#how we all turn to their content when having a hard time

[mrsq8geek]

I think about this every now and then so here's what I got on this:

Social constructs often are based on things that are either unchangable or very difficult to change. The 24 hour system is a social construct but it's based on something measurable and that varies so little that, for most intents and purposes, it's practically static. Kind of related. Another example: Farming, hunting, or fishing have similar cultures across the world, because we all gotta eat so we learn what exists in the world and how to turn it into food. Fried ball of dough across the world! Seafaring culture shanties (and also work songs) my beloved.

Uncertainty and risk associated with change. People generally agree that the four-day work-week would be better for... well, most things, including productivity, than five days, given how much the world has changed. But even with so many companies and sometimes countries coming out of trials with positive results, it's a slow change, often because a lot of decision-makers would rather stick with what they know, or maybe they want to proceed with a change, but don't know which option to go with. Take this and bog it down with all the details of humanity. The potential loss of the tried-and-true usefulness/benefits of the existing system can easily outweigh the cost and risk of changing to something new.

The inherent tension between standardization and specialization. ISO is a boon. Forcing the peoples you conquer to adopt your way of life has resulted in countless losses, some of which have not been recovered, and others which we're now paying for. Also, I'll use any excuse to bring up this episode of 99% Invisible. Different cultures live in different material realities, which creates different specialized social constructs suited to that place, which inevitably clashes with whoever the superior culture at the time thinks is Best, and so on as we trend towards globalized homogeneity.

You can't have it all. There will come a time where you will have to choose one social construct and its associated consequences over another. And what you value as important will affect that greatly: after you after happiness? Meaning? Contentment? What if you're after compliance with your group? Socioeconomic power? Sometimes there will be social consensus that you did the Right Thing and sometimes not, what then?

That being said, I definitely get the knee-jerk reaction to think "social construct = fake = bad" because when someone says "x is a social construct", it's often in the context of how that construct can change, and that's a threat. For some people, it's as simple as "change is hard and scary", but you might end up having a nice conversation after that. Other times, it'll be "you want to change something that I personally benefit from" and that's more difficult to pick apart.

Personally, I'm not a fan of "most work happens in the morning", the choice of jobs available in the afternoon/evening is very limited and I'm always struggling. Someone convince morning people that night owls are important, too!

man. People get so upset when you call things social constructs. Thinking that if you say something is a social construct that means it's fake and unnatural, and following that, that that means it’s bad. Something being a social construct means that it’s socially constructed. That’s it.

Money is a social construct. Weekends are a social construct. Vegetables are a social construct.

That doesn’t mean it’s okay if my paycheck is withheld or my rent is late. Doesn’t mean I don’t luxuriate in sleeping in on Saturday. Doesn’t mean the nutrients in tomatoes or spinach aren’t good for you.

What it means is that the way we think about things is socially constructed, and could be constructed a different way. Why do we base our society around money? What does value mean outside of money? What is “value”? The way we construct it isn’t the only possible way.

Why is a week a cycle of seven days, and five of those days are for working and two of those days are for resting? Could we organize our time differently? Should we? What would that look like? Other cultures don’t/didn’t have seven-day weeks with a five on-two off cycle. It’s not inevitable. It’s historically and culturally specific.

“Fruit” has a scientific definition but “vegetable” does not. Many parts of plants are culinarily defined as vegetables. Fruits (eggplant, avocado, tomato), stems (celery, asparagus), leaves (kale, lettuce), roots (carrots, potatoes, turnips)… all of these are culturally categorized as vegetables. And nutrition advice is based on this cultural categorization. Is a mushroom a vegetable? It’s not even a plant! Why do we categorize it this way? Why isn’t wheat or oats considered vegetables, but corn is, except when it isn’t? Could we categorize our plant-based food other ways?

Calling these social constructs doesn’t mean they’re bad or unimportant. It just calls attention to the fact that they aren’t inevitable. That they could be constructed in different ways, and that is worth thinking about, and thinking about the value we get in constructing things the way we do.

Gender is a social construct.

Romance is a social construct.

They are based on feelings, desires, and experiences, but how we name and categorize and express and act on them are fully culturally constructed. Other cultures do and have constructed these concepts in other ways. You can like the way we do it now. You can find it stifling. But the way we do it now is not the only, inevitable, inherent, real way. It could be done other ways, organized and categorized and conceptualized in other ways. And that’s not a bad thing either.

[madamechrissy]

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- Medical procedures, crazy sexual tension, lots of cussing, light angst, tons of humor, workplace relationship, the hospital is lowkey slutty lol. Reader 26, Dr. Gojo 34, small age gap- Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Word Count- this chap- 7.5k

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

♡ Comment to get added to the tag list ♡

=͟͟͞♡ Part One =͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist

♡ Part Two ♡

“Doctor, you should call it. The time of death.” Comes Miwa’s voice, soft and sweet, as you’re pumping your hands tirelessly over this woman’s chest.

The woman had a damn baby right in the hospital nursery, having had a placental abruption, they had gotten the baby out in time on the maternity ward, but then she lost too much blood, and they’d brought her here. You've pumped countless times, your elbows are locked, your arms are aching, there are tears sticking to your cheeks that you don’t know where they came from.

You’re counting, one, two, three… to thirty, then scowl up at the nurse assistant now. “She’s not dead yet, now do the breaths!”

The assistant squeezes the blue bottle, frowning at you in concern. “It’s been three minutes, the patient is likely gone.”

“Don’t tell me to just give up on her. I won’t. Charge em up.” You turn and say to Miwa now, and she sighs. “I said…” You’re pumping so hard you feel her ribcage just barely crack, but you can’t stop, she’s flat lined and she has a damn baby. “I said charge them. Thirty joules! C’mon, Yula…”

The patient’s name was Yula, her name was Yula.

You keep repeating it to yourself as you work over her, hopelessly staring at the screen, praying to see a blip, to see anything. You’ve already had to call time of death for patients, but something in this got you, in knowing that the baby wouldn’t even know her own mother. In knowing that she got here just in time to save her baby, only to fall unconscious.

You’re nearing four minutes, you realize with a panic, and you notice Miwa has not charged the paddles. “Doctor, you should-”

“Are you telling your doctor what to do?” You demand, breathless, and she pouts then, thin brows drawing together.

“If she says charge them, fucking charge them. Thirty joules, now.” Comes Doctor Gojo’s voice, deep and stern, as he steps into the room, glaring over at Miwa, who now suddenly decides that she will charge the paddles. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t compressing over and over on Yula, exhaustion already setting in.

“Thank you, Dr. Gojo.” You manage, trembling with your effort, and he gently pushes you out of the way, you shake out your numb arms.

“You get the paddles, intern, okay. How long?” He asks.

“Almost four minutes, Gojo, she's crazy!” Miwa says. Your jaw clenches.

“Did I ask you anything?” He demands then, and the room goes silent, Gojo looks right at you, seriously, when you get the paddles and then he moves his hands, as you shock Yula’s chest now.

A blip.

“Please, please…” You whisper, choking up, and then the blip dies off. “She just had two blood transfusions, we need to-”

“Doctor, she’s been at it too long.” Miwa says. “She’s going to have no brain function if we go one more minute.”

“So we give her one more minute!” You shout at her, you never shout, you never break this composure you try to have, but you’re exhausted, weak, thank god Gojo’s pumping over her, his strong arms working faster than even you could.

“Hey, intern, look at me.” You look at Gojo then, at his pretty face as he’s working over her, his white hair falling over his forehead, he nods at the paddles. “Just breathe, yeah? Charge them to forty five.”

“Yes, Sir.” You manage, taking a breath, then you open your eyes, and look at the screen one more time, taking the defibrillator paddles, and shocking her chest, her entire body jolts. The room is dead silent, then you hear it, a heartbeat, a pulse on that machine, a steady beep… beep… beep…

You start sobbing in relief, uncaring what anyone thought at that moment. Doctor Gojo checks for signs of brain activity, rubbing her throat then, feeling her pulse. He grins at you, brightening that room with those glinting white teeth. He gestures for you to come over now, as Yula barely opens her eyes, gasping for breath then, leaning up on her elbows.

“What… where’s my baby?” She whispers, her lips are blue, but she’s talking, cognizant, aware. You feel chills through your body, goosebumps you rub gingerly with sore arms.

The first thing she asks, her baby. She’s gonna be a damn good mom, and she gets to be a mom. You push back thoughts of your own mom, taking a breath to finally speak.

“Your baby is nice and healthy, she’s strong. Like her mom.” You say softly, holding her hand delicately in your own, the nurses are unhooking her from the plugs in the wall, wrapping tubes and wires now, so that they can take her to get checked on Doctor Gojo’s orders.

“Oh thank goodness, oh…” She’s blinking tears now, and she looks to Doctor Gojo, who is smiling softly at her.

“She saved your life.” Gojo says, and you shake your head.

“He did, truly.”

“Well, a little, but mostly her.” He nudges you a bit playfully, and she’s smiling, holding her hands out to both of you.

“Thank you both so, so much. Thank you.” The nurses who all were not listening are quiet now, but you don’t blame them, many of them have done this for years, and you were new.

But something feels so good knowing she is okay, that she will live to see her baby, a fucking rush knowing you saved her, that Doctor Gojo had helped you, despite you going against certain protocol. You look up at him now, and his lips part as he studies you, seriously.

“We will get you to some tests, then you can hold your baby. How’s that sound, Miss Yula?” Satoru says, turning his attention to her, and she nods, grinning so big. She’s pale, she looks weak, but she’s strong and she’s alive.

“Thank you both so much. I can’t wait to meet my baby! Was it a…” Your heart pounds now, realizing she didn’t even see the baby yet.

“It’s a boy. You will see him very soon.” They wheel her away, Miwa is about to leave when Gojo pauses her.

“You will not do that again, I don’t care if she’s new, she is your doctor. Do you understand?” He asks, he’s quiet, so no one hears, and she is blinking back tears now, lip trembling.

“You’re being mean to me.” You try not to scoff, acting like you can’t hear a thing she says, Satoru doesn’t hide his scoff.

“Mean? It’s lives we’re talking about, not personal things.” He says, dropping his voice even quieter, as you work on putting in orders for medicines for Yula, you pretend you don’t hear, but something in you is curious.

“She’s insane.”

Ouch.

“She’s my best intern, and I like insane.” You can’t lie about how elated you are when you hear him. Doctor Gojo might come off as silly, or goofy, but he was the best, and the praise meant so much, even if insane may not be a compliment, from him it seemed like one. “How many times have I pulled a stunt like that?”

“You’re Doctor Gojo.”

“She went through the same schooling, she earned her place here. I am disappointed. I’ll have to assign you elsewhere if you keep on with it, you’ve repeatedly not listened to her. Understood?”

She looks at you, then looks down, nodding. “I get it, fine… but, can I see you later?” Her voice drops another octave, just a breath really.

“I’m busy today, but just know I’m not mad at you, okay? Just you need to trust her judgment, I only brought the best here.” He has his hands on her shoulders gently, she nods, then walks by you.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just seen… a lot of situations where that doesn’t work.” She says, and you shake your head.

“It’s okay, I am kind of batshit crazy to keep going so long. I think I really… because of the baby…”

“I understand. I’ll trust you next time.” She whispers, giving you a little hug now, surprising you. “You saved her.”

“Thank you, Miwa.” You give her a little smile as she leaves, and it’s just you and Satoru now, as the heavy hospital door slams shut. Satoru has his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat, leaning against the counter of the hospital room, looking at you. “I know, I know… I was reckless.”

“Completely reckless, and honestly she’s right. You’re insane.” He says, you flush then, looking down.

“Is this going to fuck up my chance to scrub in? I’m so sorry-”

“Why did you go so hard?” He’s suddenly right in front of you, the pounding of adrenaline racing through your body makes you overheated, lightheaded, to the point you feel a little dizzy.

“She just had that baby, Satoru. Fuck… Gojo. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” He brushes your hair back, it’s fallen out of its bun. “You want me to fix your hair?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I asked if you wanted me to.” You nod then, turning, and Satoru is taking your hair out of your bun now, gathering it gently. “So you wanted to try insane shit because she had a baby?”

“Yes. Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“You just gave four hundred compressions, you should be a mess. Now, is it just because you love babies so much?” He asks, long fingers massaging your scalp, you can’t help but shut your eyes. It feels so good.

“I do love babies, but no. My mother died having me, from the same thing, placental abruption. I was in the NICU for a long, long time. My dad had to care for me alone, poor guy had no clue what to do. I snapped, honestly, it wasn’t professional in any way, Gojo.”

He’s quiet, as he fixes your hair back up, now his big, sure hands are massaging your sore arms, you exhale, tilting your neck side to side. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I never knew her. All I have are stories, I never even got held in her arms, just like Yula’s baby would have been.” Your voice is hoarse, your body is tired, you feel his gentle touch and crave more of it.

“You call your patients their names, not ‘patient’.”

“Yes. They have names, we should use them. Don’t you?”

“I do. But… you know that you are letting your emotions guide you, rather than your brain.”

“I’m so sorry-”

“I like that.”

“What now!?” You turn to look at him in shock, and he’s very serious, more serious than you’re used to seeing him. Even in surgery, his confidence carried over, and he could crack jokes as you would watch him through the glass. You were always amazed by that, the confidence, the skill, the ability to laugh even.

“I like that you said fuck protocol and tried your best to save someone, shit that’s why I’m as good at what I do as I am. I said fuck all these rules. Sometimes saving someone means trusting your gut.” He’s tilting your chin up, and for some insane moment you want to kiss him, is it the adrenaline, is it his praise, is it your heart racing so much you’re stupid?

You eye his plush lips, barely registering his words.

“You like that I’m too emotional? Isn’t that the opposite of what I’m supposed to be as a doctor?” You whisper, and he shakes his head then, leaning close.

“You’re unique, special. I find you intriguing actually, and exactly what I want in an intern. I’ll have to cover for your ass though with Yaga.”

“Ugh, I know.” You sigh now. “You’re about to take over as chief of surgery, aren’t you? I don’t want to fuck anything up.”

“Nah, no worries there, I have been getting away with shit for eight years. I’m the best so they do whatever the fuck I want to keep me.” He smirks, and you smile up at him, enjoying the close proximity far too much. “You owe me.”

“Anything! Oh, nothing pervy.”

His lips quirk up. “How dare you assume.”

“Well, Miwa is probably upset, you may not get a bj.” He snorts then, dropping your chin and rolling his pretty blue eyes.

“She absolutely was in the wrong to question you, and she knows. As for… well we don’t have a relationship, I don’t really date.”

You raise a brow curiously. “You just fuck?”

“Lots of fucking.” You snort, shaking your head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You should try it, you’re too stiff, you should loosen up.”

“Bet you- actually, you know what, no. I’m too happy to argue. Maybe I should go relieve some stress, shit.” Gojo laughs again, and you giggle now. “I’m losing my mind at this career.”

“That’s what good doctors do.” He taps your nose.

“Why do you do that?” You ask curiously.

“You’re cute when it scrunches up. Now, I want you to go out to eat with me sometime, that’s all I ask.” You sigh, tilting your head.

“Why, you’re Dr. Hojo, you can have anyone go out to eat with you, and do much more than I would, I’m sure.”

“Maybe I just wanna know what makes you tick, intern. Especially now that I saw you in action like that.” You nervously bite your lip, as you think of just being around him outside of this hospital, what would that even be like?

“Sure, we can go out to eat some time. Are you going to the party tomorrow?” You ask, and he nods.

“I’ll be there to make it fun. Now, you go put in your notes, I’ll go mitigate this with Yaga before it blows up.” He gently rubs your shoulder, walking past you now towards the door.

“Doctor Gojo?” He turns then. “Thank you, so much.”

Satoru smiles at you, nodding his head a bit. “You’re welcome intern, you owe me though, I’ll be annoying you about it.”

“Can’t wait.” You tease, he chuckles as he walks by, you nearly collapse, so overwhelmed, plopping down into the rolling chair and covering your face.

You saved someone. That eclipses it all, this is what you wanted to do, always, to save people, like your mom that day. No, not everyone is going to get saved, but if you can just do your fucking best, you feel good. You look at your watch, only one hour left of this insane day.

The night of the party

You’re rushing to get out of the hospital, to hurry and get to the party Maki, Yuta and Toge have started without you. You brought party clothes with you, so you quickly change into the outfit, a slinky little red dress that glitters even under the icky fluorescent lights above. You run over to the mirror, slathering on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss.

You then dig through your bag, retrieving a brush, running it through your hair and attempting to look human, to look…

“Damn, intern, you look hot.” Gojo’s voice comes behind you, you gasp, jerking and dropping the brush, it clatters to the floor. He smirks at you.

“You scared me, shit!” He bends down, grabbing your brush, and for a moment his breath hits your bare thighs, you tremble as he looks up at your bare legs, taking his time to stand.

“Nice stems.” He says, you roll your eyes, snatching up the brush.

“Oh hush.” You turn, running it through your hair once more, peering at Gojo’s reflection, feeling how small you are compared to him in that mirror. “You bringing Miwa to the party?”

“She’ll be there I’m sure, but I told you, we aren’t dating. One blow job doesn’t make a girlfriend.”

“Only one, hmm? You have more stones to collect.” He chuckles, shaking his head, you turn then, slinging your bag over your shoulder, far too close to him. “God, you always smell good.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” You panic, shoving past him, and he is grinning far too big now, taking off his white lab coat, revealing those strong muscles, veins popping out under the pale skin, and since when are veins attractive!?

Everything about him is.

Be immune to the charm.

“I wanna show you something before you go, can you wait just a second? Or so eager to get to the party?” He asks, going to his locker, sliding off his shirt, your throat goes dry, you look quickly away.

“Just eager to make sure they don’t destroy my house.”

“Are you giving me a tour of your room?”

“No infinity stones to be found here.” He snorts, you look back and see him in his boxers, looking away again.

“All right, I’m decent. You’re cute when you blush.”

“I’m just… overheated.”

“Uh huh.” You look to see him now, as he shuts his locker and he’s wearing a dark blue dress shirt, black slacks and boots, he runs a brush through his hair, you’re entranced as his silky strands slide through so effortlessly. “There, all done, how do I look?”

“You look good, Gojo. You always do though.”

“Sure do.” You can’t help but laugh, he’s ridiculous. He grabs his wallet, shoving it in his pocket, holding out a hand. You look at it. “Come on.”

“Oh, fine. It better be good I’m already running late.” You put your hand in his, and he drags you down several halls, until you’re both in an elevator, still holding hands, you pull yours away, glaring at him. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Gojo.”

“Ouch, you wound me, mean little intern.” He puts a hand on his chest. “I’m so offended, I didn’t say that to you!”

“You fuck whoever, and that’s cool, I get it. You’re hot, and this job is stressful as shit.”

“You think I’m hot, hmm?” He leans close, far too close, you glare at him again, pushing on his chest, ignoring how good his muscles feel under your palms.

“You know you are.”

“Yeah, I do. And of course I wanna fuck you, look at you. But I also just want to… get to know you.” He cups your face, and your eyes shut for just a moment. “I know you’re a goodie goodie.”

“Am not.”

“So you’re freaky?”

“You won’t find out.”

“Oh no?”

“Nope.” He leans closer, and your chin tilts up, lips just a breath from him, so close you taste his sweet breath.

“Then why do you look like you wanna kiss me so bad, intern?” He murmurs, you lean even closer, before the elevator stops, and you step back, struggling to compose yourself, turning away. “Aw, you okay?”

“Fuck you, Dr. Hojo.”

He laughs once more. “Come on, I’ll stop teasing.”

“You’re such an ass.” You huff, stomping out, then pausing when you realize where you are. “The maternity ward?”

He smiles, hand now gently holding your inner arm, you ignore how good his hand feels on your bare skin. “I think you should see something.”

Soon he’s led you to a room, then you see them.

Yula holding her little baby.

“Oh my god.” You smile up at him, he studies you carefully, nodding over to where they’re sitting in the hospital bed.

“Go say hi, you deserve it.” His hand is at the small of your back, as you walk inside the room, Gojo stays at the doorway, watching you. Yula lights up when she sees you, grinning so big.

“You downplayed what you did, everyone is calling you a miracle worker, Doctor.” She says to you, you shake your head, stopping in front of them, looking at the beautiful baby boy, his cherubic little cheeks hollowing as he sucks on a bright blue binkie, then you look back at Yula.

“It was nothing, just my job.”

“No, it wasn’t nothing. If not for you… I…” She blinks back tears now, and you barely hold in your own.

“Don’t upset yourself, please. You have been through a lot, mama.”

“You should hold him!” Yula says.

“Me? I…”

“Here.” She sits up carefully, and you pick up the little boy, Yula smiles at Gojo and waves him in. “His name is Gojo.”

“What?” Gojo blinks a bit himself, coming to stand beside you and looking down at him, Gojo carefully brushes the baby’s cheek, his hands bigger than the little baby almost. You smile up at him, and for a moment, your eyes lock, then you both flush, looking away. “After me?”

“Yes, you were amazing. I’d have named it after you if it was a girl!”

“Oh, goodness. He is handsome, huh Gojo?” You coo to the baby, Gojo’s hand again comes to the small of your back, he is leaning over your shoulder, looking down at the bundle in your arms.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Knowing you did a good thing here.” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod then, smiling back at him.

“Thank you for this, Gojo. And thank you, Yula.”

“Thank you both, you're getting Christmas gifts from me.” You both laugh softly, saying your goodbyes, and when the elevator closes again, you let the little tears fall. Satoru swipes at them, and you sigh.

“Fuck it.” You yank him down by his shirt, kissing his lips, expecting it to feel nice, or good… but instead, it’s electrifying, as if little shocks are radiating throughout your entire body. Satoru exhales, deepening the kiss, pressing you against the wall, hands at your waist, peering back to look down at you, to take a breath.

“Fuck…” He murmurs softly, brushing your cheek with his long fingers, running a thumb over your lower lip. “What did I do to earn something that sweet?”

“You did a lot for me. Thank you.” He kisses your lips again, but now his tongue slips in, and you feel desire pooling in your core, especially when his hands are trailing up your sides, and his tongue is dancing with yours. You pull back, gasping. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t fucking apologize. Please.” He kisses you deeper now, and you lose yourself for that moment, his teeth on your bottom lip, your arms wrapping around his neck as he bends low. Your hands entwine in that silky hair, the hair you have wondered how good would feel under your fingers, his thigh coming between your thighs. “Oh my god…”

“Mmm.” You whine out, pathetic, hips arching up, and you feel him, his hard thigh, those hands overtaking you, tasting him, a hand enwrapping in your hair.

“You’re so hot there…” He murmurs, a hand sliding down your tummy, making it tremble, and you are questioning everything, until the elevator dings, and you both pull away quickly, but Satoru looks completely affected, eyes dilated, his breaths heavy as they come out, mirroring you.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah you should have.”

“No… but thank you. Really.” You touch his shoulder gently. “I will not be an infinity stone.”

“Think you’d be the whole gauntlet.”

“Oh whatever. Forget that, please.”

“No way.”

You both are walking out to your cars then, you’re fucking insane, you kissed Satoru Gojo, your boss! You kissed him. He’s walking you to your car now, opening your door, and you can barely meet his pretty eyes, so embarrassed. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“You were feeling something, emotions, gratitude… attraction.” He practically says the word like a caress, you feel it physically. “More probably. What’s wrong with feeling things?” He asks then, and you sigh.

“Feeling things for someone who you can’t be with, that sounds like torture.”

“Is it all that?”

“Yes. You should… forget it.”

“I’m not forgetting it. I’ll see you there?” You nod, shy as fuck now, surprised at yourself, touching your lips when you shut the car door, his kiss is lingering on your lips, like some drug you crave.

You gasp when he’s still standing there, grinning at you through your window. You roll it down, scowling. “Go on!”

“You were thinking about it.” He says in a sing-song voice.

“Was not!”

“Mmm, naughty intern-”

You rev up your loud ass car. “Can’t hear you!” He’s grinning far too big when you drive off, heart pounding.

You kissed your boss, and now you’re going to a party with him?

You have lost your mind?

“Bitch, you look so hot.” Maki runs over to you, shoving a questionable red solo cup in your hands, making you wince.

“Bad memories. You look hot too!” You kiss her cheek now, as there are people all over your house, dancing, laughing, most of whom you have no clue who they are. Some loud bass music is blaring, and it’s giving you a bit of a headache, but the energy is good, and you can see your roommates enjoying themselves.

Yuta is taking shots with Toge, you both walk over as Maki takes a sip from her own cup, her eyes sparkling. “Drink it!”

“Oh fine.” You take a sip, feeling the sweet, fruity drink. At first it’s fine, but then you can feel the burn of the alcohol. “Not bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, chug it bitch.”

“No!”

“Then take shots, pretty.” Yuta says, and you giggle, shaking your head. “What, you look pretty? Both of you do.”

“Pretty.” Toge says, blush on his cheeks when you kiss one, then Yuta’s.

“Aww thank you all.” Toge runs off then, leaving you confused, staring at Yuta and Maki who are whispering to each other. “What’d I do!?”

“He’s got it bad.” Maki says, seriously.

“What? No.”

“He does, poor guy. No chance.” Yuta says, you sigh.

“You all are silly, he does not. I would know, I live with him. He’s just a little… shy sometimes.”

“Exactly. You’re so evil to men.” You stick your tongue out at Yuta.

“Whatever! Am not.” You sip your drink, it starts tasting less biting as the alcohol warms your tummy.

“You’re mean as shit to Gojo. He’s got puppy dog eyes for you.” Maki says, as Satoru now walks in, Suguru right next to him.

“He has eyes for everyone.” You flush then, remembering the elevator vividly, as Satoru’s eyes catch yours across the room. “He’s my boss. Our boss.”

“The entire hospital is fucking.” Maki says, earning your look at her and Yuta, your eyes narrowing, assessing how close they are. “Not us!”

“Oh, you two so are. Since when!?” They both flush and look away, you cross your arms now, leaning forward. “In my house, terrible children.”

“Fuck off, you’re not our mom.” Maki sticks her tongue out.

“How long!”

“Like two weeks, chill.” Yuta clears his throat.

“I see something… over there.” Is all he says, then he leaves, and you scooch closer to Maki now.

“I tell you something, you tell me.”

You lean close, looking back at Satoru, Miwa is bouncing over to him, but for some reason he keeps looking at you, eyes shouldn’t be so intense you see them across the whole living room and dining room!? You have a pretty big house, but it seems small with this many people, overheating the area.

“Fine, we’ve had sex a lot, but only for a couple weeks, we’re not labeling it anything.”

“Oh…” You struggle to understand how your best friends are… hooking up. It doesn’t surprise you completely, though. “Not dating?”

Maki rolls her green eyes. “It doesn’t always have to be a relationship, you’re so old school.”

“Am not. I just… have a five date rule or so.”

“Bet Doctor Hojo breaks it.”

“Maki!”

“Time for your secret, and a shot.” She pours you both tequila, you shiver as you remember college with Maki, the amount of nights you’d both held each other’s hair as you got sick. “Don’t wuss out, you’re the hero doctor now.”

“Am not at all. Fine, bottoms up.” You both take shots down your throat, biting on your lemons now. “Blegh.”

“Baby.”

“I won’t tell you then!” You hiss, and she yanks you to her.

“You will!”

“Oh fine. I kissed him, there I said it.” You whisper, looking around fervently, as if someone can hear you whisper over booming music, Maki barely hears you, but she sees your gaze darts to Satoru, and his gaze hits you.

“Oh fuck… that’s so messy, you gonna hit it?” You shush her as he starts to walk toward you all, luckily he keeps getting stopped, everyone loves Doctor Gojo and him and Doctor Geto are getting swarmed by nurses and interns.

“No, no… it was a kiss. Maki he was so great to me yesterday, I think I really like him, but I can’t.”

“You can, just gotta be careful babes.”

“No, he’s… Maki he’s a slut.”

“Rude.” Sartoru says then, and you nearly spit out your drink, coughing then, Maki’s grin is huge, she pushes her glasses up, eyeing Gojo then.

“Hey Dr. Hunk.”

“It’s Dr. Hojo.” You glare at her, and Satoru slings an arm around your shoulders, lanky limbs overtaking you.

“She’s mean as hell, your bestie.” He says to Maki.

“She is, that's why I love her. Hmm, you should have shots with us!”

“Sounds good-”

“What, no!”

“Why? Scared I’ll out drink you?” He asks.”

“You absolutely could, I suck at drinking.”

“Even better, loosen you up-”

“Shots!” Maki hands you both shot glasses now, and you both down them, Satoru then bites a lemon and it’s far too sexy how he does, you feel your tummy clench just watching him suck one. “Hmm, I see… something over there.”

Maki dips now, leaving you alone with Satoru, and you don’t even know what to say, so nervous next to him. You keep looking at his lips, then down, and he surely notices, as they curl into a smirk. “You gonna give me the tour, pretty?”

“Pretty, thought I was just ‘intern’ to you.”

“You’re pretty, very pretty, little intern.” Satoru bars you against the counter now, and your hips shift side to side. “Aw, excited?”

“Shush. People can see!”

“Everyone’s fucking in this hospital.”

“No kidding.” You pout as you look at Yuta and Maki. “Some right in my own damn house.”

“You’re like an angry mom.”

“Hey!” You shove at him now, and then you see him sip a drink, watch that adam’s apple bob, and fuck…

Gojo’s gorgeous, and you haven’t had any in forever.

Usually you’re good, a nice smut story and a vibrator, but he does something to you, that makes you forget who you are, where you are. You still ease out of his trap now, sighing and shaking your head. “Not here.”

“Oh, not here? Are you planning on seducing me, intern?”

“Psh, you wish. I mean… we can talk somewhere else.”

“Talk, huh. That’s what the twenty somethings call it.”

“You’re so ridiculous, ugh… I mean… talk. Will Miwa get mad?” You ask, and he rolls his eyes.

“You really seem to think a blow job equals dating.”

“Yeah, well she’s already not a fan of me.” You take his hand now, walking him down the hall, where there are indeed people making out, including Miwa. You blink a bit then, and Satoru leans in close.

“Told you. The hospital is slutty.”

“Not me.”

“You’re so different.”

“Fuck off.” You laugh softly though, continuing through the hall, pointing at a room now. “Down there is the basement, where I hide my bodies.”

“Called it, serial killers have those steady hands.” You stick your tongue out, enjoying holding his hand far too much, he seems just as enamored as you, following you through each hall.

“There is Maki’s room, Yuta’s is there, and Toge’s is across from mine.”

“He’s in love with you, you know that yeah?”

“Why do people think that? He’s just a sweetie. And this… well this was my parents room, I just leave it be.” You murmur then, taking another sip of your drink, and Gojo frowns now.

“Can I see it?”

“Um… it’s all covered in sheets since forever, dusty and abandoned unfortunately so… nothing to see.”

“Curious if you look like your mom or dad.”

“Are you?” He nods a bit, and you bite your lip, shaking your head. “I can show you a picture of them, I have one in my room.”

“Dad’s gone too?” He asks, and you sigh, nodding, walking into your room, feeling the intimacy suddenly of such an action. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really. My grandparents raised me. They’re good, they just moved out to Florida, retired.”

“You’re alone here?”

“No, I have my friends. Here, this was them.” You show him a little picture then, it’s frayed at the edges, of your mom and dad holding each other at prom. “They were really young here.”

“She was beautiful, you do look like her.” You get misty eyed at that, touching the picture, before shaking your head.

“Fuck you’re supposed to be here for fun, not me crying. What’s with me today?” Satoru turns you to him then, after you put the picture down, and you exhale, desire killing you, it’s like something is pulling you to him.

“Nothing is wrong with feeling things. I didn’t come here for a party, I came here to get to know you.”

“Why do you want to? Maybe I’m boring.”

“I doubt all that. So you tell me, intern, what do you want to do? Talk, look at pictures, give me a blow job?”

“As if!” He laughs then, and you realize it then... “You’re cheering me up, aren’t you Gojo?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You do that. A lot.”

“I’m glad.”

“You also annoy me.” Satoru’s pressing your back against your dresser, and you’re all too aware how hard his body is, how he’s muddling your mind. “What you wanna like… just fuck as friends or something?”

“I didn’t say that. You assume. Maybe I want to kiss you all night.” Your head falls back, Satoru is kissing you again, this time you let yourself go, feeling every bit of him, the kiss is more messy, more desperate than the elevator. Your teeth are nipping at his lower lip, earning a soft moan, as he grips your hips tightly, thumbs pressing into your pelvis.

“Mnh, we shouldn’t…”

“We shouldn’t. But… you’re really ready.”

“Ugh.” You’re a blushing mess now. “It’s been a while and… you’re really hot and…”

He chuckles. “You’re adorable. Let me make you cum, then, hmm?”

“Wh-what now?” You gasp when he’s picking you up, hoisting you on the dresser, spreading your thighs. “Gojo…”

“Satoru.”

“Doctor Hojo.”

He smirks, hands trailing up your thighs, your head falls back just so, hair cascading down your back, sighing at how good it feels. “You’re a brat.”

“You’re the bratty one. What do you mean just… get me off.”

“Stress relief. Why not let me help? I am a doctor.” You blush furiously, and he smiles. “Cute.”

“I’m not your patient…”

“Roleplay.”

“You kinky little- ah!” Satoru slides his hand between your thighs, cupping you where your panties are, and he pauses, mouth open slightly, snowy lashes lowering over dark blue eyes in the dim room.

“You’re that wet from kissing?” He whispers, you shut your eyes, taking his hand, with every intention of pulling it off, but you just keep it there, around his strong wrist, feeling his pulse flutter under your thumb.

“I don’t do this.”

“I’ll just finger you.”

“You gonna get me off with your fingers?” His smirk is now a wicked grin, his fingers slipping under your panties, finding you slick and hot. He exhales.

“I know anatomy extremely well. And no, it doesn’t have to change things, I can still be professional.” He slips a finger inside your pussy now, you’re clenching around him, moaning, covering your mouth then. “Fuck you’re tight.”

“Pro-profes… you!? Not… mmm… fuck it, yes, there!” You’re arching your hips up, he is watching your every move intensely, analyzing you like you’re a medical case for him to solve, every breath you take, every movement of your hips, the way your brows draw together. He’s crooking his finger just so, and you see stars, gushing all around his long finger that’s too fucking deep.

“There’s that spot.” He leans close, sliding two fingers inside now, your pussy greedily sucks it up, your hands clinging to his expensive dress shirt, his lips just an inch away. “It’s not on any anatomy, is it, this spot? But yours is easy to find, pretty, right there.” He hits it again, and you’re getting closer and closer, whining out, pulling him closer. 

“Mpfh.” You can’t manage a syllable, it’s too good, the stretch, his nearness, you crave him so bad you can’t think.

“Want me to make you cum?” He asks, sultry voice as much of a caress as his soppy fingers.

You nod eagerly, then he kisses you, pulling your hips down, pumping his fingers in and out, hitting the spot over and over. “Satoru…”

“Fuck that sounds good from your mouth.” He kisses down your neck, before whispering in your ear. “So this is a place on the human anatomy, your clitoris. There it is, it’s a tiny little thing.”

“Fuck!” You’re clinging to him desperate, pathetic, as his other hand reaches down, thumb circling your clit. Your eyes lock then, his pupils are so big there’s just a ring of blue, his eyes almost look black, his cheeks flushed.

“When I use both, it can overstimulate you, can’t it?” You mindlessly nod, tears in your eyes as he’s working you. “Hear how wet you are?”

“Mmm…” You’re done with words, his long fingers are too good, and you can hear how wet you are in your room, the squishing sound as he pumps inside your little walls, and you’re soaking his hands.

“I feel it, there, your pussy is tightening up, your nipples are rock hard, you’re biting that lip. You’re about to cum for me, aren’t you?” He murmurs, studying you still, and then you shatter, earning his moan along with your cries, as you feel your orgasm hit so hard you can’t see, just clinging to his dress shirt wordlessly. “Fuck you’re pretty, look at you.”

“Satoru!” You barely manage to focus, when he’s rubbing your pussy up and down between your lips, you jerk you’re so sensitive, you damn near could come again. “Fuck, fuck…”

“Sensitive?” You weakly nod, and now he is sliding his two fingers inside his mouth, sucking, and your jaw drops, breasts heaving. “You’re so yummy.”

“I am?” You whisper, he nods, and takes his other hand that was on your clit, rubbing your own arousal on your lower lip.

“Taste yourself and see.”

You lick your lower lip tentatively, pussy still pulsing around nothing, then he growls, grabbing you, kissing you over and over. You’re a fucking mess, so weak now, you want to say fuck it, suck him, touch him, do anything to make him feel good, you want him inside you.

Your legs are wrapping around his narrow hips now, hands shaking when you’re unbuttoning his shirt, fuck you’re so ready you can’t even remember anything you said you would or wouldn’t do. 

“Want you.” You whisper weakly, he exhales, big hands cupping your face.

“Yeah?” You nod again, and he’s kissing down your throat now, pulling you flush against him, your throbbing cunt right against where you feel him, his hard cock under his pants, you weakly grind, mind fuzzy from him. “You feel so good, shit I thought you didn’t-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Shit…” You hop up now, adjusting yourself, looking in the mirror to see your fucked out, dilated eyes, all glittery, your cheeks flushed, your hair a mess from his hands. “I look like I got fucked, dammit.”

“You didn’t yet, imagine how you’d look when I got done with you.” He’s kissing down your neck now, images flying in your mind, as the door keeps knocking, then you hear Maki’s words.

“Someone passed out! We need you, please!” Maki’s words are like cold water, you and Satoru both rush out without a second thought. “Fuck… I’m sorry-”

“No, what’s wrong?” You and Gojo ask at the same time, she looks between you both for a moment.

“It’s embarrassing…” She admits.

“What is?” You ask, as she leads you to Yuta’s room, confusing you further.

“I may have been riding him and…”

Yuta is passed out, half naked on the bed. “Maki, did you kill him with your pussy!?”

“No! Maybe.”

Satoru chuckles, going up to him then, and peeking at his neck. “Did you all get freaky?”

“No!”

“Maki.” You glare at her, shutting the door now. She flushes, tilting her head back and sighing.

“I choked him, he likes it!”

“I think he’s just zonked from it. He’s responding fine. Hmm…” He says your name then, the man that just had you cumming on his fingers…

Fuck…

“Grab some ice.” You run down stairs, come right back up with a cup of ice, handing it to Satoru confusedly. “Watch and learn, interns.”

Satoru now throws the entire cup of ice on Yuta’s face, and he sputters, waking up and gasping. Satoru’s evilly chuckling, Maki is damn near in tears, and you’re watching with ongoing confusion, alcohol setting in, post bliss orgasm, thrown off that you just found Satoru throwing ice attractive.

“Thank you, shit!” Maki hugs Gojo tightly, as Yuta flushes, looking around at the three of you.

“Maki! I was fine.”

“You scared me!” She’s kissing him then, deeply, and Satoru and you gently walk back, you close their door with a quiet click, sighing and looking up at him.

“What made you think to do that?”

“I’ve had freaky sex.” He teases. “I’m kidding, I just saw the marks from her fingers on his throat, put two and two together.”

“You’re like Sherlock Holmes.” He shrugs then, and his phone starts buzzing, he frowns as he looks at it. “What’s wrong?”

“I gotta head out, nothing big.” He leans close, and you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows under your eyes.

“Then good night, and be safe?” You say, he nods, running a finger over your swollen lower lip then. “Satoru…”

“You still owe me a date, I’m no hussy. Can’t have that and not go out with me.” You feel far too good now, as he’s asking you out.

“But we shouldn’t.”

“And you shouldn’t have been insane yesterday, but it worked. Be a little crazy, just… a date.” You nod then, and he leans his forehead on yours. “Also, your anatomy? Perfect.”

Your pulse thrums in your neck, chest tightening as he says it. “No, certainly not perfect…”

“Mmm, it is, and I would know. An expert on female anatomy.”

“Well thank you, slutty doctor.” He snorts, pecking a kiss on your lips, one that you would never be able to get out of your head.

“I expect a better tour sometime.”

“Keep dreaming. But… lunch, I agreed.”

“Sunday work?”

“Yeah.”

“Text you then.” Satoru leaves then, and leaves you leaning on the hall, suddenly the door opens, and Maki and Yuta peek their heads out.

“A date!?”

“You should be passed out, freaky asses.” You shove them back in their room, running off to yours as they try to bombard you with questions, you lay on your back, staring up at your ceiling, the glow sticker stars from your childhood still decorating the ceiling, you never did take them off.

You like him, you really like him. But you need your career, it’s just beginning, and would this just fuck it all up? Could you keep this shit separated? You can’t do this, you can’t…

Your eyes shut, flitting images of Doctor Gojo enjoying your anatomy filling your mind, keeping you up half the damn night, as you hear it get quieter, assuming the party has died off. You lay on your side, looking out at the window, seeing the moonlight shining through just so.

Your phone goes off, and it’s your stupid ex, earning your scowl, as you delete it, but then a new message pops up.

Doctor Gojo: Let me know if you need anatomy lessons again, intern.

You snort, shaking your head.

You: You wish!

Doctor Gojo: Hmm, still taste you.

You: Oh my god, good night Doctor Hojo!!!

You hate that your heart hammers in your chest as he hearts your message.

You’re so fucked.

Taglist: @lost-resonance @lostfracturess @unfortunately-tia @allofffmypeaches @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @antisocialinlw @meg3mis @miizuzu @nanasukii28 @zoeyflower @wstaley2 @bunheadusa @blue-musingss @ameliariddle @labelt-san @moncher-ire @jkslaugh97 @aldebrana @shadeowz @gojo1228 @victoriaaaa00 @jaeminaur @seeing-stars-alt

Can't wait to hear thoughts, this is going to be a messy, wild ride. Next chap will be a little more angsty and learning more about reader, also more of Dr. Hojo lol (what was the mysterious call!!) <3

[grahstumhurts]

Stressed out

Pt 1 of 2

A/N Still working on pt2 which will include smut, working on a couple other things so will be taking my time to make sure its good quality.

Request

Fluff

Lara x Megan x Biker Fem!Reader

Content - Cursing, elusion to sex

The way the wind feels when you are the only one on the road, it's ethereal. I blast my yearning playlist through my headphones. Currently on is “Dive” by Olivia Dean. I scream-sing down the highway, The dashboard clock screaming 1 am in my peripheral vision. My curfew set by Sophia had been Midnight after multiple late night rides. I pull off the highway into the streets of the neighbourhood, the streets eerily quiet and my bike's engine roaring through the streets. I turn off the engine and walk the bike up the driveway into the garage of the house, Where a very mad looking Lara and Megan appear in the doorway of the entrance to the inside of the house. I'm fucked.

“Where have you been?” Lara looks me up and down, checking me for any signs of a crash or a fight. “You do know you are one hour late, right?” 

“We literally had to force Sophia to sleep. She has an early morning tomorrow and you know how stressed she gets when you go out for late night rides like this.” Megan sighs as I pop the kickstand, pull off my helmet and  hang up both my jacket and helmet on the hanger next to the door.

“I know, But I've been stressed as well and this is one of the things that helps me ground myself.” I confess to the two of them “But I'm here right? Not damaged!” I stupidly grin at them, both looking very disappointed.

“Stressed about what exactly?” Megan asks as we step into the house, I slip off my shoes and kick them off to the side.

“It's nothing serious,” I try to brush it off. To be honest, I've been stressed about my feelings for them. Its not exactly a secret that I have a crush on both of them. I mean who wouldn't, right? Its Lara Raj and Megan Skiendiel, both very very attractive women with the gravitational pull of a fucking blackhole. It's pretty hard to NOT have a crush on them. 

“You know we are all here for you, whatever you wanna talk about.” Lara pushes a stray tuft of hair away from my face “Whenever you're ready to talk.” Lara sits next to me and puts her legs up on my lap. She suddenly sits up, seeming to have an epiphany of sorts.

“We’re still mad at you” She grips my chin, holding it in place to force me to make eye contact with her “Megan, you know how we should punish her?” She smirks at Megan who's leaning against the armrest of the couch

"I think i know some ways to teach her a lesson" Megan's hand slips onto my shoulder "Pretty thing isnt she?" She tucks my hair behind my ear.

"Such a shame that shes so," Lara pauses, "Naughty" She says it so perfectly, with a sultry voice one cant resist. She leans in closer to my ear, "You'll take what we give you right, Baby?" I nod eagerly, a sheen blush covering my cheeks.

"Good girl, YN" Megan runs a hand through my hair.

I'm definitely fucked tonight.

[honorhearted]

"I don't think there is a single thing in the world you could do to disappoint me, Benjamin Tallmadge."

He snorted. "Well, I certainly hope you'll remember this moment when you are, in fact, disappointed in me in the future. I'm quite the over-achiever, after all."

Penelope spoke of a son following in his footsteps, and despite the leap in his chest at such a thought, it was soon soured as Benjamin drifted to thinking of war, of destruction and pain and death, and his shoulders curled inward. "I should hope not," he murmured. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not share my stories with our children... I fought so they could be free, so they could be happy, and I don't wish for them to know any of the pain I've endured. Not even a moment."

Penelope, thankfully, seemed quite content to continue teasing him, so Benjamin latched on to the much lighter fare of conversation. With a snort, he asked, "How can I not compliment you? That seems like a double-edged sword, and I'm not about to risk displeasing my betrothed. Unless, of course, it leads to more untoward requests."

Penelope giggled, leaning into his touch with a gentle incline of her neck. "If leaving you now is so difficult, I can't imagine how hard it will be once we are properly wed."

"We'll never leave the house," Benjamin agreed, chuckling. "And if anyone trespasses during our honeymoon, I'll be certain to greet them with a musket. I think I've earned the right to be possessive of my wife. If they wish to hold an audience with you, they can wait in line." Grazing his lips along her shoulder, he muttered, "Unfortunately for them, I am the only one granted permission to enter that coveted queue."

Penelope hummed. "Do you really think anyone would even notice if I just stayed here forever? Surely, Mama is far too enraptured in planning the wedding to notice and its not as though anyone would miss me otherwise."

Benjamin fought back a groan. "Don't go giving me any ideas... I'm serious, Pen, I'm at the point where I'd rather just kidnap you for a week, and then claim a loss of sanity." He shrugged. "We're already engaged, but that at least would ensure that you have to marry me."

Penelope followed his glance toward the clock. "I suppose I cannot delay for much longer, so this is where we must part. The weeks ahead are sure to be long and arduous."

Benjamin grimaced. "You don't know the half of it...I'm afraid men are the far weaker of the two sexes, so I'll be in the direst of straits."

Turning to face him, Penelope smoothed her palms along his chest with a pout. "Promise you won't forget about me in the time we're apart?"

"Impossible," he vowed. "I'll be thinking of you each and every waking moment, slowly being driven to madness." Dropping a kiss onto her forehead, he lowly added, "I hope it isn't too much to hope for the same?"

--

Within a week's time, Benjamin found himself in Penelope's presence again. Her mother was distracted with God only knew what -- it seemed that marriages of the ton were quite the affair -- and despite his good cheer, he kept pacing around the room.

"I'm so bloody nervous," he confessed. "If my assumptions are correct, Father will be arriving sometime today, and I just... I'm unsure of what to expect." He halted in his restless trek, turned, and then glanced toward Penelope with a low breath. "I never told you this, but I essentially ran away from home... Not because of anything I did, but rather, because I couldn't face the pain of losing my brother. So I did the cowardly thing, and I left my father all alone."

Shoulders hunkering, Benjamin looked down at his boots in shame. "I've written to Father, of course -- I'm not that cold-blooded -- but I imagine he must still be hurt. And I want him to love you so very much, but...what if I've already ruined everything before it's even had a chance to begin?"

If I'd known from the start how we would've ended up, I'm not so certain I would have ever been a gentleman.

"I find that hard to believe. Even in the throes of passion, you're a perfect gentleman." Pen quirked her lips into a sweet smile, a renewed flush creeping onto her cheeks. She knew she was lucky to have found someone like Ben, and that such a someone loved her as intensely as she loved them. Pen had nearly accepted the fact that her life would most likely be devoid of love. She might learn to love a husband, if she had been fortunate enough to find a man willing to marry her, but she had never expected to find a love match. And yet she had been proved wrong time and time again.

"Yes, actually." She teased, arching her brows in defiance. "I would like you to reenact the story of the handsome, charming foreign soldier who seduces the insipid wallflower with his smile and devilishly sharp wit. Are you familiar with that one?" Perching her hands on her hips, she tried to maintain a neutral expression but she found it hard when her body was still thrumming with electricity. "I don't think there is a single thing in the world you could do to disappoint me, Benjamin Tallmadge."

You know I love it when you give commands. Pen bit at the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin. She'd been told on multiple ocassions that she had a tendency to be too bossy. She liked to be in charge of things, especially when so much of her life seemed to be entirely out of her control. Whistledown had afforded her the luxury of controlling the narrative of scandals in the ton, but there were often times her pride spilled over.

"Is that so? I do enjoy giving commands every once in a while. I think it runs in the family. Perhaps, one day, a son of ours will follow in their father's footsteps. Though, I wouldn't mind if they decided to become little poets and authors instead."

Although she knew she would support her children in whatever endeavors they found themselves thrown into, Pen wasn't entirely eager to imagine her sons off to war. Even so, she refused to dwell on such a thing. Those were matters for the future, problems to be dealt with when they arose. For now, Pen was satisfied with living in the moment and planning for the near future instead.

"You must not give me so many compliments this soon. I'll hardly have any motivation to do better if you spoil me too much. Lucky for you, I'm a dutiful student."

Pen let out a soft giggle, reaching up to rest her hands on his arms. The idea of going a single day without him was tortuous, even though she knew it would be worth the wait. If they were to behave properly, it could be weeks until she felt his arms around her again. She was sure she would go insane in that much time, but at least she would be able to relish in the memory of him until then. The idea of a special marriage license was terribly tempting, but Pen knew that it would be near impossible to get. A lady of the ton marrying a foreigner was not likely to earn a favorable compliance by Her Majesty. Instead, she resigned herself to her fate. If nothing else, it would prove to be a good practice of patience.

"If leaving you now is so difficult, I can't imagine how hard it will be once we are properly wed." She sighed, nuzzling into his touch. Although Pen was determined to not be an overly needy or nagging wife, she had a feeling she would be following him around like a puppy for most of the honeymoon--and long after, as well. She had spent her entire life searching for a place to belong and now that she'd finally found it in Ben's arms, she wasn't in a rush to part with the feeling.

"Do you really think anyone would even notice if I just stayed here forever? Surely, Mama is far too enraptured in planning the wedding to notice and its not as though anyone would miss me otherwise." Even as she teased, Pen knew there was some truth behind her words. Her mother was enjoying the party planning aspect of the wedding and Pen didn't mind handing over the reigns since such a thing was far too overwhelming to handle. All she wanted was to hide away from the world and be with her fiancé.

"I suppose I cannot delay for much longer, so this is where we must part. The weeks ahead are sure to be long and arduous." Turning around to face him, Pen whined, lips puffed out into a pout. "Promise you won't forget about me in the time we're apart?"

[bibliophilesince2003]

The Bad Batch

Here's a little theory for you to mull over; I sincerely wonder whether I am alone in thinking this. I could also be heavily exhausted over and influenced by the papers I had to polish off for some of my college courses, or perhaps motivated by the fact that I am re-watching The Bad Batch because most modern shows these days, in my opinion, disappoint. At any rate, here it is.

Why do we like the Bad Batch so much? What makes them relatable and/or realistic?

Upon meeting Omega, most of the Bad Batch behave in a very dad-like manner. This is not surprising, no. Plenty of memes and incorrect quotes have stemmed from this simple observation. They don't have all the answers and they don't know what to do with Omega half the time. That's the thing about dads... usually, they're just "winging it" and trying to do their best. Moms come with a built-in instinct to nurture. Dads come with a built-in instinct to protect and lead. Sometimes, dads aren't quite sure what to do with a crying infant or a struggling teenager.

Let's not forget... Hunter and the others are soldiers. That isn't to say they can't be kind or gentle; even the toughest men have their weak points. As a military brat, though, I have noticed that such a profession can mold a man, and at times they forget to "turn off" their seriousness when at home after having dealt with extremely hard situations. I really appreciate that the producers of this show didn't change Hunter and the others just to make them more approachable from Omega's standpoint. If they do change, it's gradual.

Do Hunter and the others think about the consequences of bringing Omega into their lives? *eyeballs toothpick man* With exceptions, of course. Well, until season three. The answer? Absolutely not. They believe they have the strength and ability to keep her safe, as most dads would. They believe they will always have that strength and ability. Let me break it down for you and give you a look into the brain of a dad:

Dad: *involved in a dangerous situation*

Dad: I can do that.

Dad: *remembers their child is with them*

Dad: Oh. Well, I guess becomes a life lesson. I've got you, kid. Just... don't tell your mom.

Dad: *keeps an eye out for anything suspicious*

Kid: *perfectly content*

I've heard it said that dads don't say "I love you" but show they love you. I personally have experienced both, but given the seriousness of most dads... I can see how that would be the case. At the very least, their actions speak louder than words. The Bad Batch are very much this way towards Omega. They put their lives on the line. They want to make her happy. Wrecker assembles a spot for Omega to call her own on the Marauder. Tech grabs her before an explosion can reach them. Echo has hugged Omega the most. Hunter is usually within three feet of Omega at all times.

The subtle gestures of kindness captivated all our hearts, I know.

Why?

It's Star Wars, a fictional universe. It's not complete fiction, though. Hunter and the others represent a specific kind of love. Fathers may be cautious and unsure at first, but eventually they want the kid by their side for everything. We've all seen the videos of dads using infants as pretend machine guns or making them dance, the kid's neck rolling lazily. Gently, of course. If they can't protect the kid from everything, they use themselves as a shield, which extends to good mothers, too, though that's not what this post is about.

Hunter and the others may be soldiers, but they embody the very spirit of fatherhood. This was such a wonderful theme to see develop despite the grittiness and action.

Phew, I feel like there was more I wanted to say, but I'm tired, so you're spared from more rambling.

[echoingkarma]

CW: Overdose, death, murder, SA references etc. It's Mouthwashing

Anya doesn't quite know what's happening. She remembers the way the pills felt in her fingers, and then in her throat. She remembers the hard swallow, trying not to gag, and the tears.

And then she remembers floating. Seeing herself, still on the floor, blood staining her face and dripping down to tint her uniform a deep crimson. She remembers seeing Curly, hearing the faintest of whimpers and turning to follow his gaze past her form and out the door.

She'd watched the axe swing alongside him.

Anya covers her mouth and gasps. There's a trail of blood leading out of the room, and she reluctantly follows it, staring down at Daisuke's body as he lays there. Swansea drapes something over his head and stands, and she watches his expression change and change again, countless emotions flying past.

Jimmy stalks out of the room and she instinctively steps out of his way, although he ignores her entirely, walking straight through her arm as she ducks to the side and holds her breath.

Anya doesn't want to follow him. She doesn't want to know his intentions, realising slowly what's happening as Swansea picks up the axe again and Curly groans and twists on his bed.

She looks, then. She sees Jimmy opening the case, setting the code scanner down to replace it with the gun she'd hidden. She watches as he checks it's loaded and slowly turns to Swansea, something wild in his expression as though he's not in the room at all.

There's a fight she shies away from, unable to help, unable to process anything as, ultimately, Swansea loses and is tied to a chair by the dinner table. Jimmy levels the gun at him, not content in slowly letting Swansea bleed out in the same way he'd been willing to let Daisuke.

She listens to Swansea's final speech, and the gunshot that ends it all. Her body is picked up and she shudders as the lot of them are moved to the table. Jimmy places Curly on it, removing part of his leg and forcing it down his throat, and she wants to be sick.

And then the entire ship seems to lurch, and she gasps for air as the lights flicker on and off around her.

When she sits up, she's in the medical room. Curly shakes her shoulder, and she blinks up at him, mouth dropping open as she fights to process how he's standing in front of her again, clean and handsome and not at all bloodied, with a polite look of concern on his face.

"You fell asleep at the desk, Anya? How hard are you studying?" he asks with a polite chuckle, voice low and quiet. It must be late.

Her brain and emotions fight a war she isn't ready for, and Anya feels herself tear up. She goes to wipe it away, and it feels like her entire body shudders and jolts two paces to the left as the tiredness and aches settle back in.

Her stomach feels weird.

She remembers this day. It was soon after Jimmy...

Anya bites her tongue.

She'd told Curly, then. It was the first time she'd admitted it, half asleep, exhausted, and scared out of her mind. He'd come into the medical room after she'd worked herself into a panic and fallen asleep sometime after, body too worn to keep going.

Now, she looks at him, and he looks as kind and welcoming as ever. And she wonders how much of that is real and how much of it he's crafted.

Curly was a good man, but he wasn't a great one. He had his own fears to contend with, and they got in the way of things, she'd realised somewhere along the line. She remembers going to get the gun, then. Taking matters into her own hands.

There's nothing to stop her doing that now.

"Curly... You know the medical cabinet by the bay windows? I need to check what supplies we have in there for one of these..." and she holds up a form about something or other, tucking it away before he can actually read it. "Can I borrow the code scanner and go check? I'll bring it straight back."

"Shouldn't you go sleep?" Curly asks, sitting on the corner of the desk. He looks like he's going to reach out to her, but when Anya flinches he stops and seems to truly look at her for a moment before his gaze passes over her and away to the wall.

He was good at pretending not to notice the obvious.

"I promise I will after I get this done. I just... Want to make sure we really have everything, just in case."

Curly nods to himself, not one to take much convincing. He considers it for a few moments and then passes the scanner to her, holding the index finger of his other hand to his mouth.

"Don't tell anyone," he mutters, tone lightheartedly secretive. "Especially Jimmy. I just know he'd kick up a fuss if he found out I let someone else borrow this when he hasn't gotten to yet."

Anya smiles and wraps her fingers securely around the scanner.

"I won't. Promise."

And she stands, eyes the lock on the medical room, and leaves. She's almost glad she hadn't locked the door that night.

It takes a few days to build the nerve for it all, but she watches Jimmy's decline, and this time she actually sees it. She tells Swansea, too, one day in the cockpit.

He's quiet, almost contemplative as he listens to her, and she watches him ball his hands into fists before he tucks them away out of her sight.

When she reaches the conclusion she's come to, the new ending she's going to build, trying not to wince at him when her eyes trace over the spaces she expects to find bullet holes, Swansea just nods.

"It's your choice," is what he settles on ultimately. "Ain't ever had much liking for the two of them. Just don't do it in front of the kid."

Anya nods, and all in a rush, she steps forward and throws her arms around his neck. Swansea gives little more protest than a small groan before he pats her twice on the back, keeping his hands high and his touch gentle.

"I'm on your side girl. If anything comes of this, I'll be with you," he mumbles, frowning through his words as though he himself isn't quite sure of it, although Anya knows the look in his eyes.

He's set his mind on something. Nothing can deter Swansea now.

It's the next day, and she wonders about trying to tell Curly again, but she sits on the sofa and stares up at that one dead pixel and puts her hand in her pocket.

This is it.

She sees Jimmy go into the cockpit, and she follows behind him a little after. He turns when she enters, frowning as if he's reminding her he doesn't think she belongs here.

Anya smiles.

She thinks maybe she hasn't in a while. Not properly, and god, never really at this monster of a man in front of her.

His worst moments made him.

She takes the gun and levels it at his forehead, and hears Curly call from down the corridor. There's a scuffle, and she knows Swansea is trying to keep him away.

Anya locks the door.

She doesn't really have any final words for Jimmy, watching his confidence rot away under the threat she points at him so resolutely. There's no changing the outcome. Only one of them will be leaving this room alive.

She aims close to his temple, where his own shot had landed last time.

Anya doesn't try to reason with Curly, but she does explain. Her voice is level as she talks through the door, and he tries once to explain it all away as being a nightmare she shouldn't have acted on, he would've taken responsibility, he would've dealt with it.

She scoffs, and she hears Curly go still on the other side of the door.

"But you never have," she says. And then, "I told you."

And so she tells him.

[lala-blahblah]

I will never make this because it would be for an audience of one (me) but ever since reading "If we Were Villains" (story about serious drama kids in college who perform shakespeare and deal with a murder) I have been entertaining the thought of a crack fic crossover with High School Musical The Musical The Series where the staff decides they will no longer put on shakespeare after the tragic accident that happened at Thanksgiving, because Shakespeare plays would only increase the tension and drama. So they hire Ms. Jen who decides their spring play will actually be High School Musical (which exists in the 90s in this universe) and it ruins the vibe so much that everyone gives up on being dark and mysterious because they're universally pissed at Ms Jen for making them learn choreoraphed basketball dancing.

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature

Sorry I'm late getting to this. I've had a busy past few days 😩.

Lucy, you're killing me with these comparisons you keep making between yourself and Lizzie. It's so hard to read when she slips into this mindset, because I think as the reader, you see all the qualities about her Tommy loves. As much as Tommy loves a beautiful woman like we have seen in canon (Lucy is gorgeous too!), i feel like he's really attracted to the things that make someone them. That and wit and intelligence. No offence to Lizzie, but even in the series, their conversations don't go very far. He needs somebody to match him on that level, and thats Lucy ❤️.

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air. I love this scene! Not only does Lucy like to put on a dramatic show, but so does Tommy 🤭.

“You deserved every second of it.” ooh that evil witch 😬. I'd like to think those exact words played out in her head in the final scene to this chapter 😌.

With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. God, will we ever get a break from Lizzie barging through Tommy's office 🙄. She's starting to get on my last nerve with her continued entitlement. I feel so sorry for Lucy everytime she turns up. She just puts a huge damper on every single scene, and it doesn't surprise me how Lucy continues to feel worthless when she's around. Lizzie constantly demands all the rooms attention every time she shows up. It's so bratty and immature. I say all this but, the small interaction between them at the end was a welcome relief. But I just know she'll F it all up again in later scene *slams head repeatedly against table 🤦🏼‍♀️😩.

“Which is why we can go together" yes to this! If they're gonna do this, they need to do it together. Every single interaction. Because if they don't, Lucy will start to doubt Tommy's love for her, something I feel he's caught on to now and hence, why he suggested this ❤️.

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?” *pushes Arthur out the way so I can shoot him myself 😡. Urghh, he made my skin crawl during this scene. His remarks, his snake like mannerisms 😬. But what make me smile was this line, because I knew exactly what it meant 🤭...What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other.

only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.-"Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Couldn't not mention this line before moving on to the next scene 😂. I love Lucy, she really is like an over eager kitten trying to get involved!

Ahhh yes ☺️. The sigh of relief I sighed when Audrey finally met her end. Once again you set the scene perfectly with her mulling about in her kitchen as Lucy waited in the dark 😈. It gave me shivers how Lucy toyed with her until the very end.

“Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. Luca got the Lucy special 👌🏼. How creepy is it that he's seen the heads of his men one by one thrown at his feet. Did he never stop to think that his head would be served up like all the men before him?? This man has zero hindsight 🤦🏼‍♀️.

Not an inch of iron to be seen. 😳, seems Audrey got the same as Luca! This line was short but so gory, I loved it!

Incredible chapter once again Lily! I can't believe how close we are the end of this Act 😭. So excited for the next installment to this amazing series ❤️.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: An incident at Bonnie's boxing match provides the family with an opportunity to end the war.

Word Count: 6,837

Notes: Warnings for depictions of insecurity, violence, blood, and references to past sexual assault and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 27: Endless Shadows

“You look dead,” Alfie said to her in greeting as he entered the locker room, moving to sit on the bench across from them. 

“Oh good,” Lucy didn’t open her eyes from where she was still leaning with her head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. “Then I look how I feel.”

Tommy’s thumb rubbed up and down her shoulder soothingly.  

She cracked her eyes open a sliver while Alfie and Tommy talked, watching Alfie curiously. There was something odd in his eyes, and his words were almost…melancholic.

“Glad you’re back, kiddo,” he gave her a small pat on the upper arm as he stood and said his farewells. But that look did not cease, creasing at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips. 

“Thanks, Alfie,” she said, brow furrowing at the near apologetic way in which he said it. 

They watched him walk away, heads cocked and frowning. 

“Convenient of him to be moving to Margate now, of all times,” Tommy remarked once Alfie was gone. Lucy nodded. 

“You think that Luca scared him?”

Tommy’s lips pursed. “Alfie doesn’t strike me as the type to get scared off that easily.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she frowned, still eyeing the archway through which Alfie had disappeared. A roar of cheers emitted from the ring. “We better get going. Fight’s about to start.”

He put out his cigarette, standing and helping her to her feet. Linking her arms back through his, Lucy gave him a soft squeeze. 

“Alright?”

She nodded. “Just don’t let me get jostled around too much.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, kissed her forehead, and led the way back towards the ring. 

It already smelled strongly of sweat, booze, and smoke, the men hollering and jeering, lurching and moving like a great wave of bodies as they watched Bonnie and Goliath circle each other. Tommy led the way to their seats next to Arthur, keeping a protective arm around her to shield her from the bulk of the crowd. After they took their seats, Arthur soon started fretting to Tommy about the men that had come with Goliath. Lucy followed his gaze to where they stood in their corner across the ring. The men didn’t look all that engaged with Goliath, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Goliath preferred for his men to be more hands off. 

But Arthur continued to insist that something was wrong, despite Tommy’s attempts to soothe him. 

Her eyes darted to where Polly, Linda, and Lizzie all were seated across the ring from them, giggling and shouting encouragement to Bonnie while passing around a bottle of Tommy’s gin. As expected they were all dressed up lavishly for the occasion, in glittering, form fitting dresses, furs draped over their shoulders, and jewels dangling from their ears and throats. 

Lucy felt a sharp wave of self consciousness wash over her, quickly wrapping her arms around her middle, shoulders drawing in as if that would somehow achieve her new goal of becoming invisible. 

She watched Lizzie, so tall and elegant and beautiful as she laughed and chatted with Polly, and wished that the ground would swallow her whole. They could not have looked more different if they’d tried. Where Lizzie was tall and slender, Lucy was short and curvy. Lizzie could wear just about any of the dresses currently in fashion and look marvelous, but if Lucy tried to wear anything without some sort of defined waist, she’d wind up looking as though she was dressed in a potato sack. Some days she could hardly get her curls to cooperate, but Lizzie’s hair was almost always beautifully styled and tamed. Her eyes were actually in proportion with the rest of her face, rather than oversized almost to the point of absurdity like Lucy’s were. Where Lucy’s face was covered in freckles, Lizzie’s porcelain white skin was clear of any marks or blemishes, nor was her body marked with any cuts that would soon heal over into truly hideous scars that would never really fade away. 

God, Lucy couldn’t help but think, she had to look absolutely horrid compared to her. 

She glanced at Tommy out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. She was not even close to pretty enough to be with him. Lizzie would have looked right at his side. A perfect match–at least outwardly. Lucy could not help but assume that she and Tommy must look terribly mismatched together. 

He really probably ought to have his head examined. Even on her best days, no one in their right mind would choose her over Lizzie. 

Clearing her throat, she wiped at her face with her sleeve, hoping that anyone who noticed would assume that she was dabbing away sweat and not the tears building up against her lashes. 

Movement to her left snatched away her attention. Arthur had stood, disappearing into the crowd and ignoring Tommy’s shouts for him to come back. Instead he continued towards the hallway leading to the back, following right on the heels of one of Goliath’s men who had wandered off from the rest of the pack still gathered by the ring. 

“Fuck’s sake.” Tommy grumbled as he watched Arthur go. Lucy settled a hand on his shoulder. Around them, the crowd’s shouts rose to a fever pitch as the fight intensified. 

Minutes ticked by, and Arthur did not come back. 

Stretching up in her seat, Lucy craned her head around, trying to see if he was in the crowd somewhere and they’d just missed him. 

“Tommy,” she grabbed at his bicep in warning as another one of Goliath’s minders left his post, heading in the same direction that Arthur had gone. Seizing her hand, Tommy shot out of his seat, pulling her along with him to follow. His jaw was straining, eyes wide, and she wondered if he was thinking about how she’d stepped out just to run a few errands, and was almost snatched away from him forever. How the same exact thing might be happening with Arthur. 

They had just rounded a corner in the maze of backrooms when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot going off echoed somewhere within the halls and rooms up ahead. Tommy skidded to a stop, hand flying into his coat for his gun. Lucy mimicked his movements, flinching at the way that reaching into her coat pulled on her shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Tommy ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, then promptly closed it. It would be laughable to try to argue that she could actually be of much use right now in anything but a distanced firefight. And he didn’t have time to waste worrying about her getting hurt again. Following him closely at a rather painful jog, they rushed down a hallway bathed in baby blue light, turning into another room in which one of Goliath’s minders was standing over a crumpled Arthur, gun aimed at his head. 

Tommy’s shot struck him directly in the chest, and he went slouching to the floor.   

Tommy went racing to his brother, shouting his name and pulling him up into his arms. Lucy double checked to ensure that the man he’d shot was actually dead, then checked the corners of the room for any other enemies that may have been skulking about. There was no one. 

Rounding back to Tommy, she went to kneel at Arthur’s side. For a second, she thought that he was dead, his eyes were staring at nothing and there was blood on his hands and throat. Tommy curled over him, a hand cupping the side of his older brother’s face, thin rivers of his blood lacing across his hand. 

There was roaring from the crowd still gathered around the ring in the distance, the sound reaching such a volume that Lucy thought they very well might bring the roof down. The fight must be over. 

Arthur twitched and gasped in Tommy’s arms. Tommy let out a relieved wheeze, hugging him tightly, and Lucy breathed out gratefully, resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s head while his face tucked into Tommy’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Tommy drew back, grabbing him by either side of the face. Arthur nodded, still breathing harshly.

“Just nicked.”

Tommy nodded, and while she drew out a handkerchief for Arthur to dab at his neck, Lucy spotted something shift in Tommy’s eyes, immediately recognizing the telltale expression of an idea taking form as the circuits in his head began to whirl at warp speed. 

“Tommy?”

His eyes snapped to her. “I’ve got it figured out.”

“What?”

He grabbed at both of them. “I’ve got it figured out,” he repeated.

“Got what figured out, Tommy?”

His eyes glittered. “How to win.”

∗ ∗ ∗

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air, creating plenty of noise and commotion, drawing all eyes to him so that Arthur could easily sneak away whilst Tommy announced the news of his ‘death’ to the world. 

It had been chaos after that; hours spent as their men searched and questioned everyone in attendance before allowing them to leave. And the family had swarmed Tommy with questions and reactions of shock and horror. The only other ones outside of Lucy and Tommy that knew that Arthur was still alive were Polly and Linda. It was the only way to be sure that everyone reacted believably during what was coming next. 

The boxing ring was empty and quiet, now. Everyone had finally been dismissed. The family had all gone back home to steep in their shock and grief and prepare for the funeral.

“I’m sorry.” Lucy said, playing with her fingers, keeping her voice quiet.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, fishing a cigarette from his case and swiping it across his lips. “Why?”

“I feel like I’m really fucking useless right now.”

His features creased, moving to stand directly in front of her. “Hey, no; none of that now. You’re hurt. It’s not your fault. Besides, you’ve already taken out plenty of Luca’s men throughout this vendetta.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’ve more than done your part.”

She sighed, leaning her forehead into his chest. The day had been long, and she was exhausted. Her injuries, particularly her back and shoulders, were starting to hurt badly. 

“Let’s go home.” Tommy suggested, reaching for her hand. Lucy took it eagerly, letting him lead her from the building and out onto the streets. Tomorrow would be busy. They needed to get back to the house to start preparing for it.

“It was some of Alfie’s boys that attacked us,” Tommy mumbled, head bowed, the hand that wasn’t holding hers slipping into his pocket.

“I can’t believe that he betrayed us for Luca of all people.”

Tommy shrugged. “It’s what Alfie does.” But the hurt in his voice was obvious. “Maybe Luca threatened him.”

“When has Alfie ever backed down because of threats?”

A sigh of agreement left his lips. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, her own hurt at Alfie’s actions squeezing within her throat. 

“Do you think he knew that they took me?” Her voice was quiet, not bothering to try to hide the pain that the thought brought her. She’d known Alfie since they were teenagers. He’d gotten her medical attention that she likely would have died without it after Matthew and his friends assaulted her. And despite her working for and being wholly loyal to Tommy, they’d always maintained a friendly, warm relationship. That he would allow for her to be tortured…

She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. Tommy squeezed her hand. 

“I don’t know, love. When I called him while you were missing to ask him to have some of his men search for you in London, he seemed genuinely worried. I don’t think…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I don’t think that he knew. But it’s hard to say for sure.”

“Yeah,” she offered him a wobbly half smile. “I’m assuming we’re gonna have to pay him a visit to Margate after things are cleaned up here.”

Tommy’s jaw twitched, eyes growing even more sorrowful than they’d been a moment ago. They both knew how any visit to Alfie was now likely to end. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“I guess we can ask him then.”

They continued to walk together in silence. There was something else that she wanted to discuss with him, but she was unsure how he would take it. She’d never made a suggestion quite like the one she was about to make. Mounting her courage, she forced her lips to part and her tongue to move.

“I think that you should send Michael away.”

Tommy did not react, head still dipped, staring at his shoes and the cobblestones while they walked. She’d just opened her mouth to say more when he finally spoke. 

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

“I don’t trust him anymore.”  

“Me neither.”

She sighed, both in relief at Tommy’s agreement to her suggestion and with disappointment towards the boy that had once shown so much promise. “Well…fuck.”

He hummed in agreement. “Not our best year.”

“No. No, it really hasn’t been.”

His fingers flexed against hers in a tender squeeze, head turning to kiss her forehead. She could see the house on the end of the block, her tired bones giving a quiet cry of relief at the thought of soon being able to rest. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The next few days were spent laying meticulous plans and taking careful actions. Michael was sent away to New York, and Lucy and Tommy spent a significant amount of time on the phone, locked in calculated negotiations. Arthur’s funeral was a quiet affair, a good amount of tears shed and sorrow exchanged between the family as the wagon went up in flames. 

The meeting that took place after with Audrey Changretta saw Lucy leaning against a wall. Luca had taken her rings, so her hands had begun to instead unconsciously pick at the skin of her fingers whenever she was nervous, leaving bloody scabs to add to her ever growing collection. She did not say a word during the whole exchange, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, not even looking at Audrey for fear that if she did, she’d kill her. 

This woman. This cunt who John had spared. And how did she repay them? By setting her sadistic fucking son on all of them. Her husband had Tommy’s wife killed, and yet she dared to speak as if his death by their hands was unjustified. 

When the meeting was over, Audrey gathered up her things, and went to the door. Upon passing Lucy, she stopped, looking over her bruised face and the bandages peeking out from under her clothes. Lucy forced herself to meet the woman’s cold eyes, keeping all feeling off her face. Audrey leaned forward, so that Lucy could smell the sickly sweet scent of her perfume.

“You deserved every second of it.”

“That’s enough; get out,” Polly commanded, taking a step forward, probably at least in part so that she was placed between Audrey and Tommy. A dark storm cloud of rage had passed across his eyes at Audrey’s words, his icy gaze remaining locked on the back of her head as Polly ushered her out the door. He looked to be seconds away from throwing the whole carefully laid plan to the wayside and killing her then and there. 

Heaving herself away from the wall, Lucy went to him, resting both hands on his upper arms to get his attention and draw him away from his murderous thoughts. She rubbed her palms back and forth, feeling the heat and strength of his arms through the layers of his clothes. 

“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” she reminded him. No need to rush things. Besides, what they had planned for Audrey would be far more satisfying than a quick bullet to the back of the head. 

Tommy nodded, head angling down and wetting his lips. Lucy leaned closer to him.

“Almost done,” she whispered in quiet encouragement.

“Yes,” Tommy murmured, with the tone of someone who knew that the tribulations of life would never fully be finished with them. “Almost.” 

∗ ∗ ∗

She passed form after form to Polly and Tommy, helping to keep track of which ones still needed to be signed and by who. The scratch of pens against paper and the rustling of pages was the primary sound in the office, save for the occasional clearing of Tommy’s throat, or quiet mumbles from any of the three of them. 

When they were finally done, Tommy gathered all files into a folder, sighing and planting both hands on his desk while Polly leaned back in her chair, flexing the fingers of her writing hand. 

“Right, so now–” Lucy began, but was cut off by the door flying open. With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. Lucy shrank away, quickly getting up from her chair so that she could retreat into the corner while Lizzie snarled questions as to why Tommy hadn’t been by her house yet to visit her. Tommy sighed, slumping back into his chair with a cigarette. Polly’s eyes darted shrewdly between the three of them. Lizzie dropped into the seat Lucy had been occupying, an expectant look on her face. 

Lucy frowned at the entitlement. Had she forgotten that they were still in the middle of a fucking war? That, as far as she knew, Tommy’s brother had just died? Did she really think now was a good time to start making demands of his time and energy?

She flinched at her bitter thoughts, looking shamefully down at her hands, aware that she probably wasn’t being fair.

Despite their talk before the kidnapping, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzie and the baby inside of her were hanging over her relationship with Tommy like the blade of a guillotine, poised and ready to drop at any moment to sever them from each other.

She glanced out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. As Tommy and Polly explained to Lizzie that Luca was coming for them all tomorrow, Lizzie’s face paled. She stared at Tommy, completely aghast at his apparent surrender. 

“You can’t just…you can’t just let him take everything…” she began to stammer.

“You want to live?” Tommy asked. Lizzie pressed her lips together, eyes wide. “This makes that possible.”

Lizzie looked around at all of them with her lips parted. “Wha–you all are alright with just giving up?”

“I thought that you wanted him to stop all of this sort of work anyway, Lizzie,” Lucy mumbled. Petty? Maybe. But her shoulders were starting to hurt again and she really was regretting letting Lizzie take her seat. Lizzie’s eyes widened, darting between Tommy and Lucy at the subtle revelation that he’d told her everything she’d said to him during their conversation when Lucy was taken. “And I don’t know about the rest of you,” she shifted uncomfortably, “but I’ve had enough of this war.”

Lizzie’s gaze dropped down to her lap. 

“We need to get going. There’s still things we need to do,” Tommy stood and grabbed his coat. “We’ll talk once this is all over, all right?” he told Lizzie in an attempt to placate her. She nodded, actually looking agreeable to the suggestion. Lucy picked up the folder of papers, moving to follow Tommy and Polly out, when Lizzie delicately touched her arm, triggering her to pause. 

“Lucy, I’m…” she worried at her bottom lip, then sighed. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Lucy blinked. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not. I know we’ve…I’ve had my problems with you, but I would never have wished what happened onto you.”

Lucy stared at her, wetting her lips, surprised at the genuinely in Lizzie’s voice. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Jerking her head towards the door, she beckoned her to follow them out. “Come on.”

Lizzie gathered up her coat and trailed her to the door. “I didn’t mean to make such a fuss–”

“It’s fine,” Lucy lit a cigarette, pushing the door open to step out onto the street, moving to stand at Tommy’s side. Lizzie looked at them nervously, it not lost on Lucy how her eyes lingered on Tommy’s hand when it rested lightly on her shoulder. There seemed to be a battle going on inside her, the desire to lash out and rage at them for the gesture of affection, versus the need to keep the peace.

Lucy had to wonder if her current injuries had been what had earned her at least somewhat of a reprieve from both Polly and Lizzie’s hatred. That, and Tommy’s increased protectiveness. If either of them tried anything with him present right now, there was a strong possibility that he would rip their heads off. 

“You want a ride?” Polly offered to Lizzie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly, giving one last indication of goodbye to Lucy and Tommy before following Polly to her car. 

“Sorry about that,” Tommy huffed. Lucy shook her head. 

“It’s fine. You really should go visit her…”

A quiet groan left his lips, thumb rubbing at his eyes while his features scrunched as if in pain. “I know.” It sounded like it was the last thing on earth he’d like to do. Lucy squeezed his arm. 

“It actually is a nice house.”

“Fucking grand.”

“Tommy.”

Another groan. “We can go over there together sometime after this is done.”

“Maybe it would be better if you went on your own…”

He shot her a sharp look, behind which she swore she saw a stab of panic. “Absolutely not.”

“Tommy…I know you’re gonna have to spend time with her. It’s fine. I can be an adult about it.”

“Your behavior isn’t what I’m worried about. Besides,” he watched Polly and Lizzie’s car pull away from the curb and drove away with a little honk of the horn in farewell to them, “she’s already delusional enough about what may or may not happen between me and her. You really think me spending time alone with her is gonna help that?”

Lucy looked down at her shoes. “I just feel bad…”

“Which is why we can go together. Hey,” he took her by both shoulders, waiting until she was looking up into his eyes before speaking again. “Her feelings aren’t your responsibility.” 

“Feels like they are when I’m the cause of her misery.”

“You are no such thing. If anyone is, it’s me, not you.” He brushed his knuckles against her chin. “Even if you weren’t here, it would not change things between me and Lizzie. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. You’re not keeping me from her. I promise.” His forehead bumped into hers. “I don’t love her. I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you. Ey?”

A lump formed in her throat, nodding. His words helped, but only a little. It would only take a few days or so, and her insecurities would return as they always did. There was no escaping them. 

“Come on,” he kissed her, and took hold of her hand. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than Lizzie right now.”  

She let him guide her down the sidewalk, still holding onto him, despite the whispers of the guilt and self doubt that Lizzie’s pregnancy had awakened. Murmurs that told her over and over to let go and walk away.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Quick or slow?”

She stared over at the huge barrels that lined the wall of Tommy’s gin distillery, turning the question over in her mind, feeling Tommy’s eyes on her as he waited patiently for her response. 

“I don’t suppose I could ask for a bit of both.”

His head tilted curiously. “How do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to him being roughened up a bit before we put a bullet in his face. But…” she sighed, head tilting up towards the rafters. She could no longer hear the flutter of starlings’ wings. “I just want him gone.” Maybe then, I’ll finally be able to sleep at night. It had worked, if only partially, with Matthew. No, it had not been enough to stop the nightmares, or the aching from her scars. But the peace of mind that it had brought her, knowing that he could no longer return to hurt her or anyone else ever again, could not be understated. “Quick,” she decided. “I want it to be quick.” It had been enough for her when they killed Vincente Changretta with a single speedy bullet to the head. It would be enough for her now with his son. 

“Okay.” 

She leaned into him, head nestling under his collarbone. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

He stroked her back tenderly, kissing the crown of her head. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t have to see him again.”

“I want to be there,” she argued back. “Please, Tommy. I promise I’m not going to kill him prematurely, or anything like that. I just…” want him to know that he didn’t break me completely, she finished silently, looking down, lip caught between her teeth. When she raised her face back to Tommy, her gaze was pleading. “I have to see this.”

He searched her eyes for a very long moment. “I won’t let him touch you,” he promised, finally. “And if things get ugly, if there’s any sort of struggle or anything like that, I need you to swear you will stay out of it. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

She knew her agreement to that condition was the only way he’d allow her to be in the same room with Luca, so she conceded. Though not without a small grumble. 

And so she stood there, with Tommy, Polly, and Finn, as Luca’s men filed into the room.  

Her hands squeezed tightly around each other at the sight of Luca’s tall, imposing figure stepping forward. He grinned, that same damned smile he’d flashed her way dozens of times while carving into her flesh. It took all her willpower not to shrink down behind Tommy, her heart suddenly thundering in her ears, all instincts screaming at her to get as far away as possible from the man in front of them. 

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?”

The deep, barely healed lashes he’d created in the skin of her back ached with memory. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Tommy said through gritted teeth, drawing Luca’s attention back to him. Luca strode forward, until he was close enough for Lucy to gag on the familiar scent of his cologne. He and Tommy stared each other down, and then Luca snapped his fingers, one of his men coming forward with a briefcase. 

What happened next was as expected: Luca monologued for a little while. At his order that they all be searched, slight panic washed over Lucy that he would try to touch her. But when he made a move towards her, Tommy shifted himself in between them with a growl. Luca’s eyes danced with mirth at the reaction, but he seemed to know not to push it, gesturing with a gloved hand for one of his men to come over and pat her down instead. 

“Careful of her bandages,” he said, a leering smile still aimed at her. “Wouldn’t want to rip open any stitches.”

Lucy glowered at him, hate shooting white-hot through her veins. That just seemed to amuse him more, before he turned his attention to Polly.

The Italian man peeked into her coat and patted at her pockets. She flinched at his hands pressing into her bruised ribs, but he followed his orders, being careful not to jostle her too much. He pulled from her boot her hunting knife, her gun from its holster in her jacket, and an empty burlap sack from her coat pocket. Luca chuckled, taking the items, examining them and then setting them on the table. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” He said to her, his tone carrying underneath its faux fondness an edge of something far darker. “What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other. Her lack of answer only seemed to delight him more. “What say you that later we…” his eyes swept up and down her body leeringly, “pick back up where we left earlier, hm? Lucy?”

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, nails digging into her skin where her hands were still clasped together, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

“Luca,” Tommy’s voice rasped, tone dangerously low. “You’re here to deal with me. Not her.”

Luca’s gaze lingered on her for a moment more, then shifted back to Tommy. “Yes…” he murmured, a soft hiss drawing out the last letter. Those snake-like orbs gleamed as Tommy shifted a little closer to her, placing himself half between them. Luca raised a pen to Tommy, indicating the papers he’d scattered across the table. “So…sign.”

When Tommy didn’t immediately start signing the papers laid out before him, Luca had a little hissy fit, the display of which managed to cause Lucy a brief spark of amusement. This was all theater, after all. And Luca was about to be in for a very nasty surprise. The calmness in Tommy’s voice as he spoke helped too, reminding her that they were the ones in control of the situation–and all the men in the room. 

Seeing the glee slowly drain from Luca’s eyes while Tommy and Polly revealed to him what exactly they’d been busy doing since the events of the boxing match, was perhaps one of the most satisfying things Lucy had ever experienced. She could feel the beginnings of a smile twitching at her lips, and was aware that there was a sadistic sort of light beginning to dance in her eyes. 

It was not nearly enough for what he’d done to her, but it was still satisfying as all hell to observe. 

Luca made a move to grab his gun from his coat, and Tommy lashed out at him with a metal pipe on the floor, striking it out of his hand. Lucy’s muscles tensed–an action that really fucking hurt–with the reflex to jump in and help him as the pair began to struggle. She took half a step forward, only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.

“Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Tommy sent Luca crashing into a dozen or so gin bottles lined up on a table. “He’s fine.”

A tiny, distressed noise left Lucy’s throat, but she did as she was told. She’d promised, after all.

Tommy didn’t need her help, anyway. He was bringing Luca’s head down over and over again savagely against the table, steadily transforming his features into a bloody pulp. As he continued to beat Luca within an inch of his life, the side door opened, and Arthur stepped in with his gun already at the ready. 

At the sound of his footsteps, Tommy’s head turned in his brother’s direction, raising Luca up, he presented him to his older brother, and the bullet fired from Arthur’s gun made a quick home in Luca Changretta’s bloodied face. 

It blew straight through his head, out the back of his skull and ripping a hole into one of the gin barrels behind him, a steady stream of clear alcohol starting to rain down onto the floor, permeating the room with the scent of booze and juniper.  

Lucy did not hear any of the orders Tommy rattled off to the remainder of Luca’s men, nor the warning Arthur left them with. Her eyes remained fixed solely on Luca’s dead body. There was a rush of both cold and warmth going through her. Relief, that he was dead. Regret, because she did not get to be the one that made him that way.

He may be dead, but he would be with her forever. Always in her head, laughing as he whipped her and ripped at her flesh. The thought chilled her to her core, her breaths turning shaky. 

“Luce–” Tommy tried to reach out for her, but she shook his touch away, staggering forward and grabbing her sack and hunting knife that Luca had set on one of the tables. Pushing past him, she kneeled by Luca’s corpse. The hunting knife twirled once in her hands, and then she set to work with it. Behind her, she heard Polly let out a soft gasp, turning away as Lucy started to prepare the very final phase of their plan to end the vendetta once and for all. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Audrey Changretta held an expression of iron across her face. 

Even wandering through her own home, alone, putting the kettle on and bustling about to make herself a cup of tea, the look remained, held firmly by the muscles of her cheeks and jaw. 

It was the look that had emblazoned itself upon her face as she lay there on the ground, after Arthur and John took her Vincenzo away and left her laying there sobbing. Slowly, the tears had turned to quiet sniffles. Then, to silence. And her look of grief and sorrow had transformed, until nothing but unyielding steel remained in its wake. 

The fools should have killed her when they had the chance. 

She had grabbed onto the hate that had burned within her with both hands, not caring when it scorched her skin or withered away the gentle heart she’d once had. Even towards the troublesome little boys who had sat in her class. 

But they were no more those innocent, sweet little children than she was the kindhearted teacher she had once been. Her heart had died with Vincenzo. And much as Luca or his men may have liked to think otherwise, she was the real head of the family in his absence. And to be that, she had to be steel. There was no room for gentleness or compassion. She would stamp out each and every one of them. Not just the ones who carried the name Shelby. But any close to them. The old man who owned the scrapyard they so often liked to gather at. The gypsies who’d dared to join up with them. The whore who’d gotten herself knocked up with Thomas Shelby’s bastard. Not even John’s widow would be spared. It would take time to find her, of that Audrey had no doubt. But they would.

Then there was the matter of the little Red Demon, of course. She would be back in Luca’s grasp before too long, if she was not already. Then they could finish what they’d started with her. 

So foolish that he’d let her escape at all. But she supposed that it didn’t matter now. They had her, same as the rest of them. And by the time the sun rose, they’d all be dead.

Finishing preparing her tea, she cradled the delicate China teacup in her hands, and turned to go sit in the chair at her kitchen table next to the window. 

The seat was already taken. 

A harsh intake of breath rushed painfully into her lungs, hands tightening around the teacup in surprise. But despite being caught off guard, the look of iron across her face never waved, not even for a second. 

Her and the figure folded lazily into the chair just looked at each other for a long moment. Audrey’s eyes darted to the exit, considering if it would do better to try to make a run for it or to shout for the guards that Luca had posted outside.  

“Don’t bother,” Lucy Winters said. Even with the lights off and nothing but the silvery light of the moon peeking in through the window to illuminate her, Audrey could make out her distinctive, foxy features. The deep red hair, the shimmering green eyes, the freckles and slanting cheekbones. Despite half her face still a faded purple from the bruises Luca had gifted her, she managed to embody an untouchable, subtly unnerving beauty. Like a poisonous plant or a feral fox. Lovely to look at, but lethal. 

“How did you get in?” Audrey demanded.

“I’m a very talented person. Please, sit.”

Audrey eyed the seat that Winters kicked out for her warily, not moving. “The terms for peace have already been set. The meeting with Luca and Thomas has already taken place,” her eyes narrowed to slits as she leaned forward slightly. “So just what do you think you are doing here, girl?”

“Mr. Shelby had something that he wanted me to deliver to you in person,” she gestured to a bag on the table. Audrey huffed out a rather over exaggerated sigh.

“I have no interest in gifts.”

Winters smiled, and it was a truly terrible thing to behold. Her green eyes glittered madly, red hair framing her face like a fiery halo. 

Horns would be more fitting, Audrey thought bitterly to herself.

“I think you will with this one,” she shifted in her seat, and Audrey noticed the gingerness in her movements. The girl was still badly hurt. A flutter of pride flapped in her chest towards her son. Even if he was an idiot for not outright killing her when he had the chance. “I wanted to be the one to come see you,” Winters said, stretching out, sprawling in her chair. “You see, you and I should have met a long time ago. If only Tommy had sent me to take care of you and your husband instead of his idiot brothers, you’d have never made it out of Liverpool. We could have avoided this whole mess.”

“Luca still would have come after you to avenge us.”

“Maybe,” Winters agreed. “But he wouldn’t have had such deep insights into our organization, now would he? That was all from you.” A sneer curled her features. “Ungrateful cunt. John let you live, and you repaid him with a rain of bullets on his own fucking doorstep.”

“You dare talk to me like that? You’re an adulteress slut who’s only gotten as far as you have because Tommy Shelby likes to stuff his cock in you. You have no room to pass judgment on anyone after the things you’ve done. I ought to order the torture Luca had planned for you finished. It would be justice for all the pain you’ve caused.”

The Red Demon smiled, slow and easy, not at all perturbed by Audrey’s words. “Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. 

Luca’s head, bloodied and beaten, hit the wood with a dull, wet thud. His green eyes were open, wide and staring lifelessly at her. The stump where his head had been severed from his neck oozed. 

Audrey’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The teacup tumbled from her hands to shatter on the floor. The room swayed, her hands flying out to try to brace herself on the counter. Her boy. Her sweet boy. He’d just been with her that morning, grinning and overjoyed as they celebrated their victory against the infernal Peaky Blinders. They had biscuits and drank tea. Any moment from now he was supposed to walk through her front door, and tell her how his final meeting with Thomas Shelby had gone.

They’d won. They’d fucking won. The vendetta was over. How…?

A low, wailing moan started to emit from her throat, collapsing to her knees, eyes unable to pull away from Luca’s lifeless face. 

No, no, my boys, they’re all gone. They’re all dead, my whole family…

She was not at all aware of Winters striding around her, nor of the cold press of a blade against her throat. Not until it sliced across her skin, and her blood flowed out of her to splatter across the kitchen tiles. When she fell lifeless to the floor, her expression was twisted into one of despair and grief, chillingly similar to the same one that had crossed her features as they ripped Vincenzo away from her, and she sobbed alone into the dirt. 

Not an inch of iron to be seen.

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[biblicalhorror]

You ever had a friendship where like you kind of faded out of each other's lives for a period of time and then re-bonded without ever really addressing the distance so now every time one of you mentions something you never told the other one during The Dark Time you both just have to be like "yeah, this massive thing that happened to me that we didn't talk about at the time but I totally wanted to tell you about but it felt like I couldn't talk to you but I'm also not gonna say it was your fault because I don't want to drive you away again but I know and you know exactly what it is we're not talking about"

[kavehater]

Lord give me energy today eueueue

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[hanna-water]

my comfort content used to be old O-fag episodes, a compilation of all the early IKMY intro dances, the commentary tracks of Ylvis III + Norges Herligste and almost all podcasts with them. The gene test was also a favorite and the Tid for hobby stuff is perfect to calm anxiety. Gotta add Hendene i isvann to the list now. 🧡

out of absolutely nowhere i started having a Bad Mental Health Night for the first time in a good while. i guess the fact that it's been a good while is a good thing, but this sucks.

time to watch hendene i isvann again.

update: it significantly improved my mood. as expected. booyah.

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fairy-angel222]

𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—your boyfriend does not appreciate you, but his uncle toji does.

pairing: toji x fem! reader

content: smut, cheating, unprotected sex, choking, petnames, praise, a little degradation, toji’s hot ass has tattoos, belly bulge, cumming inside you

You couldn’t really pinpoint when things went wrong. When your boyfriend just lost interest in you. You couldn’t even date back the last time you had been fucked. Simply turning his body when you tried to start something, or using the excuse that he wasn’t in his mood and that you needed to stop being so needy.

But how could you? You just needed to feel something. Anything. You were so tired of using your fingers when he left for work. Or the shower head on your clit when you showered alone, which was now always.

Your relationship was failing, but you couldn’t find it in you to break up with him.

You were quite confused when your boyfriend invited you over for a dinner at his parents. Getting to meet all his family as he introduced you with a wide smile, hands on the small of your back to guide you from person to person.

There was somebody who stuck out like a sore thumb. And you couldn’t take your eyes off of the man was probably twice your age and most definitely twice your size. Tall, broad and muscular with tattoos of all shapes and sizes trailing down his neck and onto his toned arms.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the heat you felt in between your legs as you ogled the greek god infront of you. With his messy black hair and dark eyes, a smirk spread across his handsome face as he tilted his head to stare you down. Hands in his pockets as he strolled towards you, your hand gripping your boyfriend’s shirt as you felt yourself getting smaller and smaller under his gaze.

“Now who’s this pretty thing?” The deep voice questioned, looking down at you with the subtle bite of his lip as he let his gaze run over your figure. “You’re not gonna introduce your lil ole uncle to your girlfriend?”

Your boyfriend scoffed, rolling his eyes and pulling you closer into him. “I have no need to. Now beat it.”

You frowned at his harsh tone. Toji’s hands raising in defense as he chuckled. “Just trynna be nice.” His smirk widening when he turned to face you fully. “Now, what’s your name doll?”

Your knees grew weak at the deep rasp of his voice, avoiding eye contact when you felt yourself face getting hot. “uh.. y/n, my name’s y/n.”

Toji hummed, grabbing hold of your hand and bending down to place a kiss to the back of it. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He winked.

“Okay that’s enough. You can go now.” Your boyfriend fumed, your eyes never leaving the older man’s as he took his leave, leaving you with a short. “Nice to meet ya, doll” before he walked away.

“We’re leaving.”

Your eyes widened at your boyfriend’s words. “What? Baby why? Your family seems so nice we can’t just leave.” You tried to convince him.

“We can when you’re looking at my fucking uncle like he’s a five course meal.”

You resisted the urge to scoff, maybe you wouldn’t have to if he did what he was supposed to. “I promise you, i wasn’t. Now let’s at least enjoy an hour for dinner before we leave. Okay?”

Your boyfriend only scoffing before shrugging your arm off of him and walking away into the kitchen.

Great. This was just what you needed.

The dinner was awkward for you. Your boyfriend wouldn’t talk to you and kept glaring at his uncle. Who only added fuel to the fire by sending short smirks your way, his muscles flexing as he ate.

You couldn’t help the way your face flushed, fidgeting with the food in your plate as you bit down on your lip.

“Y/n, dear? Are you okay?” your boyfriend’s mother asked in genuine concern. “You have barely touched your food honey.”

You gave her a smile. “Sorry, i’m just feeling a little sick right now.”

“Oh dear, would you like to go to the bathroom? Darling, show her the way.” his mom insisted. Your boyfriend not even sparing you a glance when he spoke, “I’m sure she knows the way, mom.”

You sighed, a piece of you missing the relationship you once had. Giving a tight lipped smile and assuring her that you knew the way before getting out of your seat and heading to the nearest bathroom.

You stood staring at yourself in the mirror, rubbing at the bridge of your nose while telling yourself to get your act together. You gasped when the door swung open. A smirking Toji closing the door behind him and leaning onto it, his hands crossed over his chest as he looked you in the eyes.

“You know, for a girl pretty like you, you sure are stupid.” He laughed, “Don’t you see you deserve better than my scumbag of a nephew?” Closing the gap between you two until you were backed up against the sink’s counter.

Toji’s hand reached up to stroke gently under your cheek, trailing his finger across your lip as he bent his neck to look down at you. In turn looking up at him through your lashes when his other hand held onto your waist.

“You gotta know how a real man treats a lady. How a real man fucks. You want that doll?” Waiting for your shy nod of approval before sitting you on the cool marble top. Your legs hooked around his waist and your hands gripping the counter’s edge when his rough lips met yours. Kissing you hard before trailing soft bites down your neck, careful enough to not leave any marks.

You let out a moan, Toji’s hands moving to peel off his shirt so his rock hard abs were on display. Grinding lightly onto the hard surface with a whimper at the full sight of black ink spread across his pale skin. A grin on his face when he went back to attacking your neck, hand slipping under your dress and pressing against the heat of your panties.

“This wet for me already? I’m flattered.” His fingers making their way to rub between your folds through the side of the fabric. Collecting your wetness before dipping a finger into you. “Think you can take it doll? You’re so fucking tight. Practically a virgin again, how long’s it been since you were given a good fuck?”

You truly didn’t know the answer for yourself. Only moaning as Toji pulled off the lace material, spreading your legs wider and pulling his thick cock out the confinements of his jeans. You whimpered when Toji stroked his length, the size being bigger than anything you’d seen before. “‘S alright, ‘m gonna mold her round my cock.” he groaned, lining up with your sopping hole before slowly thrusting into you.

“Nnhg— so big, T-Tojii— can’t take it.” you mewled, Toji’s hand latching over your mouth to muffle your pleas as he forced himself deep into you. “Gonna make it fit doll, just sit real pretty for me and take it yeah?”

You nodded with a shaky moan, your pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth as he bottomed out inside you. Grunting heavily at how tight you were around him, his cock so deep that he could see himself bulging in your stomach through the thin fabric of your dress.

Toji started off slowly. Your moans increasing in volume as he sped up. The burning sensation turning into nothing but pleasure as he fucked into you, ricking your body back and forth with each thrust.

Toji’s hand fell from your lips, the tattooed skin finding itself wrapped snugly around your neck instead. His cock grazing your gummy spot as he leaned into your ear. “This is exactly what you need doll. Need me to fuck that pretty little pussy so good.” he grunted. “Exactly what your dumb boyfriend failed to do.”

You could only let out a cry, your smaller hands holding tightly onto the arm around your throat. Digging your nails into his flesh as you moaned out into the air. Your lips parted in a string of mewls as the older man’s cock pierced deep into the depths of your insides. Fucking perfectly into your g spot before bullying its way to the entrance of your cervix.

The unfamiliar sensation making you cry out even louder as your head fell back. “T-toji- ahh— so good Toji, feels s’ good.” you cried, your legs trembling around him with curled toes.

“Careful now doll, as much as i would love for him to hear me fucking you right, there’s other people out there.” he teased, your pussy clenching when your eyes met his. Your eyes glassy and your head fuzzy as you were fucked into oblivion.

Letting out a whimper when his grip tightened unintentionally on your throat. Drool falling past the sides of your lips as your eyes fixed on his v line, up to his abs then further until you reached his face. Finding his dark irises staring back down at you hungrily before pulling you closer to him.

His large body swallowing yours when he pressed you up against him. Your moans and cries getting noisy again as you felt yourself getting close. “Tojiii— nnh, ‘m so c-close, ahh— gonna cum.”

“Yeah doll? Close f’ me? Gonna make a mess on this old man’s cock?” he rasped, broad hips still rolling hard into yours as he watched your mouth hang open slightly, your eyes rolling back before closing completely as you reached your high.

Body shaking and pussy spasming around him as your pussy held onto his cock like a vice, letting out a choked scream muffled by Toji’s knowing kiss as you came. Squirting messily onto his cock with the quiver of your hips.

“So fucking hot.” Toji groaned as he pulled away from you. Your breathing noticeably heavy as he fucked you through the aftermath of your orgasm. “Fuck, gonna cum. Where’d you want it?” he breathed.

And you let out a mewl as his thrusts grew sloppy, veiny cock twitching against your walls as he got ready to release. “Fuck, gotta hurry up and tell me doll.”

“Nnhg— inside, want you inside.” you moaned, “C-cum inside me.. please.”

Toji’s pupils dilated and his grin grew wide. “You’re a slutty one in disguise aren’t ya? ‘S my pleasure baby.” His thrusts becoming merciless as he slammed into you. Using your pussy to stroke his cock as you choked out little cries at the fast pace.

“Fuck, gon’ fill you up so good.” he panted, “Gon’ stuff you so full that you’ll be begging to be my good girl again.” his cock throbbed, “Shit— there we go, that’s it doll.” Spilling spurts of his hot cum into your cunt. Making you moan at how easily he filled you up.

Toji gave his final slow thrusts before he was pulling out of you, letting his cum seep out as he helped you put back on your panties. Trapping his seed deep inside you with a hum. “Feel better doll?” he smirked, giving you a short kiss to your lips and laughing as you tried to not let him go.

“Come back to me when you gain some sense and drop that asshole, okay? I’ll be waiting.” Pulling his shirt back on and tucking himself into his boxers, giving you a wink before trying to fix his hair. Your eyes glued onto his back as he walked out the bathroom door.

Leaving you touching your lips that just felt his tongue. Your heart beating faster before you were startled by hard knocking on the door followed by your boyfriend’s voice. “Can you hurry up in there? You’re making my mother think you’re dying or something.”

You closed your eyes and let out a breath, thoughts of Toji plaguing your mind and keeping you calm. “Coming!”

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

[lyrefromthesea]

How would the hashira react if we accidentally pushed him off the bed while sleeping?

Male hashira x Reader - It's OUR bed

pairing: Tengen x Reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

• he wakes up before he even hits the ground. did you just push him down? he immediately checked, but realizes you aren't awake.

• with a quiet scoff, which turned into an even more quiet laugh, he stands up and takes his original place in bed again.

• to make sure that you're not pushing him down another time, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close enough to nearly use him as a bed instead.

Obanai:

• he hits the ground and nearly panics. if you pushed him out of the bed in your sleep, then maybe you subconsciously didn't like having him close.

• he's quick to disregard that thought, because you quietly stirred next to him, as if you couldn't sleep without him.

• when he finally takes his place in bed again, he lets his fingers brush against yours, wanting to have contact with you. he feels his heart swell when you wrap your arms around his and press it against your body.

Rengoku:

• falls out of the bed and stares at the ceiling with his big owl eyes. he sits up straight in a matter of seconds, asking what just happened.

• though he didn't want that to happen, he accidently wakes you up. seeing you yawn and rub your eyes, he stands up to comfort you into slumber again.

• he'll hold you close to his chest, so you can fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

Sanemi:

• he lands on the ground face first, his hand still clinging onto your arm. the reflex that usually was there to protect you, took you down with him this time.

• the air got knocked out of his lungs after you fell on top of him, letting out a quiet groan. the man turned his face to the side, grumbling in his tired voice, while he felt you get up.

• he's too tired to even talk about it, letting himself fall into bed again and pulling you with him. he ends up falling asleep on top of you, your cheek squished against the top of his head.

Giyuu:

• he sleeps on his side, when you accidently pushed him down the bed, it made him fall onto his back pretty hard. it normally wouldn't have bugged him, he was a hashira and knew how to handle pain. unfortunately, his muscles ached after the fall, because he had landed rather unlucky.

• he won't say anything or wake you up, because he doesn't want to disturb your sleep. expect for the quiet grunt leaving him, he makes sure to keep absolute silence and hold you close again.

• when you see him feel unwell the next day and ask what's wrong, he'll explain it to you. "why didn't you say anything, i would've helped immediately!" he fell silent, his cheeks flushing. he had been too shy to ask for your help.

Gyomei:

• he was sleeping on the edge of the bed to begin with. it wasn't your fault when you turned and bumped against him, making the man fall down the bed.

• he opens his eyes slowly, hands feeling the ground under him, eventually brushing against the blanket that was hanging down the bed.

• it didn't hurt and it was clearly an accident, he didn't see any reason to talk about it. instead he stands up again, makes sure that you sleep in a proper position and puts a protective arm around you.

• you may never know what happened, but that didn't disturb him. he loved you after all.