utahime stretched until the sky burned orange, your laughter rolling in with the waves.

Those were the golden days.

Now, you hate this time of the year.

Curses appear in countless numbers. The heat clings, suffocating and heavy, as if the sky itself is pressing down. Every cicada drone feels like a countdown to something inevitable. Summer no longer promises joy; it carries the echo of every unraveling thread. It started with the Star Plasma Vessel incident - that cursed spring that shattered something in all of you.

Since then, summer has become the season where things fall apart. The universe picks these bright, endless days to deal the hardest blows.

And this summer is no different.

Tsumiki - her condition lingering in that fragile space no one could define. An illness the world had no name for, as if even the doctors and sorcerers were afraid to label it.

Megumi - dragged down by it all, the weight of his sister’s fading light pressing harder against his shoulders. His scowl, already permanent, had sharpened further, each glance carrying the frustration of powers that refused to bend to his will. You’d seen him grit his teeth at small failures, but now, there was something raw behind his eyes. Something like helplessness he’d never admit to.

And then there was Satoru.

Oh fuck, Satoru.

You’d never seen him this angry. The higher-ups were always cold toward you - dismissive, cruel - but that wasn’t news. You’d long learned to live beneath their gaze. But now? Now they suddenly had an issue with Megumi attending Jujutsu High?

It was absurd. Hypocritical, even.

Your visits to this dark, barely lit room, where the air smelled of dust and old age, intensified. Old voices mingled with each other in a cacophony of excuses, supposedly existing rules and discussions about traditions or other nonsense.

Your home, once a refuge, had become a minefield of barely contained frustration. It felt as though anger and bitterness pooled in the corners of every room, waiting for the slightest misstep. Every conversation bled into arguments over the most trivial, meaningless things. Half the time, you weren’t sure who started it. Grudges were born in silence, festering where none should exist.

Every day you woke up wondering - what would set things off this time?

You knew if things didn’t change, those wounds would sink deep into each of you, carving scars time wouldn’t erase. And you didn’t want that.

Because even if your marriage was nothing more than ink on paper, you genuinely cared for him. And Satoru - he cared for you too, in that strange way he always had.

After Suguru left, you’d been certain no one could possibly understand the hollow ache his absence left behind. But Satoru proved you wrong. Somehow, in that strange, upside-down way life worked, you found each other standing on the same fractured ground. Grief echoed in both of you, so familiar and jagged, that it bound you closer than either of you expected.

You didn't want to call it love. You were too afraid of that statement, although it often crossed your mind. But it was something, an alliance forged from shared ghosts and a mutual understanding that no matter what hell fate dragged to your doorstep, you’d face it together.

The foundation of a perfect marriage? You almost laughed aloud at the thought. If anything, it felt like the blueprint for survival - convenient paperwork and easier custody battles wrapped in familiarity.

There was no wedding, no rings, no grand gestures to pretend otherwise.

When you graduated, you both left school with broken hearts, old hurts and the hope that your dream of a better future for the young would become a reality.

You are both just good friends who grew up to become good parents. Always complementing each other.

The beginnings were hard - no point pretending otherwise. You were both still so young, fumbling your way through responsibilities no one had prepared you for. Jujutsu High never offered classes on raising two children or how to balance grief with teaching about life and scraped knees.

Time passed. You both grew up. Some things changed; others never did.

At first, Satoru was just a strange but steadfast friend. The kind you could bicker with one minute and lean on the next. A presence that lingered even when you wanted solitude. Then, somewhere along the line, he became a partner - someone who stood beside you not because he had to, but because he chose to. The lines between duty and loyalty blurred until you couldn’t tell which was which.

Your feelings toward him had always existed in that strange, in between space - tangled and contradictory. Close enough to touch, yet distant enough to feel worlds apart.

Even now, after everything, there were days it felt like he stood just beyond your reach. And maybe that’s why neither of you ever tried to name what existed between you.

On the fifth anniversary of your paper-bound marriage, boredom - and maybe a hint of obligation - nudged you both into acknowledging it. Five years deserved something, even if it was just symbolic. Satoru dusted off the sake bottle Nanami had gifted you on your first anniversary. A gift, he’d said, for saving his life on what was supposed to be your day off. By the end of the bottle, you were sprawled together on the couch, loose-limbed and laughing in that way only alcohol allows - when the weight of everything else fades into background noise. And then, somehow, one kiss turned into another.

The kind of mistake that tasted sweet in the moment but came with a headache the next morning. You fucked like the reckless, hormone-fueled teenagers you still were somewhere beneath all the years. Satoru, unsurprisingly, couldn’t hold his liquor. By sunrise, the hangover hit hard - both physically and morally.

It was easier not to talk about it.

With matching grimaces over strong coffee, you silently agreed: best to leave that night in the past and pretend it never happened.

But forgetting wasn’t so simple.

Satoru never did understand personal space. Everyone who knew him could vouch for that. But what surprised you was how naturally you’d become an exception. Somewhere between the shared responsibilities and late-night talks, you’d crossed the invisible line into his real space - he part of him he didn’t let anyone else near.

Years of sleeping beside each other had dissolved even the boundaries Infinity should have kept intact. His cursed technique fell away when he drifted off, and his body sought yours instinctively. You used to find it strange, the way he’d tug you closer in his sleep without a second thought.

Now, the thought of sleeping alone felt stranger.

It wasn’t romantic, not entirely. Just a familiar, silent comfort. But comfort had a way of blurring lines, and sometimes you wondered if either of you really knew where those lines even were anymore.

You caught yourself multiple times, drifting - half-asleep on the ride home - dreaming not of victory or rest, but of his arms around you, anchoring you to something solid after another mission that left too much weight on your shoulders.

You knew he had the same thoughts. The way he’d return late at night, shedding his uniform with tired hands, slipping beneath the covers without a word. You’d feel him press in, wrapping himself around you like it was the most natural thing in the world. No explanations. No need for them.

You’d both fallen into that rhythm, crawling deeper into the routines that made life feel bearable. Somewhere between the late-night missions, shared exhaustion, and quiet mornings, you’d built something fragile, but real. You dared to call it home.

It wasn’t perfect. It never could be.

The life of a jujutsu sorcerer rarely allowed for perfection. Blood, sacrifices, and impossible choices littered the path you walked. But this, the life you’d carved out of sharp edges and exhaustion, was yours.

Yours and his.

And despite everything, you were proud of it. Proud of how you’d both stitched together the fragments of your brokenness into something that could hold, even if just barely.

You weren’t going to let one brutal summer unravel what the two of you had bled to protect.

You weren’t sure how to face the storm brewing between you and Satoru - how to bring up the lingering frustrations or the pressure threatening to tear at the seams of what you’d built. But one thing was certain: you weren’t giving up.

There was something about this time of year - like summer itself was cursed, lingering over your lives with unwelcome familiarity.

You sighed as you stepped inside the flat, the keys clicking softly in the lock. The weight of the day melted away as the quiet hum of home greeted you.

"I'm back!" you called out, voice carrying just a little louder than necessary. Megumi should be home by now, and even if he wouldn’t respond, you liked to announce your return.

The rustle of shopping nets accompanied you into the kitchen, the weight of the day settling gently into the familiar routine. You unpacked the groceries with practiced ease, lining up fresh vegetables and seasoning along the counter, leaving out only what you needed for tonight’s dinner.

A small box of strawberry mochi emerged from one of the bags, and you smiled faintly to yourself. Lately, Satoru had been circling them like a restless cat, lingering too long in the sweets aisle whenever you dragged him along. You placed the box on the counter with a flourish, pressing a bright heart-shaped sticker onto the top.

The stickers had started as a joke - Tsumiki’s idea during one particularly dull afternoon. But somehow, they stuck. Literally. Now they were on everything. Megumi rolled his eyes at them, but you’d caught him carefully peeling them off packaging more than once, tucking them into his notebooks.

My little Tsumiki…

The thought twisted inside you, uncomfortably sharp.

You swallowed against the ache, the weight of helplessness pressing harder on your chest. No one could explain what had happened to her. No label, no cursed energy readings that made sense. Only vague theories and trial-and-error treatments that felt more like rolling dice in the dark.

You blamed yourself for not catching it sooner - for not defending her against something none of you could name.

Like a parent should.

The guilt lingered like a bruise you couldn’t stop poking.

"What’s for dinner today? I’m starving, honestly~"

His voice drifted in from behind you, soft but unmistakably teasing, carrying the faintest undercurrent of exhaustion. You turned, already knowing who it was before your eyes landed on him.

Satoru stood lazily in the doorway, his uniform jacket slung over his arm as if he couldn’t be bothered to hang it up properly. The white shirt underneath clung slightly, creased from the day’s wear, and a few strands of his white hair stuck to his forehead, though whether from sweat or cursed energy, you couldn’t tell. His bandages were gone, leaving his bright eyes uncovered, half-lidded with something that wasn’t quite his usual playful confidence.

"Oh, Satoru." you said, keeping your tone light but watching him carefully "I wasn’t expecting you this early. How was the mission?"

The chopping board clicked steadily beneath your knife as you resumed slicing vegetables. Steam curled up from the pan, filling the kitchen with a soft sizzle.

Satoru dropped into one of the stools at the kitchen island, the scrape of it low and familiar. With an exaggerated sigh, he flicked a pencil between his fingers - one Megumi must have left lying around. He twirled it absentmindedly, gaze distant.

"Can we not talk about this shit?" he exhaled, tossing the pencil down like it had personally offended him.

Oh. It’s bad, isn’t it?

"We can." you replied without hesitation, your hands moving a little faster through the ingredients. You almost hated how easily you could read him now - how the slight downturn of his mouth or the way his shoulders curved forward told you more than words ever could.

"I bought you something." you added quickly, nodding toward the small box you’d left on the counter. The faint gloss of the sticker caught the light, heart-shaped and bright against the simple packaging.

Satoru’s head snapped up instantly, eyes flicking to the box like a cat spotting something shiny. The tension in his face eased as that familiar grin curved his lips.

"Aww~ Is that for me?" his long fingers snatched the box before you could answer, and he popped the lid with all the reverence of opening treasure "Did I mention you’re the best wife in the world?" he teased, his laugh spilling out, warm and infectious.

Loud enough for the neighbors to hear, you thought, shaking your head but smiling despite yourself.

Satoru’s love for sweets wasn’t a secret, but he swore up and down that the ones you brought home tasted better. You always chose carefully - never the generic store-bought kind but something from the little shops tucked away in Tokyo’s side streets, the ones he liked to pretend he’d "discovered" first.

"Sometimes." you replied, dropping the chopped ingredients into the sizzling pan. The sound crackled to life, filling the air with the fragrant blend of soy sauce and garlic.

"I should say it more often then." he mumbled around a mouthful of mochi, cheeks slightly puffed as he leaned one elbow on the counter. His eyes softened, half-closed in that rare, satisfied expression that crept in when he thought no one was watching.

And, somehow, that sight - his simple happiness - settled something small and warm inside your chest.

"Where’s Megumi?" you asked, stirring the pan with steady hands. The scent of dinner started to thicken in the air.

Satoru’s chewing slowed. He swallowed with an exaggerated sigh, his hand already reaching for a second mochi.

"I asked you to avoid difficult topics." he said, muffling the words behind another bite.

Your eyes narrowed. Wordlessly, you crossed the room, plucking the box from his hand before he could claim another.

"Hey - why? You’re so cruel." he whined, watching in dismay as you tucked the sweets back into the cupboard. His lower lip stuck out in a dramatic pout.

"You can have the rest after dinner." you said pointedly, shutting the cupboard with a firm tap of your knuckles.

Satoru rested his chin on his palm, gazing up at you like a scolded puppy "You know, I always thought love was about sharing." he muttered, voice dripping with mock betrayal.

You raised an eyebrow "So… where’s Megumi?"

His eyes flicked toward the ceiling, as if you’d asked him to recite complex theory "You know how kids are these days. They just disappear. No explanation, no note. I think it’s called youthful rebellion." he offered casually, waving a hand in the air as if to punctuate his point.

Your sigh was long and heavy, dragging down from somewhere deep in your chest.

"You two fought again, didn’t you?"

Satoru leaned back against the counter, tipping his stool onto two legs. He waved a dismissive hand "Ayay, fought is such a strong word. I prefer ‘mutual disagreement.’ He’s been rebellious lately. It’s part of growing up. Aren’t you proud?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose, resisting the urge to groan aloud.

"And how long ago did he leave for this... ‘rebellion’?"

Satoru glanced lazily at his watch "Hmm… maybe three hours ago?"

You froze, eyes narrowing dangerously "Three hours?"

"But I’m not sure." he added nonchalantly, as if that softened the blow.

Your silence was deafening. You're going to lose my mind.

"And you let him have these rebellions at this hour?" your voice came sharper than intended, but the frustration felt too heavy to suppress.

Satoru barely glanced up from his spot at the counter, offering a lazy shrug "I don’t know what you mean. If he wants to go out, let him. Megumi’s more than capable of handling himself. He’s unlocked his powers -"

"But not as much as we would like." you muttered, trying to focus on the steam rising in front of you "Not as much as he would like."

You slammed the wooden spoon into the pan a little harder than necessary, the sizzle flaring like the irritation curling in your chest. The tension coiled tighter as you stirred with unnecessary force, as if pouring every ounce of frustration into the pan would somehow bleed it away.

Satoru leaned forward on his elbows, watching you with a half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re being dramatic." he said lightly, as if the whole conversation was an amusing distraction "Sure, he’s got a ways to go. But Megumi has more potential than anyone I’ve seen in years. I believe in him. Which doesn’t mean -" he added, stretching the words out with deliberate slowness "—he’s not a little weak right now."

Your hand stopped mid-stir.

The wooden spoon hovered over the pan, trembling just slightly in your grip. His words struck something buried deep, pulling memories to the surface with unwelcome familiarity.

He had said something like that to you, too.

Back in high school, when his words cut sharper than the edge of any blade, and he wielded them just as carelessly. Satoru could spend hours poking at your insecurities like a child prodding an open wound - mocking your lack of cursed energy, ridiculing the gaps in your abilities with that insufferable smirk plastered across his face.

He never held back. Never thought to.

And back then, there was only one place you could go to escape it.

It was always Suguru who found you afterward, leaning silently against some forgotten corner of the campus, arms open in invitation without asking for explanations. He never needed them. His understanding lingered in the spaces between words, grounding you in a way Satoru never could.

But time has a way of shifting things when you least expect it.

Because one day, after Suguru was gone and all your fragile, half-formed plans had begun to solidify into reality, Satoru’s laughter finally died in his throat. You remembered it clearly, standing across from him in the soft morning light, your eyes reflecting the exact same iridescent glow as his. You didn’t say much. Just explained, calmly and matter-of-factly, why his cursed techniques refused to respond to him that day.

The shock that bled into his features had been a sight to behold. A rare vulnerability etched across the face of someone who thought he had everything figured out. He never apologized.

That moment - the stunned disbelief in his eyes - became its own kind of repayment. Not enough, but something. A quiet victory you held onto, even now.

But part of you still holds onto the smallest ember of anger for that lack of apology. For every mocking jab you’d absorbed in silence, convincing yourself not to flinch, not to let him see the cracks forming beneath the surface.

You know what it feels like to be weak.

You know the weight of isolation, of wondering if the people around you are right - if maybe you should just give up. You remember what it took to claw your way out of that pit, the countless times you trained alone, trying to prove to yourself that you were worth something. That you weren’t a lost cause.

And you refuse to let Megumi feel that same powerlessness.

Especially not from Satoru.

"Did you tell him that?" you asked, your voice low and steady, but the sharp edge was unmistakable.

Satoru barely looked up, still idly spinning the pencil between his fingers "Tell him what?"

"That he’s weak."

"I didn’t necessarily use those words." Satoru muttered, eyes dropping from your face to the pencil he had been relentlessly spinning.

You said nothing, sliding the frying pan off the heat and replacing it with a pot of water. The rhythmic clink of utensils filled the space between you, grounding you just enough to keep from snapping.

You took a breath, measured and deep, swallowing the frustration burning at the back of your throat. He had a knack for testing the limits of your patience without even trying.

"You can’t just toss words like that around." you said, turning to face him. You kept your voice steady, though the tightness in your chest threatened to unravel "Especially not you."

Satoru tilted his head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

"I don’t see the problem. I told the truth, and besides, I also pointed out he has poten—"

"Of course everyone is weak to you, Gojo." you cut in, the weight of his last name slipping off your tongue like ice. His grip on the pencil stilled. That alone told you he’d caught the shift.

When you addressed him like that, it was never good news.

"It doesn’t mean people want to hear it." you continued, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter "Do you even understand what he’s going through?"

You let the question hang in the air, already knowing the answer. After a beat of silence, you added bitterly "Of course you don’t. You’ve always been the strongest." you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but you didn’t take them back.

You knew Satoru wasn’t capable of truly understanding what it felt like to struggle. But that wasn’t the real issue. What gnawed at you was how casually he flaunted that superiority, as if it were a fact of life that the rest of you had to accept.

"You are not weak." he said suddenly, the weight behind his voice catching you off guard.

You blinked, meeting his gaze.

"And how long did it take for you to figure that out?" you asked, softer now but no less biting "You spent years putting me down. The only reason it changed was because I finally showed you my technique."

Why did you sound disappointed?

Satoru shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but didn’t deny it. The truth was unavoidable. His respect for you had shifted the moment your cursed technique became undeniable. And while you knew he cared, you couldn’t shake the lingering ache of all those years he hadn’t.

"You know the higher-ups are still dragging their feet about letting Megumi attend Jujutsu High." you said, steering the conversation back to familiar ground "I don’t understand why now, of all times, you feel the need to call him weak."

Satoru let out a groan, slumping forward dramatically against the counter "Can we not circle back to this? We were having such a family atmosphere." he drawled, voice dipping into exaggerated complaint.

"What do you mean? I’m the one who had to defend him again today—"

"You act like I didn’t do the same thing yesterday." Satoru shot back, his voice rising in tandem with yours. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers tangling briefly before dropping to his side "They send me out like an errand dog on every cursed mission they can dream up. I haven’t had a second of rest, and now I’m avoiding them like the plague. I’m sick of listening to old men stuck in a world that doesn’t exist anymore. And, not to mention, the Zen’in clan has to have a problem with everything."

"As if your clan is any better." you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

Satoru’s head snapped up indignantly "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You smirked faintly, savoring the rare opportunity to turn the tables "I saw your mother today. She made it very clear she’s expecting a grandchild."

He groaned, visibly deflating as he dragged a hand down his face.

"She mentioned it was my ‘duty as your spouse'." you continued casually, tossing ingredients into the boiling water. You caught his slouched figure in the corner of your eye, head in his hands as if trying to physically block out the conversation "Apparently, our secret wedding still stains her pride. It surprises me that she is eager to make such statements, not being the head of the clan and still having a problem about what was almost eight years ago."

"I’ll talk to her." Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

You needed a break. From curses, from the higher-ups, from the constant weight of responsibility that never seemed to lift. Satoru needed one too - you could see it in the way he carried himself, even if he pretended otherwise.

Leaning against the countertop, you stared at the pot, watching the water roll and churn as steam fogged the edges of the lid. Your thoughts drifted somewhere far away, the warmth of the kitchen doing little to untangle the knots that had settled deep in your chest.

Then, without warning, the soft press of fingers brushed against your waist.

You blinked, startled from your thoughts. Satoru’s silhouette slipped into view, his frame settling easily against your back. His arms wrapped around you, head dropping onto your shoulder like it belonged there.

"I’m not the best at words." he murmured, voice quiet in the stillness of the kitchen. His breath fanned lightly across your skin, carrying the faint scent of perviously eaten mochi "Or expressing feelings, as you’ve probably noticed a few dozen times now…" his hold on you tightened "But I don’t want you to feel like shit. These last few weeks—I know. You’re tired too."

Gojo was known for not respecting other people's personal space, this time he used it in a good way.

You let the tension bleed from your body, turning in his arms to press yourself into the solid warmth of his chest. His heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your ear, grounding and familiar. For a moment, there was nothing else - no missions, no higher-ups, no lingering frustration - just the two of you in the quiet hum of the kitchen. He casually turned off the cooker, when he decided that what you had thrown into the pot, had cooked.

Satoru’s hand threaded through your hair, the movement slow and absentminded. His chin rested lightly atop your head as he drew in a deep breath, the faintest hum of contentment escaping him.

You hadn’t even realized how much you needed this.

His uniform smelled distinctly like him - clean but faintly musky, despite the fact you’d picked it up from the laundry just the day before. It was funny how that scent had become synonymous with safety, how somewhere along the line it shifted from just being him to something that meant home. Maybe it was the memory of that mission - the one where he’d carried you the entire way back, his arms tight around you after you nearly didn’t make it. Or maybe it was just years spent by his side.

Either way, standing there in his arms, you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there.

The sudden gurgle of your stomach shattered the moment.

Your eyes widened in embarrassment as you glanced up at him, met immediately by Satoru’s amused, lopsided grin.

"Well~" he teased, one brow arching as if he’d just uncovered your deepest secret "I guess that settles the argument. Dinner first, existential dread later."

Before you could reply, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. The touch was brief but lingering enough to leave you blinking, caught entirely off guard.

You stared at him, slightly dumbfounded, and he caught it instantly.

"What? Don’t look at me like that." he said with faux innocence, though his smirk betrayed him. His hands slid from your waist, settling on your shoulders as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes "It’s a rare display of affection. You should cherish it."

You scoffed, though warmth pooled somewhere beneath your ribs.

"Find Megumi first." you said, crossing your arms but unable to fully suppress your smile "Then you get your share of dinner."

Satoru groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face "You are cruel."

Satoru let out a soft snort, the sound full of quiet amusement. His grin widened, eyes flickering with mischief as he leaned just a little closer "So that’s how it is now? You’re giving me orders?"

You rolled your eyes, tapping the spoon lightly against the rim of the pot, letting the sound punctuate your response "I wouldn’t call it orders. Let’s call it… a challenge."

"A challenge, huh?" his voice dipped with mock intrigue, as if you’d presented him with something far more interesting than finding Megumi. He tilted his head playfully, watching you like a cat sizing up its prey "And what happens if I win this little game of yours?"

You met his gaze with a smirk of your own "Then your dinner’s warm. If you lose, you’ll be reheating it yourself."

Satoru clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his chest in exaggerated thought "Hmm. That doesn’t sound like much of a prize."

"Would you rather starve?" you teased, arching a brow.

"I’d rather negotiate." he shot back, his grin sharpening "How about dessert for the winner? Something sweet~"

"You can negotiate with Megumi when you find him." you replied, turning back to the stove "That’s if he doesn’t make you work for it."

His laughter echoed softly behind you, but the warmth lingered.

"I could get used to being bossed around by you." he teased, voice light as he stretched dramatically.

Before you could respond, he was already moving, vanishing around the corner with that fluid ease that somehow made him feel more like a ghost than the strongest sorcerer alive. The kitchen settled into silence once more, save for the gentle bubbling of the pot.

You exhaled softly, shaking your head with a small, fond smile tugging at your lips.

© noira-l | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Y'all miss these two? Yea me too 😭

During her survival in Las Almas from the Shadows, Jade bumped with Ghost on the way to the church. (idk man)

It's not much, but it's all that I can muster up after coming home from work. Anyway hope y'all love this little sketch! (❁´◡`❁)

Tip Jar ✨🏺

[lunarlivs]

nye with r + s ⭑

[sukunasbow]

the slytherin boys confessing to you on new year’s eve

➤ blaise zabini

he waits for the right moment during the party in the slytherin common room. when the clock strikes midnight and the two of you are facing each other, not even taking notice of everyone around you celebrating a new year, he looks down at you and cups your face, pausing for a moment to admire you before kissing you.

➤ draco malfoy

he carries you to your dorm room when the party’s over and you’re barely able to walk straight after all the drinking, helping you get into bed and covering you with the blanket, brushing your hair out of your face and placing a trash can next to your bed. draco sits on the side of your bed, placing a comforting hand on your leg. when he thinks you’re asleep, he confesses to you, unaware that you’re awake and can hear him.

➤ lorenzo berkshire

when the crowd in the common room gets overwhelming and the loud music seems to be getting louder every second, lorenzo sneaks you away to his favourite spot in hogwarts, the astronomy tower. the weasley twins have fireworks going off to celebrate and the two of you just sit there and watch as the night sky lights up with different colours. he turns to look at you and you can feel him staring, so you do the same and shift your body so you’re looking at each other. “i’ve liked you since first year. i understand if you don’t feel the same way, but considering it’s a new year, i just needed to tell you. you mean so much to me.” he whispers.

➤ mattheo riddle

he can feel the jealousy radiating off of him as he’s sitting on one of the leather couches in the common room, watching you and harry potter join the rest of the crowd in dancing. your eyes shift to glance at mattheo behind harry’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he basically death stares at the brunette you’re swaying your hips against. when mattheo looks away, you do the same and bring your attention back to him, not expecting it when the angry slytherin walks up to you and harry. “matty? what—” before you can even finish your sentence, he punches harry right in the jaw and starts a fight with the gryffindor boy. later on, the two of you are in mattheo’s dorm as you clean his hands and the mark on his face from the one hit the other boy was actually able to get in. the party is still going on and although you’re pissed at him for ruining your night, he can’t help but tell you exactly why he started the fight and how much he wants you as you wipe some blood off of his bleeding knuckles.

➤ theo nott

theo takes a, slightly, calmer approach to his confession. when he sees you, his best friend, dancing with fred weasley, his immediate response is to shut down and distance himself from you for the rest of the night. he drowns his sorrows in cheap alcohol the twins managed to score for the party. eventually, when you realize you haven’t seen him in a bit, you part ways with fred to go find him. when you find him, he’s drinking alone on one of the leather couches in the middle of the room. confronting him, determined to figure out why he’s acting so weird, he drunkenly confesses.

[wigglebox]

Happy New Year! 🎆✨🌈

I hope 2024 is a gentle and kind year for all!

[literaila]

mama y/n should be fuckin it up in a club…. but she got three kids at home instead!!! does shoko ever take her out.. do they go drinking till the sun rises?? has y/n ever had the time to go crazy in her 20s?!

need an unhinged totally not sober y/n and gojo.. i know he loves her when shes in that state bc she has got to be more outspoken and bold about her feelings

“s’toru,” you whisper, a delirious smile on your face. “are you listening?”

satoru puts a hand on your back, steadying the slight sway you’ve got going on. so what if you’re a bit wobbly? at least you’re having fun.

or so you told him ten minutes ago when he asked if you were ready to leave.

“yes, baby,” he answers, after a moment, trying not to grin at your pout, or you in general. but a man is only so strong.

luckily you’re drunk enough not to notice. or drunk enough not to comment on it.

whichever it is, satoru is grateful for it.

“what’s up?” he prods, when you don’t continue whatever tangent you were going on. something about the prospects of living in outer space, or megumi’s math homework—he’s not sure.

“where’d everyone go?”

“home,” he answers, hand on his chin, leaning in close enough to hear you. “shoko doesnt like the crowds.”

you laugh, your face is sheen with sweat and your smile is infectious. “she just doesn’t like you.”

“she was my friend first,” satoru says, mock offended. “even wasted, you’re a bully.”

“i’m not wasted,” you frown, and sway, just a little bit more.

satoru nods unconvincingly. “okay, pina colada. drink this.” he moves his glass over to you, your heads just centimeters away.

it’s because he can’t hear you in here, okay? it’s because it’s very loud and he doesn’t want to miss any of your incessant mumbling—it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the proximity or the way the feeling of your breath against his cheek makes him feel.

just to clarify.

“what’s this?”

“water.”

“gross,” you say, but take a gulp anyway. then you sigh, maybe in relief, and look to him. “where’s your drink?”

“you just finished it.”

your eyes waver. “i’m sorry, s’toru,” you tell him, softly. you’re still leaning in and it’s still making him nervous.

but he’s smiling. he can’t seem to stop when he’s around you. “it’s okay, baby, it’s time to go home anyway.”

“no,” you whine, resting your head on the counter. “i’m having fun.”

“you can have fun in bed.”

“with you?”

satoru chokes, just briefly, and looks away—not because he’s blushing, but because… well, for other, private reasons. satoru doesn’t get flustered.

“you’re funny,” he says, and stands up. “i hope you don’t remember this in the morning.”

he pulls you up by your arm and you immediately relax into him, like a cat to the sun. “why?”

“‘cause you’ll avoid me for a week.”

satoru hopes he’ll forget the way it feels to have you like this, without the inhibitions.

“no,” you pout, looking up at him. “i would miss you too much.”

satoru softens. he wishes he could bask in this version of you—let your heart speak its forbidden wishes for a little while longer—but you told him that you didn’t want to stay out too late.

the kids will be home by early afternoon, at the latest, and megumi is a handful without a hangover.

“that’s why you should forget this,” he whispers, “so we don’t have to miss each other.”

“okay. whatever you think.”

that’s also a pleasant surprise—sober, rational you would never agree with anything he said.

“c’mon,” he tells you, holding the door open. “turn.”

satoru leads you to the car—slowly—watching your feet and ignoring the way you’re curling into him, the way you’re so close and so indifferent about it. he buckles you in, the feeling of your sweet breath on his neck, and closes the door softly.

as satoru settles in, he can feel you leaning against the seatbelt, resting your head on the window.

it might be better if you fall asleep, anyway. it might give him the space to breathe—the space to remember the careful boundaries you’ve taught him over the past four years.

not that they’ve ever mattered to him, not that he would push you away if—

“satoru?” you murmur, and he looks over, shocked that you’re not slurring his name.

“hmm?”

“will you stay with me tonight?” your eyes are shut tight, your arms tucked around your body. “when i go to sleep?”

“i…” satoru swallows. you’re not even awake. you’re not even yourself. “of course.”

“will you stay with me tomorrow, too?”

“yes, sweetheart. whatever you want.”

your lip quirks and you become even less visible to satoru. he can see you clearly—like he can see everything—but for this moment, he’ll pretend he’s just a normal man.

and you just a normal woman. just the same girl you were when he first knocked on your door.

“really?”

he nods, but you’re not looking.

and as satoru begins to drive away, he can almost feel the words, can hear them in the still of the car.

a soft, “i just want you,” tumbling from your lips. some wish you’ll never get.

but that might just be his imagination.

[crypticminx]

Getting high with Felix…..

⋆˙⟡♡✧˖° ⋆˙⟡♡✧˖° ⋆˙⟡♡✧˖°

The two of you sitting on his bed, the soft melody of what you can only presume to be jazz plays through the old speakers of his record player.

He’s dressed in nothing but his boxers and an undone dress shirt, his toned abs on full display for your eyes only. You lay for a bit, tilting your head on a pillow, while your bare skin pushes into the silk sheets, not caring if you’ve just moved the rolling tray.

Any excess cannabis would be used for another day it seemed.

The two of you nearly finished the poorly rolled joint, coughing all the way in between foolish laughs that resulted in both of you taking turns spitting into an empty wine glass.

Like his mother once said, nothing phases them, so she shouldn’t be too upset at the powerful scent of pot lingering through the unsealed level of his bedroom door, right?

A foul smell to some, but the two of you were too dazed to care.

A huge smile on your face appears when Felix slowly waltzes around his room, beginning to dance as if there was no tomorrow. You feel your dry mouth start to salivate. Perhaps it was the tiny pang of hunger sprouting from within, but you didn’t want to interrupt the moment. Finding Felix far too gone and quite adorable when he wasn’t in his usual state of mind.

“Oh Felix,” you purr, trying not to grin like a maniac, but you slowly started to lose grip on your once caring conscious, “you’re a fool.”

He walks closer to his bed frame, seeing you sprawled out like some sort of renaissance painting makes him thirst with adoration. However, he shoves those thoughts aside for later and graciously tosses his hand to yours. “Dance with me, my fair lady?”

You chuckle, pushing yourself up from your cozy abundance and taking his hand with glee.

“Who would I be if I said no to that.”

[syl-stormblessed]

everyone loves talking about the batshit worldbuilding in WoT but I feel like everybody tends to overlook the Vaguely Evil Elves From Another Dimension that have their own officially licensed chutes and ladders-esque board game that you Cannot Ever Win

[mikareo]

megumi doing smth pls

⌗ THIRTEEN YEARS ₊ ˖ ་. megumi fushiguro x fem reader (2.6k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ 3 times megumi wants to tell you he loves you, and the 1 time he does.

contains; attack on titan au, marleyan!megumi, eldian!reader, aot spoilers!!! (season 4), forbidden lovers, fluff, angst, kissing, major character death, cannabalism? (titans), annie cameo! author's note; here u get an old draft (psa none of this will make sense if you haven't watched attack on titan!!!!)

i. what is love at first sight

it's almost human instinct; knowing which people are more likely to have good fortune. some are simply born with an advantage— these people having the freedom to walk along the river bank, skip flattened rocks down streams, and laugh with their peers. with families who shop in the market together, hand-in-hand with woven baskets strewn over their shoulders, and all the time in the world to live their lives to the absolute fullest as true freelancers facing the rising sun that sees tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that.

but in the truth of it all...the sun doesn't shine on everyone.

there are countless amounts of souls who aren't as blessed as marleyans like megumi. souls entangled with the devil herself, ymir, a woman who singlehandedly birthed the 'race from hell'...which he's never fully agreed with. everyone he knows refers to eldians as humanity's sin, but it's not their fault their biology is simply different.

humans are humans, right? they've done no wrong by being born. especially the warrior candidate he's been staring at for the past hour from a distance. you can't be that bad. after all, you're beautiful.

okay, yes. he has a little crush. he can't help it! one day, he was minding his own business on a walk home from the lab, when gojo had the bright idea of sneaking a peak at the warrior training. that's when megumi first saw you and his world stopped. sure, you were covered in mud and crawling through trenches with a rifle strapped to your back; but that didn't make him any less awestruck. since then he's hidden himself in the same bush, week after week, just to get a glimpse of your face.

"she's a cutie. you've got good taste." okay, creepy.

megumi rolls his eyes, glancing up at his mentor who's the only person who knows of his little secret. "don't you have women to harass?"

"ouch, sassed by a ten year old. i see how it is." gojo chuckles, ruffling his black hair and crouching down to the younger boy's level. "you see her out there? she's killing it. i heard she's the top contender for the female."

"i hope so." his blue eyes are locked on you, watching as your focused expression turns to determination whilst helping your teammate off the ground. "she'll have a better chance of living that way."

"...and maybe your family will let you meet her."

ugh, his family. since he was six, the zenin's have raised him with their questionable values and ideals. as the leading researchers in the modern world, they've revolutionized how eldians are studied! at least that's what he's been told. to be frank, he doesn't care about the right or wrong battle they've propagandized to the rest of humanity. all he cares about is knowing your name and telling you how pretty your eyes are.

"i want to talk to her, at least once." his voice is quiet, but gojo hears.

"why? you wanna tell her you love her?"

he hates him so much.

"no!" megumi exclaims, pushing back the older man in defense. his cheeks are bright red from embarrassment and he can feel the flames emitting from them. "i just want to be her friend, that's all. why do you always make things so weird?"

it's amusing to gojo how his little friend is so flustered. usually megumi is a shy boy, keeping to himself and avoiding contact with his peers; but whenever the conversation topic is you, he seems to perk up...and gojo loves to tease a lovestruck kid.

"don't worry," he smirks, "you'll understand your feelings when you're older. you don't need to tell her quite yet that you love her."

love you?

"just shut up and let me watch." megumi grumbles, resting his head in his hands as you're jumping up and down after being praised by your captain. he wishes he could make you that happy one day. "it's not love, i'm serious."

he'll understand what love means when he gets older. for now, he'll just imagine confessing.

ii. what is love that is forbidden

you're a lot more annoying than he thought you'd be.

after having been selected as the new female titan, your ego is boasting with energy and won't stop boasting no matter how often megumi tells you to zip it. though he was excited to meet you, his thirteen year old self now wishes you'd give him a moment of peace. instead, you insist on following him around whenever and wherever you can and yapping his ear off with comments on everyone and everything about your day. please, just give him a break.

"uh, fushiguro..."

he sighs with exhaustion. "what?"

"i think i locked us in here."

dammit.

"you forgot the key?" he asks.

"i forgot the key." you confirm.

of course you did.

with an exhausted grumble, megumi settles himself on the cold, cement floor of the supply closet you'll both call home for the next few hours. it's both of your days off, but he'd wanted to prep his supplies for his training on monday; to which you, of course, invited yourself along for the ride. you'll stay out of the way. it's fine, he can just ignore you. that's what he told himself...though, it's impossible for him to ignore you.

it's likely that no one will visit the storage room until the evening time— with most of his colleagues at home with their families, cooking a warm meal with lamb and stew. it's also uncommon for any of the researchers to be in liberio on their off days. megumi's just the special kind that doesn't think he'll be plagued by breathing the same air as eldians.

"mind if i join you?" he knows you're asking a rhetorical question and you know he'd never reject you.

with a small plop, you take a seat next to him. he's used to your warmth by now— considering you to be an essential part of his every day, despite how much he enjoys complaining about you— and leans his head against yours. it's obvious that you're sleepy. though, you never indulge in conversations about your training, megumi is well aware of how overworked you are. he can't imagine fighting in wars at this age, especially wars in which you're fourteen meters tall and smashing through brick walls; which is why he tries his best to be there for you when you need him.

your life is a battlefield and he's the peaceful conclusion.

"you know..." the sound of your voice is faint, a great contrast to your usual noise and megumi can tell something is wrong. "when they find us here, they're going to think i kidnapped you."

"i mean what else would the zenin heir be doing with a titan shifter?" you start to choke on your words and he instinctively wraps his arms around you. "you don't need to comfort me, fushiguro. we both know i'm going to be punished after this. you can't apologize and make everything okay like usual."

to your surprise, his pointer finger touches your cheek and gently wipes away your running tears. "...fushiguro—"

"it won't always be like this." he interrupts you, cupping your face as if you're a rare gem that he can't afford breaking. "when i'm in charge, i'm going to change things. you won't have to do this anymore. i won't let them do this to you anymore!"

the two of you are a mess on the floor, crying in each others arms, and wishing that the world was a better place. "you still have thirteen years left. please...please keep fighting for me. i promise i'm going to save you."

"fushiguro..."

"call me by my first name."

"...megumi."

you're beautiful. he wants to kiss you so badly, but he knows now isn't the time. he wants to hold your hand in public, but he knows you'll be berated for doing so. he wants to tell you he loves you, but he's too afraid.

megumi fushiguro is a coward.

...but he's a coward in love; and one day, when he's taller and stronger, he's going to be able to tell you that. he's going to be able to protect you.

iii. what is love that is hopeless

"hold still." megumi's voice is soft, his fingers of the same gentle malice as they tend to your open wounds that haven't quite healed yet. with titan steam wafting from the slashes scattering your forearms and shoulders, they blow into his face in a fury of pain. "dammit, i said hold still."

his brings both arms down to your shoulders, heart breaking at the sight of you wincing in retaliation to his force, but carries on. there's no telling what you would've gotten yourself into if he hadn't insisted he care for your wounds; after making it publicly known that he's to be the only researcher allowed within your vicinity after your tireless warrior missions, none of the other researchers even attempt to get near you. he hates how often you put yourself in harms way in order to save your comrades. you're too brave. you've never been just a warrior of marley, but more or less a warrior of all people.

"i've been sitting here for an hour already, megumi." you roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the metal rims and turning to face your very pissed off best friend. "i'm tired and i'd like to get at least an hour of sleep tonight."

his expression is somewhat terrifying. if you didn't know megumi was such a scaredy cat, you'd be intimidated by his reddened cheeks and eyes of fury. it's almost as if he's an inflamed torch held against fluorescent lighting, pasty and saturated in fear and exhaustion. "i need to make sure you're okay."

"well, i have another plane to catch at dawn," you deflect his concerns. "there's some issue i was assigned to when i landed this morning. i guess one of our enemies isn't afraid of titans yet."

"you're not going."

he's firm in his statement. megumi doesn't like how his colleagues take advantage of you and your abilities. they're working you to skin and bones. if they were the ones checking up on you after every battle they'd know so, but they wouldn't treat you with as much care. his only wish in the world is to keep you safe, which he's doing an awful job at as of yet. "i don't want you getting more hurt than you already are."

"as if it matters." you scoff, leaning towards him in an attempt to get him to back off. "i'll just give 'em a little taste of my titan and they'll run away like mice. it's easy, 'gumi. trust me—"

"life isn't a game!" he's furious.

"well mine is!" you're angry as well.

why don't you get it? why can't you just run away with him?

"i only have four years left! four years, megumi! i don't care if i die tomorrow or the day after that or the day after that. i'm going to either way. you don't have that problem. you don't understand."

without warning, his lips are on yours in his best attempt to stop you from spouting all of his fears and worries from your mouth. he doesn't want to hear it. he just wants to pretend none of it is happening, and you're going to be okay. you are going to be okay. he'll make sure of it.

it takes a moment for you to respond until your intertwined in a feverish kiss that sends his medical supplies clanging to the floor— but megumi doesn't care about order, all he cares about now is being as close to you as possible. he's dreamt of this moment for years. what you taste like...feel like...sound like. he knows you're his soulmate. what he doesn't know is why it's taken him so long to kiss you.

but before your connection can move forward and become something more, your touch is gone.

"i'm sorry, i can't do this." there are tears creeping from the corners of your beautiful eyes. "i—"

he calls out your name as your figure dashes out the door, wishing that he was able to confess. he wants to tell you he loves you so badly; except he doesn't have the bravery he needs. with four more years left, megumi has two things on his agenda.

1.) find a way to save you.

2.) tell you he's yours forever.

iv. what is love everlasting

he's finally become a monster like the rest of them.

from the first time he saw you, he told himself he'd be your savior. he made countless promises that he'd find a way for eldians and marleyans to live in peace, that he'd find a way to save you from this shitty war; only to be the very person to lock you in chains, awaiting imminent death as the next female titan will be born.

megumi wanted to be brave. he wanted to stop being such a coward, but some people just aren't capable of changing so much— and what a disappointment that is.

"hey, fushiguro?" when did you stop calling him by his first name? "can you keep a secret?"

he's not supposed to be civil with you. his orders are to chain you up, inject the child, and watch as she devours you; but you're his weakness. he can't resist you. "of course i can."

a smile graces your lips. it's not a smile of happiness or joy...it's one of anguish and pain. "i wish i ran away with you. i should've run away with you. even though we only had four years, we could've been happy."

why are you saying all of this?

now of all times?

you should've told him years ago! you should've let him know your secrets before he let them change him! before he distanced himself from you and became distracted with his work!

"...megumi..."

"yes?" he's desperate to hear you.

"...i don't want to die."

a thought crosses his mind. it's a scene in which two main characters beat all odds and escape the chains and prisons they've faced, running off into the sunset, never to be seen again. this scene has a happy ending, one where there's a small and intimate wedding with no witnesses except the meadow's flowers. he lifts your veil away from your eyes and murmurs sweet nothings as you kiss him to start off your forever. his heart wants that to be true. he wants that to be true. it's too late, though. you have no time left. your thirteen years is up. his thirteen years of knowing you is up. it's time to say goodbye.

"i can't save you." he's struggling to get his words out while maintaining his composure; and your heart breaks as his promise does as well. "i'm sorry."

he's a monster.

you hang your head, nodding and accepting your fate as he makes his way down the stairs. seeing you like that, knowing what your fate is, almost causes megumi to pass out from lightheadedness. he knows he shouldn't be worrying about himself. after all, you're the one who's about to die. he has a whole lifetime to continue living, and your lifetime was a mere twenty-six years.

gently, he takes the newest warriors hands and tells her what he's about to do. the blonde girl nods along to his words, trying her best to ignore your radiating hopelessness as she's about to become the next you; and megumi injects his needle into her neck.

he wants to look away so badly as she grows into a pure titan with eyes locked on your frail body, but he doesn't want it to end like this. there's gotta be something that he can do to help you. anything to save you from this fate; but to no avail, he's powerless. so powerless that the only thing he manages to do is mouth three seemingly meaningless words as he locks eyes with you.

"i love you."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

thinking about:

graduated former cheerleader!dick grayson who comes back to help assistant coach at his former college x a still there cheerleader!reader who was secretly fascinated and sort of infatuated with him when they were on the team together

[batsplat]

Austria 2018: Bradley Smith, Andrea Dovizioso, Marc Marquez, Valentino Rossi, Jorge Lorenzo and Miguel Oliveira design their ideal circuit