Let Me Be Controversial One More Time Before The Year Ends…

https://x.com/rattlingcasket/status/1766276539140747679?s=12

Lord, grant me the strength to throw away this box that i'll never use, the courage to throw away this box that i'll never use, and the wisdom to throw away this box that i'll never use

shut tf up, what do you mean nanami likes bowling to the point he has his own bowling ball?

being fucked while you're both on your side...him behind you holding up one of your legs and grinding into you slowly....the morning light just peeking in through your blinds....

I need to know Lady in Waiting's response to Knight Aizawa being "married" (a mighty need)

A flair of disappointment hits you as you realize Eri is alone. Her dress is haphazardly pulled over her head, her poor little arms barely pulled through the sleeves. Her hands are still halfway through the openings and fumbling with the front ties of her dress, picking and pulling at the silk clumsily. You rush over and immediately start adjusting.

"Is Sir Aizawa not with you today?" you ask. The dresses aren't his Forte, but he at least knows enough to not let her struggle by herself or to wait for you to arrive.

"He's with my dad," the child explains. The knight and the king go back all the way to their childhood. After the war, when Toshinori rose to power, Aizawa was appointed as guard to the princess- a relatively easy retirement gift.

"Is this going to be the dress I wear to the ball?" Eri asks as you free her hands.

"No, your dress is going to be yellow and much bigger, remember?" Last year, when the princess wore pink, Aizawa was forced into a dashing suit and a matching rose colored pocket square. You wonder if this year will be the same; he's rather dashing in yellow, it brings out just how dark his eyes really are.

"Is your knight going to be at the ball, Eri?"

"Mhm, he always lets me dance on his feet." She lets you tie her ribbons into giant, looping bows. "But last time, he said I was getting too big!"

That's the real reason you've fallen for the man. Despite everything, despite how he wants to appear, he's soft and loving. He treats the princess as if she were his own daughter.

You're aware it's a ridiculous crush; the man has treated you kindly, of course, but there's very little chance that he would ever pursue you. Unlike most Ladies in Waiting, your lineage is not very noble. Your father was a general in his day and the King gave you this position after his death to make sure you were cared for.

"You're getting older. When you're my age, you'll get to dance with whoever you want."

She thinks about this for a moment. "But I only want to dance with my knight."

That pulls a laugh from you, even as your chest aches. "Me too, Princess. He's a very good dancer."

The princess giggles along with you for a long while, helping you finish smoothing her dress.

"Do you know if Sir Aizawa is married, Eri?" you ask suddenly.

"Yeah! He is!"

"Oh, that's very good for him." You pull your lips together to keep your smile despite how your chest suddenly aches, "Is she pretty?"

"I dunno-"

"Say 'I don't know.'"

"I don't know." She stresses her correction, "But Mr. Knight is pretty, so his wife is probably pretty too."

Your heart sinks even farther. Of course, he would have a beautiful partner. Your longing and wondering now feels immature; who are you to be wanting after someone of such a status anyway?

"Wonderful." You pinch a smile on to your cheeks, "That's wonderful for him."

there is just so much beauty in dry humping

shoko x f!reader, sfw

cw: mentioned gojo x geto, smoking

notes: first time writing for a female character! though it's an ambiguous relationship... (the crowd boos) in my defense, i love tragic yuri. potentially a projection of my own struggles + confusion with my queer identity. i guess we'll never know! :D anyway, gege akutami, i can confidently say, you FUMBLED THE FUCKING BAG with ieiri shoko. give my hot doctor queen some screentime - you have 5 chapters to do something. Do something about it.

SHOKO WATCHES as ash falls from the butt of her cigarette, which she taps with quick raps of her pointer finger. she’s surprised she’s remembered to put it out at all. you made a big fuss about it when you came home later than she had one evening and caught her smoking indoors. she rolls her eyes and takes one last puff, thinking back to when the two of you had just become roommates.

you used to be the primary doctor over at kyoto jujutsu high but had quit after a short two-year run because you were overworked and exhausted. the two of you met up for drinks right after you quit (you literally called her and utahime up twelve hours after submitting your letter of resignation), and she mentioned briefly that her home was always a mess. you suggested the idea of living together, and she didn’t have a reason to reject your offer. 

anyway, you’ve become a bigger pain in the ass than she had anticipated. yes, you’re a big help when it comes to chores, but you’re also so insistent when it comes to her lifestyle. not that she bothers to listen to you, but you frequently nag about her smoking, drinking, lack of eating, so on and so forth. 

in fact, you’ve taken it upon yourself to take care of her, as if she’s a dying house plant that you’re nurturing back to life. you pack her two bentos every work day, one for lunch and the other for dinner, the meals never identical. you replenished her bare wardrobe with new turtlenecks and work pants because she’s “not steve jobs,” and it’s not like she has an excuse to wear the same thing every day now that you’re doing the laundry and ironing. this is all to say that you’re too involved, too knowledgeable about her mode of operations, for her liking. 

throwing the cigarette onto the floor, she extinguishes it with her foot and heads into your shared apartment. 

not even two steps into the foyer, she hears you call from the couch, “the bath’s ready!”

shoko shrugs her shoulder bag onto the floor next to her heels and pads over to you. “why are you still up?” she asks.

you peel your eyes away from your phone to smile at her. “i was waiting for you,” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips. 

she heads to the bathroom and says, “go to bed.” you just giggle in response.

in the bathroom, shoko shimmies out of her clothes, brushes her teeth while avoiding her reflection in the mirror, and grabs a towel. when she sinks into the bath, she realizes you’ve added a few drops of jasmine and ylang ylang to the water to help her decompress. somehow, you’ve even managed to figure out her favorite aromatics.

your relationship is peculiar, to say the least. roommates but more. not lovers, of course.

shoko’s long distanced herself from such relationships. she barely has an interest in making friends, let alone find a lifelong partner. yet, upon some introspection, she finds her own behavior and attitude towards you… odd. you bother her, but she hasn’t put a stop to it like she normally does with others. she’s not tired or bored of long conversations with you. even though she’d like it if you gave her some more space and privacy, she doesn’t prevent you from learning more about her.

it’s not that she’s unguarded; she has deliberately lowered her guard around you.

she sinks deeper into the bath, blowing bubbles in the water as she thinks.

she doesn’t love you. (what does being in love even feel like?)

she does like having you around.

ten more minutes of half-conscious musing later, she gets out of the bath and prepares for bed. when she exits from the bathroom, she finds you still sitting on the couch, doom scrolling and humming an inane tune. but this time, she also smells the familiar scent of smoke and bitterness.

she glances at the living room table and spots a small dish. you’re smoking, she realizes.

“i thought you didn’t approve of smoking indoors,” she says.

you look over your shoulder and chuckle. “i’m trying to see what all the hype is. smoking really isn’t all that, you know, shoko?”

your roommate walks over to sit beside you. “you’ve never smoked before?” she asks.

you shrug. “no, i have, when we were much younger. but i remember choking on my first time, so i never bothered to try again.”

“so what made you try this time?”

“you.” you say it so effortlessly. then, you beam at her before scrolling to another video on your phone.

shoko is unsure how to react, so she just leans her head on your shoulder. does she have that much of an influence on you? probably not. it’s common for people to pick up on mannerisms and habits of those around them.

she recalls her high school days with gojo and geto. those two were undeniably close, and they frequently behaved like one another. when she caught wind of the nature of their relationship, it all seemed to make sense – they looked and acted exactly like a couple should.

she wonders if the two of you are anything like her classmates. do you share the same sense of humor? do you have your own language – your own catchphrases and inside jokes and syntax? do you enjoy being around her? does she know you the way you know her?

does she want to know you?

she’s feeling a slight pinch in her temple. she’s not in a rush to figure things out.

shoko reaches across you to take the cigarette from your grasp, acutely aware that she’s taking a breath from where your lips were just moments ago.

“i want something savory tomorrow,” she says.

you nod your head. “i know.”

of course you already know she hates sweet things. she puts out the cigarette.

content warnings: implied blowjob and mentions of pregnancy and children

gojo!actor au and he’s just a bit of a loser.

and i mean that in a literal sense. he’s good enough to be nominated for the emmy’s, the oscars — all these prestigious awards. but he never wins.

each year, he dresses up all posh. puts you in a pretty gown and shows up — just to lose. and it’s an annual routine now, you look forward to it. he’s never taken these awards so seriously anyway. it's all a big joke, and you get free food!

but one year — one year, he wins. it’s shocking — to you, to him, to everyone. cheers and yips are so loud as he stands up. the next day people will publish articles about how this was deserved, how he should’ve been awarded a long time ago.

he walks up there — a soft red hue of a kiss on his cheek as he manages to stare and directly talk to his wife, despite the massive crowd, despite the mic, despite the bedazzlement. his eyes peer into yours as he speaks of gratitude.

and he finishes up with an endless list of thank yous — to directors, coworkers, production team, fans, his mom, his wife, maybe god if he exists? his wife again. his wife.

it’s the after party — you two never go but gojo’s manager warned him and you did your part in urging him, because he did win after all. people would be expecting him. he argues, he speaks of his comfy bed, and you proposition him — you tell him going would mean he gets head in the bathroom and of course, he’s a simple man so he agrees almost immediately.

after you deliver what was promised, under the fancy red glow of the bathroom you’re both in, you rub a hand to wipe your mouth as you stand up, fixing your dress as he fixes his trousers.

he speaks up, his tone rather serious and it scares you just a little. “baby, you promised me," he began. "you said if i won — you’d give me a baby.”

“that was 5 years ago, satoru.” you chuckled, as you fixed his mussed hair.

“and we’re here now — i won. it’s your turn now," his words teasing, but his eyes seeking affirmation in your gaze.

"you want a baby?" you asked as you looked up at his hopeful eyes.

“i want a baby,” he affirms.

“okay,” you smile. your hand trails down to his chest, only to suddenly push him back with force as he flops onto the toilet seat. “let’s give you a baby.”

bonus

"does this mean," he asked, "you'll give me a baby every time I win?"

“let’s start with one, satoru."

“but—“

“one.”

girl help! the popular fanon interpretation of my favorite character is stupid as fuck