Latest Posts by milk-tea-and-memories - Page 3

happy chinese new years eve eve for anyone who’s celebrating !!!!!!!!!!!!

Gojo is the type to flirt endlessly with the person he likes. All inappropriate jokes, invasion of personal space and wildly descriptive insinuations about how he'd be the best damn lover you could ask for if you give him a fucking chance.

But he is Gojo Satoru. The Gojo Satoru. So you know better and guard your heart as best as you can.

It wasn't the winks and kissy faces that made you blush. It wasn't the way he would introduce you to everyone as his future wife that made your heart beat erratically either.

It wasn't the relentless flirting and sappy declarations of love that made your students extremely uncomfortable that made you do a double take at him. It wasn't his loud proclamations and flamboyant gestures like filling the school field with your favorite flowers after learning you've never received a bouquet of flowers before in your life that made your heart swell with joy.

But..

It's the way he stood up to the elders defending your name when you're under scrutiny, the way he'd menacingly state so plainly, in such a calm clear voice, that he'd end everyone in the council if anybody tries to hurt you.

It's the way he would sit quietly with you after a tough job or when you lose another colleague, the way he would ease you into an embrace and hold you until you fall asleep in his arms. It's the way he would grab your cold hand as you stand in the rain hours after one of your beloved students had been buried 6 feet under.

Gojo would pout at you when you tell him you like him better when he's not as raucous as he usually is.

But he doesn't know that you mean you've fallen for him because of how much more loving and caring he is without even trying.

No grand stunts, no gimmicks. Just.. him.

Him and his ways that show you he'll always be there, without saying a damn thing.

✧*࿐random cute texts: jjk ✧˖*࿐

✧ft: satoru, yuuta, yuuji, megumi & nanami

✧note: trying to get back into posting again. enjoy!!

✧ want your own customized texts from your favs? commissions are open!

ACCIDENTAL CONFESSIONS

smau ft eren jeager and armin arlert

- swearing, eren is a lil bitch-

EREN !

ARMIN !

- i’ve made levi as well, and i kinda wanna do jean. idk

Kaminari watched with a quirked brow as you walked straight into the common room and plopped right down next to Bakugou, who opened his arm to allow you to curl into his side.

Sure, it amazed him that Bakugou even had the means to score a partner, let alone one would could just come in and plop next to him, interrupting whatever game he was playing on his switch, but…

Kaminari was moreso interested in whatever you two were doing than thinking about the other complexities of your relationship.

“What do you want?” Bakugou asks, his nose burying in your hair.

“Hngg.”

Bleach blonde eyebrows furrow in frustration, “you do realize it’s almost 10 pm, right? I’m not doing that.”

“Mmmnn!” You push your head against his shoulder, and he snarls at you.

“Don’t you ‘mmmnn’ me! It’s fuckin’ dark out.”

“Do you have any lick of a clue what the hell is going on?” Kaminari whispers, a hand covering his mouth in an attempt to keep his question between himself and Kirishima. Kirishima tips his head as he watches you and Bakugou… talk? to each other on the loveseat just feet away.

“Honestly man,” the redhead sighs, tipping his head in thought. “No idea.”

“You want Aizawa to kill me?” Bakugou mumbles, gently rubbing your arm with his thumb. “Dumbass. Because he will.”

“Hmph..”

“Yeah, I should’ve expected you to say that.”

“Say what?” Kaminari whispers, the pitch turning into a whine, gentle fingers tugging at Kirishima’s tee-shirt. Kirishima shrugs and continues to watch the… conversation.

“Come on,” Bakugou pleads, “can’t I just give you some of my chips? I’ll take ya to get some snacks tomorrow, I promise-“

“Mmmmnnnn…”

Bakugou groans and tips his head back, blinking up at the ceiling as if trying to work up some strength. “Hey, idiots,” he grumbles, making the two of his friends tense up in fear; Kaminari visibly trembles, he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he just really wanted to know if you were okay-

“What time does that stupid convenience store close for the night?” The blonde asks, and Kirishima watches as your lips, peeking from Bakugou’s neck, curl up into a smile.

Kirishima shrugs, “I… think they’re 24 hours. Or at least open until real late. I think they stop making food at 1 am though.”

Bakugou groans. Kaminari sees you stifle your giggles, your fingers curling on his shirt. You grunt again, and Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“Fucking- fine.” He turns back to his friends with a snarled lip. “You dickheads want anything?”

“Uh…” Kaminari begins. “I’ll… take a strawberry juice, if you’re offering.”

“I’m not, but my insignificant other is.”

Kirishima chuckles, “I’ll take an egg roll. Thanks man.”

Bakugou gives a subtle nod and turns his head back down to you, “you’re coming with me-“

“Mmmnnnn…”

“Oh hell no!” He barks. “If I go down, you’re coming with me, you shitfuck!”

Once again, you laugh into his neck, and even if kaminari and kirishima don’t understand the dynamic, it feels good to see Bakugou smirk in your hair and nuzzle into you.

“Mmmuvyounnn.”

“Yeah yeah… love you, too, or something.”

in which: bakugou only shows his dimples around you

sfw, fluff, dialogue heavy, humour, this is a quick drabble i whipped up from an idea i created ages ago bc my 8k word bkg fic WON'T POST AGHHH!

"i love dimples, they're so cute!" mina squeals from beside you whilst you were hunched over the dorm's coffee table, finishing outstanding calculus questions you hadn't completed during class.

"me too," you absentmindedly murmur, reaching for your calculator to input a definite integral. "people say that they are kisses from angels, as if that isn't the cutest thing ever."

the pink-haired wails, "stop it! i wish i had dimples."

"if you try hard enough, then maybe," you snort before turning the page of your maths textbook. "i remember people would press pencils to their cheeks to make it appear. it would work for like five minutes."

"well, duh they're not gonna be permanent, i'm not that stupid."

"you always ask me what two plus five is."

"uncalled for, that's not the same!" mina slaps the back of your head, causing you to hold it whilst hissing in pain.

"okay, i'm sorry!" you exclaim, shielding yourself in case she hits you again.

thankfully, mina is pacified again, returning her chin to her palm as she fiddles with her nails. she remains quiet for a few minutes, allowing you to concentrate on your work before she pipes up again. "jirou has cute dimples."

you hum in agreement. "yaomomo too, on both cheeks," you add.

"kaminari too!"

"and bakugou."

mina darts up, back now as straight as a pole as she gawks at you with the weirdest expression. did you grow two heads or something? what was so weird about bakugou having dimples?

"no he does not!" counters mina.

"he does! on his right cheek!" you even point to it for good measure. "surprised me too when i saw it for the first time but it's actually really prominent! i don't know how we never noticed it before."

"you're lying to me. bakugou katsuki could never have dimples, he's too evil for that."

"he's not that evil."

"are we talking to the same bakugou? he threatened to blow me up the other day."

you laugh at the memory, an action mina doesn't appreciate. "i was there for that. anyways. his dimple is just something he's born with, it's not ordained by personality, what's the big deal?"

"what part of bakugou being too evil to have something as pure as a dimple do you not understand?"

your homework now lays unfinished and forgotten as you begin having a quarrel about your classmate and the mystery surrounding a feature that was given to him from birth. the blond shows it quite often, how come mina's not seeing it?

she then begins pulling up numerous photos and selfies; none of which have the evidence of bakugou's dimples. you furrow your brows in confusion, swiping through and zooming in to no avail of finding any remnants of a dimple.

strange.

you know you can't be imagining this.

"yo mina, y/n!" a deep, raspy voice comes from the entrance of the common room. you both turn around in shock to see your fellow red-haired classmate approaching.

immediately, you turn off mina's photo to rid any evidence of your previous conversation. because wherever kirishima is, bakugou normally follows.

"i'm gonna kick your ass in mario kart!" comes an explosive voice from behind. there he was.

kirishima leans over the couch where mina was sitting on. "what are you both up to?"

"oh y/n and i were just chilling. why?"

"oh bakugou and i just wanted to play a round of mario kart, that's all! hope we're not bothering you."

you pipe up from where you were still trying to figure out maths equations, "mina talks my ear off whilst i'm trying to solve these questions. i think i'll be okay with you two."

before mina could slap the back of your head again, a shadow looms your textbook and tufts of blond hair appear in the corner of your eye.

"you got that wrong," bakugou says after not even two seconds of reading your equation.

"eyes off my book," you exclaim, about to cover the pages with your hands when the explosion-quirk user snatches it away from under you. he continues reading through it like it was some newspaper article.

he does this all with a proud smirk on his face. "question 2 wrong, question 7 wrong, question 15 wrong," rambles your classmate, ignoring the way you were demanding it back.

"i'm going to fuck you up. give me back my book."

"damn your handwriting is messy."

your punch his arm lightly. he laughs at the impact, uneffected. "yours is illegible!" you shout back, challenging him with a nasty glare.

mina and kirishima watch with amused expressions at the disputation occurring in front of them. however, the pink-haired feels the world stop for a moment when she notices something very interesting.

a dimple. on bakugou's right cheek. just like you said.

something she has never seen before.

then she notices the way he looks at you. despite teasing you and making fun of you, there's an undeniable look of fondness evident in his eyes, one that grows the more you threaten him with unspeakable acts of violence.

his smirk grows softer, becoming that of a lopsided grin when bakugou gives you your textbook, confessing that none of the questions were wrong and that he was just 'messin' around'.

as it turns out... bakugou katsuki does have dimples, but they only appear around you.

❝ ANGEL

♡ gn!reader x gojo satoru

cw: hurt/ comfort, established relationship

synopsis: gojo is so unserious, but he loves you more than you’ll ever know

wc: 1400+

notes from mei!

hello guys it’s been so long! i’ve rewatched jjk AND WATCHED JJK 0 FINALLY and felt very inspired to write lol (i fully believe gojo is a ginormous piece of shit)

i’m very rusty but i hope u enjoy!

you’ve always known satoru was far different from what people portrayed. he’s so conceited that it’s painful, but you know it’s just because he has insecurities of his own that he feels the need to hide.

he’s not as much of a ladies man as people say—of course, he can have anyone he wants, but he's only ever wanted to be yours.

i’m your perfect match, satoru says, no one can compare!

he’s scared of never-ending cycles and repeated mistakes—of things he should be able to control but somehow can’t—frankly, satoru is the epitome of bullshit.

it’s only now you’ve realized that satoru is the most flawed human you’ll probably ever meet—he’s a wuss who never stops complaining, his mouth going on and on like a never-ending siren. his favourite hobby is to get on people’s nerves then treat himself to that expensive bakery downtown.

satoru is so excellent that his flaws are dimmed by the blinding lights of his perfections.

he can get away with just about anything work wise—but with you and your relationship, there’s a line he constantly loves to jump over, even when he knows you'll never let it slide.

“satoru come on,” you say, hand reaching for his, but as you draw closer you feel a slight resistance, unable to touch him. you draw your hand back, taken aback from his behaviour.

you sigh, quiet and drawn out. gojo feels a chill run through his body as immediate regret pumps through his veins.

"baby—"

"save it, satoru."

he bites his tongue, watching as your eyes glaze over. you turn away from him, crossing your arms as if you were giving yourself a much needed hug. it's silent in his... very large and luxurious penthouse living room and you're once again reminded of the social gap between you and satoru.

for a moment, you can hear the voices of everyone mocking your relationship—criticizing you, laughing at you for even thinking special grade sorcerer gojo satoru could have a soft spot for someone like you.

and you feel played. not by him, but by yourself for believing someone born from money and blessed with strength, could love someone like you—someone who came from nothing and had to work their way up and up, kissing ass and developing thick skin.

you don't think gojo will ever understand how privileged he is.

you also don't think he'll understand how bad he is for you.

"where do you think you're going?" he calls. you think carefully, sliding on your shoes as you undo the lock on his door.

"home."

it's been two days and as your tidying up your apartment, you hear a knock at your door.

you pause, already knowing exactly who it is.

a minute—maybe five passes as you don't hear another knock. you're unnerved because you still see the shadow of him through the very bottom of your door, stubborn as he always is.

you try not to breathe too loud or move too fast, but satoru's always a step ahead and as you're opening your window to escape through the emergency stairs, he's already there.

"that's cold, my love." he says, but it's missing his usual satoru-flare and you know he's not in usual mood.

you don't think you can stomach him being in front of you.

he's wearing his sunglasses, hair down with his hand making sure your window stays open. his other is stuffed in his pocket, casual and uncaring like he always is.

"that's rich coming from you."

satoru loves you.

and it's all he can think about as he looks at you.

he knows you're more hurt than angry, and it's taken him great restraint to not harass you—lovingly—over these past two days. and when he sees you, he realizes he definitely should’ve harassed you instead.

his eyes trace your frown, your posture that shuts him out. he wonders if he'll be able to fix his big mistake.

with you in front of him, gojo doesn't feel like he's the strongest anymore. all the words he prepared to serenade you back into his arms sounded like gibberish and no longer felt right.

"why are you here, satoru?" he doesn't miss the way your voice breaks, "why do you always do this to me?"

tears begin to clump in his your lashes, throat tightening as you stare at him in disbelief. the air is so tense. you feel like you've been stripped bare as a tear rolls down your cheek.

"you make me feel so loved," your voice shakes, "you lift me up so high and make me feel so proud to be me."

satoru wants to tell you that loving you feels so natural.

"but you're so mean," you cry. the tears are falling freely now and you're choking on your words. "you do all these—all these things, making me feel special and—and seen, only for you to neglect me and twist my words a week later, because you can't handle being treated the way you treat me!"

he wants to tell you that seeing you like this is eating him alive.

"you're so ignorant—are you kidding me? thinking i'm overreacting for getting mad th—that you cancelled on like, the third rescheduled date to take on a low-level mission? and when i confronted you about it, forgave you for it, you turn on your infinity when all i wanted to do was hug you?"

your arms fall to your side, sick of his face and the way he’s just standing there silent. "it wasn't even about the date. i feel like you're bored of me and everyone who said we wouldn't last—"

"don't finish that sentence." he interrupts, no longer able to bite his tongue. his lanky figure climbs through your window and you feel even more vulnerable now that he's in your space.

"i'll never get bored of you, you keep me on my toes too much." he lays his cards on the table, knowing this is the last chance he has to prove he loves you more than anything on this earth. "i know how harsh you are to yourself, so i celebrate your tiny achievements because i'm genuinely proud of everything you do. i'm aware that being the best at work doesn't mean i'll be the best boyfriend. i forget that sometimes...” you glare, “most times." he corrects.

satoru takes a careful step toward you. "i care about you—more than you know, i think. you don't deserve to be neglected at all, and you don't.." he inhales through his teeth, "you don't have to put up with me if you don't want to anymore. i know how hard i make it, and i know a sorry isn't going to make it better."

you don't think you've ever seen satoru look so small.

"i can't ask you to stay with me, but we both know how selfish i am, so i'll beg you to stay with me anyways."

he doesn't miss the quick upturn of your lips. but it disappears as fast as it came.

you break eye contact and he feels his world shatter.

"how are you going to fix this?"

"...by reminding you i'm your perfect match?" he squeaks.

you sigh, "you're so unserious."

lanky arms wrap around your figure, caging you against his chest. you close your eyes, naturally sinking into his embrace. "i won't blame you if you break up with me, but i'll just let you know i'll definitely drop dead and you'll be responsible for killing the strongest sorcerer in the universe."

"that doesn’t sound that bad. everyone would know me and fear me—you know how popular i’d be?”

he's silent for a good, long second. "that's cold, my love."

it's so childish, in the way that he speaks. but in a way, he just revealed more to you than his semi-serious little monologue could ever do.

satoru is such a wuss, but he's never had someone love him like you do and he malfunctions. he can't fathom the thought of losing you, but also can't stomach the fact he's not good for you.

but he's trying. you know he is just from the way his knuckles brush against your cheek during the early hours of the morning; you know he's trying when he sneaks off during work to join you on your lunch break.

you know he’s trying because his students say he seems so gentle when he looks at you.

you know he's trying because he's here right now, after showing you he’s not the strongest despite everyone (and himself) proclaiming he is.

your arms curl around him and satoru gets his answer.

he's home.

Satoru has never gotten into your bed gently; has never sunk into the mattress without a bounce, without jostling the plush surface with an audible oof and pulling you from the depths of sleep. Never. Not once.

And tonight is no different.

It’s an impossible task for him, it seems. Like trying to breathe underwater or pick something to watch on TV. And the worst part of it all is that you know he’s doing it on purpose. No matter how hard you may try to will yourself to sleep through it or how much you may complain when he finally settles beside you, the man is unrelenting. A pain in the ass, even at one in the morning. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so damn annoying.

“Satoru,” you warn, though it’s not as threatening as you hope it would be. You blink over at him with heavy lids, tone dripping with exhaustion. “Must you do that every time you get into bed late?”

He has the audacity to think about it. “Mm, well I suppose I don’t have to,” he coos, voice low like he’s trying to lull you back to sleep. “But what kind of man would I be if I didn’t wake up my little sweetheart to give them a goodnight kiss when I got home?”

“A better one?”

Your eyes slip closed as if shutting them will make him disappear (or shut up). It doesn’t. Instead, it only serves to spur the sorcerer on. Now, Satoru crowds your space, wrapping you into a tight bundle and pulling you so close your nose squishes against his cheek.

He’s entirely scandalized by your rebuttal, gasping in your ear as if you’ve just told him the most offensive insult imaginable. “I can’t believe you’d say that about your dashing boyfriend.” As if to prove his point, Satoru pulls you away only to drag you back in to plant multiple exaggerated pecks against your cheek, a sappy muah sound accompanying each one.

They leave wet lip prints in their wake that you’re too tired to rub away. Eyes still closed, you furrow your brows, accepting your fate as you cuddle into the curve of his throat – right beneath his chin.

“My dashing boyfriend who can’t do anything quietly to save his life.”

“Hey,” he whines into your hair. “I can be quiet!”

“Oh yeah? Then let’s play the quiet game.”

You can feel him hum somewhere deep in his chest as he thinks it over. “What do I get if I win?”

Your limbs feel heavy as you rest your arm across his stomach, curling your hand around the hem of his shirt. You can only muster enough energy to mumble, “Winner gets breakfast in bed tomorrow.”

“Ooo, okay,” Satoru presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Be prepared to make me a huge stack of pancakes tomorrow, baby.”

“Mhm, fine. 

“With extra chocolate chips.”

“’kay.”

“And,” A hand ruffles your hair. “A lil extra love, maybe?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Without opening your eyes, you can tell there’s a retort brewing in Satoru’s, and you stop it before it has the chance to fill the air. “Quiet game starts now.”

The room immediately falls into silence, only broken by the soft sound of your combined breathing. Satoru’s warmth and the steady movement of his chest as he breathes — up, down, up, down — bring you right back to sleep’s door, as if Satoru hadn’t woken you up at all. Maybe the quiet game had been the answer this whole time. You kick yourself for not thinking of it sooner.

You nuzzle closer, nose brushing against his collar bone as you feel yourself drift off, but right before you completely fall into the clutches of exhaustion, you hear a tiny voice mumble, “Love you.”

It’s punctuated with another kiss to the crown of your head and a warm palm gliding up and down your back, and you can only bring yourself to tighten your hold on his shirt before you fall asleep.

The next morning, you awake to an empty bed and the sweet smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

Tell the moths in my tummy to relocate, please

Synopsis: In which 40° weather grants you insight into Satoru’s powers Word Count: 2.0k

Story Content: Female reader, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Seemingly unrequited pining, Idiots in love but they don’t even know it yet, Slow-burn (doesn’t get anywhere), Crackfic, We learn the many ways in which Satoru can use his technique, Reader POV!

A/N: this is a celcius only household (kidding. but not really.) This has been in my drafts for a reaaaally long time im just glad its out honestly

GOJO SATORU is a frigid blast of cold air during a warm summer day. 

It’s surprising, considering his typical characterisation. People, yourself included, likened him to the sun. Bright and blinding. That’s how the pillar of the Jujutsu world should be, they’d say. He’s the epitome of sorcery. The honored one, they’d praise. 

Just to be clear, you thought of him as the sun for entirely different reasons. Reasons that you weren’t about to go into too detail about. But just as a tiny, small little hint: It had to do with his body temperature. And you were currently being quickly betrayed by what you once thought was fact.

“Am I a portable air-con?”

“Yeah,” you spit at him. Half in betrayal and half in fascination, you huff, gripping his elbows to keep him still as you tuck your body against him, forcing his technique over you with your own. 

The chill settles into your bones and makes you sigh sweetly. It almost makes you forget about how the sun was shining a little too brightly into your eyes. 

In the back of your mind, you can’t help but envy him and his thousand dollar shades. Did he bring a spare? Could you have them? 

Keep reading

Gojo " I wanna have a platoinc relationship with them , I wanna support them , I wanna be there for them , I wanna be their best friend, I wanna be the shoulder they would cry on, I want a spot in their heart , I won't allow for any one else in their heart , I will love them with all my being , I will hug them so tight daily, I wanna kiss them til they are melting, I wanna make sure they are safe with me , I wanna bite those cheeks , I want them to myself , I want me to be theirs and theirs only , I wanna them under me " satoru

AOT + JJK men as random pics i had saved on my phone

a complete shitpost while i slowly chip away at the rest of my RED (TV) event requests (^̮^) pt 2 & pt 3. hq version

EREN LMFAO, yuuji, connie

porco, JEAN, megumi, getou, yuuta

jean, porco, MEGUMI, reiner

armin, YUUTA, connie, yuuji

NANAMI, reiner, LEVI, inumaki

eren, GOJO, connie, inumaki

NOTE: if this was funny and u enjoyed pls let me know bc i was giggling and it was so easy to do LMFAO. i have so many pics like these in my saved 

She's really making sure he's dead

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER

You expected working at a convenience store during the twilight hours just to make enough to cover rent to be boring. After all, you took the job for the cash, not for a love of faking smiles for strangers who don’t care. The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all. 

wc — 3k

cw — mafia au but not really, implied but never addressed, is he or isn’t he, Gojo is Weird, blood, guns, this is not meant to be a serious gorey fic, its just a fun little way for me to branch out and stretch those writing muscles 

They don’t pay you enough to keep guns under the counters, but it’s cheaper to teach you to shoot then it is to pay for security cameras. It would be cheaper not to show you to protect yourself at all, actually, but you’re the sixth cashier they’ve burned through in as many weeks. Even in a town as down as this one is, rumors spread fast. 

The wages are shit, but it’s all you’ve got, and college is expensive for a degree as useless as yours is. Four months away from becoming a junior, and you’ve only held unpaid internships and this position as a cashier at a dirty, old convenience store on the wrong side of the train tracks. 

You think the owner is hiding something, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking for a job as boring as this one. People come and go, make rude comments, pick up beer and slide you IDs you weren’t trained to check. It’s quiet enough to convince you to let down your guard, then your fingers brush the cold metal underneath the register and you remember the long line of unnamed, unknown girls who came before you. 

Keep reading

“you’re the only one that makes me Powerless tonight”

“and you can devastate my personal space i never liked it anyway.”

synopsis// alone and lonely were two very different things. gojo was never alone but he was tired of being lonely, at least that was until you showed up.

pairing// satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count// 1.4k

contents// angsty gojo?, gojo never turns off his infinity and never lets people touch him in any context!, ooc gojo probably, angst in general if u squint

notes// yep you guessed it! a waterparks song did in fact inspire this! todays inspiration is powerless!!! wooooooo!!!

Gojo Satoru was by no means alone. Whether he was with the higher-ups or other sorcerers or with his students, he was always with someone, around someone. Gojo Satoru was by no means alone, but he was by every means lonely. There was always a wall between him and everyone, metaphorically and quite literally, considering his infinity. only one person had ever been able to get past it, and that was when he was in jujutsu high himself, only one person until you. 

Yaga had called Gojo in one day for what he thought was a meeting, but upon arriving, he was met with you, standing there in all your glory, hands clasped together as you smiled sweetly at Gojo, who could now actively feel his pulse quickening the longer he stared at you. 

“Gojo, meet L/N; they're a new teacher here. In fact, they'll be working with you and your first years," Yaga catches Gojo up as he begins walking toward you two.

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” you say happily as you offer your hand out to him for a handshake. 

Gojo catches himself about to shake your hand but stops himself before he can do so. That’s not Gojo; Gojo doesn't shake hands, and Gojo doesn’t turn off his infinity, so why was he about to? just for you? He clears his throat and smiles smugly. “Sorry, pretty. I don't shake hands.”

Your mouth forms a slight “o” shape as you retract your hand and go back to clasping it together with your other. “Sorry!” you apologize sincerely. 

Yaga quirks up an eyebrow at Gojo in question, having witnessed the whole interaction, and the only thing Gojo can do is flash his signature smile. 

Yaga sighs. “Right well, that’s all. They start tomorrow with you, Gojo. Get them informed on your class, yeah?” He says this before walking out of the room. 

“Nice to meet you!” You call out to Yaga, who is long gone at this point. “So Gojo, what’s our class like?”

Gojo catches himself smiling like an idiot at your use of “our.” He likes the sound of that; he likes it a lot, a little too much, actually.

“Just call me Satoru.”

Everything after that was history. Gojo and you had quickly taken to each other like no other, catching everyone by surprise. Mostly because Gojo hadn't let himself take to anyone since he was in Jujutsu High, so why should you be any different? Nobody knew why, and he certainly didn't know why either, which is what scared him; it’s what’s made him keep you at arm's length; it’s what’s made him keep the quite literal invisible wall between you two.

But none of that stopped you; you were still just as enticed by Gojo as was everybody else, but you were different. You didn't fall for him because he was Gojo, the strongest sorcerer; you fell for him because he was just Satoru to you; you saw him when he was see-through, and maybe that's exactly why he keeps you at arms length. Because being truly known scares Gojo, allowing someone to truly know him again is what keeps Gojo up at night, even if deep down that's all he really wants. 

It’s been about a year at this point of you and Gojo being friends that aren't just friends but also aren't together but also aren't not together. In simpler terms, it's been about a year at this point of you and Gojo being together without actually being together. This isn’t to say you haven't tried; you have, kind of. You’ve never wanted to push too hard, afraid that it would do more harm than good. You would try and plan dates with Gojo, telling him you’d make time for him and that you were waiting on his greenlight, but apparently his light was always red, occasionally yellow, but never green. never.

But now you’re sick of waiting for the right time. You're sick of not being pushy; you're sick of being whatever it is you are with Gojo; you’re either together or you're not. You need answers; you need to know if he needs you like you need him, which is how you found yourself at his front door at midnight. You find yourself hesitating to knock on his door but end up knocking anyway; you didn't come out all this way in the cold only to end up not knocking. After a few moments, you're still out in the cold, so you knock harder, only to end up knocking on Gojo, well—you would have had his infinity been off.

“Y/n?” he asks grogily. 

“Gojo,” you reply back flatly, nodding as a form of greeting.

Gojo’s face scrunches up in confusion and slight disgust at his last name coming from you as he moves out of the way to allow you in. 

“Did I do something?” he asks curiously as he watches you walk into his living room. 

“yes.. no! .. maybe? ugh, I don't know,” you respond vaguely as you stand in front of his couch and turn to look at him. 

Gojo now finds himself a few feet in front of you, every part of him aching to just hold you. “You don't know?” he asks quietly. 

you groan. “What are we, Gojo?”

Gojo winces at you using his last name again. “Can you stop calling me Gojo?”

You frown. “okay fine. What are we, Satoru?” You purposely draw out his first name as if to mock him. 

He matches your frown, his eyebrows scrunching together as he questions, “Where is this coming from?”

You scoff. “You can't even tell me!”

"Y/n no, I'm just confused," Gojo responds sheepishly. 

You sigh. “Satoru, I'm in love with you.”

Gojo goes wide-eyed; he had pretty much already known, but hearing you say it outright still takes him by surprise, and suddenly, with the way his pulse is quickening, he's taken back to the first time he met you. “Y/n-“

You don't give him a chance to speak, raising your finger at him as if telling him to shut up, and he does. “I am so in love with you, but I can’t keep doing whatever we’re doing, Satoru.”

“What are we doing?” he asks with a frown. 

“I don't know!” you exclaim. “That's the problem, Satoru! I need to know if you’re in because I have been in since the moment I met you, Satoru, so now it’s your turn. Do you love me, Satoru?”

Gojo bites the inside of his cheek, and his eyes are stinging; he might just actually cry. He inhales and exhales deeply. “Y/n, I love you so much that it scares me,” he whispers back because he thinks if he talks any louder, his voice will crack. 

Now it's your turn for your eyes to sting, along with your lips starting to tremble. Scratch that—every part of you is beginning to tremble as you watch him step closer to you. “Then prove it,” you reply meekly yet sternly. 

Gojo doesn’t say a word. The way he wants to prove it doesn't involve him speaking; it involves him wrapping you in his embrace, which is exactly what he does, and you go stiff at feeling him touch you for the first time. You blink a few times in disbelief before grabbing whatever part of him you can get your hands on—his back, shoulders, arms, neck, hair, face—everything and anything. You’re trying to memorize his body whole in case this is the first and only chance you’ll get to ever touch him.

He stifles a laugh at how your hands won't stay still on him, and he kisses your forehead, and the two of you stay like that for a few moments, his lips against your forehead, while you try to memorize Gojo whole. Eventually, you finally stop and wrap your arms around him just like his are around you; your heart is about to practically jump out of your chest with how hard it’s beating. 

Gojo is the first to break the silence. “So, I was thinking maybe we could get away? call it a date?” He mumbles against your forehead. 

“Is this real?” you ask breathlessly.

Gojo laughs as he pulls away slightly, arms still around you, in order to look at you face-to-face. “Of course this is real. Am I just that amazing that you can't believe I'm real?” he asks as a smirk tugs at his lips. 

Despite the grin on your face, you roll your eyes at him. "Oh, shut up! It's just... does this mean you're in?" You ask nervously. 

Gojo hums before he leans in and kisses you passionately, yet keeps it short and sweet by breaking the kiss just to mumble.

                                   “Yeah, i'm in.”

© LITTLEXBIMBO

One of the hard parts about being a writer with a vivid imagination is that there are So Many Ideas, and they fall into so many categories, such as

Fics I want to write

Fics I want to read

There is just One Scene and I could write it but it would be waaaay more cool if I had all the build up to the scene but unfortunately. I can only figure out the Scene

I keep changing my mind. Where am I going with this

This has been done a million times before. But. Hear me out

I will 100% Never Write This. This is just my Emotional Support Idea no one can ever know about bc it makes sense only to me

Would be better as a comic...

This will be my magnum opus if I can just get my 50 pages of ideas into a coherent narrative

All I have are vibes

And, of course

WIP I started and haven't updated in 2 years and oh god its beEN TWO YEARS???

Okay, hear me out:

I’m happy Avery was a bad friend to Max. I’m happy she hurt the people around her.

When I first read TIG, I remember thinking that Avery was *such* a Mary Sue in the first few chapters. For context, this is what Wikipedia says a Mary Sue is: “A Mary Sue is a character archetype in fiction, usually a young woman, who is often portrayed as inexplicably competent across all domains, gifted with unique talents or powers.” I mean, she was the quiet “wallpaper” girl with only one friend who faced hardships and lived out of her car occasionally, yet still did well in school, successfully ran a poker ring, and then befriended + played a homeless man for the privilege of buying him breakfast every day. I thought I would dislike Avery because of this.

But we get to see the actions that drove the Mary Sue impression hurt those around her. She managed to be so successful in school while managing a job, tumultuous family relationships, and a poker ring because she’s stubborn, driven, and focused.

However, her focus nurtured selfishness, as she was only able to focus on her situation, therefore causing that temporary rift between her and Max. Her life situation was dire, but that doesn’t erase the fact that Max had felt like she wasn’t listened to for a length of time. Avery’s explanations for being an inattentive friend are valid, but they don’t excuse it. Although, she did listen to Max in TIG and aspired to be a better/more attentive friend. Despite this, she still forgot about Max’s birthday in THL because she was so focused on Emily’s birthday auction and the family affairs:

“And that was when I realized: ‘Today’s your birthday, too.’

‘Too?’ For a split second, I saw raw emotion behind Max’s eyes” (THL 121).

Similarly, while I won’t be finding quotes for it, Avery acknowledged that she became negligent of Libby as she focused on her new situation, the puzzles, and the boys.

Also, in THL, Avery’s stubbornness and drive hurt Oren. She continues pulling on the Toby thread, eventually leading to the plane bomb incident. Avery says: “Alisa didn’t like the idea of my visiting Hawthorne Island. Oren liked it even less. But there was no stopping me now” (THL 292). Because of this, men *die.* Now, Avery didn’t kill those men, but both her and Oren recognize that it was avoidable:

“His voice got tighter. ‘Two of my men didn’t make it.’

Devastating guilt drilled through me. . .‘I’m sorry.’

Oren didn’t tell me not to be. He didn’t say that if I hadn’t pushed to go to Rockaway Watch, those men would still be alive” (THL 310).

I love that her traits were double-edged, and I love that they were truly bad. So often, the flaws female characters are allowed are negligible— especially regarding consequences and accountability. It’s also notable because JLB said she wrote Avery with the ability to go toe-to-toe with the “magic” Hawthorne brothers; it would have been so convenient to subdue her flaws. Yet, Avery didn’t have traits which existed only as flaws to check a box; she had traits that acted as both assets and liabilities. She successfully managed the adversity dealt to her because of such, but also equally hurt those around her— and for that, I’m happy. I thought she would be a Mary Sue, but her actions in the beginning of TIG are simply one side of the coin. It saved Avery from being an unfortunate archetype, instead transforming her into a dynamic, realistic, understandable, and relatable character.

Extra: people get mad at Jameson because he was so focused on the puzzle in TIG that he hurt Avery— but she did the exact same thing to the few people who cared about her. Let’s not absolve her of and feel guilt only for Avery in order to villainize Jameson and make his mistakes uniquely indicative of his moral failings. Their hunger can be selfish. Let’s recognize that, like Avery, Jameson’s drive and focus are nuanced. In contrast, Alisa and Nash’s drives were unmatched, which led to their downfall—but that’s a whole separate discussion.

Extra extra: ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes. I’m not double checking this because I’m hungry and want to go eat :(. Also, I definitely was swinging like a pendulum between present and past tense as I discussed the story and evidence— ignore this. It’s a bad habit that I always have to pay special attention to while editing papers, but like I said, I’m not rereading this.

averyjameson headers. please like or reblog if you save.

i can't believe there are people who hope avery will dump jameson and get together with grayson in "the brothers hawthorne". avery chose jameson. it's final. you can't change it. move on.

@sunasbabie — for last year’s bday, christmas, and new years gift bcs ily or whatever 🙄

suna used to have a really nice denim jacket.

it was made of black denim, bought from some american brand that cost him way more than he’d care to admit. he loved that jacket— he’d worn it over t-shirts in the summer and thick hoodies in the winter. he’d been wearing it on the day of onigiri miya’s grand opening and the day he’d signed with ejp.

he’d also happened to be wearing it the night he met you.

he remembers seeing you the night of atsumu’s new year’s eve party. remembers thinking that your dress was highly impractical because it was sequined and backless but damn— you looked good.

and no matter what osamu thinks he remembers, it did not take him so long to talk to you because he was feeling shy. he was just giving the other guys at the party a chance, is all. he’s nice like that.

atsumu, the drunken idiot that he was, had ended up dragging everyone up onto the roof of his apartment for the countdown. and you, idiot that you were, started shivering 15 seconds into the count, suna watching as you’d rubbed your arms for warmth and and suddenly turned to face, as if you’d felt him watching.

with 30 seconds to midnight and a shove from osamu, he’s closing the distance between you both to say hi. you have his jacket draped over your shoulders by midnight. just because he’s nice like that, not because he’s silently marking his territory and telling potential suitors to fuck off.

he even lets you leave with it, but not before exchanging numbers so you can return it as soon as possible. which you do, showing up at his place the next afternoon, his jacket washed and folded neatly in your arms, offering to buy him lunch as a thanks.

you’re the one wearing it, four months later, when he asks you to be his girlfriend. because ‘it’s just so windy out, rin. you don’t want my dress flying up, right?’

on cooler days, he’s almost sure you forego your own jacket just so you can steal his, and he lets you. you wear it draped over your shoulders when you walk back to his place after a movie. you use it as a blanket during longer car rides. there’s this fatal bug in suna’s system, and it doesn’t let him tell you ‘no.’

you’re wearing it the day you move in. he wasn’t going to make you unpack all your clothes just to find a jacket to wear to lunch.

you’d spent three years stealing that jacket. the denim is soft and well-worn, with a tear or two in the hem, but you love it. and he loves that it still smells like your perfume on the odd day he gets to wear it himself.

maybe that’s why it hurt so much, watching you brush your fingers over it as you pack away your clothes. you’d left every every t-shirt of his you’d slept in, every hoodie you’d claimed, in what was now his closet again.

but for this, you hesitate. a dull ache throbs between his ribs as he watches you hug the fabric to your chest, eyes fluttering shut.

“just take it,” he’d told you quietly from the doorway. “i don’t want it anymore.”

suna used to have a really nice denim jacket.

_____

it’s almost six months later when you call him for the first time since the breakup.

suna has to do a double take when he sees your contact. mostly because three in the morning and no one should be awake at this hour, but also because he can’t believe it’s you.

his brain and his heart are at a crossroads. he shouldn’t answer. you probably hit the wrong contact. you have other friends in the city, surely you would call one of them if you needed something.

but there’s that flaw again, and suna hits accept.

“hello?”

“rin? rin! hi.”

he sits up in the darkness at the sound of your slurring. “are you drunk?”

“no,” you lie, even hiccuping a little. “i just…i really just wanted to tell you—”

you cut yourself short, sighing. “that you did really good during your game last week.”

he raises his brows slightly, chuckling. “you were watching?”

“no,” you say again, much too quickly. “i just…heard.”

“i know what you sound like when you’re lying,” he reminds you, sliding out of bed and pulling on a hoodie. “and i also know what you sound like when you’re drunk. stay where you are, i’m gonna pick you up.”

you send him your location right away, and he drives over. he calls you to let you know he’s there, because he’s sure you’re not gonna hear your text tone, and when you step out of the bar—

he sees that you’re wearing his jacket.

that damn black denim jacket, american label and all. it hangs off your shoulders loosely, and when suna gets out of the car, he grabs the collar, pulling you closer and pretending not to notice the way you inhale sharply. ignoring your wide-eyed stare as he adjusts the jacket, doing up the buttons because he knows you’re gonna complain about the night chill.

“c’mon,” he says, pulling open the passenger door. “get inside, dumbass.”

the cute pout that downturns your lips is just like suna remembers. he closes the door after you, rounding to the other side of the car.

“did you tell your friends you’re getting home safe?” he asks as he reaches across you to put on your belt. “how come none of them came to get you?”

“oh, uh, yeah i called them but they weren’t answering,” you tell him. “i’ll call them now, just in case.”

suna watches as you fumble with your phone, tapping back and forth through the phone app until he grabs it from your hands with a sigh. he has no idea which one of your friends you’d called, so he goes to your recents.

only to see that he’s the only one you’d called tonight.

Get down on it

How to Go To a U.S. Hospital in 2022

Welcome to the hospital. You may have heard that we're understaffed. We are. We are no longer in a position to live up to the hospital experience you had back in 2019.

This post is about how to get the best possible care despite these trying times. Much of it is also applicable to long term care facilities and other institutions who are running on empty.

The Emergency Department

Consider: Do you have to go to an emergency department to get the care you need? If you need a prescription or a covid test or an inhaler or an x-ray or a STI test or basic diagnosis and otherwise you're probably fine, go to your doctor, a quick clinic, or an urgent care. You will not get care faster in the emergency room. I promise. Go to the ED if you are reasonably sure you would die or lose a limb if you didn't.

The ED is not first come first served. People who are going to die if they are not seen get seen first. If you are stable, even if you are in pain, be prepared to wait. At the height of covid we had stable people waiting for over 24 hours in the waiting area. We also cannot legally tell you to go somewhere else, even if we're pretty sure you're not sick enough to get seen anytime soon.

Bring your home meds. You are going to be there a while and you might not get in a bed in time to get your next dose. Even when you do, it takes a long time for a doctor to order your home meds. We never intended you to stay here for 4 days, so the infrastructure isn't there. Also, bringing your home meds is going to save you money.

RE: the above- tell us what you're taking, when you're taking it. We do want to know that so we don't give you anything that would interact with it. We also really want you to keep taking your home meds so you don't get worse.

Bring a charging cord for your phone, a change of clothes, a book, and if the visitation rules allow, a friend. You're going to be here a while.

The Emergency Department is designed to figure out what's wrong with you and do things that will save your life or help you leave the ED without having to get admitted. Sometimes the ED will treat pain, but each pain medication dose is ordered separately, so it's probably not going to be on the time scale you want or need. I hate to say this, but do keep asking. We have been really conditioned to assume if you stop asking, you're not in pain anymore.

If they tell you not to eat, or not to take a certain med, follow that advice. I know you've probably been there for a while and no one's told you why you can't do these things. That's not great. Ask why if you can, but assume the request is legit.

In order for you to be admitted, you need to be sick enough that they can't just kick you out with a cab voucher, a prescription, and a turkey sandwich. That's pretty dang sick these days. Pretty much, you have to be in danger of dying or losing a limb if you don't get admitted. And also, a bed in the hospital has to become available that can accommodate your needs. This usually means someone else has to get discharged or die. That might take a while, because they were just as sick as you when they came in.

The Hospital Floor

So they decided to admit you, a bed became available, and transport finally showed up to take you to your new bed.

Bring the following: A charger for your phone (I know you'd think we have these, but I swear we don't- they've all been stolen). If you smoke, bring nicotine lozenges or gum (you can't smoke or vape here. We have patches, but if you wait until you need a cig, it's too late for a patch to work, and if you try to sneak out most places will not let you back on the floor and you'll have to go back to the ED). If you have heartburn regularly, bring tums (we can order you tums, but you'll only be able to take like 1 every other hour, and let's be honest, if you use tums you usually need more than that). If you take a weird med, bring it (especially HIV drugs, chemo drugs, and meds for autoimmune conditions, because it takes forever to get some of these because we don't always have them on site). If you have severe allergies, consider bringing your own food. Seriously.

RE the above: Tell us what you're taking, when you're taking it.

Do not bring narcotics. There's too much liability on our end. Both because we cannot control how much you take if they are in your possession and if we find them we have to call security to watch us count them and store them in a locked drawer and which will be destroyed in 30 days if you forget to ask for them on the way out. It's just a hassle and someone is always in danger of getting sued over it.

If you drink more than 4 drinks a day, or use street drugs, tell us. Tell us please please tell us. We will not tell the cops. If we know, we will then be able to ask you questions about your withdrawal symptoms and can give you meds to control them. If you wait until you start swinging at us and having seizures we will not be happy.

Also, if you're on MAT, tell us. We don't automatically re-order suboxone or vivitrol like we do other meds. Addiction med has to be consulted, come see you, and work miracles to get that ordered for you while you're in the hospital.

If you see pain management, tell us as early as you can. Pain management has to be consulted and then work absolute miracles to get the admitting providers to order your home regimen, because anything more than 10mg of oxycodone every 4 hours is terrifying to them, even if you take 160mg of methodone everyday at home without a problem. The sooner they know you're here, the less likely you'll be miserable for a week before those things can be re-ordered.

Also, bring a friend. Seriously. I'm not kidding please bring a friend who is willing to help take care of you- things like turn you, help you dress, feed you, hold your hair back when you puke, and change your sheets when you pee the bed. And please bring someone you feel will follow the rules and ask before getting you something. You don't want to stay longer just because your friend brought you food you weren't supposed to eat because they felt bad for you.

A scheduled event is not really scheduled. Yes, you might have been told that your surgery is scheduled for 8am. You might have been told your dialysis was going to be "this afternoon". These things are not set in stone, and unless you are literally and currently dying, nothing is happening "right now". I have watched people wait days for appendectomies, gallbladder removals, displaced fractures, and other urgent-but-not-immediately-life-threatening problems. All a late intervention means is that someone else would have died if they did it as scheduled.

MOVE. Barring an unstable pelvic fracture or two broken femurs, if you can get out of bed and walk around, walk (ask your nurse if they want you to ask for assistance when you get out of bed to prevent falls). If you can't, sit up in a chair for part of the day. If you can't do that, move around in bed- roll back and forth, bend your knees, point your toes, do anything to keep you moving. If you're in pain, take pain medication strategically and move when it's most effective.

6:30 to 9:30, day or night, is the worst time period to put your call light on. Report time is 7 o'clock, meaning we have about a half hour to learn about our patients and set up our day, after which we have about 15 mins allotted per patient to assess the person, discuss goals for the day, find and pass daily medications, get vitals and blood sugar if applicable, and do anything the patient needs to get them set up for the day (water, pain meds, set up tray/feed, toilet, etc...). Put it on if you need to, but know that it will take a lot longer to be answered during these time periods than any other time of day.

You can refuse anything you want to refuse. You just can't sue us about it later. You can even say "I know you told me to do this thing, I am not doing it, please document accordingly". We will probably try to explain the consequences of not doing the thing. I recommend you listen, but the choice is certainly and always up to you.

You can leave against medical advice. It is also a thing you can do. As long as you let us tell you the risks, you can leave with prescriptions, education, and a wheelchair ride to the front door if you care to stick around for an hour or so after you declare you would like to leave. Some insurance companies have rules about this, which you can find by calling them. Just call and ask "what are the consequences of leaving against medical advice?" Some insurances don't have any consequences, some will completely refuse to pay for the stay, and some will refuse to pay for a second ED trip or admission within 30 days for the same problem.

Our prioritization system is: Critical (CPR, evaluating changes in status, dealing with changes in vital signs) Urgent (bed change for incontinent patient, pain/nausea/time-sensitive meds, drawing stat labs, answering phone calls from doctors, etc..) Routine (scheduled meds, scheduled assessments, calling family members, basic comfort things, ambulating patients, education, etc..) and Extra (everything else that has to do with comfort but isn't necessarily going to change outcomes).

I have had whole shifts where I don't do anything that isn't critical or urgent (with one routine med pass that was really late). I've rarely had a shift in the last 3 years where I've been able to do anything extra.

We're doing our best. Seriously. Nearly every shift I've worked has been absolutely flat out for 12 hours, and it takes a solid 2 days actually to recover from 2 days in a row of work. I would say I rarely get a full lunch break. Our patients are more and more complicated, and the decisions higher and higher stakes. Please understand. If you or a loved one hasn't been seen by the nurse in a few hours, it just means we're not as worried about you as the person down the hall who keeps trying to die.

We wish we could give you 2019 care. We really, really do. We don't have the resources for that anymore. We are triaging. The hotel vibe they were trying to present in 2019 is in the facility design only. You have to bring your own bells and whistles. You have to help us help you now.

HE’S NOTHING COMPARED TO ME miya atsumu 18+

cw: smut. female reader. no protection. oral. enemies to lovers. hate s^x! one bed trope :) repost!—2.3k+

[ masterlist ✮ suna + kuroo + osamu! ]

“get your dirty hands off me.”

he scoffed, pushing his nose into the back of your neck, “don’t act like ya don’t like it, princess.”

arguing with miya atsumu on a day you were anticipating relaxation was not part of your schedule—to be fair, arguing with him was never planned at all, but he always seemed to weasel his way into your plans.

whether it was when you cleaned the msby jerseys, fixed the net before their practice, any basic chore—he always had something to critique you on. ‘it’s too low’ or ‘you missed a spot’ slipping through his lips more times than you could count, and that stupid smile he wore at your frustration never drifted.

he was nothing but a perfectionist in the end, and as much as you wished he kept it to himself; he didn’t. it was second nature at this point to listen to his small complaints, and it pained you to know exactly why he was that way.

growing up with constant competition of a twin who always seemed to be a little better than you in everything was difficult to grow out of, and perhaps you had the smallest bit of a soft spot for him because of it.

and as you avoided most things involving atsumu, he couldn’t help but infiltrate your schedule each and every time. being forced to bunk with one of the most irritating men on the team would have caused a migraine if he hadn’t already created one hours prior. the small snickers from the other members that filled your ears as you pulled the short end of the stick made it even worse; a vein could nearly pop from your forehead due to frustration.

to make things even worse, atsumu was already mad at you to begin with. being forced to share a room with him made him feel a mixture of emotions. the way you flirted with his brother hours prior repeated in his head—and right in front of him too! it was as if he was wracking his brain to get an upper-hand, but the thought of losing to his brother once again plagued his mind.

he was mad; angry—all because of you—someone who raises his heartbeat in a way he despised. he normally wouldn’t feel so strong in a situation like this because as a perfectionist, he always gets what he wants.

until it came to you.

landing on the wrong foot, things were rocky and only got worse throughout time. the small compliments and helpful hand always seemed to turn for the worst—and then of course, you met his brother. one sentence and you were smitten, atsumu knew it. there was only one way to fix the issue, and he wasn’t going to miss the perfect chance.

“seriously miya,” his hand squeezed tight against your side as you attempted to pry it off, “what’s your endgame here?”

“’s cold.”

his words made little sense as his skin was much warmer than yours, the hot sensation of his breath sticking to the back of your neck as each second his body seemingly inched closer. wiggling your body against his, you tried once again to free yourself from his grasp. the comforter rubbing against the bed filled the silence as he continued to pull you close—refusing to let go.

flipping onto your back and still between his arms, a smug look filled his features as he peered down at you innocently, “it’s not ma’ fault theres only one bed.”

the low vibrations of his voice sent shivers down your spine as his hand let loose to rub against your thigh. the darkness of the room covering the tint against the tip of his ears, much to his liking.

pushing him away once against, he furrowed his eyebrows at your movements. though, his hand found home on you once again. and as if it was a game of cat and mouse, arms tangled between each other with a mixture of protests.

“could’ya just—“ his arm continued to fight against yours until he swiftly wrapped it around your waist, pulling you close against his chest, “just stop?”

“i fucking hate you,” your words shot into him, anger resurfacing within him once more as you continued throw insults, “havent you realize that?”

“ya don’t hate me.”

“i do.”

he pulled you closer, nose brushing against his without notice, “what do you want from me, miya?”

silence filled the room once again as you stayed tense in his arms, his eyes shaking slightly as if his brain was pacing for the perfect words—a perfect excuse—to use.

“i saw the way ya looked at ‘samu today.”

a dry laugh left your lips as your eyes rolled, jealousy was always the fort built in his words, his brother being the reoccurring victim of his insecurities, “all of this because of your fucking brother?”

“do ya like him?”

“more than you.”

you hated the way his furrowed eyebrows made your chest tighten. the unresolved feelings you’ve felt towards the man that held you close fighting against your urges to end the feud once and for all. the defeated look he showed was covered up quickly, the façade he wore was radiating determination, “then ya know what i want.”

“and what’s that?”

miya atsumu was tired of the game taking place in his heart, dipping down softly to place a sweet kiss against your lips. the lack of response concerned him until you pulled him back in hesitantly, asking for an answer with the way your arms wrapped around his neck, hands carding through his hair with a pull.

“to change that.”

rolling atop you and spreading your legs as if he’s done it a million times, his lips did not leave yours. the animalistic growl leaving his throat shocked you as he rubbed himself against your warmth in no time—like an animal in heat. the clothing separating you both becoming his worst enemy, that was, after you of course.

“all this because—“ your words were broken between his kisses, “your twin is better than you?”

“‘m better than him.”

“i bet he fucks better than you.”

“just another thing i’ll prove wrong,” his hands pulled your shirt off your body, taking his own in the process and relishing at the chance to touch your intimate skin against his, “he’s nothin’ compared to me.”

his hands roamed your body, unhooking the clasp on your back, mouth finding your tits instantly as your head fell back. the tugs in his hair had him grinding harder against you, the shaky breaths evident as your plump chest bobbed against his face.

sweat surfaced on his skin as the temperature of the room seemed to get higher, the grip on your hips surely to leave a bruise if he continues to hold you flushed against him.

his cocked jumped at the sound of his name leaving your lips in a moan, marks littering your chest as his mouth worked its was down to you center. the slur of your words were almost intoxicating as if his veins were filled with infinite adrenaline, salivating at the thought of how wet he’s made you with his tongue alone.

“may i, princess?” his hand rubbed against your folds through your shorts, the small whine leaving your lips as you arched your back was enough of an answer for him to discard of them immediately, leaving you completely bare under his touch.

“your brother would have had me cumming by now.”

he laughed lowly at your words to cover his irritation, tongue invading your slick as if he was feasting after weeks of starvation. the feeling of his groans worked perfectly against your clit as he circled, growing harder at your taste.

precum wet his sweats as he realized his imagination did you no justice, months of his secret yearning to be between your legs completely worth it as his digits found their way inside you, pushing you closer to that climax with the search of your sweet spot.

“is this it?” his voice was condescending as he watched your legs shake under the curl of his finger, navigating and memorizing every inch within you. you yelped slightly as he caressed you inside, a laugh leaving his lips, “there it is, baby.”

“i hate you.”

“sure ya do,” he began to suck harder against your bud, thighs clenching around his head as that climax approached, “cum for me, angel. ya got this.”

the approval was sexy; encouraging. the feeling of both his mouth and hand simultaneously fucking you was intense. it was delicate, yet rough. he wanted to give you the best experience—he wanted you to crawl back for more, “f-fuck! ‘tsumu!”

the gushing against his hands almost made him cum alone as his mouth cleaned the mess he created on your cunt. the stutter of his first name from your lips was hypnotizing as he began to test your limits on your sensitivity, licking your swollen bud and holding your body down with his arms.

the roll of your eyes—in a way that wasn’t annoyance—was ethereal. raised his body to roll his sweats to his knees, he couldn’t wait any longer. he looked prideful as your release painted his face sloppily, his hand slowly pumping his hard. coming down from your high, your eyes watched his as he smeared the cum on his tip a few times at the sight of your fucked-out look.

“what are you waiting for?”

“i am admirin’ the view.”

heat invaded your cheeks as his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. was it lust? similar, but not quite. it’s as if he had been anticipating this moment, eyes fucking you before he actually did.

pushing his tip against your clit, goosebumps caused his shoulders to jerk at the pleasure. your body twitched against him as if you were begging for him. slowly sliding his way inside you, his eyes clutching shut at the feeling of home within your walls. moving at a pace you didn’t agree with, he wanted to feel each detail of you before his inevitable corruption.

“please,” words finally slipped your mouth, his eyes opening at the pleads, “fuck me like you mean it, miya.”

his surname forced him to forget his needs as his hips snapped into you, stretching you against his length at an immeasurable speed as the slaps against your skin filled the room.

“back to miya, huh?”

the small smirk faded off his lips as your head fell back against the pillow, the raise of your legs to ease the position found their ways into his hands, his palms holding your knees back into the mattress to watch himself disappear inside of you thrust after thrust.

“yer so fucking pretty,” his words were broken, as if he was choking. all emotions leaving his face as he was too focused on the sight of you. the way your tits bounced, or the way your previous orgasm helped you fit him in perfectly, it was too delicious for him not to stop and take it in, “yer mine. all mine.”

“you wish.”

he changed his pace at your rejection, pulling out completely and slamming back into you to watch the curvature of your back pull up from the sheets. his arm wrapped under smoothly to repeat the motion. the way your jaw slacked open completely caused his demeanor to change back, an irritated smile filling his lips at your submissive state when you were the opposite moments prior.

“don’t lie to ya’self, baby,” the cock of his head would have made you roll your eyes if his actual cock wasn’t already forcing you to do so, “say yer mine.”

“over my dead body.”

“the way ya going limp on my dick right now, you kind of resemble one.” he joked, rubbing his thumb on the forming bruise he held you at minutes before.

“fuck,” you moaned your words, “fuck you.”

“that you are.”

his hair stuck to his forehead as looked up at the ceiling, relaxing his neck. hands loosening up on you as his body was slowly giving up at the orgasm he was pursuing. stars swarmed his vision as he picked up his pace slowly, yet sloppy.

he was cute, you admitted. as if he was lovestruck, even though you constantly pushed his egotistical words away for months on end. his breath shook while his legs gave out, pushing his chest into yours as his eyes latched onto you.

“so beautiful,” he whispered against your skin, “so, so beautiful.“

“cum in me, ‘tsumu.”

widening his eyes at your command, his forehead pushed against yours as he continued to push through. an ungodly noise left his body, but was quickly muffled as you pulled him in for a kiss, lips clumsily working against each other as his thrust became weaker, your body clenching against his to milk every drop out of him as he filled you completely.

disconnecting his body from yours, he collapsed next to you. your inhales syncing up as he pulled you close like before, except this time you didn’t pull away.

sweat covered his body but you paid no mind as yours did too, the sexual pheromones turning into nothing but an unspoken love being acknowledged; one that was present for days on end but never talked of.

sleeping with atsumu invaded your schedule, and fucking him was the result. although you seemed relatively busy, you weren’t exactly against clearing up time to make the night become a habit. maybe having benefits with a perfectionist would end up being more beneficial to you in the end, but was it really benefits? or was it something more?

“get outta ya head,” he mumbled against your neck, “and just stay here with me.”

“ok, miya.”

“keep callin’ me that and i’ll make ya a miya,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly, “that way ya cant call me that anymore.”

“like… marriage?”

“how else, dummy.”

“i guess marrying your brother wouldn’t be that bad.”

his voice was grumpy as he pulled you closer to his chest, leaving a small kiss on your neck, “brother? i don’t got one.”

[ taglist ]

miya atsumu x gn!reader, suggestive

“what are ya thinkin’ about?”

“how soft your hair is,” you hum back in reply, carding your fingers through your lover’s hair. atsumu, fresh out of the shower and smelling of peaches, freezes in his spot between your legs — obviously guilty.

“ya like my hair?” he asks.

you ignore him.

“have you been using my conditioner, ‘tsumu?”

“…what’s mine is mine, and what’s yers is mine, babe.”

you suppress a laugh. “who said that?”

“it’s in our wedding vows.”

“we’re not married!”

atsumu turns, his arms finding their usual place around your waist while a familiar lazy grin pulls at his lips. “not married—yet.”

“silly goose.” you bring your hand up to flick at his forehead gently, suppressing yet another chuckle at how your lover scrunches up his handsome face. then you kiss away the crease between his brows, peck the tip of his nose, and finally press a big noisy smack to his lips — complete with an exaggerated “mwah!” that makes him giggle boyishly.

“what are you thinking about, then?” you ask when you pull back.

“hmmm.” a tiny pout pulls at his lips. you see the mischievous glint in his eyes — he’s pretending to think. “i’m thinkin’ ‘bout yer tits in my mouth.”

“miya atsumu!”

“oh, uh, please? yer tits in my mouth… please?”

“you’re terrible.”

“that wasn’t a no.”

you feel atsumu’s arms tighten around your middle, shoulders flexing under his thin cotton shirt, and your breath hitches when his thumbs slip under the hem your shirt to rub at the sensitive skin of your waist.

“…no, it wasn’t.”

HQ BOYS WHEN YOU PULL THEM BY THEIR BELT/BELT LOOP

SUNA: a deep yelp comes from his lips, the usual bored look he had on his eyes now replaced with shock as his hands naturally lands to the nearest surface, trapping you in his arms. with his face now inches closer to yours, he looks down at you, the tension between you two now rising. he raises an eyebrow with curiosity in his eyes as his deep voice flows through your ears, “hm, what’s going on in that little head of yours, bun?”

KUROO: a startled expression etches on his face, not expecting you to do such a bold action. although, he’s quick to recover from his shock as he shoots you a cocky grin, letting his hand fall to rest on your hip. “what’s this, kitten? if you needed me, you could’ve just said so yourself.” he chuckles, “but this,” his eyes then wander down to where you were holding his belt, “this is probably much better.”

ATSUMU: literally gasps out loud in shock, “oh SHIT you- you really just did that huh?” he curses, trying his best to compose himself although he’s actually a stuttering mess. with a deep inhale, he lets his hands find their place on your hips as he looks down at you with a certain look on his eyes, clearing his throat. “are we gonna make out or..?”

IWAIZUMI: he looks down at you, surprised. letting an eyebrow raise as if he’s asking for you to explain what was that for. however, with that look on your eye, iwaizumi swore something had bursted inside him that lead him unable to restrain himself as he slowly slithers his arm around your waist, the action sending you shivers through your spine while you watch as he reaches your hand that was holding his belt, raising it to let it rest on his shoulder. he chuckles under his breath while he keeps eye contact with you, “god, you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

SAKUSA: both his eyebrows shoot upwards and his body freezes momentarily. you watch as his eyes looks at you with shock written upon them. he could barely let out a steady statement as his breath wavers, “..w-what.. what are you doing?”

OIKAWA: “okay, so, remember when iw— AH! OH MY GOD!” he screeches out dramatically when you unexpectedly pull him by his belt and his heart runs in laps. he looks at you with shock as you only shoot him an innocent smile. “sweetie, what was that for?!” he lets a hand hover his chest as you giggle, about to give him an answer when he adds, “but that was kinda hot though..”

YAMAGUCHI: a high pitched yelp comes from his lips and he stares at you with wide eyes, a flush creeping across his cheeks. never have you seen your boyfriend look so embarrassed and surprised your whole life that you had to let out a laugh, your reaction worsening the blush on his cheeks as he holds the wrist of your hand that was holding his belt. “H-Honey.. S-Stop..”

KITA: when you pull him by his belt, he let’s out a tiny oh, peering at you with curiosity. smh innocent bb. he gives you a look that encourages you to explain what you did, but somehow, inside him, he thought it kinda felt nice to have you pull him towards you that way.

KENMA: he tenses. it honestly never crosses his mind once that you would ever do the action of pulling him towards you by his belt—the gesture so unexpected that it leaves him a blushing mess. his body freezes in place and you watch as he looks at you with wide eyes. “(y-y/n).. what was that..?”

KAGEYAMA: he really went “oh shit” as soon as he feels that force on his hip—not expecting you to suddenly pull him in that way. his eyebrows raises in surprise while his head tilts in confusion, not sure what to expect when you’re innocently looking at him in the eye. and he blinks, “uh. hi?”

ASAHI: “AH!” he lets out a yelp that could possibly be heard up to the second floor. he looks back and forth from your face then down to where your hand connects to his belt, letting him compose himself for a few moments as he freezes in place. his eyes widens and he stammers like crazy. “S-Sweetheart.. What- What did you just do..?”

USHIJIMA: both his eyebrows raise upon the sudden pull of force on his hip area. he looks down at you as he holds a potted plant on his hand. you watch as he blinks down at you, as if looking for any answers through whatever emotion your face has on. you let him place his plotted plant on the nearest surface and he faces you, holding your hand that was on his belt as he raises it to his chest, letting his thumb softly rub on to your soft skin. “is there anything you need, honey? you can tell me anything.”

MATTSUN: when you pull him by his belt, he lets shock overcome him, both his eyebrows shooting upward. and yet, that shock is quickly replaced by a smirk as he looks down to where your hand is holding his belt. he lets out a deep “oh?” with a certain glint on his eye that deeply intensifies your need for him.

BOKUTO: “AH! WHAT AR—wait what’s this all about baby?” his mood alters in the quickest because one moment his eyes were widened like saucers and now he’s peering down at you with expectation. and you’re starting to think he’s just realizing how much he likes the way you pull him to you by his belt. you could see the blush appearing on his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck bashfully—a rare thing to be seen from the bokuto kotaro. and he suggests cheekily, “you know.. maybe you should do this more often.. hehe.”

AKAASHI: he lets out the softest gasp from his lips as his widened eyes wander down to where your hand grasps onto his belt, and his mind really goes ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-’ but then he scratches that by clearing his throat, trying his all to keep his composure while barely managing to keep eye contact with you. “w-what is it you need, honey..?”

“Gimme a kiss,” Atsumu murmurs, deep voice low in your ear. His hands are on your hips, fingers digging into the softness of your skin. 

You pull him away from you, hands cupping his face and thumb running along his cheek in the way you know he likes. You raise an eyebrow, smiling softly, “I’m wearing lipstick, you know.” This causes his eyes to drop to your lips, gaze hungry, suddenly reminded of the fact. 

“So?” he asks, eyes flicking from yours and back to your lips. “Let everyone know I belong ta ya.” 

“You’re going to walk around with my lips printed on your face?” 

He nods eagerly, ducking to bury his face in your neck. “I’d be the happiest man alive if I got ta walk around like that.” 

This makes you laugh, your heart melt, and you reposition your arms around his shoulders to squeeze him closer to you. “You’re going to be late for practice, ‘Tsumu.”

“Just one kiss, baby. Even if it's on the cheek.” 

You sigh, but you know that he knows you’re only faking your reluctance. “Kay.” 

He pulls away from you, giving you his right cheek, and tapping his pointer finger against it with a giddy smile. You make sure to dramatize your actions, making an amplified noise when pulling away, laughing when he gives you his other cheek, and repeating your actions until he finally lowers his mouth to yours. 

He makes sure to deepen the kiss and only chases after you when you pull away, giving you little pecks and placing kisses all around your face, playfully biting your nose when it scrunches in fake disdain. When he finally separates from you, you take notice of the bright red lip marks on his cheeks, and the red tint left on his lips that are stretched into a grin. 

“How do I look?” 

“Like you are definitely mine.” 

His smile widens. “Great. ‘Xactly what I was goin’ for.” 

if the chara and trope thing is still open ... for a lil thing

can i maaaaaybe ask for a lil thing w atsumu and mutual pining or idiots to lovers LOL

send in a character + trope for a blurb

...

“oh my god, look at your hair!”

atsumu’s gaze follows your finger to where it eagerly points at a photo in your old school yearbook. after visiting his childhood home and finding the artifact practically shoved under his mattress, the two of you have spent the last hour giggling at all of the embarrassing old pictures from your teenage years. 

he scoffs at the humor laced in your voice, the one that’s poking fun at his messy dark brown mop from middle school. 

“oh please, that’s ‘samu,” he deflects. 

but growing up with the pair, you know better. he can’t fool you that easily. 

“no it's not,” you scold before cooing back at the little ‘tsumu in the picture, “look how cute you look.”

and at the compliment, atsumu directs his attention back to the book, turning it slightly his way to get a better look at the photo. “cute? lemme see that, oh yeah, that’s me. definitely me.”

a light slap is felt against his shoulder and god, he wants you to touch him again. you'd think he would’ve gotten over this by now—the giddy high he gets every time your skin brushes against his. but here he is, grown and successful and yet still putty in your soft, unknowing hands.  

he points to a candid photograph of you in the cafeteria.

“you always wore those stupid shoes,” he notes, eyeing the big clunky white sneakers that made you about three inches taller. he remembers liking how they made you eye level with him.

you hum, remembering how you’d practically worn the pair into the ground. “they were it back then.”

atsumu looks in the background of the photo to find his younger self sitting a few rows behind you, and while hidden by the camera’s blur, he knows he’s looking at you. he’s always looking at you, stupid shoes or not. 

“can i tell you a secret?” he almost whispers, and it’s unsettling how out of character it is for him. 

with a nervous laugh, you nod. atsumu smiles to himself before returning his attention back to the photo. 

“i had the biggest crush on you in high school.”

you snort, and while it's not the exact reaction he wanted, you’re smiling so he’ll take it. 

“yeah right,” you don't believe his confession for a second so he whines. 

“m’serious.”

and at his sincerity, your laughter fades and your eyes grow like saucers in disbelief. you’re looking at him like he has three heads, like he’s fourteen again and has that atrocious haircut back on his head.

“you’re lying,” you try to call his bluff, but his smile grows even wider. 

“imma lot of things,” he shakes his head at your amusement, “but a liar isn’t one of ‘em.”

“you had a crush on me?”

he watches as excitement slowly brews in your veins while you practically bounce with the need to know more. 

“the biggest crush,” he corrects with a knowing finger in your face. you swat it away as your tongue prods against your cheek in a grin. 

“so you're telling me that i could’ve bagged the atsumu miya.”

you still can, his heart aches. you always can. because it's the truth. he could be halfway across the world doing god knows what with god knows who, and he’d come home to you in a second if you so much as asked. 

but he can’t say that, because you're his friend. so he does what he does best, and he deflects.

“m’just saying! you were funny and pretty,” his voice drifts as the sentence goes on, and you’d think he was being sincere if he didn't suddenly perk up with a sarcastic, “and you gave me your homework sometimes.”

your eyes fall to the way his cupid’s bow bobs as he laughs. it makes you feel sixteen again, having a crush on your best friend and wanting to kiss the smug smile off of his stupid face.

but you can't, because he’s your friend. so you bite your tongue and passively let the moment falter. 

“yeah,” you scoff, “i’m the reason you passed geometry.” 

“and look at me now,” his head plops onto your shoulder in pride, “a genius.”

your eyes fall back on the photo. atsumu doesn't know if you see him in the background, but he hopes you feel him, hopes you know he was there. 

“i never would’ve known,” you whisper carefully. “i mean, you act the same way now that you did back then.”

exactly, atsumu wants to scream, because i still want you. i’m always going to want you. 

he can practically feel the weight of the words balancing on the tip of his tongue. he can say them, he’s sure of it. he's older now—stronger, more mature, and actually capable of being a man worthy of you. 

he opens his mouth to speak, and just as he does, your head turns and your eyes meet his. and feeling like the little boy in the picture, atsumu cowers. 

“maybe i should add acting to my long list of talents.”

It took me embarrassingly long to figure this out, but it turns out trying to blow off all your hobbies to study more does not in fact result in studying more. It results in pretending to study more. Now instead of drawing or writing when I get tired I get on my phone instead, because I can’t stop studying, but I can “take a quick break” in the middle of studying. Trying to fix that now.