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writesvani · 5 months ago

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coming down | 05

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): alcohol use, vomiting, intoxication, emotional manipulation, jealousy, unspoken tension, toxic relationships, self-doubt, unrequited love, discomfort, arguments, heated exchanges, unresolved sexual tension, drug use, self-destructive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, physical discomfort, past trauma references, explicit language

comment HERE for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M. LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 7,2k // date: 20th of March 2025

CHAPTER FIVE - House of Balloons; proceed with caution...

AN (IMPORTANT, PLEASE DON'T SKIP):

hey gummies, it’s vani.

before you dive into ch 5, we need to have a little heart-to-heart: so, my taglist is growing like weed, but y’all are as silent as a library at midnight. how do i know you’re reading if no one’s making noise? comment, like, reblog, send me a carrier pigeon, give me your opinions on my writing, my characters, your life, your dog—just talk to me. seriously—just DO SOMETHING.

here’s the deal: next chapter drops ONLY AFTER we hit 150 kudos. yes, 150. i know some of you will cry about it, but honestly, 150 is my average kudo count. so no excuses. this is a public reaction test, okay? i laughed 70 times writing this chapter and i expect the same energy from you.

let’s see how many people are actually reading. hit 150 and chapter 6 will be here faster than a pizza delivery at 3 am. go wild.

love, vani

It feels natural talking to Geto, like slipping into a familiar rhythm you didn’t realize you missed. There’s an effortless flow between you, a quiet understanding laced into every exchanged glance, every syllable that leaves his lips like a slow-burning shot you can’t help but take. His eyes are heavy-lidded, tinged with a lazy rosiness, half-lost in the moment.

He’s perched on the edge of Aiko’s bed, shoulders hunched forward, his presence somehow both relaxed and consuming. He insisted on escaping the overcrowded living room—too loud, too messy. Instead, he wanted to go somewhere quieter, more private. Somewhere just for the two of you.

His gaze traces over you, unhurried, mapping out the contours of your form like he’s reading between the lines of a story he’s desperate to understand. There’s something in his eyes—a glimmer of curiosity, of wanting to know you. Not just the surface version of you, but the real thing. It’s a look you haven’t seen in a long time. Not since Ren. Maybe Yumi. Or even… Gojo.

Your throat runs dry as the thought of Gojo flickers through your mind—he’s still off fetching drinks, you presume. A rational part of you knows there are some lines that should never be crossed, some weapons too cruel to wield. Especially if that weapon is Ren.

But seeing it—the pain, the betrayal simmering just beneath Gojo’s nonchalant exterior, barely concealed behind the gleam of his blue irises—it was satisfying. A twisted kind of victory. It made your blood run cold and set it ablaze all at once.

Yeah. It was worth it.

You know you aren’t fully immersed in your conversation with the black-haired, god-sculpted man sitting beside you, but the thoughts clouding your mind are relentless. You think about how you left the living room without a word to Ren, how, once he's done devouring that guy in the corner, he’ll be looking for you.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips—they feel too dry. Everything feels too dry. The air, your throat, the pit forming in your stomach. With rushed movements, you rummage through your little lavender-painted purse, fingers desperately searching for a lip balm, a lip gloss—anything. Your hands move with a frantic urgency, as if coating your lips in something will somehow soothe the dull ache stretching through your chest like a tightening net.

And even though you don't want to—God, you don’t—you think about the fact that Gojo will be back soon. With drinks. Probably just for himself and Geto, because the absolute menace he is, he’ll take one look at you and decide you don’t deserve the satisfaction of numbing yourself with alcohol.

Geto notices. Of course, he does. His gaze lingers on you, his brows furrowing slightly as he takes in the shift, the sudden stiffness in your frame. He rolls his shoulders, making a point to look away, like he’s trying not to dwell on whatever the hell just flickered through you. But he feels it. Just like you do.

So even though the unspoken familiarity of talking to him is begging you to slip into the conversation, your tongue feels heavy, locked in place by the weight pressing against your chest. There’s a strange uncertainty hanging in the air, curling around your posture, making your shoulders hunch ever so slightly.

Geto pulls out his phone, the movement swift, almost too sharp. His fingers tap against the screen in a rhythmic melody, the soft sound filling the silence between you.

“You wanna watch some reels?” he asks, throwing you a glance, one brow quirked in quiet amusement. His lips press into a thin line—like he doesn’t know what else to say, like this is the only lifeline he can offer.

It’s strange, how the easy flow of conversation from earlier has withered into something fragile. How the air between you feels thick, charged with something you can’t name.

Without thinking, you shift closer, the warmth of his body pulling you in like gravity. Your shoulder presses firmly against his, and you swear you can feel the slow, steady rhythm of his pulse thrumming beneath his skin. Heat licks up your thighs where they press together, and when you rest your head lightly against his shoulder, he doesn’t move away.

For the next few minutes, silence settles over you—not the suffocating kind from before, but something softer. Something that feels almost safe. The only sounds are the occasional bursts of laughter shared between you when a particularly ridiculous video pops up on his screen.

And maybe you aren’t talking, maybe there are still things lingering in the spaces between you, but at least this silence doesn’t feel quite so lonely. It’s warm, like a cup of tea on a dreary afternoon. Like an anchor in the middle of a storm.

“I’m so back, besties.”

The voice slices through the room like a blade, sharp enough to make your body stiffen before you even register the interruption. Instinct takes over—your head snaps toward the intruder, a reflex you wish you could unlearn. But of course, it’s him. It’s always him.

Gojo Satoru stands in the doorway, one shoulder pressed lazily against the frame, like he’s been there for a while. Watching. Waiting. His gaze flickers between you and Geto, his expression a masterclass in indifference. Empty. Detached. But his lips—those damn lips—are curved into that signature smirk, the one that makes people go stupid. Three white plastic cups dangle from his left hand, the liquid inside them sloshing with every shift of his weight.

Your eyes roll so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck in the back of your head.

“Gee, we were just getting worried,” you deadpan, dripping in sugar-coated sarcasm, because if he’s going to be unbearable, then so are you.

Gojo scoffs, the sound lazy, dismissive. His footsteps are slow, measured. Predatory. He takes his time approaching, each step dragging out the inevitable.

“Well, I told you not to miss me too much,” he murmurs, plopping onto the mattress beside Geto like he owns the place. Like this moment belongs to him.

You groan, shifting away slightly. “Didn’t you notice that we literally ran away from you? Why the hell did you follow us?”

His eyes latch onto yours, piercing, hungry in a way you can’t decipher. It’s infuriating, the way he just exists—so effortlessly, so maddeningly.

Gojo tilts his head, grin widening like he’s savoring your irritation. “Well, sweetheart, I was just being courteous, bringing the drinks my oh-so-great friend here,” he gestures lazily at Geto, “asked me to bring.”

Your teeth grind together as you bite down the urge to lunge across the bed and slap that smirk clean off his face.

Ugh. Why doesn’t he just go fuck off somewhere else?

“Fine,” you scoff, already feeling your patience thinning like an overstretched rubber band. If this is how the rest of your night is going to be—at least until Ren finishes his business—then you might as well spend it getting drunk. Maybe the numbing warmth of alcohol will smooth over the weirdness of the night. Because, hell, you made out with Geto, and you can’t even begin to process it. Not when Gojo’s eyes are burning holes into your skull. Not when he somehow feels closer than the man actually sitting beside you.

You stretch your arm out, palm flat and expectant, right in front of Gojo.

“Gimme the drink,” you say, lips pressing into a thin line.

The boy next to you practically vibrates with amusement. His grin widens, sharp as a blade, his fingers curling around the plastic cups like they’re a prize you need to earn.

“Nuh-uh.”

He twists a single finger in the air, slow and deliberate, as if wagging it at a disobedient child.

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Not yet.”

“The fuck?”

Frustration spikes in your chest, hot and insistent. Without thinking, you lunge, half-sitting, half-sprawled over Geto in an attempt to snatch a cup from Gojo’s grasp. The action is desperate, ridiculous—and so are you—and it only makes Gojo’s smirk deepen, his amusement damn near suffocating.

“You’ll have to beg for it,” he whispers, voice just low enough to be a secret shared between the two of you. Each word is slow, deliberate, rolling off his tongue like he’s savoring the taste. Like he wants you to hear him.

A sharp laugh escapes you before you can stop it. Because—what the fuck?

Does he seriously think this is funny?

"The audacity," you bite out, yanking the cup from his grasp. But before you can retreat back to your comfortable position, something warm envelops your skin—firm, unyielding.

His fingers curl around your wrist, trapping you in place.

"Not that one," he says quickly, almost too quickly, his eyes flickering between the cup and your face with something close to panic.

Your brows furrow. "What, did you lace it or something?"

"No," he snaps, but there's a hesitation in his voice. A beat of silence, thick enough to choke on.

Geto shifts beneath you, the movement subtle, but you can feel it. When you glance at him, expecting discomfort, all you see is—interest. His dark eyes are sharp, locked onto the unfolding situation, his lips pressed into something unreadable. He isn’t intervening. He’s watching. Observing.

But before you can dwell on it, Gojo speaks again.

"It's vodka."

You squint at him, a grimace pulling at your features. "...So?"

His grip doesn't loosen. If anything, it tightens. Steady. Familiar. Too much like before.

"You hate vodka" he says, as if it's fact.

Your jaw tightens. "No, I don’t—"

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"C'mon, sweetheart, you do."

"First of all, stop calling me that," you snap, irritation flaring in your chest. "And second of all, I literally don’t."

"Really?" His head tilts, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "‘Cause last time I remember you drinking vodka, you were sixteen, throwing up your soul, crying out that you’d never drink it again after it rearranged your guts."

Your fingers tighten around the cup, knuckles whitening.

His voice is laced with something mocking, something goading—but beneath it, there’s something else. Something real.

And the worst part?

He remembers.

"Jesus," you scoff, your gaze flickering to Geto, who’s still a little too invested in what’s unfolding between you and Gojo. Your chest tightens, a storm brewing behind your eyes. "I grew out of it."

Your words come out sharp, clipped, as your eyes snap to Gojo, your face flushed with annoyance. He doesn’t know what it was like. He doesn’t get it. You can’t believe he's dredging up your past like this.

You don’t need him to remember.

You don’t need any of it.

And you definitely don’t need more reminders of him. Of you.

And yet, there’s his voice, sliding under your skin like a cold knife. He knows you. Too well.

Your throat tightens, and your pulse runs cold. You yank your hand back, the motion jerky, and as your fingers slip from his grip, some of the drink splashes onto Geto’s shirt.

"Oh, shit." You curse under your breath, your heart racing as you frantically try to dab at the stain.

"I’m so sorry," you mutter, your words tumbling out in a rush, your fingers moving quickly to clean the mess.

"It’s just a few drops, hun. Relax," Geto responds, a bemused smile playing on his lips as he settles into a more comfortable position, now that you’ve moved away from the awkward entanglement. He pauses, looking between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

"There's really some bad blood between y’all," Geto notes casually, his hands darting to sweep the hair on his forehead back, the night’s chaos taking its toll on his usually composed appearance.

You can hear Gojo scoff softly, his lips curling into that trademark grin that you hate, but know all too well. You try to ignore it, but the sound makes something in your chest tighten.

"Please," Gojo mutters under his breath, eyes glinting with something that borders on amusement and annoyance.

“There isn't. This asshole just won’t leave me alone,” you snap, the words spilling out faster than you intend. They feel bitter on your tongue, too sharp, too telling. Gojo watches you closely, his eyes dancing over every flicker of emotion on your face like he’s dissecting you, waiting for you to slip. The corner of his mouth twitches—not quite a smirk, but something more insufferable. Something different.

So you do the only thing you can—you take a sip of your drink. Slowly. Purposefully. Just to spite him. His gaze doesn’t waver, locking onto your face as if he’s counting the seconds it takes for you to react. You know what he wants. He wants you to gag, to grimace, to prove him right. He wants Gojo Satoru Wins printed in bold letters across your forehead. So you let the vodka sear your throat, let it claw its way down, your expression unreadable as you swallow the fire.

Geto stretches beside you, his back arching slightly, muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he rolls out the tension in his neck. “Gee, now that you two have spent five minutes bickering about vodka, I just realized… doesn’t everyone have a near-death experience with it at some point?” His voice is casual, but there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he watches the silent war unfolding between you and Gojo.

Gojo scoffs dramatically, tipping his head back as if the memory physically pains him. “Yeah, well, she was puking all over my room. Not funny.” His voice drips with mock offense, and he pointedly addresses Geto like you aren’t sitting right there.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, but before you can fire back, Geto perks up, his lips twitching like he’s suppressing a grin. “Oh shit. That reminds me—once, I drank like ten shots of clear vodka on a school trip,” he says, his fingers lazily running through the loose strands of his hair before tying them back into a neater bun. “And I puked inside my roommate’s backpack. And the backpack was filled with his clothes.”

You nearly choke on your drink, a laugh bursting out of you before you can help it. Even Gojo, for all his theatrics, lets out a chuckle.

“No way,” you gasp between laughs, eyes wide as you turn to face Geto fully. “You vomited in his bag? Like, all his clothes were just—”

“—coated in it,” Geto confirms with a slow, amused nod. His shoulders shake slightly as he laughs at the memory. “It wasn’t even intentional. I passed out, woke up, and there he was, flipping the bag inside out like he was inspecting a crime scene. Poor guy was horrified.”

Your laughter only grows, shoulders trembling as you picture it. “Oh my god, Geto—”

Gojo clicks his tongue, shaking his head with faux disappointment. “Tsk, tsk, Suguru. And here I thought you had class.”

Geto lets out a low chuckle, stretching his long legs out in front of him, completely unfazed. “C’mon, like you’ve never had a drunk horror story.”

Gojo places a hand on his chest, gasping dramatically. “Me? I am a respectable, responsible young man.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t get stuck. “I distinctly remember you breaking into a vending machine with a baseball bat at fifteen because it ‘refused to give you your damn twix’.”

Geto hums, tilting his head. “Now that’s what I'm talking about.”

Gojo grins, stretching his arms behind his head like he’s perfectly at ease. “Okay, first of all, that vending machine deserved it. It stole my money. Second of all, what does this have to do with anything?”

You scoff, leaning back onto your palms, your body angled slightly toward Geto. “The point is, you are not respectable or responsible. You are, in fact, insane.”

Gojo feigns offense, but his grin only widens. He shifts closer to Geto, his hand accidentally knocking against yours, forcing you to acknowledge his presence in that unbearable way of his. “And yet, sweetheart,” he drawls, voice laced with amusement, “you still can’t seem to stay away from me.”

Your breath catches, but you school your expression into something unimpressed, tilting your chin up in defiance. “Maybe I just enjoy the suffering. Watching you exist is like witnessing a live car crash—horrible, tragic, but I just can’t look away.”

Geto snorts, barely containing his laughter as Gojo places a hand over his heart like you just mortally wounded him. “Wow. The betrayal. I’ll remember this, you know.”

“Good,” you quip, taking another sip of your drink, letting the burn replace the unexpected warmth rising in your chest. “I hope it haunts you.”

Gojo smirks, eyes flickering down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, sharp and playful. “Oh,” he murmurs, voice dipping into something lower, something dangerous, “wouldn’t you like to.”

And just like that, the game shifts. The air thickens. Geto exhales a quiet breath, sensing the shift in energy between you two, but he doesn’t comment. He simply watches, eyes gleaming with amusement.

You don’t look away. You refuse to look away. Because looking away means losing. Looking away means admitting that, despite everything—despite the venom, despite the years—you still can’t shake Gojo Satoru from your skin.

And then you hear your name being yelled through the apartment—so loud, it rattles your bones, and for a split second, you swear the walls might just collapse under the weight of it.

“Aiko’s bedroom!” you shout, barely able to catch the surprise that’s rising in your chest. You don’t even have time to brace yourself before Ren, like some sort of comic book character, pops into view.

His hair’s a mess, clearly a product of the shenanigans he was up to earlier. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips? Swollen, the aftermath of two hours of very enthusiastic kissing. His eyes are a little too dazed, that signature look of “oh shit, here we go again” in full force. He’s probably falling in love again. But that’s Ren for you—he falls in love once a month, like clockwork. And honestly, who could blame him?

But despite his usual charm, Ren just stands there in the doorway. His posture is rigid, and his body frozen in place, as if he's trying to process what he’s just walked into. He blinks. Rapidly. Over and over, like he’s trying to shake off the image before him, but it’s still there. Staring right at him. Gojo. The unknown guy he recognizes from that shirtless profile pic—Geto. You. And now, him too.

The silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable, before Ren finally blinks a few more times. His gaze darts between the three of you, his expression shifting subtly. You can catch it before he even speaks.

Confusion.

It's written all over his face—the slight furrow of his brow, the hesitation in his step as he takes in the scene. His eyes linger just a little too long on Gojo and Geto, the realization dawning on him as he tries to piece everything together. But he doesn’t say a word—not yet. He just stands there, rooted to the spot like a deer in headlights.

And in that instant, you know—Ren’s caught between figuring out what’s really going on and wrestling with the strange sense of displacement that’s clinging to him like a second skin.

“Damn… Y’all having a threesome or something?” Ren bites out, his voice carrying that playful edge you know too well. You can’t help but crack a laugh under his gaze. His eyes, sharp and observant, are fixed on you now—analyzing every little shift in your posture, the subtle way you breathe, like he’s trying to read you, trying to figure out what the hell just went down while he was gone.

It’s typical Ren—always looking to lighten the mood, to ease whatever tension lingers in the air. And, as always, he succeeds.

You smirk, not missing a beat. “You really think I’d indulge in anything polyamorous without you?” you snark back, the words coming out with that familiar bite, the playful sarcasm that’s been your go-to with Ren for years.

Ren’s eyes widen in mock horror, his lips parting as he gasps dramatically. “Well I certainly hope not,” he exclaims, his hand flying to his chest as if you’ve just stabbed him in the heart.

You roll your eyes, still chuckling at his antics, but there's a subtle warmth in the way he reacts, the way he pulls you back to a sense of normalcy, even after everything that’s just unfolded in the room. You know, deep down, that Ren’s got your back. Even in the weirdest of situations.

Ren steps further into the room, his eyes still flicking from you to Gojo and Geto, his lips pulling into that mischievous grin you know too well. His fingers brush through his messy hair, still looking like he just stepped out of a whirlwind. "So, what's the deal with this... reunion?" Ren asks, his tone dripping with mock sweetness, his eyes narrowing on Gojo.

Gojo tilts his head slightly, giving Ren an assessing look, his usual cocky grin slipping into something a little more neutral. It’s clear the two haven’t exchanged more than a couple of awkward glances in years. “Ren,” Gojo mutters, his voice flat, like he’s still trying to figure out how to approach this. “Still making an entrance, I see.”

Ren shrugs, unbothered, but there’s something more guarded about him now. "Could say the same about you, Gojo," he replies coolly, not backing down. His gaze flickers between Gojo and Geto, the tension palpable, but he doesn't seem phased by it. “Guess some things never change."

“Like you being a pain in the ass?” Gojo shoots back with a smirk, clearly trying to keep the conversation light despite the underlying awkwardness.

Ren’s lips curl into a grin. "Oh, I’m pretty sure you were the one who made being a pain in the ass an art form," he shoots back, his voice dripping with playful venom. "But you wouldn’t know anything about that, huh?"

Gojo's expression falters for a second, the history between the three of you briefly surfacing. There’s a brief flicker in his eyes before he looks away. "Yeah, well, I’ve had other things to focus on," he mutters, half to himself. There's a lot unsaid in those words.

Ren laughs, his voice slightly more genuine this time. "Sure, whatever you say," he teases, his gaze softening as he looks at you for a brief moment before shifting his focus back to Gojo.

Geto, who has been silently observing the exchange, finally speaks up, his voice calm but laced with quiet amusement. “You two really never got past high school, huh?” His words hang in the air, cutting through the tension like a sharp knife. He leans back against the bed, his arms crossed, taking in the spectacle with a bemused smirk.

Ren snorts, rolling his eyes. "Guess some things are just too fun to let go of," he quips, turning his attention back to you, the familiarity of his banter making you feel a little more at ease despite everything that’s been happening.

You watch the back-and-forth with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, the strange energy between Ren and Gojo palpable. They used to be inseparable, best friends who could finish each other’s sentences, but now it’s like there’s an invisible wall between them—a history of unspoken words and unresolved tension that neither one is ready to address.

“Why does it feel like I’m witnessing a reunion of two exes who haven’t spoken in years?” You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, shaking your head.

Ren raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “I’d say it’s more like an awkward ex-friends meet-up, but I’m not sure even that would explain the way Gojo’s looking at me,” he says, his voice teasing, but there’s a flicker of something else—something more guarded—underneath.

Gojo’s gaze flicks to Ren, sharp and calculating. "Don't flatter yourself. You were never that memorable," Gojo shoots back, but his words lack the bite they used to have. Instead, they feel more like a test—something he's unsure of himself.

Ren’s eyes narrow, a brief flash of something flickering in them before he forces a smile. "Right, just another part of your long list of things that don’t matter."

For a split second, the room feels like it’s holding its breath, the years between them heavier than any of the light-hearted jokes they try to make.

Finally, Geto clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Alright, enough with the weird tension. We’re not teenagers anymore,” he says, voice smooth but with a touch of authority. His eyes flick over to you, and then back to the two of them. “Can we all just be civil? For once?”

You look between all of them, feeling the weight of the moment. It’s been a long time since you were in the same room together and you know the real issue is far deeper than few words or an old grudge.

Ren shrugs, his casual demeanor returning. “I’m fine as long as the drinks keep coming,” he quips, his earlier tension dissipating a little. He looks at you with that familiar glint in his eyes, the one that reminds you he’s still your Ren—no matter what’s changed.

You smile back at him, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

You only now notice a bottle he’s been holding the entire time dangling from his fingers like he’s just found the Holy Grail. “Mhm, honey. Jack Daniel’s,” he hums, presenting the bottle with an exaggerated flourish, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

“Thank God,” you groan, snatching it from his hands and taking a deep swig straight from the bottle. The burn is immediate, spreading through your chest like a slow-moving fire. This. This is the real shit.

Ren’s eyes flicker to the plastic cup still in your grip, squinting at it like it personally offended him. “Wait. What the fuck is that?”

“Vodka.”

His entire expression morphs into disgust. “But, babe, you hate vodka,” he says, crossing his arms like a disapproving mother catching her child doing something dumb.

“HA, I told you—” Gojo starts, the smuggest look imaginable on his face, but Geto lazily lifts a hand to cut him off.

“Who cares?” Geto groans, throwing his head back against the wall. “I swear to god, if I have to hear one more thing about vodka, I’m leaving this room.”

You see the flicker of realization cross Ren’s face. He’s thinking—reading the tension in the room, feeling the weird undercurrent of something unspoken. But he doesn’t say anything. Lets the vodka talk stay mystery.

“Let’s just get obliterated,” Geto declares, reaching for the bottle.

And so you do.

Ren plops onto the floor, limbs sprawled out dramatically as the four of you pass the bottle around like a sacred ritual. But between the four of you, it’s Ren who’s truly on the fast track to blackout city. A few gulps in and his mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air.

“And,” Ren slurs, words tumbling out too fast, “he’s so hot, guys. I can’t explain. He literally ate my throat with his tongue.”

You groan, gripping the bottle like it can save you from this conversation. “Jesus Christ, Ren.”

Gojo snorts, eyes half-lidded from alcohol but still sharp enough to be insufferable. “Now, that,” he drawls, amusement curling at his lips, “just sounds like he doesn’t know how to kiss.”

“THANK you,” you exclaim, gesturing at Gojo like he just solved world hunger.

“No, no, I’m telling you,” Ren insists, his hands moving wildly as he tries to physically reenact the experience. His fingers dance in the air like he’s molding the memory into existence. “It was hot. Like really hot.”

Gojo shakes his head, grinning. “Rookie mistake. If someone’s eating your face, it’s not hot. It’s a cry for help.”

Ren glares at him, or tries to, but he’s too drunk for it to be anything but vaguely cross-eyed. “You wouldn’t know, Satoru. I heard all about the way you kiss.”

Gojo narrows his eyes. “Oh?”

You can see it now—Ren’s gearing up for a drunk argument, and Gojo’s drunk enough to entertain it. And you don’t really want to hear about Gojo and you kissing.

Geto, ever the wise one, exhales deeply. “I swear to god,” he mutters, rubbing a hand down his face. “Every time I drink with people, I lose a little more faith in humanity.”

Ren points at him like he just remembered he exists. “Wait. You.”

Geto blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Me?”

“You. You’re like, cool or whatever.”

“…Thanks?”

Ren tilts his head, processing something in real-time. “Wait, who are you?”

Geto laughs, genuinely amused. “Geto Suguru.”

Ren nods as if that means anything to him. He has a tendency to forget familiar faces as soon as alcohol enters his system.

“Cool. You’re not ugly.”

“I appreciate that?”

You snort, handing the bottle back to Ren as you lean into the bed, feeling the night settle into that warm, buzzing state of intoxication.

Gojo, meanwhile, is staring at Ren like he’s trying to solve a particularly annoying puzzle. They haven’t spoken in years. Haven’t even acknowledged each other’s existence until tonight.

Ren notices and immediately squints back at him. “Dude, you’re creepy.”

Gojo doesn’t answer immediately. Just holds eye contact for a beat too long before finally saying, deadpan, “You’re still annoying.”

Ren bursts into laughter, so violently it makes you start laughing. “And you’re still a bitch.”

Geto chokes on his drink.

You cackle.

Ren’s cackling is still echoing in the room when you, already a few gulps too deep into the whiskey, prop yourself up dramatically. Your head flops back, and you sigh dreamily, voice slurred but mischievous.

“You know,” you drawl, gaze flickering toward Geto, who’s nursing the bottle now, “Geto kisses reeeaaally well.”

Geto nearly spits out his drink. Gojo’s eyebrows shoot up so fast it’s like they’re trying to escape his face.

Ren, on the other hand, gasps so dramatically you’re convinced he just found out a life-altering secret. His hands slap against the floor as he drags himself closer to you like a scandalized reality TV star. “EXCUSE ME?”

You blink at him lazily, lips curling. “What?”

Ren is still sprawled on the floor like a starfish, eyes wide with scandal as he processes what you just said. “You kissed him?” His voice goes up an octave, like you just confessed to murder.

Gojo’s grip tightens around his cup, but his expression stays maddeningly unreadable. He scoffs, leaning back against the bed like this is so beneath him. “Damn. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You literally interrupted us dumbfuck. Don’t act so surprised now.”

Geto raises a lazy eyebrow, swirling the bottle in his hand. “Wow. Just announcing it like that, huh?”

You ignore them, too busy focusing on Ren, who suddenly sits up like a detective cracking a case. His hands slap the floor as if he’s in pain. “WAIT. Did he like that story you posted for him?” He narrows his eyes, leaning in, looking entirely too nosy. “HMM?”

Your drunk brain takes a second to catch up. And then it clicks.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you lunge for him, but Ren dodges, rolling away in an exaggerated move, cackling like a maniac.

“HE DIDN’T, DID HE?” he yells, laughing so hard he’s practically wheezing.

You throw a pillow at him, but he just lets it hit him in the face, unbothered. “Oh my god. That’s so embarrassing.”

You groan. “He didn’t even see it, okay? It’s not that deep.”

Geto takes a slow sip of whiskey, unbothered. “Wait. What story?”

You glare at Ren. “Nothing.”

Ren gasps. “Ohhh, you really thought he’d like it or at least see it, didn’t you? Oh my god, that’s so much worse—”

You grab the bottle out of Geto’s hand and take a long, long sip. “I hate you.”

Gojo, who had been suspiciously silent for the last few minutes, finally speaks up. “Wait. Back up.” He clicks his tongue, his jaw a little too tight. “So you’re telling me you posted some pathetic thirst trap for Geto, and he didn’t even notice?” His voice is all mockery, but his fingers are drumming against the plastic cup like he’s irritated.

Geto just shrugs. “Didn’t see it.”

Ren turns to you with an expression that can only be described as suffering. “Oh my god, that’s so tragic.”

“Tragic,” Gojo echoes dryly, drinking you with his eyes. His tone is biting, but you catch the way his fingers twitch. “You really thought Suguru was gonna—what? Fall to his knees? Write you a love letter?” He lets out a short laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That’s adorable.”

You roll your eyes, feeling the whiskey settle warm in your stomach. “I don’t recall asking for your input, Satoru.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, tilting his head at you, and for a second, his eyes flicker with something unreadable. “I just think it’s funny,” he hums, slow and deliberate, “how suddenly you’re all over Suguru. Like you’re trying to prove a point or something.”

Your breath hitches, but you refuse to let him see it. “Or maybe,” you shoot back, “He’s just hot and kisses really well.”

Ren lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you just hit him. “Oh my god, you really went there.”

Gojo goes dead silent. His jaw clenches.

Geto, on the other hand, just chuckles, amused. “Appreciate it,” he says simply, taking another sip.

Gojo leans forward suddenly, his knuckle brushing against yours, his lips curling into something almost smug—but there’s something tight in his expression, something sharp behind his words. “Huh. That’s crazy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What?”

Gojo smirks, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just thinking about all the times you used to say I was the best you’d ever had.”

Silence.

Ren screeches. “OH MY GOD—”

You launch yourself at him, but Gojo is already laughing, leaning back before you can hit him, his grin widening as you sputter.

Geto sighs, shaking his head. “Here we go.”

Ren is on the floor howling.

You stare at him, feeling your face heat up. “Ren, I hate you.”

Gojo, still smirking, raises his cup. “To being unforgettable.”

You throw a pillow at him next.

Conversation shifts after that but the room feels smaller, the air heavier. Or maybe it’s just the alcohol catching up to you. But no matter how much you try to focus on Ren passionately defending the Slytherin agenda while Geto just smirks and plays devil’s advocate, purposely sliding with Gryffindor to spite Ren, your skin prickles under Gojo’s gaze. It’s like he’s physically pressing into you, eyes burning into the side of your face.

You don’t want to look.

You shouldn’t look.

But you do.

And fuck, it’s a mistake.

Because the moment your eyes meet his, you know you’re done for.

His expression is unreadable—lazy, casual, lips barely curled in amusement. But his eyes tell a different story. They’re sharp, too sharp, darkened at the edges, flickering with something you can’t name. Something that makes your stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

The way he’s looking at you—punishing is the only word that comes to mind.

Like he wants to undo you.

Like he wants you to remember something you’ve spent years trying to forget.

Your grip tightens around the whiskey bottle, nails digging into the glass.

Ren’s voice is distant, blurred. “—Okay but Slytherins are literally—hello? Earth to you, hun?”

You snap your head toward him, almost too quickly, feeling your pulse thunder in your ears. “Huh?”

Ren frowns, tilting his head. “Are you even listening? I swear to god, if you’re mentally making out with someone right now, I’ll—”

“I’m not,” you cut him off, voice coming out too forcefully. You force a smirk, lifting the bottle to your lips. “I just zoned out. Keep yelling about Hogwarts, it’s entertaining.”

Ren narrows his eyes, suspicious, but he lets it slide, turning back to Geto. “Anyway. As I was saying—”

You try to focus. You really do. But you can still feel Gojo watching you, that same insufferable, unreadable expression lingering on his face.

And when you finally glance back at him—just for a second—he tilts his head, slow and deliberate.

Then he smirks.

And fuck, you know he knows.

Ren, still sprawled dramatically on the floor, waves his arms in the air like he’s conducting a symphony. “No, no, no, listen. Slytherins aren’t evil—”

“They just happen to have, what? A monopoly on war crimes?” Geto cuts in smoothly, swirling his drink in one hand.

Ren gasps like Geto just slapped his mother. “EXCUSE ME?”

You choke on your whiskey, the sudden shriek piercing through your drunken haze. “Oh my god.”

“No, because listen—” Ren scrambles up to sit cross-legged, hands flailing wildly. “Slytherins are just misunderstood.”

“Oh, sure.” Geto nods, voice dripping with amusement. “I’m sure Voldemort was just looking for a hug.”

Ren points an accusing finger at him. “See, that is a stereotype.”

“Oh, I’m the problem?” Geto raises an eyebrow, the smirk tugging at his lips sending Ren into a spiral.

“Yes, Suguru,” Ren drags out his name dramatically. “You and your blatant anti-Slytherin agenda—”

Meanwhile, Gojo is still staring at you. Like he’s enjoying this entire mess but not quite participating. Like he’s content watching you squirm.

And you hate that it’s working.

So you snap toward him, leveling him with a glare. “What?”

He tilts his head, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face. “What, what?”

“You’re staring.”

He blinks, mock innocence all over his face. “Am I?”

You clench your jaw. “Yes.”

Gojo hums, dragging his gaze over your face like he’s memorizing it. “Huh. Guess you’re just fun to look at.”

And then, as if the universe decided to ruin the moment in one swift punch, two unfortunate events unfold.

First—Geto’s phone buzzes on the table, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. A girl’s name. A girl’s picture. Of course. Your stomach churns, irritation bubbling under your skin. He’s kissed you, gotten high with you, shared whiskey straight from the bottle, and now he’s slinking away from the room to answer some other girl’s call like a pathetic, obedient little puppy. Disgusting.

And then—Ren explodes.

Like, quite literally. One second, he’s swaying where he sits, eyes unfocused. The next—he’s projectile vomiting all over the floor.

“FUCK—” you scramble, instinctively dropping down beside him, hand rubbing circles on his back. “Oh my god, Ren—breathe—”

But he can’t breathe.

Because he’s too busy dying.

Gojo, in a surprising act of heroism, curses under his breath and runs to the bathroom, emerging seconds later with whatever he could grab to clean up the disaster zone that is now Ren’s life.

And then, through his tears and the unrelenting flow of puke, Ren practically begs you to take him home.

So you do. Or at least, you try.

You’re struggling. Ren is practically melting in your arms, his legs all but giving out, and you’re using every ounce of strength to keep him upright. He’s mumbling incoherently against your shoulder, completely useless in his drunken state.

Gojo is still standing there, watching. Holding a piece of crumpled toilet paper. Unhelpful. Smug. Annoying.

“I can help, y’know.” His voice is as lazy as ever, but you can hear the undercurrent of amusement. He’s enjoying this.

“I don’t,” you grunt, adjusting your grip on Ren, “need your help.”

Gojo lets out a low whistle. “Yeah? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re about to collapse under him like a poorly built Jenga tower.”

You glare at him, breath heavy. “I’ve got this.”

“Oh, sure. Super convincing,” Gojo drawls, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You’re wobbling more than he is, and he’s literally unconscious.”

“Shut up,” you snap, shifting Ren’s weight again. “Just stand there and be useless like always.”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Because I’m the one making this harder than it needs to be.” He takes a step closer, and you can feel his presence now, heat radiating off him despite the cool night air. His voice drops, softer but sharper. “It’s not about you, sweetheart. It’s about him. If you love him, you’ll let me help.”

Your jaw tightens. Your pride screams at you to tell him to fuck off.

But you do love Ren. And Ren needs help.

So you exhale sharply and let your grip loosen, stepping back. “Fine.”

Gojo doesn’t gloat, doesn’t smirk—just smoothly moves in, slinging Ren’s arm over his shoulder like it’s effortless. And just like that, the weight is gone.

You blink at him, suddenly aware of how much easier things just got.

Gojo raises an eyebrow. “Was that so hard?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirks, adjusting Ren against him. “Let’s get this dumbass home.”

And together, the three of you stumble out of Aiko's apartment, into the humid night air.

The moment the Uber pulls up, Gojo shoves Ren inside and then—without a word—climbs in right after him.

The car feels like it’s swallowing you whole. It’s cramped, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and stale air freshener, and you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. The only sounds are Ren’s weak mutterings and the soft, almost rhythmic hum of the radio in the background. It’s just the three of you (and the driver) now, moving through the streets as the night rolls on, heavy with unspoken tension.

You absently twirl a lock of your hair, eyes flicking between Ren’s pale face and the darkness outside the window. You can feel Gojo’s gaze on you—like he’s right there, even if you’re not looking. You keep your eyes trained on Ren’s sickly form, avoiding him as best as you can. But it’s impossible to ignore the weight of his presence.

“Yeah, it probably did suit you better,” Gojo’s voice breaks the silence, low and slurred.

You blink, confused, eyes narrowing as you turn toward him. “What?”

“Nothing. Forget it,” he mutters quickly, looking out the window as if the words he’d just dropped didn’t matter at all. But the flicker of something dark in his eyes tells you otherwise.

The rest of the ride is eerily quiet. It’s just you, Gojo, and Ren, floating in this weird, suffocating space of unresolved tension. You can feel it between you and Gojo, this crackling electricity that’s too familiar and too sharp, like it could cut through the silence any moment. But neither of you says a word.

And so, the city passes by, the lights blurring into streaks of yellow and white, until you’re left with nothing but the sound of Ren’s breathing, the faint hum of the cab’s engine, and the unsaid words hanging in the air.

taglist :@zeunys @charmstarr @ovela @kur0mii3 @dabisdolly @17362939 @krispywhisperswhispers @mintcheery @kazupop @heh123321 @hanakotateyama @choppersworlds-blog @eneiyri @suniloli @44ina. @s4ikooo1 @blushedcheri @dishs0pe @rhea-sylvea @eolivy @gojoprincesss @decadentcoffeecandy @4thansstuff

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rhythm-of-lesbianism · 2 days ago

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Top 10 Stormlight Archive Trans Headcanons:

1. transfem elhokar. ever since i first saw this one i knew it must be true. if elhokar had bonded design her first truth would be im a woman and then from there she would work on all the bigotry

2. transmasc lift. if this was a different series it would be canon. to me that weird little girl is very much actually a weird little boy

3. transmasc hoid. i love this one because despite no like textual reason its just fun

4. transfem kaladin. thank you self soulcasting. and also many other transfem kaladin fics. i love this one because kaladin is the quintessential “transition would absolutely not fix them but it would create unique new issues” character ever

5. transmasc or transfem jasnah. she could go either way and i like both interpretations. is she performing femininity hard because she’s scared of being caught not performing it enough? yes. you see my point

6. transmasc sadeas specifically transmed trans guy sadeas is basically canon to me. thank you wasp cup. because if sadeas was trans he would be an insecure asshole about it. but it also makes sense when you think about his whole i want a shardblade bad thing that he has going on

7. transfem leshwi. i love when people explore the relationship she would have with her different physical bodies as one of the Fused. i love when they infuse some transfemininity into leshwi

8. nonbinary eshonai. feel like i have seen this in a fic before but if i haven’t it’s a brilliant idea anyway. how would the world be different if eshonai got to meet the sibling

9. this is a space for general spren gender-isms. from design in yumi making herself a human woman body to syl’s antics in WaT to the Sibling being canonically nonbinary i just think spren conception of gender is fun and trans in a different, not exactly human way. as it SHOULD be because spren aren’t humans

10. you. the reader. congrats you’re trans now say your radiant oaths and get that spren hrt

#cosmere #posts that popped into my head fully formed

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yumiyawning · 3 months ago

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baby fever is violently attacking me rn

Still your Honey

Miya Osamu x Fem!Reader — Word Count: 416 ☆ | sfw && fluff (author’s note at the end.)

It was 8pm at the dinner table and you’re currently swooning over your six year-old daughter as she praises Osamu’s cooking at the dinner table.

“Papa’s food is so yummy!”

Her Kansai dialect copied from spending time with your husband is audible and she looks just like him, she is him. You squeal as you stroke her soft hair to ensure the food doesn’t get in her freshly washed hair.

“‘Samu, our daughter is the cutest!”

“But Mama is the prettiest! Right papa?”

You were surprised. When did she learn how to flatter her mother? You look up to your husband staring at you with a little grin.

“That’s right darling, our mommy is the prettiest.”

Despite her love for food, she chooses to savor the portion rather than inhaling it because you told her it will make her stomach ache. By the looks of the once warm rice, she might’ve started savoring it a little too long. You rest your head against your palms as you observe your daughter eat, continuing to obtain a fever with how cute she is.

There’s a running joke between you and her and that she’s your honey. This all happened because you often called Osamu ‘honey’ around the house and she would see him melt, every time. You smile to yourself of the memory and muse,“Princess, whose honey are you?”

“Papa’s and Mama’s!”

Her tone was so enthusiastic, you smiled brightly until you heard a snicker from the other side and you lightly smacked Osamu on the chest with a huff and a frown.

“What was that for?”

“If you want to be her Honey then that’s fine too. Snickering because she said ‘Papa’ first and not ‘Mama’.. Hmph.”

Once your daughter finishes her meal, Osamu gets up to put the empty bowls and plates in the sink, preparing to wash them. After a couple paces from the table to the sink, he kisses your pout and your daughter covers her eyes with a squeal,

“Papa is kissing mommy!”

He chuckles and kisses her forehead as well.

“If I didn’t kiss her soon, I would be sleeping on the couch tonight. And then Mama wouldn’t call me honey ever again.”

The little one gasps. She leans over to kiss you on the cheek. Your sweet, sweet daughter, always so thoughtful and always wants to let you know how much she loves you.

“Then I’ll kiss her so I can still be her honey too!”

author’s note: hello osamu brainworms and girl dad osamu @_@ this was kinda based off a conversation i witnessed but it all happened in a foreign language so I apologize if it doesn’t make super sense.. m trying to discover what writing layout works best with me rn and also please be my mutual I don’t bite I promise!

#OSAMU PAPA #osamu girl dad is CANON.#osamu we love you #ovaries are chanting #rubbing my hands together like an evil fly #op your writing is so good im gooning #love love LOVE IT #this was yumi #yumi's space<3

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cosmerelists · 1 year ago

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The "Four Bases" in the Cosmere

By which I mean, like, the pop culture / romantic meaning of the four bases. You know, like first base is kissing, second base is touching above the waist, third base is touching below the waist, and home base is sex. But how would various cultures in the Cosmere define such things if they used baseball metaphors for some unknown reason?

[This post includes specific spoilers for Mistborn Era 1, Mistborn Era 2, Yumi & the Nightmare Painter, and Sunlit Man!]

1. Roshar: Vorin Culture

First Base: Holding hands (safe hand covered) Second Base: Kissing Third Base: Holding hands (safe hand uncovered) Home Base: Lawful marriage

2. Nalthis: Among the Returned

First Base: Sex Second Base: Having a conversation Third Base: Having an honest conversation Home Base: Making space for vulnerability & intimacy (and more sex)

3. Canticle (Rebeke edition) [Sunlit Man spoilers!]

First Base: Going on a rescue mission Second Base: Sharing Warmth Third Base: Propositioning him Home Base: Never knowing what happened to him and wondering forever

4. Komashi (Painter & Yumi edition) [Yumi & the Nightmare Painter spoilers!]

First Base: Trade bodies Second Base: Get naked & bathe together (ritually) Third Base: Honesty Home Base: Noodle shop

5. Scadrial (Vin & Elend edition) [Mistborn Era 1 spoilers!]

First Base: Dancing Second Base: Killing his fiancée Third Base: Marriage and sex Home Base: Dying together <3

6. Roshar: Azish culture

First Base: Declaration of Romantic Interest Form (Submitted by Party A) Second Base: Declaration of Reciprocation of Romantic Interest Form (Signed by Party B) Third Base: Declaration of Intent to Form Romantic, Pre-Marital Bond (Signed by Parties A & B; if more parties involved, please see Appendix) Home Base: Sex

7. Scadrial (Steris edition) [Spoilers for Mistborn Era 2!]

First Base: Signed Contract Second Base: Marriage Falling in love?? Third Base: Sex Getting married to a man you love??? Home Base: Producing legitimate heirs Having sex and children with the man you love?????

8. The Cosmere Generally (Brandon Sanderson edition)

First Base: Arranged marriage Second Base: Coming to like each other, actually Third Base: Marriage Home Base: [redacted]

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Stormlight Archives #Mistborn #Mistborn spoilers #ssp3 spoilers #ssp4 spoilers #Yumi and the Nightmare Painter #Sunlit Man #Vin #Elend #Steris #Rebeke #Yumi #Painter #Warbreaker

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nintendocompositions · 5 months ago

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youtube

I believe in music, I believe in hope, and I believe in you. Welcome to Club Delfino, now DANCE YOUR ASS OFF~

Splatoon (Toru Minegishi) - Inkopolis Plaza Persona (Shoji Meguro, Yumi Kawamura) - School Days We Love Katamari (Hideki Tobeta, YOU) - Angel Rain Final Fantasy X-2 (Jade Valerie, Kazuhiro Hara, H-wonder, Takahito Eguchi, Noriko Matsueda) - Real Emotion SSX 3 (Basement Jaxx) - Do Your Thing ~ Jaxx Club Remix Jet Set Radio Future (Idol Taxi) - OK!?House!!!!!????? Samba de Amigo (Bellini) - Samba de Janeiro Sonic Mania (Naofumi Hataya, Tee Lopes) - Stardust Speedway Act 2 Bayonetta (Hiroshi Yamaguchi) - Let's Dance, Boys! (BAИSHI Big Booby Bootleg) Pokémon Sword & Shield (Minako Adachi) - Battle! (Gym Leader) Lumines (Eri Nobuchika, Shinichi Osawa) - I Hear the Music in My Soul Touch My Katamari (Yū Miyake) - Katamari on the Funk (Takeshi Nakatsuka edit) DDR Max (OKUYATOS, Sota Fujimori, Johnny Dynamite, Erica Ash) - Kind Lady Funk Disco Extended Mix) Touch My Katamari (Yū Miyake) - Alien (feat. BAKUBAKU DOKIN) Splatoon 2 (Shiho Fujii) - Showdown! (Calamari Inkantation) Kingdom Hearts (Utada Hikaru) - Simple And Clean -PLANITb Remix- Katamari Forever (Yoshihito Yano, Micazo) - Sayonara Rolling Star (Yuri's Mixx) Space Channel 5: Part 2 (Tomoya Ohtani) - Strobe Action #3 NiGHTS into Dreams (Tomoko Sasaki) - Message from Nightopia Lumines (Eri Nobuchika, Shinichi Osaka) - Lights

I DON'T OWN THE RIGHTS TO ANYTHING!

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yumiyawning · 2 months ago

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@megapteraurelia oh!my!God! I need them so bad it's not even a joke anymore

roommates!osasuna who make you dinner every night: osamu cooks like a god and suna just leans against the counter, shirtless because he can't be bothered to throw on a shirt (plus, he does enjoy the looks you give him or the rough grip osamu has on his neck when he's standing in the way).

osamu ends up feeding you while suna's shoulders keep your legs spread underneath the table, face buried between your thighs. the grip you have on osamu's arm is deathly, yet his spoon still taps your mouth, his voice rough when he tells you to open up.

roommates!osasuna who each insist on showering with you, even when they had already washed themselves. osamu who catches you by the hem of your panties when you enter the bathroom and try to flee, seeing both of them under the spray of the water already, who pulls you in closer, the material digging in between your slick folds.

"where do ya think yer going?"

"i— i just-ah wanted—"

suna who holds you up, his arms slung underneath your legs so osamu's hips have free reign to fuck into you. his voice sounds sweet and cruel in your ear, "yeah? wanted what, baby?"

roommates!osasuna who have completely different energies in bed. osamu is slow, commanding, dominant in a soft-spoken way, his hand resting against your throat and suna's neck lightly, like a warning, like a promise. he doesn't shy away to put both of you in your place when you act up, arms headlocking suna ever so often because he especially loves to be a brat.

suna is a lazy tease until he isn't, until he gets serious, because then he's all over you, hot whispers in your ear, his hips grinding until you're breathless. he loves especially when his hand pumps osamu's cock and he hears the low groans in tandem with your higher moans.

roommates!osasuna who sometimes accidentally flirt at the same time and you forget how to function. when osamu presses a glass of water to your lips, his other hand lingering on your back, "drink up, sweetheart." or when suna offhandedly fixes your hair, pulling it back to braid it for you, his legs brushing your own and he tells you, "messy suits you."

roommates!osasuna who crowd you in the hallway just to 'talk', and it's osamu's arm braced against the wall beside your head and suna leaning in close, his hand on your jaw forcing you to look up to them.

roommates!osasuna who are a mix of soft praise and filthy mouths, "look at ya, sweetheart, begging so sweetly, so messy. c'mon, on yer back f'me. face up so sunarin can see how pretty ya look."

and if it was only that, but— "you wanted that, don't forget, baby. asked for this even: two cocks, four hands," suna's behind you, his fingers nimble on your puffy clit as if you aren't about to combust from the stretch of osamu's dick inching itself deeper into you.

"you're trembling, baby. i promise you can take another, ah fuck, 'samu —" he trailed off, teeth finding your sweaty neck when suna's cock flinched inside you at the added friction of osamu, and a high-pitched whine escaped him, "you're made for this, yeah, you are. such a little whore, look at how easy he slid in—"

and here you are, trapped in between two bodies as they fucked you in tandem, the friction delicious, the wet squelches like music in your ears amidst osamu's grunting and suna's mewls, strings of spit coating your skin when their mouths found each other over your shoulder, and their hands—

pressing down your abdomen, on your overstimulated clit, lodged in your mouth, heavy on your tongue.

you see stars, that's how hard you came.

roommates!osasuna who shift slightly, tears still drying on your cheeks, body limp and sensitive from the way they took turns using you and holding you down like belong to their own little puppet show.

osamu is the first to come back to himself, and he shakes his head a little, his muscles still involuntarily twitching, breath heavy, voice wrecked from groaning your name. when he sees you trembling and dazed, he's already leaning over you, hand heavy and warm on your jaw. his thumb brushes your bottom lip and his voice is low and steady, "still with me, sweetheart? hm? c'mon, open those pretty eyes f'me."

when osamu takes care of you, it's all safety, it's all home, it's gentleness coming to life in the way his hand finds its way to your chest to feel your heartbeat for a moment, before he's up and already wetting a warm cloth, grabbing water, fluffing the pillows underneath you and suna.

sunarin instead is quiet, pressed close, body heat melting into your skin. his fingers ghost over your thighs, your waist, your shoulders. his voice is a sleepy murmur, soft against your ear as he nuzzles in, face buried in your hair.

"you're so good for us, baby, always so good."

he doesn't outright asks about your wellbeing like osamu does, but he watches the way your body comes down from everything and when you shiver, he tugs a blanket up. when you whimper, he kisses the back of your neck.

you love sunarin when he's smug, when he teases you, when he talks back to osamu, but you love when he's half-lidded and flushed, holding you close a tiny bit more.

and then he says, "still feeling me inside you, huh?"

his fingers trail down, gently pressing over where it still aches and when osamu's back to wipe you down, suna is the one who holds your legs spread when you're too weak to.

"sunarin."

suna hums, "yeah?"

"out."

"but it's so warm."

osamu's voice is gruff, wiping a streak off your inner thigh, "how am i supposed to clean 'er up if yer dick's still in— stop grinding, rin."

and he was. suna is insatiable in the way his hips automatically move to lightly rut into you, in the way his mouth kisses your throat and licks up strips of sweat. your head lolled back, your face flushed, as you're already entering another reality again, too far gone.

"out, rin," osamu's hand splayed on suna's thigh, fingers digging in, "i'll give ya somethin' to keep warm with later."

that does the trick, and when suna pulls out, cum leaks alongside it, and the feeling of the stuffiness gone, the feeling of their proof of love escaping almost has you whining.

"she's leaking down her legs. fuck, that's hot," suna murmurs, voice scratchy, his finger dipping to catch some, "we should take a picture."

osamu doesn't say anything but he thinks he agrees, his eyes transfixed as his hands rub your hip bone gently, almost reverently just to watch. the slick shine between your legs, the trails on your skin, the way you're open, trembling.

"look at ya, drippin' all over the place."

his hands move slow at cleaning you up, pausing between wipes to press kisses to your inner thigh, your hip, your belly, voice wrecked in between the soft caress, "so messy, sweetheart. we did a number on ya."

you were sleepy with his gentle care, with the way suna's hand strokes your hair, his other hand cupping your boobs — not in a sexual way, just warm, heavy, arm draped over your torso.

once you're clean, once suna's clean (and osamu's very thorough in the way he licked up the residue cum), once osamu's checked your body over like he's trying to memorise every bruise and bitemark they had left on your skin, he joins both of you in the bed. chest against your chest, hand cupping your face, his other on suna's waist over you — he belongs right there with you two.

"proud of ya, sweets, you always take us so damn well."

roommates!osasuna who both kiss your cheeks at the same time, whispering i love you from different sides of the best, blanket tucked all around you, warm with their body heat, their affection, their desire.

TAGLIST | @sodaneko @takes1 @classicalelephant @pomigranit @sugacor3 @boktuoafterdark (you had asked to be tagged in suna stuff, and well— it's not just suna, but he is involved...)

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sorryimananti-romantic · 7 months ago

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sorryimananti-romantic's tumblr wrapped, 2024

tagged by @makeitmingi and @sungbeam <3

2024 review

this year i explored a lot of the darker characters/dynamics which was an absolute pleasure, but i think such heavy plots also drained the energy out of me (or maybe it was the absolute monster of a wip i was writing consistently all year). while i did slip in some fluffy lighthearted fics here and there, i decided to take a break in november from writing in general. after an actual no-writing few weeks, i went back to my wip series and decided to just follow my heart (as if i hadn't already been doing that before) but more importantly, not force myself to write.

as of 2024, i have written more than a million words in a span of 3 years. i think i deserve to be slow with writing now! (plus, life, folks. real life.) thank you to all my lovely mutuals and readers for the incredible support you've shown me here!

total statistics of 2024

no. of fics: 8 total wc: 190,299 (+ a solid 113,000 if we count the leaders) no. of wips: 1 (+ a few ideas that have only been brainstormed but not written)

genres explored in 2024

fantasy, supernatural, historical, royal, thriller, action, crime, psychology-ish, futuristic, tragedy, adventure, romance, mafia (basically... everything?)

first fic of 2024: siren

- posted: jan 2nd - pairing: siren!yeosang x sirenhunter!reader - comments: this was my first time writing anything related to the sea (if memory serves me right) so while this was quite the challenge, it was fun bc i wanted to make sth unique out of the typical siren x siren hunter plot. i'm glad the response was good!

longest fic: light

- posted: sept 10th - pairing: mafia/angel!seonghwa x chemist!reader - comments: i think this is my second fav fic from this year. the idea of 'what happens when an angel becomes evil' plagued my mind so bad that i just had to get this out of my system. plus, i love writing fantasy in general so this was fun.

last fic: the leaders | chapter I

- posted: dec 31st - pairing: ot8!ateez x reader, mafia au - comments: just posted, pls check it out! it's going to be a long series since it's been in planning and a wip for over a year now. the leaders is going to be my whole personality for the foreseeable future (plus, according to my schedule, it's going to end in the 3rd quarter of 2025 so... buckle up!)

top 3 most popular fics of 2024

guerrilla

- posted: jan 31st - pairing: serialkiller/vigilante/doctor!yunho x writer!reader - comments: when i wrote this, i had no idea it would blow up. it's lighthearted but i think the response triggered me to explore more morally grey characters and darker dynamics.

ateez as villains

posted: nov 5th comments: this marked the last fic of this year, and also the villain/dark characters arc I've had going the whole year. i think it was a nice wrap because i'm taking a break from writing other stuff and just focusing on finishing my ongoing series.

new world

posted: june 5th pairing: prince!hongjoong x physician!reader comments: i think this was peak morally black characters and peak toxic manipulative dynamics between the characters, yet there was a sad beauty to it. i enjoyed writing this very much.

yumi's personal picks

star 1117

- posted: july 10th - pairing: wooyoung x alienoid!reader - comments: and this is my fav fic from 2024! it has everything i love: wooyoung, space, time travel, wholesome side characters jongho and yeosang, alienoid reader who learns to connect with the human in herself, and such delicious plot twists and foreshadowing. i'm ngl, i'm the biggest fan of this fic, and it's prob also one my fav oneshots I've written. while this didn't blow up (why do my fav fics never do), i had sooo much fun writing this.

cyberpunk

- posted: march 27th - pairing: droid!jongho x programmer!reader - comments: this was THE toughest fic to plan (not the time travel ones, not even mafia, but THIS). i haven't read many droid stories so lack of reader knowledge, and then wanting to still make a plot out of it other than 'omg my boyfriend turned into a droid' was hard. i rewrote this so many times but i'm very satisfied with how it turned out.

wave (sneaking this here bc it's the only unmentioned fic LOL)

- posted: april 25th - pairing: teacher!mingi x teacher!reader (headcanons) - comments: this one was a fun filler fic (bc i'm guilty that I've not written much mingi, and bc i literally could not write at that time). i love a fluffy mingi, i love fluffy fics in general so this was the product of my simpness, if you will.

2025 goals

finish the leaders and finish posting it, not force myself to write, write better, read more fics on here, and explore more genres (atp will have to invent some), finish the current ideas before planning and obsessing over new ones vs writing whatever i want (a constant struggle), and finally, just survive :')

np tags: @lorensonebraincell @kitten4sannie @sp4ceboo @sweetinsaniiity @bvidzsoo @pirateprincessblog + anyone who wants to (if yall write for different fandoms, you can add a 'top artists/muses' section too.)

#tumblr wrapped #wrapped 2024 #ateez #super time consuming but still very fun to review the year #ateez fanfics #ateez fics #ateez series #yumi.txt

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cottonlemonade · 1 year ago

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A Simpler Life - Masterlist and random Headcanons

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut warnings: spoilers, eventual mdni, nsfw (part 4) synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

Here are some thoughts I had while writing that didn’t find a space in the story:

> it took Kita a solid hour to formulate his first note to you

> before having sex for the first time, Kita goes to buy condoms while he is on an errand in the city so as to not alert the entire town - he is really careful about it all only to then realize that you went to buy condoms at the town‘s pharmacy so all his sneaking was for naught and he gets knowing looks next time he’s grabbing supplies from the local hardware store

> he swears the local grannies to secrecy so nothing gets back to Yumie before it‘s time

> he has definitely been happy about accidentally cutting his hand while trimming a tree because he was looking forward to getting fussed over by you

> when you start dating, Roku‘s bed systematically moves closer to the house every couple of weeks - of course Kita notices but he doesn‘t say anything because he thinks it‘s too adorable and by Christmas morning Roku‘s bed is inside, in the corner next to the front door

> I looked up typical dog names in Japan and found that it‘s usual to name dogs numbers depending on their litter size and it felt very appropriate for Kita to do that (Roku means six)

> when you mention that you miss certain veggies from your home country that are not readily available in Japan Kita goes out of his way to grow them for you in his greenhouse

> Kita continues to run his farm successfully while you spend your days helping out around town with whatever necessary

someone called in sick at the bookstore? They call you to jump in

they need help organizing a school festival? They know you have the best ideas

one of the grannies wants to paint her bedroom pink? She knows who to call

these little odd jobs fulfill you so much more than any office ever did and Kita is so ridiculously proud of how fast you became such an integral part of his community

> he proposes to you with those little wild tulips

> (I chose these plants because a) I wanted a small wildflower native to Japan and b) white tulips symbolize purity, innocence and respect, plus these particular flowers (tulipa edulis) are said to have an effect of vigor - imo that just fit perfectly because as I said before, once Kita has you, he is insatiable)

#kita x chubby reader #kita shinsuke x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x reader #haikyuu kita #kita fluff #kita shinsuke #hq kita #kita x reader #kita smut #kita headcanons #kita imagine #haikyuu x curvy reader #haikyuu x y/n

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elvirascorpse · 8 months ago

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Warning!: underage sex, cowgirl, bottom!Izuku Top!Reader(Yumi), nipple play, smut with build up, nonproof read MDNI!

Izuku and you have been friends since middle school, you were understanding, kind, and caring. He was weird, awkward, and quirkless. Nevertheless, you still became friends with him because you recognized him for his character, not his quirk.

It was both of your first year's in UA after passing the test. You both made plans together to hang out and stargaze on your roof. It was now four pm and he was getting ready to leave and head over to your house.

A knock is heard from your door. You're wearing a fitted brown knitted long sleeve shirt, baggy deep wash jeans, and lace ruffle white socks. Outside is Izuku, wearing a grey shirt, sweatpants, and his regular red sneakers.

You walk up to the door, phone in hand . You slightly turn the door knob before sliding your phone into your butt pocket; you fully turn the knob."Hey Izuku, come in!"

You exclaimed excitedly "Hey yumi! How have you been". He takes off his shoes and leaves them by the door neatly. "I've been well and you?"

You both conversated on the way to your room.

You both walk up the steps then into the the hallway down to your room. You turn the door knob, still talking to him with your head towards his face. You always thought he was very cute and innocent, but maybe perverted as well. You also had a crush on the little dork. Well, larger dork now that he had a bit growth spurt , and know your 3 inches shorter than him. You two have expressed out loud that you wouldn't mind dating each other. Anyway, you turn the knob to your room door and twist it so the door can open.Her room a neat and tidy space, on the right side of the room are two bookshelves, one with Manga and the other with collectable anime figures, against the opposite wall is a desk with trinkets, a lamp, a cork board, and a laptop on it, a purple soft wheeled chair pressed against the front of the desk with a black carpet, on the same wall as the bookshelves Is a bed with a canopy, a side board against the wall and the end of the bed, the bedsheets black and purple and squishmallows all against the headboard, on the bed is a Greet Pyrenees dog on the bed laying down and sleeping, near the second window on the right of the room is a black hammock with Whisp on it, in the middle of the room is a balcony room with purple curtains covering it. On the opposite side of the room is a door, most likely being a bathroom. Izuku has been in your room multiple times but still has been wowed by it every time. "How do you always manage to keep your room so tidy all the time yumi?" "Well, I'm not usually in my room enough to ruin it so that's why it's always so clean in here" "Hm, I see". You notice his short response, that was out if the ordinary for him. "Hey, something on your mind?".

"Actually, yeah, there's been something on my mind for a while now". His words peaked you interest; you wave him over to come sit on the bed with you. He takes a large deep breath that worries you before he opens his lips to speak. "You know how when he had those sleepovers and semi-addmited that he had feelings for each other?".

You nod your head in agreement;having a slight idea to where this would be heading to, so you decided to beat him to the punch. "Yes, I'll be your girlfriend Izuku"

His eyes widen in surprise, his eye flickering open and close. "R-really? You'll be my girlfriend?" "What did I just say?".

"..." He quickly enbraces you into a hug. You wrap your arms around his waist and scoot onto his lap. He hides his face into your shoulder, a hint of pink coming from his face. You let a small smile spread across your lips.You crawl onto his lap, still holding him. You see izuku bury his face further into your shoulder, even more flustered than before. You suddenly feel a slight poking coming from his lap. You peer back at him but Hess still stuffing his face into your neck, a small whimper can be heard coming from him.

You shift slowly in his lap, a small gasp escapes from his lips. "Izuku are you okay?" "Y-yeah...I'm okay." "Are you sure...?"

"Please just don't move...". "Why is it because you're hard?" "..." "you didn'tneed to say that outloud yumi...". I small laugh leaves from your mouth. "I know, I know, but i just couldnt help it! Not to embarass you or anything, you little perv" "I-I'm not perverted, I'm-I'm just easily excited okay?" "Its already hard enough for me to not move while you're sitting on me," "I don't mind you moving?" "Are you sure.. ?" "Mhm". His hips moved moderately which made him let out a tiny moan.

That ended with both you naked right now with you sitting on top of him in front of his cum covered leaking tip from dry climaxing. You're arm is holding up you boob's and Izuku's hands aree squeezing your hips. Earlier, he refused to be top because he didn't want to hurt you, and wanted you to set the pace. You, of course didn't mind being top at all. "A-are we going to start...?" "I don't know, are we?" You teased. "Well I-I don'tknow if I can wait any longer y/n-". You cut him off by lowering yourself onto him, enveloping him into your warmth, leaving you both gassing from the sudden movement. A series of pornographic whimpers and whines leave his mouth. "Ha-ah~! Yumi- please don'tdo that!" Most of his words slurring together; his body trying it's best not to release yet. You slowly move up to almost have him exiting and then drop yourself all the way down onto him. "Aah~! Aah!, yumi! pleasedontdolthaticantbreath~!". Your chest heaving after moving, your legs wobbling.

"I-I'm going t-to-". A warm pearly liquid paints your walls as he comes for the third time while you havent come at all. "You're so pretty when you come Izuku...". You keep bouncing up and down on him, his shaft almost automatically hardening again. Izuku will gladly overstimulate himself for you. His legs shaking and his mouth making the most lewd sounds that you adore. He heard some stories about some people's partners not finishing. He moves his shake hand up to your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers, he bites his lip while doing so. "Mhph~!, I-Izuku". He sits up a bit, and takes a breast into his mouth, toying with it with his tongue and lips. Your movements fall labored as you start to reach your climax while Izuku almost gets his 4th. A series of loud moans and whimpers comes from the both of you, Izuku still trying to gnaw at your boob while moaning. You speed up while moving on him, chasing your release, Izuku's moans became strangled as he stuffed your boob in his mouth. Your eyes roll back and back arches. Izuku bites down hard on your boob's while whining and squeezes his eyes shut. Both of you left breathless, sweaty, and aroused, you both slowly come down from your high and lay down on your bed. "I love you Yumi"

"I love you too Izuku, but you bit my boob really hard, that hurt " "Im sorry yumi" He leans down and gives your nipple a kiss.

Thanks bookie for reading:3

#midoriya smut #izuku midoriya #ao3 #fanfic #smut #bnha x reader #bhna fanfiction #mha izuku #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader

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yumiyawning · 3 months ago

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your writing's so cool pls don't die

hear you out ☆ iwaizumi hajime x reader

synopsis: you deserve to have someone listen to you nerd out about your interests. unexpectedly, you meet the person who's more than happy to listen (and perhaps learn more about you in the future). details: fluff | first meeting | strangers to lovers | ~1.3k words | speech-language pathologist gn! reader | timeskip! iwaizumi (a little flirty too lol) | dedicated to @sahrberrii

“Iwaizumi-san, your vocal cords are muscles,” you explain, showing him a video of the anatomical structure. “They contract and slam against each other whenever you shout or use a harsh tone.”

The athletic trainer nods, eyebrows drawn together as he observes the laryngoscopy video you use as an example for your clients.

“But I think you, out of all people, know what happens when you overuse muscles.”

“They get injured,” Iwaizumi whispers in response. He chuckles a little, but the action makes him wince.

“Take it easy,” you smile, almost reaching out to pat his back before stopping yourself.

“Thankfully, you don’t have any nodules, like this person.” You swipe through a few videos before landing on the one you’re looking for. “Nodules are a result of repeated trauma between the vocal cords. Kinda like the finger calluses guitar players get from pressing down on the strings all the time.”

He nods, grimacing as he listens to the person with vocal nodules attempting to produce higher pitches. You understand it perfectly; even after all the voice clients you’ve seen, you never get used to how painful it sounds.

“So, if you continue to overuse your voice, especially in this state, you can get nodules. Or, something worse that would require surgery. Think of a strain or a sprain, compared to a complete tear.”

The video ends, but a part of you still wants to show him more—just enough to keep him around a little longer. However, you still need to be mindful of your time, so you close the tablet and place it on your desk. “So, it-”

When you look at Iwaizumi again, he meets your gaze. Your face grows hot at his attention, and you can’t help but dart your eyes to the side.

“Uh, I meant to say that you should focus on resting your voice for the next week. And I mean full vocal rest. No whispering. You can write on a whiteboard, type, use text-to-speech, gestures, whatever you want.”

He gives you an eager thumbs-up. Cute.

“Okay,” you giggle. “That tells me you understand. I’ll give you a list of other exercises you can do to help with vocal strain. But for now, let’s focus on getting rid of the inflammation. Whenever you feel like your throat is tense or a little painful, you can massage it…”

You gesture at his Adam’s apple, but you happen to glance at it just as he swallows.

“Uh.” You blank out for a moment, your hands freezing midair.

Oh, man. Get a grip.

Snapping yourself out of it, you reach for your throat with your middle finger and thumb, demonstrating what you were talking about. “Just go in circular motions, up and down the neck. It’s up to you for how long.”

Suddenly, Iwaizumi raises his hand a little. He unlocks his phone, typing something on the notes app before showing it to you.

“Ah…” You hand his phone back to him. “That’s also up to you.”

“Oh. Me? Uh…”

Does this mean I’ll have to touch him?

“Usually, I apply this much pressure…” Your fingers hesitantly hover near his throat. “Can I, uh-”

You don’t even complete your question before he consents with a nod.

“Okay, um.” Your gloved fingers make contact with his skin, and you pray that he doesn’t feel your hand shaking.

Holding your breath, you press down. “This much, usually. Does it hurt?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and gestures at you to continue.

“Okay, so you just keep doing this. How does-” You glance at his face, which no longer holds any tension. Relief floods over you at the immediate effect.

“How does it feel?”

You grin at the little smiley he leaves. “You’re welcome, Iwaizumi-san. Why don't you give it a try in the meantime?"

As Iwaizumi attempts to replicate what you’ve done, you grab a notepad from your desk, jotting down a few reminders.

“Anyway, I’ll send an evaluation report later for occupational or medical purposes. I know some insane bosses who seem hell-bent on making my clients’ lives harder. Hopefully that’s not the case for you?”

“Oh, goodness, poor you.” You can’t help but laugh as you imagine it. “Well, if you need someone to talk some sense into them, I’m here.”

A quick exhale leaves his mouth in amusement. You remind yourself to look up his team later.

“Okay, if you’re free next week, you can come back here so we can check on your progress. A call would be alright too, if that’s more convenient.”

Normally, you don’t even think twice when giving your clients your contact details; sometimes they keep in touch, sometimes they don't. But secretly, you hope Iwaizumi worms his way into your schedule.

“Anyway, sorry if most of this felt like a one-sided conversation. I hope I didn’t bore you too much or make it too technical-”

Iwaizumi shakes his head frantically, waving his hand. Then, he fumbles a little as he tries to enter his phone’s password.

Ah. He wants to say something?

“I…” You feel your heart swell at his sincerity. “Thanks, Iwaizumi-san. That means a lot.”

And for the first time in the last hour, you get a glimpse of the crow’s feet around his eyes as he grins.

Oh, dear.

Truthfully, you were a little nervous when he entered your office an hour ago. Nervous is an understatement—you were intimidated. He looked like he could just knock you out with a punch if you managed to upset him.

(Okay, he probably wouldn’t punch you, but you've had your fair share of dismissive, aggressive, and moody clients before.)

But now, Iwaizumi’s expression is washed over with a gentleness you didn’t think was possible with his sharp features.

You can’t find it in you to end the interaction, even though you have to.

As you muster the courage to finally send him off, he sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He takes out his device again, typing something down. It takes a much longer time; he presses the backspace button repeatedly.

“Um, Iwaizumi-san, do you have a concern?” You fiddle with the hem of your scrub shirt. The silence was starting to have more weight to it.

He meets your eyes for a moment before he resumes writing his message.

What is it that has him hesitating so much?

When he shows you his phone screen, you almost gasp.

"Oh!" You don't need a mirror to tell that your face is flushed. "I- That means a lot. Thanks. Um..."

You scramble for a response as he prepares to type something again.

"But, uh, sure! Just let me know if there's something you want me to talk about. Hopefully, you don't get sick of my voice, Iwaizumi-san."

Then and there, you're pretty sure you short-circuit.

"Oh? No one's ever told me that before." You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. However, when you catch the earnest smile on his face, you feel your heart set alight.

"Anyway, thank you for giving me your time today, Iwaizumi-san."

A/N (or Iwaizumi's case history):

Hey, it's Stellar, your soon-to-be speech-language pathologist. I wanted to share my love for the profession through my fics, and decided to start with dear Iwa-chan.

To explain what's happening here, Iwa has a case of traumatic laryngitis, caused by vocal overuse and abuse (constantly screaming at the JNT to stop fooling around during training). Thus, his voice is very hoarse and breathy (sometimes, he can't even make a sound), and speaking hurts. Iwa would have tried remedies like throat sprays and hot tea, but they're not the key to recovery. Vocal rest is!

However, with how busy he is, he still needs to talk to multiple people and resorts to whispering. But, I must emphasize that whispering does NOT aid recovery, because you are still putting stress on the vocal folds.

In these cases, most people will wait for the problem to go away. If it's taking too long, they'll go to an ENT (ears, nose, and throat doctor; otorhinolaryngologist is the fancy word). Sometimes, it stops there, and patients are sent home; but in more severe cases, patients are referred to a speech-language pathologist (reader).

Anyway, since Iwa's case is caused by unhealthy vocal habits, it would help to have the voice specialist handle the case, especially during the recovery phase (dealing with any potential problems in pitch, loudness, and quality). This would increase the chances of a better prognosis/outcome! :)

The laryngeal massage that reader did on Iwa is recommended to most voice patients, especially if their vocal complaints are pain and tension. However, other things can be recommended to promote vocal relaxation, such as straw-blowing exercises (I'm not kidding! They're called semi-occluded vocal tract exercises). I just didn't talk about them in the scene because it felt like info overload, hahaha!

But Iwa's case is relatively mild (assuming he follows home instructions). There are other situations where vocal cords can be paralyzed, weakened, or spastic. Besides nodules, polyps and other growths can form and require surgical removal. Sometimes, one's voice may not be able to return to normal, so the focus of rehabilitation is to restore the most functional voice possible.

[Sidenote: Since this fic leans in a romantic direction, I should clarify that reader will follow professional ethics/rules. They both wait until Iwa is no longer a client at the reader's clinic/hospital before getting together.]

I hope you guys found the fic and A/N interesting in some way! :) Please take care of your voice; don't take it for granted! If you happen to have any questions about the voice, feel free to leave a reply, come to my inbox, or send a dm! <3

This video does a good job explaining AND showing stuff about vocal nodules (I like to think that this is what the reader shows Iwaizumi, hahaha). A fair bit of warning if you're sensitive to internal body imaging, but it's not that gross or graphic.

masterlist

#THE AN 💔 I LOVE DEDICATED PEOPLE #stellar youre on my kiss list #Iwaizumi (27) athletic trainer oh my beloved #im choking back tears of happiness you wrote him so well #he totally is the type of guy to compliment one's voice omhggg #ugh i need him #my shayla #Women in stem i like that yum #i freaking love it #like yes bae let me massage it for you #this was yumi #yumi yaps #yumi's space<3

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eightmakesonebraincell · 2 years ago

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dogboy!yuyu headcanons

genre: bf!yunho x gn!reader, fluffiest fluffy fluff, crack

length: 1.8k

a/n: this spontaneously wrote itself after reading bai’s (@hwaightme) catboy!hwa headcanons, dreaming about dogboy!yuyu, and then being triggered by the braincell i share with yumi (@sorryimananti-romantic) <3 also scroll through to the end for a surprise 🐹

taglist: @lavishloving

YUYU :’((((

the cutest fluffiest ball of energy to ever light up your world <33

your heart just goes :’) whenever you see him, no matter what he’s doing

PUPPY EYES

THE MOST. LETHAL. PUPPY. EYES. EVER.

at first he doesn’t know how dangerous his puppy eyes are

he’s scared of doing the wrong thing or disobeying your orders because he thinks you might not want him anymore or kick him out :(((

he’s so precious he deserves to be protected from every bad thing in the world :((

but then once he learns that you love him more than he can even fathom

and he can literally get away with anything??

especially if he just whips out his puppy eyes and cocks his head to one side??

PLEASE

yunho is 🥺 emoji personified

he stamps his little paws in excitement when you approach him

loves it when you caress the space between his eyes he gets all sleepy

EAR SCRATCHES

he loves when you scratch behind his ear or under his chin or on his belly

aka scratches anywhere.

and he has the fluffiest and floppiest ears ever <333

they flop up and down whenever he runs it’s so cute omg

and he loves to chase his own tail

he MUST win the battle with himself grr

he doesn’t realise how big he is, both as a pupper AND a human

he runs at you from a distance and attacks you in a hug 🥺

but when he’s really excited and leaps up into your arms it feels like you’re getting slammed by a moving brick wall

you both definitely go down with an oof (mainly from you)

but who can be annoyed when you look up and he’s all :D :D :D and wagging tails on top of you

you two play a lot because he has so much energy

like you throw treats up in the air and he jumps to catch them and it’s like he’s challenging you at this point

you both have this thing where you put your hand on his paw, then he moves to place his paw on top of your hand, then you place your hand on top again and you just make an endless tower of hands

it never ends. it is A COMPETITION.

yall also have barking competitions where you’re just howling at each other lolll

because of that, your neighbour sometimes asks how your dogs (plural) are going and you have to make up a second dog because you’re not about to admit that it’s actually you howling back

yunho ALWAYS gets the zoomies at the most random times

in the morning when you’ve literally just pulled yourself out of bed and half asleep?

he does zoomies around the living room

nearly trips you over

at 3am when you’ve just finished your work and you’re stumbling your way to bed

he gets the zoomies in your bedroom and jumps all over your bed

SPEAKING OF BED

his favourite place is bed

but your bed specifically

you don’t need a heater in winter because he loves loves LOVES to snuggle with you and he’s super warm and fluffy

there’s lots and lots of cuddle sessions ofc, especially when you’re feeling down

he’s always there and he’ll like, give you space at first and then slowly inch towards you :((

sometimes you get nightmares that you’re suffocating and you wake up to yunho’s dog butt sitting on your face LOL

or you’ll wake up to his tail swishing in your face because he’s dreaming about steak

he likes playing in puddles and mud a little toooo much

when it rains you dress him up in a cute little yellow duckie raincoat

you’ve tried the matching puppy gumboots too but he just shakes them off

loves to go splish splash with his paws in all the puddles he comes across

and when he walks away he leaves a trail of his paw prints <3

omg when it comes to shower time after playing?

BRAT

a cute brat though you could never ever get angry at him

he makes you chase him through the house and you’re shrieking about the little paw prints he’s leaving on the floor

(he helps you clean them up afterwards)

when you finally wrestle him into the bathtub he huffs until you fill it with bubbles and add his toys

you most definitely have to take your own shower after his because of how soapy your clothes get

yunho LOVES his toys so much

it takes so long to convince him to let you put them in the wash

because as soon as you take them away from him? the puppy eyes come out

and you have to be firm and tell him that the toys just need a bit of cleaning, they’ll come back to you smelling super nice, it’s just for a little while

he still sits in front of the washing machine watching the whole cycle because he doesn’t trust the machine

he protecc

whenever you’re working or busy doing something, he’ll come up and nudge you every other minute so you play with him

he’ll drop a toy at your feet so you throw it for him

or he’ll tug on your pants and whine a little for your attention

you’re definitely weak for him so you almost always end up giving in

do you walk him or does he walk you?

he gets excited and darts off whenever he sees other people or other dogs because he wants to go and say hello :’))

and even though he loves meeting the other dogs, if you find another cute dog and turn your attention towards it or compliment it he’s gonna be all 🥺🥺🥺

he’s built to protect you like whenever you go out he’ll valiantly be on the lookout for any dangers like lizards that get too close or plastic bags that are flying towards you

LOL sometimes you can’t bring yunho out with you, and when you get home after bumping into another dog on the way back, yunho will immediately be able to sniff out their smell on your clothes

and he’ll be like >:((

how dare you >:((

i demand head pats and ear scratches as compensation >:((

he melts as soon as you give him a kiss though

when he’s human, literally nothing changes

he has endless energy and he literally skips and bounds along as he walks with you

the man does not. stand. still.

he will JUMP down the last four or five stairs and give you a mini heart attack

you scold him like you’re going to get hurt !!!!! but he just grins at you before running ahead again

omg he gives the most crushing and loving hugs <333

your favourite ones are when you’re running towards him and he has his arms wide open and he catches you as you leap into his arms

and he holds your waist firmly as he spins you two around and you’re both just all wide smiles and hearty giggles (PLS IM SO SOFT RN)

yunho eats like there’s no tomorrow

you cook and plate up your food and turn around to get yourself a glass of water or something and when you turn back around half his plate is already gone and he’s like :D

and you’re like ???? where ?? did all the food go??

when you bake you’ve got to keep a close eye on him he’s like a CHILD

he’ll steal the chocolate chips off the counter and you have to take the packet from him and tell him that you need them for the cookies

but he gets a handful of them anyway as compromise

it’s the puppy eyes i’m telling you they stay with him even when he shifts

“no, yuyu, the cookies are still hot you need to wait”

“stop looking at me like that they won’t cool any faster”

when it’s bedtime he dives under the covers with you

he drapes himself over you like he does when he’s a dog except he is much heavier when he isn’t a dog and you’re lowkey struggling to breathe under him

and he’s like oh no !! i forgot !!

and he’ll lie on his back and pull you so that you lie on top of him instead :’))

doesn’t matter if he’s dog or human, he LOVES CUDDLES

sometimes he decides that he wants head scratches too and he’ll bring your hand up to his head so that you play with his soft blonde locks

he also peppers your face with kisses like non-stop

he makes it his personal goal to make you giggle and laugh from all the kisses he’s giving you

because he is all about that physical affection and touch, perhaps even more when he’s a human

when you’re home he HAS to be touching you in one way or another like he’ll have a hand on your thigh or he’s draped over you in a back hug or you’re sitting in his lap

and it’s so cute when you see the same mannerisms and habits he has as a dog when he’s human

he’ll sit there and huff at all the right times when you tell him about your long day

(which was one of the first things you picked up on that yunho wasn’t your typical dog because when you ranted to him it was like he could understand you perfectly)

and like he still has his protective instincts, except when he’s a man he is The Man

you tell him about some colleague at work who was nasty to you and he’ll be like WHO. LET ME GO BITE THEM

he definitely growls a little when he’s really protective like grrr >:(

lol but also when you two are playing games and he’s feeling competitive or he’s gaming on the computer he’ll unintentionally growl at you and sometimes you find it kinda hot ;)

with yunho there has never been a single dull moment

his laughter and cheeky antics just become a permanent part of your life <3

he only has eyes for you and they’re filled with love

he is THE GOODEST BOY PERIODT.

bonus: hamsterboy!joong

the D: hamster backed up into a corner meme

raises his little hands when he's scared

will freeze standing up for no apparent reason

literally faints or unalives at the slightest inconvenience

like if you sneeze too loud

or if he falls off the little platform in his cage

you’ll never catch him running in the hamster wheel - that is solely for napping in

he also likes to nap in the igloo homes you put there for him

if you lift one up while he’s under it he’ll run for his life towards another shelter LOL

shoves everything into his mouth when he eats

he complains when his food bowl is empty

but if you try to take the bowl to fill it up? he tries to bite you

no take >:( only fill >:(

tries to look aggressive but he’s the smollest lil bean to exist 🥺

what makes you think he’s any different as a human?

LOL

the end

#loren writes #ateez fics #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #yunho fluff #yunho crack #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez crack #golden retriever yunho :((#yuyu #hongjoong crack #hamster hongjoong LOL

544 notes · View notes

writesvani · 5 months ago

Text

coming down | 04

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to-enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): manipulation, toxic friendship dynamics, arguing, back handed compliments, making out, sexual tension, substance abuse, explicit language, mentions of past trauma, emotional conflict, jealousy

comment HERE for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M. LIST

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 7k // date: 17th of March

CHAPTER FOUR – In The Night; proceed with caution...

AN: okay listen. i know this was a slow burn chapter. but every single part of it was necessary. EVERYTHING is important. do you think i just write things for fun? no. every sentence, every stare, every word exchanged between gojo and y/n is intentional. calculated. y/n and yumi? the way they showed up wearing almost matching outfits? not a coincidence. the way y/n interacts with yumi and vice versa? telling. the way the toxicity seeps through her conversation with gojo? NECESSARY. you need to understand where they stand right now to fully grasp what’s about to happen next. there is a reason they are all still in each other’s lives. trust me.

and finally. GETO. HELLO. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT. he had no business being that hot this chapter. NONE. i was writing him like sir please be serious for once but no. he had to say things. he had to look like that. i hate him (i love him).

next chapter; after 100 notes <3

love, vani 🩷

You can feel the weight of your wallet in your bag, but it’s not a burden; it’s an opportunity. The mall hums around you, the fluorescent lights overhead making everything feel a little more artificial, but also a little more alive. You take in the scent of expensive perfumes mixed with the fresh leather from the bags on display. It’s like a hit of dopamine straight to the system, and you can almost taste the excitement on your tongue.

Yumi walks beside you, her eyes already scanning the racks, her steps slow but deliberate. She's in the same vibe today, quiet, but her attention sharp. You two aren’t talking much, but it doesn’t matter—sometimes, silence is just another form of conversation.

“Do you think it’s wrong to just...buy things for the sake of it?” Yumi asks out of nowhere, glancing sideways at you, her lips curling up in a half-smirk. “Like, not because we need it, but because...it feels good?”

“Fuck no,” you reply almost immediately, your voice louder than it probably should be in the middle of the mall. You catch a couple of people glancing over, but it doesn’t matter. “Anyone who says that is lying to themselves. Spending money is like hitting the reset button, a little personal therapy session in each swipe. I mean, have you seen these shoes? They're practically begging me to buy them.”

Yumi chuckles, her eyes falling to the rows of trendy sneakers on the shelf. She moves towards them with purpose, but you know she's not just here to buy. She's here to feel something, just like you. The thrill of walking out of the store with something new, the satisfaction of a decision that is all yours.

“Sometimes I feel like...if I just have something nice, it’ll fix everything. Like, if I buy this jacket, maybe everything will feel okay,” Yumi says, her voice soft, almost hesitant. You look over at her, catching the slightest crack in her usual nonchalant expression.

"Yeah, I get that," you reply, your hand brushing along a velvet dress on display. "It’s like, a temporary fix. But sometimes? It’s all you need to get through the day. You can’t tell me there’s a better feeling than slipping into something new and realizing you just made your own mood for the day."

Yumi glances over at you, her face breaking into a grin. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought that way. Let's make the most of this ‘therapy’ while we can.”

You both laugh, the sound mixing with the distant chatter of other shoppers as you continue to roam, leaving your cares and worries at the door with every step you take. Today is not about making decisions, it’s about feeling. And right now, you’re both just trying to feel good.

You and Yumi are dressed in the kind of outfits that could easily be mistaken for "mom chic"—but in a way that feels intentional and effortless. Think muted tones, soft fabrics, and the kind of casual elegance that says, "I don’t have to try too hard, but I still look put together."

You’re both wearing beige-colored pieces, like a warm, oversized cardigan layered over a simple cream blouse. The cardigan drapes off your shoulders just so, perfectly slouchy, like you didn’t even think about it. Your pants are wide-legged, a soft taupe color, with just enough volume to make them look chic but still comfortable enough to lounge in. You're not exactly pulling off a runway look, but you’re definitely pulling off an “I’m casually rich but low-key” vibe. You’ve opted for simple, white sneakers that look like they’ve been through a lot, but still hold their own in the aesthetics department.

Yumi mirrors you in a similar way. She’s got a beige trench coat hanging loosely around her shoulders, the kind of piece that makes you look like you’ve got your life together, even if you don’t. Her pants are slightly more tapered, a light khaki shade, but still relaxed enough to give off that effortless vibe. A simple beige scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck, adding just the right touch of elegance. You notice she’s wearing matching beige slides, the kind that click softly against the floor with every step, but they have a casual, almost lazy feel to them, like she couldn’t be bothered with heels today.

Both of you have your hair pulled back into sleek, tight buns—nothing too fancy, just neat and low-maintenance. It’s a look that says you’re not trying too hard, but still trying just enough to feel put-together. It’s a mood. The kind of aesthetic that screams understated, but the more you look at it, the more you realize just how much effort went into making it look so effortless.

At some point, you break away from her, your eyes landing on a store that’s been calling your name for days. You head straight for the jeans section like you’re on a mission from God. And there they are. The perfect pair. The jeans. They practically shine in your peripheral vision, whispering your name. “Buy me, buy me, buy me,” they seem to scream. You grab your size with the kind of urgency that only comes from knowing destiny has just called your name, then practically launch yourself into the fitting room.

Once you’re inside, you slip into the jeans and instantly fall in love. They hug you just right, shaping your body in that effortless way that says, I’m so stylish. You glance in the mirror, nodding to yourself like you've just discovered fire.

“Yu!” You yell, probably a little louder than necessary, but you’re too excited. “Come here, I found something.”

“Girl, where’s here?” Yumi calls from outside, clearly in the middle of her own shopping-induced trance.

“The fitting room, hurry up!” You tug at the waistband to make sure it’s sitting just right. You can already feel the high of this purchase.

You hear Yumi’s footsteps approach as she huffs impatiently. “Step out, c'mon!” she calls. You laugh, rolling your eyes as you open the fitting room door, spinning out dramatically to show off your catch of the day.

“What do you think?” You strike a pose, a mix of sass and excitement.

Yumi blinks. It’s not the reaction you expected. Her eyes flick up and down you, but there's something off about her expression—something you can’t quite place. She pauses, the kind of pause that always means she’s about to say something she thinks will sound nice but isn’t. She twirls a lock of her hair around her finger and scratches at her trench coat like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.

“Oh,” she says, her tone flat.

“Is something wrong?” You squint, suddenly sensing the tension in the air. She can’t even look you in the eye.

“No, no, they’re great,” she says quickly, but it’s too fast. Too... fake.

You raise an eyebrow, giving her the look—the one that says, Really, girl? “Come on, be honest.”

She chews her lip, eyeing you again. “Well, I mean…” She lets out a breath, eyes sweeping over you. “I don’t think they suit you,” she says, as if it’s a casual observation. “They’re not really... the model of jeans for you. But hey, we can totally find you something else. Like, better.”

Your whole posture goes rigid. That familiar sting of frustration bubbles up, your brow furrowing as your stomach tightens. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you shoot back, holding her gaze with a challenge in your eyes.

Yumi’s smile falters just slightly, but she hides it quickly, brushing a non-existent hair from her forehead. “Nothing,” she says, the fakest sweetness lacing her words. “Nothing at all. They’re still good... for you, I guess.”

You shake your head, the irritation trying to creep in. “Well, I don’t care,” you say, a little too firmly. “I’m buying them.”

Yumi’s expression softens, but there’s still that tiny edge to her smile. “Okay,” she says, giving you a shrug. “But don’t be all broody and moody when you realize there’s better stuff out there for you. Like, I’m just saying.”

You roll your eyes, tossing the jeans into your bag with more force than necessary. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You’re not sure if you’re more frustrated with her or with the fact that her words still got under your skin. But you don’t care. You’re buying them. End of story.

Yumi gives you one last look, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. “Alright, drama queen. Whatever you say.”

You slip the jeans off quickly, tossing them over the little bench as you grab your regular clothes, avoiding your own reflection in the mirror. The tightness in your chest isn't from the jeans; it's from something else—something Yumi always manages to plant inside you without even trying. It’s that lingering feeling, the one that makes you question if you really know who you are.

You slide your old clothes back on, pulling everything back into place, but that knot in your chest only seems to tighten. Yumi’s words replay in your head, and they sting, a little too much. “They aren’t exactly the model of jeans for you.”

You don’t know why it hurts, but it does. Maybe it’s the way she always acts like she’s doing you a favor, like her opinion is the only one that matters. You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t stop the sinking feeling. You’re not going to let her get to you. You won’t. Not this time.

You’re pissed – pissed at Yumi for acting like she has the right to call the shots when it comes to your life. Pissed at yourself for letting her get away with it for so long. The usual irritation bubbles in your chest as you grumble under your breath about her condescending attitude. This weird dynamic between you two – it’s been building for a while now, and it’s starting to wear thin.

You glance down at your phone, desperately hoping to distract yourself from the heavy tension in the air. And then you see it.

The notification.

Geto Suguru has just accepted your follow request.

Geto Suguru has sent you a follow request.

Your breath hitches. Your heart skips a beat. This is it. This is the moment. Like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush, your hands shake as you try to process it.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you squeal in disbelief, all thoughts of Yumi and her annoying behavior forgotten in an instant. It’s as if the universe just dropped a bombshell into your lap.

“What’s going on?” Yumi’s voice cuts through your excitement, her tone mixed with amusement and curiosity. You barely hear it. All you can do is stare at the screen, your mind racing between accepting the request immediately or savoring this moment for a bit longer.

“Geto accepted me and followed me back on Instagram!” You burst out, your voice a little too loud as you shove your phone in Yumi’s direction, too giddy to care about anything else. Your face is flush with excitement, like you’ve just won some major prize.

Yumi blinks at you, looking genuinely confused. “You followed him?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. Her disbelief only makes you smile wider.

“Yeah, like three weeks ago,” you say, your words tumbling out in a rush. “He never followed me back…until now.” You shove your phone even closer, practically forcing her to examine the screen like it holds the answers to the meaning of life.

“And you never told me?” Yumi’s voice is dripping with mock hurt as she places a hand dramatically on her chest. “Ouch. I thought we were friends!”

You roll your eyes. “Chill, Yumi. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” you reply, trying to brush off her dramatics. But you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. You’ve been waiting for this moment, and now that it’s here, you’re just too damn happy to care about anything else.

“Well, you should’ve told me,” she says, crossing her arms and feigning disappointment. “I’m feeling so betrayed right now.”

“Just let me have my moment, Yu,” you snap back, your patience thinning. You don’t have the energy for her attitude right now. “I gotta call Ren. This is huge.” You murmur the last part mostly to yourself, your fingers already lazily scrolling through your contact list. Yumi’s voice rings out, suddenly sharp with curiosity.

“You told Ren and not me?” she asks, raising an eyebrow in mock offense.

“Yeah, because he was there when I followed Geto. This conversation is pointless,” you say, your eyes not leaving the screen as you look for Ren’s name. “If this is a real problem for you, then I don’t know… Maybe touch some grass or something.”

“Whatever, forget it,” she mutters, her earlier drama fading away like it never happened. “So, are you gonna accept him or what?” Her voice now bubbles with excitement, the tension dissipating as she realizes what’s happening.

You look at your phone, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling in your gut. You hover over the “accept” button, the thrill of the moment almost making you dizzy.

Without thinking twice, you tap the button.

Yumi gasps. “Oh. My. God. You actually did it,” she says, her voice filled with awe. She watches as you sit back, your heart still pounding. “You’re officially in. Ren’s gonna lose it when he finds out.”

A laugh escapes your lips, a little breathless. “I know, right?” You feel like you’re floating. This is it – your moment. Finally.

But before you get lost in your own excitement, you dial Ren’s number, your fingers moving with practiced ease. This is big. And you’re definitely calling him first.

You dial Ren's number, heart pounding like a jackhammer on a caffeine binge. The phone rings twice before he picks up, his voice muffled as if he's speaking from the depths of a swamp.

"Yo, what's up?" he says, sounding distracted.

"Ren! You won't believe what just happened!" you exclaim, barely containing your enthusiasm.

"Hold up," he interrupts, the unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing echoing in the background. "I'm on the can. Give me a sec."

You stifle a laugh, picturing him mid-transaction. "Take your time," you reply, tapping your fingers impatiently against your phone.

A few moments later, he returns, his voice clearer now. "Alright, I'm back. What's got you so hyped?"

"Geto Suguru accepted my follow request and followed me back!" you blurt out, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice.

There's a brief silence on the other end before Ren erupts. "No way! That's insane!"

"I know, right?" you giggle, pacing your room. "I can't believe it!"

Ren's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "Okay, okay. We need a plan. Like, a full-on strategy to get you two together. I'm talking meet-cutes, accidental run-ins, the whole shebang."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Ren, you're crazy."

He ignores your comment, already deep in his own world. "Picture this: you and Geto, a chance encounter at a coffee shop. He spills his drink on you, you both laugh it off, exchange numbers—classic rom-com material."

You roll your eyes, amused. "And what's next? The meet-the-parents montage?"

"Exactly!" Ren responds enthusiastically. "And then, plot twist—you both end up on a reality dating show together. The drama, the tension, the undeniable chemistry."

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. "Ren, you're out of control."

He pauses, then adds thoughtfully, "Okay, but real talk. This could be your big break. You and Geto, taking over the internet. The content would be insane."

You sobered slightly, considering his words. "Yeah, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. It's just social media."

Ren snorts. "Just social media? Girl, this is the 21st century. Social media is everything."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "You're incorrigible."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Ren replies, his tone light. "The lore we could build around this—people would lose their minds."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Thanks, Ren. I needed that."

"Anytime," he says. "Now, go accept that follow request before he changes his mind."

You laugh,"Beat you to it bestie, it’s already accepted."

"Atta girl," Ren says approvingly. "Now, keep me posted. I want all the details."

"Will do," you reply, feeling a flutter of anticipation. "Talk to you later."

As you finish up your chat with Ren, you spot Yumi by the counter, already making her purchase for the shirt she couldn’t resist the second she laid eyes on it. You toss your jeans beside it, ready to pay for your own haul. “Yo, Yu,” you hum, flashing a playful grin at the cashier as you hand over your cash. She bags up your purchase with a smile, and you nod your thanks, slipping out of the store.

"So, what's the deal with Geto and his girl?" you ask, picking at your nails as you walk beside Yumi. There's a slight flutter in your chest—yeah, you definitely want him, but are you really ready to totally shake up his relationship? You can’t decide.

Yumi's expression shifts, her lips curving into a devilish grin that screams, I know something you don’t. "They broke up last week," she drops the bomb casually, her eyes practically sparkling with the excitement of sharing the gossip.

"Wait, seriously?" you blink, caught off guard.

"Yep," she says, her tone smug, like she just delivered the best news ever. "The man’s single now. Time for you to make your move."

A flutter of nerves rushes through you, but you push it aside. "I want to, but... where do I even start?"

Yumi taps her chin, the wheels turning in her mind. "Easy. Post a pic of yourself. See if he’s gonna like it. If he does... it’s game time."

You raise an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "Not a bad idea, actually."

“I know, I’m a genius,” she says, almost too smug.

You scroll through your gallery, your finger hovering over the screen until you find the one. There it is—your mirror selfie from a few days ago. Your hair is perfectly curled, a soft cascade of waves that look effortless but just polished enough to make heads turn (courtesy of heatless curls hack you found on TikTok). You’re wearing the perfect balance of casual and seductive—oversized denim jeans slung low on your hips, paired with a black tube top that clings just enough to highlight your curves.

But the real magic? Your finger, softly grazing your lips, the tip of your manicured nail pressing ever so lightly against your full, plump pout. The angle's just right to capture the soft curve of your neck, and your eyes? Locked straight at the camera with that playful, irresistible spark.

You glance at Yumi, a devilish grin creeping onto your face. "Game on, Geto Suguru. Let’s see if you can handle this."

The rest of the day flies by in a haze of impulse buys, mindless chatter with Yumi, and forcing down yet another overpriced green smoothie that tastes like regret. You nearly block out Yumi’s oh-so-inappropriate remarks about you as you finally step into your apartment alone, shutting the door behind you with a sigh.

Silence. Finally.

Tossing your bags onto the couch, you make a beeline for the TV, flipping on Netflix like it’s muscle memory. Without hesitation, you scroll straight to Gossip Girl. The Thanksgiving episode is on, and before you know it, you’re gasping at every twist and betrayal—as if you don’t already have the entire script engraved in your soul. (But seriously, with every rewatch, it just gets better. No one can convince you otherwise.)

Mid-scene, you reach for today’s most questionable purchase—an unnecessarily fancy ashtray you bought for no real reason other than, well, aesthetic. You light a cigarette, placing it between your lips, the flicker of the lighter casting a brief glow against your face. Smoke curls around you as you stare at the screen, completely locked in, like Blair Waldorf’s next move is life or death.

Then, your fingers move on autopilot. Check story views.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Geto Suguru hasn’t even seen it.

Your eye twitches. Excuse me?

Dozens of likes, a couple of fire emojis in your DMs, and even a "damn who let you be this fine??" from someone you don’t even know. But the one person you want? Nowhere to be found.

“Dude,” you groan, flopping back against the cushions. “Throw me a bone here.”

With a sigh, you toss your phone onto your lap, take another slow drag of your cigarette, and let the smoke swirl lazily around you. The air in your apartment is thick with it now—probably should crack a window before your living room starts smelling like a nicotine shrine, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

Then, just as you start spiraling into a self-pity session, your phone rings.

Ren.

You stretch your arm lazily, phone tucked between your cheek and shoulder, eyes glued to the screen.

“Hey, babe, you home from your little shopping spree?” Ren’s voice comes through, smooth and familiar.

You sigh dramatically. “Mhm. Just watching Gossip Girl.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. I have commitment issues, and this is the only way I know how to work through them.”

Ren lets out a knowing laugh. “Whatever keeps you sane, babe. But listen—it’s Friday, and I was thinking… I kinda want to go out. And you know Aiko—”

You half-listen, stretching your neck until it cracks in a way that probably isn’t good for you. 'Ouch. Love that for me.'

“—her roommate’s throwing a party, and Aiko invited me. And obviously, because I’m the best bestie to ever exist, I told her I’m not going anywhere without my ride-or-die.”

You let out a soft laugh, but your brain is already at war.

On one hand, you had the perfect night planned: sinking into your couch, rewatching rich people make messy life choices, rolling a joint (or two), and falling asleep in a haze of smoke and Blair Waldorf’s superiority complex.

On the other hand… getting a little reckless with Ren? That sounds dangerous. And fun. And exactly what you haven’t done in a long time.

You and Ren don’t party together. Your social circles barely overlap, and that’s always worked in your favor. But maybe, just maybe, it’s time to shake things up.

And it’s Aiko. Ren’s childhood bestie, who goes to a different college but still lives in town. No drama, no nonsense—just good vibes. And honestly? New faces, new energy, and new distractions sound pretty damn tempting.

Because, let’s be real—who needs Geto Suguru to like their story when there’s a whole party full of questionable choices waiting for you?

A slow smirk tugs at your lips as you finally answer, voice dripping with mischief.

“Let’s go cause some chaos.”

The party is exactly your kind of chaos—loud, reckless, and just dangerous enough to make you feel alive.

You catch a shift in Ren’s energy beside you, and when you glance at him, it clicks—this is definitely not what he was expecting. Poor thing probably thought he was signing up for a casual little get-together, a few drinks, maybe getting a little too tipsy and ending the night puking out Aiko’s window.

But instead? This.

Bodies packed tight, unfamiliar faces blurring together, the thick haze of weed curling through the air like a heavy fog. The bass from the speakers thrums beneath your skin, rattling in your chest, making the world feel electric. Someone spills a drink nearby, but no one cares. There’s a girl perched on the kitchen counter, her fingers tangled in a guy’s hair, pulling him in like she’s starving.

And—oh my God. Is someone actually moaning out loud?

'Alright, that’s a little much, even for me. Jesus. Please, for the love of God, take it to a bedroom. I don’t need to be reminded that I haven’t gotten laid in two months. Thanks.'

Still, the rest of this? Perfection.

You flick your gaze back to Ren just in time to watch his soul physically leave his body. He looks like a deer caught in headlights—half-hiding behind you, half-frantically scanning the room for an escape route.

And then—just like that—he’s gone.

Your eyes track his movements lazily, following him as he weaves through the crowd with surprising determination. Interesting. You watch as he approaches some guy—tall, broad shoulders, an easy grin. You don’t know him personally, but recognition sparks.

Aiko introduced them a few weeks ago and he is the one Ren showed you a picture of.

Oh.

Ohhh.

So this is why Ren wanted to go out so bad.

You roll your eyes, but there’s an amused smirk tugging at your lips. Cute. Puppy love.

Hopefully, the guy rails Ren by the end of the night.

You scan the room, taking in the dizzying mix of sweaty bodies, half-baked stoners, and preppy girls pretending they don’t secretly love this mess.

And then—you spot it.

Aiko has a bar. Or at least, something that resembles one. A sleek blend of wood and cool gray marble, standing out like a beacon of class in the middle of this absolute shitshow.

And—oh, look. An empty stool, practically begging you to claim it.

You mentally pat yourself on the back for securing the perfect spot—close enough to the action to people-watch, yet tucked away just enough to avoid being in it. A strategic retreat. A throne.

You already know the marble is going to be a dream for rolling, so you settle in, pull out your weed, and get to work.

Your fingers move on autopilot—muscle memory kicking in like a well-rehearsed performance. You unfold the paper, pluck at the small green bud, and absolutely massacre one of your cigarettes, so you could mix your joint with tobacco. A brutal sacrifice for a higher cause.

Once it’s done, you sit back, admiring your work of art for a solid thirty seconds. A true masterpiece. Leonardo da Vinci could never.

Then, rummaging through your bag, you fish out your lighter. Flick. Flame.

And just like that—the first hit of the night is here.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there. Time has melted away between the slow drag of your joint and the burn of nicotine on your tongue. One joint down, two cigarettes deep—it’s time for round two.

You bring the joint number #2 to your lips, ready for round two, when—

"Look at what we got here."

The voice is rich, velvety, dangerous. It spills down your spine like warm liquor, and then—the heat of his breath, so close to your neck, so intimate, you nearly shudder.

Fingertips ghost over your shoulder, then trace a slow, lazy path down to your waist. Barely there, yet enough to send a pulse of electricity through you, enough to make your breath hitch and your thighs press.

You inhale, slow and steady, masking the effect he has on you with a drag from your joint. “Didn’t think the place I’d see you again would be here,” you murmur, blowing out smoke in a smirk.

But then—fuck.

His fingers skate down your ribs, a teasing tap, so faint it shouldn’t do anything, but it does. A single touch, and your stomach tightens, heat pooling low.

You’re acting like a starved divorcée. Embarrassing.

“So you thought about seeing me again,” he says, stepping forward, pressing closer.

And ohhh, the way he moves—fluid, predatory, his body heat licking at yours like an unspoken promise. His elbow lands on the marble counter, muscles flexing, jaw sharp enough to cut.

Black shirt, grey joggers—so simple, so effortless, yet you know how dangerous that combo is. How easy it would be to just… tug the waistband down.

Then—the worst part. The part that makes your fingers twitch with the need to touch.

His hair—tied up in that messy, infuriatingly perfect bun.

You want to pull it loose.

You want to fist your hands in it.

You want to ruin him.

He flicks his tongue against his cheek, and your brain short circuits.

That tongue. That thumb. Fuck.

“Mm,” you hum, shifting slightly, just enough to brush against him. “What if I did, Suguru?”

His smirk deepens, something dark flickering in his eyes.

“Already on a first-name basis?” His voice drops—low, thick, laced with amusement and something even filthier. “You’re bad, peach.”

Peach.

Oh, he’s playing dirty.

“I can be a lot worse,” you counter, dragging your tongue over your lips—slow, intentional. And just as expected, his gaze snaps to the movement. His jaw tenses, his Adam’s apple bobs, and—ohhh, there it is. That tiny flicker of restraint slipping.

He’s so sexy it’s infuriating.

“Wanna prove it sometime?” His voice is like silk, wrapping around you, daring you.

You barely breathe out, “Yeah.”

And then, stupidly, recklessly, you extend your arm to hand him the joint.

Big mistake.

Because the second he takes it, that hand—the one burning your ribs, teasing, lingering, driving you insane—is gone.

And now?

Now it’s wrapped around the joint instead.

Your lungs seize.

Your thighs press tighter.

You’re already losing this game.

But even without his hands on you, he’s still too much for your own good. The joint rests between his lips like it belongs there, lazy and effortless, the smoke curling around his face in slow, deliberate swirls. His eyes—dark and low—trace over you, dragging like the lazy pull of a bowstring, like he’s memorizing every dip, every curve, every flicker of emotion that crosses your face.

He takes a slow inhale, lets the smoke pool in his lungs before releasing it in a sigh that feels too intimate, too heavy, settling between you like an invitation.

“So,” he murmurs, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, “what brings you here?”

Your fingers twitch at your side. Why does he have to be so fucking pretty?

“I’m here with my friend. He’s friends with Aiko,” you mutter, tipping your chin toward Ren—who, at this exact moment, is devouring THE guy in the corner like he’s trying to consume his soul. His hands are buried in the guy’s hair, nails digging in, like he’s trying to make sure this man never forgets him.

Geto follows your gaze, lets out a short, amused huff. “Subtle.”

You snort, then—maybe to distract yourself, maybe just to fill the space—ask, “What about you?”

“Jen is Yuji’s girl,” he says absently, fingers tracing the cotton of his shirt, and—oh.

So that’s the connection.

And then it hits. Yuji's girlfriend is Aiko's roommate. A slow-building dread that curls in your stomach and coils around your ribs, tight, suffocating—because if Geto and Yuji are here… then so is Gojo.

Your chest feels too tight. Your blood feels too hot.

You don’t want to think about him. You can’t think about him. Because the last time you saw him, he ruined you. Because his words are still a wound in your chest, still raw, still bleeding.

You flex your hands, swallow hard. Keep your voice even. “That’s cool.”

But Geto is too fucking perceptive for his own good. His eyes are on you, watching, picking apart every microexpression, every breath, every slight shift in your body language.

“Are you okay with that?” His voice is smooth, careful.

“With what?”

“C’mon babe. I know you already realized Gojo is here and last time I saw you and Gojo in the same room, there were fangs and claws.”

“I’m fine.” The words come out clipped, a little too quick.

Geto hums. He doesn’t believe you. You don’t believe yourself.

“As long as he doesn’t talk to me, I don’t give a shit.”

A pause. A twitch of his lips. “You sure about that?”

You shoot him a look. “I said I’m fine.”

His gaze lingers, heavy with amusement and something else you don’t want to name. The silence stretches, thick and charged, something unsaid crackling between you like static electricity.

And then you do something dangerous.

With slow, deliberate movements, you reach for the joint between his lips, plucking it free with a feather-light touch. His breath hitches—so quiet, so subtle, you almost miss it. But you don’t.

You never do.

You bring it to your lips, inhale deep, the taste of him clinging to the filter. Let the smoke swirl in your lungs before you exhale, slow, deliberate, watching as it curls between you like something intimate.

You learned a long time ago how easy it is to make a man forget about everything but you. A touch, a look, a well-placed breath—and they’ll unravel at your feet.

Geto is no different.

His pupils dilate, his eyes flickering between your lips, the joint, and back again.

“So,” you murmur, voice dipping into something just shy of teasing, “you think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

A lazy smirk tugs at his lips. His fingers—deft, warm, deliberate—trace over yours where they rest against his chest. His heartbeat is fast, just a little erratic, but his voice is steady when he hums, “Mhm.”

You tilt your head. “Then tell me—” You lean in, just close enough that you can make sure he tastes the next inhale of smoke, “—what am I thinking about?”

Geto pauses, the corner of his mouth quirking up, eyes dark and knowing. His fingers tighten over yours, just barely.

“You’re thinking about me,” he murmurs, voice velvet-soft, rich, dangerous. “On top of you.”

And fuck—maybe you are.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, your lips part—just slightly, just enough. And then you close the distance.

The second your mouth touches his, something electric shoots through you, like a live wire sparking against bare skin. You exhale the smoke into his mouth, letting the heat of his lips, the weight of him, consume you. Geto doesn’t hesitate. He inhales it all, deep and slow, before letting the smoke curl lazily from his nostrils like a fucking dragon.

And then—then the hunger wins.

Your fingers find his hair, twisting into the dark strands, yanking hard enough that he groans into your mouth—a sound that shoots straight down your spine, settling low in your stomach like molten heat. The joint slips from your fingers, forgotten, hitting the floor with a dull thud. It doesn’t matter. This is more important. So much more important.

Your lips press harder, claiming him, devouring him, like you’re trying to carve yourself into his bones. His hands are everywhere—sliding down your waist, gripping the curve of your hips, fingers sinking into your ass like he’s staking his claim right here in the middle of the fucking party. And then—smack.

A sharp slap against your ass echoes through the room.

A few people glance over, but you don’t care. You barely notice. Your brain is nothing but static, buzzing with the way he’s touching you, how his body is pressing you into the cool marble counter. You get it now. You understand all the couples you were rolling your eyes at earlier, making out like they were the only two people on the planet. You judged them, and now here you are—worse.

(You mentally apologize to them. You were wrong. You get it. You so get it.)

Geto licks into your mouth, deep and slow, like he’s savoring you. His tongue tangles with yours, his hands guiding your body against his in a way that feels almost too easy, too practiced, like he already knows exactly how to unravel you.

And he does. Fuck—he does.

"Real classy. Real, real classy, babes."

A voice cuts through the haze like a blade, slicing right into the heat of Geto’s lips, his hands, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Your breathing is erratic, your body still pressed against his, and when you finally tear yourself away, the hunger in his eyes mirrors your own.

But of course—because the universe hates you—there’s only one person bold enough, obnoxious enough to cockblock you like this.

Gojo Satoru.

His arms are crossed over his chest, lips curled into a smirk so sharp it could cut glass. His eyes gleam under the dimmed lights, twinkling like he’s enjoying every second of this. His white hair is a mess, like he just rolled out of bed—or worse, someone else’s bed. The thought alone makes your stomach turn, and you hate that it does.

"Did you really have to?" Geto groans, tilting his head back with a deep sigh, like he's asking the heavens why they let this happen.

Gojo's smirk only widens, his ears perking up like a damn cat that just found something new to ruin. "Well, sorry," he drawls, voice laced with insincerity. "Yuji disappeared somewhere with Jen, and I'm bored. I don’t wanna be alone."

He even pouts—full-on juts out his bottom lip like an overgrown, spoiled child. You swear he gets off on being the most insufferable person alive.

"Then go somewhere. Socialize," Geto deadpans, sounding like he's already debating walking out of this conversation.

Gojo scoffs, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "Please. Let’s just chill,” he says. “Plus, I’m saving you from her, dude. As if anyone actually wants to be near her."

You snort. "Please. You’re projecting, baby."

His sharp blue eyes snap to yours instantly, and that goddamn smirk deepens, crawling into something more dangerous.

"You sure about that, sweetheart?"

"Well sweetheart, you’re the one wandering around all alone here. I have company."

Your fingers curl around Geto’s bicep, slow and deliberate, like a claim, like a shield, like you’re daring Gojo to say something about it. And he does. Of course, he does.

His smirk deepens, something sharp lurking beneath it. "Yeah? And your company just so happens to be one my best friends. What, you don’t have any of your own anymore?"

The words hit exactly where they’re meant to. Right where it hurts.

Your lips part, but there’s no quick comeback—because he’s not wrong. Not really. There was a time when your circle was bigger, fuller. But it collapsed. You burned bridges, walked away, let it crumble without a second glance.

Except for Ren.

So you nod toward the far-right corner of the room, where Ren is, mouth pressed against that guy’s neck, hands tangled in his hair. Your Ren. The one person you still have. The one person who still believes in you.

"I came here with Ren," you say, voice light, nonchalant, as if the words aren’t a loaded gun pointed at Gojo’s chest.

And then you fire. "It appears as if all your friends always choose me."

The moment the words leave your lips, you see it.

That flicker of something—something real, something raw—pass through his eyes. His jaw tightens. His fingers flex at his sides. You got him.

Because you and Gojo and Ren were everything once. A trio. A home. And then it all shattered, and when the dust settled, Gojo was left standing alone.

And Ren? Ren chose you.

Gojo stares at Ren a second too long. You watch the gears turn in his head, watch the muscle in his jaw tick, watch his body betray him in a dozen little ways. His throat bobs. His foot starts bouncing—an old habit, one you recognize. He’s pissed.

"Well," he finally says, voice low, strangled at the edges. "Looks like Ren’s occupied at the moment."

"He is," you agree, voice dipped in honey, in poison. You lean in, just a little, just enough to let him feel it. "But he’ll come back to me."

And there it is. The moment the knife twists.

You see it happen—see the way something dark passes over his features, the way his lips press into a thin line. His stare burns into you, unreadable and blistering and dangerous.

You crossed a line.

And you meant to.

The silence between you is thick. Suffocating.

Geto clears his throat, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "Okay, guys, let’s not kill each other, yeah?"

He glances between the two of you, trying to gauge what the fuck is going on. But he doesn’t know. He can’t.

All Geto knows is that you and Gojo slept together in high school.

That’s all he knows.

"Let’s…" Geto sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let’s drink something. Satoru, why don’t you bring us some drinks, hmm?"

For a moment, Gojo doesn’t move. Doesn’t react. His eyes stay locked onto yours, an invisible war waging between the two of you.

And then, like flipping a switch, he smiles.

It’s fake. It’s so fake. A bright, easy-going grin spreads across his face, his body relaxing, his tone suddenly light, playful, effortless.

"Sure thing," he chirps, eyes glittering with something unreadable. "I’ll be right back."

Then he turns, walking away like none of this mattered. Like you didn’t just tear him open.

But you know better.

You watch him disappear into the crowd, your pulse still thrumming in your ears.

Because you finally hurt him.

And knowing Gojo Satoru?

It’s going to hurt for a long, long time.

"Don’t miss me too much," Gojo quips, his voice light, teasing.

But something about it feels… off.

You watch as he bounces toward the other room, easy, effortless—like none of this meant anything. Like you mean nothing.

And yet—

He turns. Just for a second.

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time tonight, they’re stripped of their usual bravado. No cocky smirk, no playful glint—just something heavy, something raw. Something that doesn’t belong to Gojo Satoru, the golden boy, but to Satoru, the boy who used to be your best friend.

For a split second, it looks like he wants to say something.

Like he needs you to understand.

And for that split second, you want to. You want to reach out, sift through the weight in his stare, get it the way you used to.

But those days? The days of understanding each other without words? The days of you and Gojo?

They’re dead. Long buried.

So you do what you’ve gotten so good at.

You turn away.

You laugh at something Geto says. You act like Gojo was never here. Like his presence wasn’t just buzzing against your skin.

But he was here. And you feel it.

Gojo Satoru might have walked away. But you know—deep in your bones, in the pit of your stomach, in the quiet part of your mind that still knows him—

He’ll be back.

Soon.

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