#// i just added to this because i loved it so much

[peachylynnie]

what jewelry they like on you

word count: ~300-400 per lead contains: lads men x non!mc reader, established relationship, they all adore you, jewelry descriptions, fluff, suggestive themes (sylus, rafayel, and caleb), and did i mention fluff? make it toothrotting. a/n: it's midterm season so headcanons it is. again, these are headcanons so i'm not saying i'm right. just my silly little interpretations. inspired by my impulsive buy of a bracelet the other day. no, my wallet hasn't recovered. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! tagged: @vvintqz (a little headcanon for xavier, lmk if u want me to stop tagging) lads masterlist

sylus

necklaces all the way

has a preference for silver chains with red or black charms

it's his signature colors on your pretty neck

loves it even more when the charm rests between your collarbones

if you want his nose to bleed, wear a long necklace

yes, the one that goes all the way down to your chest

but if you really want to get him going

wear a choker

doesn't even have to be a chain type or have charms

if it's a choker, he'll fold, like dogs to a bone

you can't blame him

it enticingly accentuates the rest of your neck and collarbones, the two places he likes to leave marks on

don't worry if you're hypoallergenic (like me)

he only ever gets you the finest of materials, even if you point out the cost

not that you mind or anything

"sylus," you whine.

you're going to be late. again. all because of this silver-haired man who's refusing to leave your neck alone.

"sylus!" you gasp when he tugs down the choker, his dewy lips taking advantage of the newly exposed spot.

you're starting to regret wearing a choker (not really). you thought it went well with your outfit. and it did! it added a little pop to your look, and you were excited to wear it for the first time in a while.

"hey!" you squirm in his embrace when you feel the poke of his teeth. "no marks!"

"does it really matter, sweetie?" he asks nonchalantly before continuing his assault on your neck. he loves how his tongue occasionally meets with the smooth fabric of your choker. "this," he tugs on it some more, eliciting a soft whimper from you. "will cover them."

sighing, you make a mental note to apologize to your friends for being late when you meet them.

xavier

earrings

especially studs or the mini drop ones that come in cute graphic designs.

there's just something about the way the adorable little charms hang from your ears

really, he thinks they complement your face shape

and he loves to cup your face whenever

but when you wear the ones that are star-themed

he's looking at you as if you're the one who hung them up in the night sky

seriously, he's never seen anything more beautiful

it also strokes his jealousy (?) in a way (cuz yk he's all abt the stars)

but that's worth like...less than 1% of the experience

he just really loves seeing you wear them

don't worry if your ears aren't pierced

clip-ons are a thing, and he'll make sure to get that ones that are both high quality and comfortable

he also loves watching you put them on

his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. he tries to cover his rosy face when you lean towards the mirror.

you're adjusting the backing of your new star stud. furrowing your brows, you tilt your head to the side for a better look.

xavier swears he's never seen anything more beautiful in his life. here you are, making something so simple as adjusting an earring look so skillful and charming.

"done!" you secure the backing and spin around to show your boyfriend. "what do you think?"

"yeah," he nods softly. "i think you're glowing."

you giggle and embrace him tightly.

"thanks for surprising me with them," you chirp, peering up at him.

the stars on your ears shine. no different from your eyes.

"anything for you, starlight," he whispers, stroking your cheek with a thumb. "anything for you."

rafayel

bracelets

listen

we all know this man is a FIEND for our hands

i may not have all of his five-star cards

but tell me why it is that in all the ones i have, he's YEARNING for our hands at some point

jumps at every chance to help you put one on

has a thing for cuff bracelets

like the metal swirly ones that hold a jewel in the middle

they exude the sense of royalty in a way (he's a god so)

most definitely has designed some for you too

and by some, i mean numerous

what's really heartwarming about that though is that he collects the materials himself

the amount of seashells he has preserved for you

but back to him being down bad for our hands

there's something about the way cuff accompanies the bare skin of your wrist and gently presses against your pulse

he's in heaven whenever he nuzzles against your wrist and feels the cool metal graze his heated skin.

"wait," you squint at the bracelet rafayel just secured around your wrist. "did you design this?"

"yup," he answers with a puffed chest. "good eye, cutie. how'd you know?"

you roll your eyes lovingly.

"first of all, i'm your partner, raf." turning your wrist, you admire the intricate swirls of the cuff. "second of all, your works normally have a trademark."

"oh?" he grabs your wrist and pulls you to him, his lips already tracing your wrist. "and what would that be?"

you try not to shudder when his siren eyes meet yours.

"isn't this from one of your lemuria collections?" you shakily gesture towards the sapphire seashell crested on top. "you always reference lemuria in your works, right?"

"wrong," his tongue darts out, savoring your quickened pulse as punishment for your incorrect answer. "it's not just lemuria i always reference in my works."

he tightens the cuff.

"it's you, cutie."

zayne

rings

he loves the subtlety of them

especially the ones made out of thinner bands

they bring out the beauty of your fingers

he loves the way they shine whenever you move your hands too

let's say the two of you are at a cafe

sitting across from each other and reading novels

except he gets distracted (in a good way) whenever your flip a page

your ring glimmers in the sunlight that's peeking through the window

oh wow, not only is there a halo over your head, there's a halo around your finger too

he can't help but reach out at some point

and trace your left ring finger

imagining what it would be like to gift you one

a simple one that conveys an impactful message

one he hopes you'll say yes to

and bound not only both his and your left ring fingers

but also your souls to each other

"zayne? are you alright?"

he snaps out of his thoughts, lifting his chin from his palm.

"sorry," he apologizes as smoothly as he can. "could you repeat that?"

you smile endearingly. his heart beats rapidly.

"i asked if you were alright."

"yes," he answers before clearing his throat. "yes, of course. why?"

"oh, it's just," you giggle. "you're still tracing my finger."

zayne immediately retracts his hand.

"sorry," he apologizes again. this time profusely. "did i make you uncomfortable?"

"no, no," you immediately reassure. "i liked it. it's just you were doing it for a while..." you pause before continuing. "i thought you were checking for dead skin or something."

zayne blinks.

"you thought i was checking for dead skin?" he repeats incredulously.

you nod slowly. now it's your turn to be flustered.

at that, he chuckles with a shake of his head and returns to tracing your left finger, ignoring your amusing assurances about how you always wash your hands thoroughly.

yes, he's most definitely going to marry you.

caleb

anklets

this totally wasn't inspired by that one scene in the main story where he pins our leg down with his evol

nope not at all

i don't know what you're talking about

he likes the ones that come with dangly charms

this is because he can hear you whenever you move

interpret that however you want

but really, he loves how the sound gets louder and louder

because that means you're moving TOWARDS him

he wants to gift you a whole bunch of charms

specifically apple and sky themed

it's over for him if you wear it while your legs are exposed

that man is on the floor, his hands haphazardly roaming up and down your bare skin

and when he notices the anklet with the charms that he gifted?

it's over for you

his fingers are slipping underneath the anklet, wrapping around your ankle, and pulling you to him

where's his face at?

uhhhhh

you're trying to control your breathing. you really are. but it's hard to when there's a man, an incredibly gorgeous one with lavender eyes deep enough to engulf you whole, settled in front of you, specifically in between your legs.

thankfully (not really), he hasn't done anything yet. he's just kneeling there with his metal fingers snaked around your ankle and his eyes transfixed on the anklet you decided to wear.

"uhm," you start, nervously shifting on the couch. "is there something wrong with my ankle, caleb?"

he finally looks at you. you can't tell if he's angry. definitely not with your foot resting against his broad shoulder.

"nothing's wrong, pips." he speaks after an eternity.

you sigh in relief. eager to get out of this compromising position, you try to put your foot down. keyword: try.

"caleb, what-"

"when did you put the charm on?"

"oh, uh," you notice him looking at the anklet again, but more at the apple charm. it has a snake coiled around it. "a while ago? i think as soon as you gave it to me."

he breathes in sharply.

you think it's over when he releases you. you're proven wrong when he grabs both of your ankles and drags you to the end of the couch, his chin dangerously close to your core.

"you really don't make it easy for me, pips."

[angelesca]

a soon-to-be-husband's plan for successful marriage! w.c. ~900

requested by: @kimura-uzuri lots of kisses as per the request, suggestive, all of them are idiots in love and mega pathetic (just how we like 'em amirite) added some extra characters & stretched the prompt, but the core remains the same - hopefully you don't mind :)) (!! written before playing 3.1! only seen some bits and pieces)

anaxagoras's "all according to calculation" love letter!

to my dearest, if you were to reject me, i think i'd cry with my one eye since our fateful encounter, i've found myself... happy agitated, with these bothersome feelings aglaea said it was "love". hah. what does she know?, aroused by, simply, your presence in my orbit. it nags endlessly, claws at my throat when i breathe, these insignicant matters should afford me no pleasure... yet, the heart is no longer a master of itself, desperately wrestling from your grip, but inevitably chained to your smile that is interwoven with my memories. i also cannot forget how you suplexed me after our first kiss my lips spring and curve at an accord of their own when you spare as little as a glance at me. to who else can be ascribed such a feat? congratulations i guess a scholar's instinct is to question in the face of adversity. and questions must be accompanied by answers. as i write this to you, i have finally sumrised the truth. why i feel what i do, i must acknowledge it now... i adore you. i am eternally yours-- i must spend my life with you. ... *unintelligible scribbling*

anaxagoras looks up from his page, staring at you. "did that work?"

work? it didn't even try. "what? what are you- why did you read me a whole love letter? i didn't even know you had it in your bones to write sappy romance."

anaxagoras's eye twitches. he took that to heart. his formula for the perfect proposal is breaking, time to move onto plan b.

you throw your hands on your hips. "what's with you?" kiss. "you just came home after-" kiss. "-being away for so long." kiss. "is something wrong with your head?" kiss. "stop that! it won't distract me from your failure of a proposal."

"tch." anaxa clicks his tongue, slumping defeatedly like a child who got caught red-handed. so much for his perfect plan. well, when all else fails, there's only one final strategy: "well? are we getting engaged?"

you sigh. "you could've said that in the first place..." kiss. "..."

little did you know, that was a display of anaxagoras's restraint. the power of a scholar comes from more than their words, you learned the hard way, sore in bed the next day.

phainon's "super special, totally epic °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°" checklist!

1. i miss my partner so much... (´-ω-`) must return to okhema 2. buy a ring (maybe ask aglaea?) (ugh, i can't let mydei know or he'll tease me) 3. ??? 4. become husband!!! (☆ω☆)

step 1. miss my partner... check. duh. ┐(‘～` )┌ return to okhema? check.

step 2. buy a ring. check. aglaea, with a stifled chuckle, gladly helped the clueless phainon pick out a ring perfect for you. after all, someone who pairs an orange shirt with purple pants could hardly be trusted with picking out an engagement ring. successfully avoided mydei's keen eyes.

step 3. ???

phainon stares at you. "???"

"???" you stare back.

"???????????" phainon took the third step too literally. what is this doofus doing?

realising that his plan is falling apart, phainon panics. "c-c-c-c-can i k-kiss you?" his lips unconsciously push together, pouting, as if practicing his kissing on your ghost.

you frown. "why are you asking like it's our first time doing it?"

"oh, right..."

you playfully roll your eyes. "come here, you."

phainon skips over, brightened, lowering his head for you. you press kisses on them. then, ten more for good measure, because, well, phainon and kisses just go well together, clicking like a puzzle.

"haha, that was nice." phainon's cheeks were red as tomatoes, pressing his hands on them like a youthful maiden in love. then, he latches onto your arm, intertwining. "let's settle down soon. i'm so tired of fighting bad guys all day," he mumbles.

"settle down? like family?" you ask.

"whatever you desire: children, dogs, cats, potted plants. i'm okay with anything you want, as long as you want it," phainon beams. "i just want to start a new life with you!"

beneath all the sweet words, phainon feels that he forgot something integral... something something... become husband... well, whatever. as long as you're happy, phainon can't think of much else when you're calling out his name at night. ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ ) the neighbours are tired bro...

(days later, you found the engagement ring left in his pocket before taking his clothes for laundry)

mydei's "conquer and overcome all adversities" (is he still talking about proposing?) goal!

1. propose

mydei holds out his hand. "let us form a legal, committal union under a contract."

your jaw drops. mydei had just returned home and these were his first words after being apart for so long? "s-sorry?"

mydei huffs. "you know what i mean."

"you mean a marri-"

COUGH COUGH.

...?

you scrunch your eyebrows. "you want to marr-"

COUGH COUGH.

... mydei is blushing, eyes glossy. how could one word have such an effect? scratch that, how has he made it this far into the relationship? romance was certainly not in the kremnoan dictionary.

you take a deep breath. "mydei, you can just say the word."

"the word."

you sigh. this was too slow. "fine. i agree."

"agree?" mydei looks at you expectantly.

"to establish a legal contract that binds us together."

"oh," mydei smiles. "well, let us make haste." he swings you over his shoulder easily, as if carrying feathers. now, it's going too fast - he really can't set a pace.

"hey! what the-" by the time you realised, you were already at an altar, face-to-face with your husband-to-be. never in your life have you witnessed your body being covered in so many marks the night after the wedding, and your lips were definitely bruised.

you sternly warned mydei, and what is repressed comes back stronger, as he hugged you 24/7, stealing your waist instead of lips. a kremnoan warrior always stays conquering, even when proving his eternal love for you.

a/n: i just found out there are anaxa chibis but its too late im afraid. pea head anaxa for life who's with me also here's some behind the scenes! originally i wrote this for phainon's step 3:

phainon gets on his knees and- oh, oh my god- "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

"phainon???" his name barely leaves your mouth as a breath, for you can hardly construct words, let alone a sentence.

LMAOOO it was way too much. anw ty again! i had fun writing it! sorry this was kinda short, i wrote this up as quick as i could. but if you'd like me to re-make the request bc it was too silly, lemme know xx

[image-id-amateur]

[image 1-6 IDs]

Screenshots of a Reddit post from r/TrueOffMyChest by u/Empty-Ad-2301

First post reads: "I miss my husband so goddamn much. UPDATE I (35M) divorced my husband (36M) three years ago. And God, I miss him. I asked for a divorce for a few reasons, most of which being that his depression got exponentially worse day after day and he refused to seek treatment. Sometimes he wouldn't even go into work and ended up getting fired from his job. I stayed with him for so fucking long, praying that one day he would start trying to get better. It was all I ever wanted, but that day didn't come. I sobbed the entire time signing those papers, and when I handed them to him and asked for a divorce, he just gave me the emptiest, deadest look and signed them without a word. My heart felt like it had been shattered with a hammer, anger and sadness and fear tied together in the world's tightest, ugliest knot and inset deep into my chest. I put on a brave face for my friends, tried to frame it as shackles coming off and a new beginning, but it was a lie. It just hurt, and it keeps hurting, and it will never stop hurting. He was my soulmate. I'll never love anyone like I loved him. He used to be so sweet and loving, so passionate and happy and every other wonderful thing a man could want from another. They say each day gets easier, but it isn't for me. It's been three years and I'm still reaching over to the other side of the bed in the morning to pull him close, and it always stings when my hands touch fabric and not his skin. It's been three years and I'm still expecting to see his car in the driveway when I get home from work. It's been three years and my heart isn't any less broken than the day he left. I've been stalking his socials, I'll admit. He's been getting back to the gym, started meds, and I see him smiling so genuinely in these photos. He looks so incredible. Maybe if I had just waited, he would have changed his mind and went to a doctor like he is now? Or was it me that held him down? Was I making it worse?"

Next image continues post:

"hope not. I wanna go over to his place and just fall into his arms and beg him to take me back. Maybe he's wishing the same thing about me. If there's even a chance I could have my boy back I feel like I should try. I'll never know otherwise. EDIT: One: I am a homosexual man. My husband is a homosexual man. I am not a woman. Yes, I know I'm effeminate and kind of emotional. Get creative. Two: my husband was a binge drinker. He refused treatment no matter how much I begged. We got antidepressants but he wouldn't take them. I know he's started meds now because he's posted about them and his 2 yrs sober chip that he got last month. Three: I never stopped loving him. I never loved him any less. Near the end of our marriage, I started drinking to cope. The second I realized I was, I realized he was dragging me down with him, and I couldn't help him anymore. I didn't dip the second it got hard. Many of you are being kind of rude. I'll accept that I wasn't the perfect husband, nobody is. But claims that I never loved him are just wrong and make me feel sick to my stomach. EDIT 2: No, I am not the catalyst for this. His depression started when his young brother died terribly and unexpectedly. It's not because he just hated me so much. We were childhood sweethearts and had been together for years when this happened"

An update 3 days later reads

:UPDATE] I met my husband that I divorced 3 years ago. Update from this post. EDIT 3: Got approved! Here's the FINAL UPDATE. Well, with Reddit's advice, I did it. A few days ago, I called my (35M) ex-husband (36M) whom I divorced after 6 years when he refused to seek treatment for his depression. I called him later in the evening. It was the first time we'd spoken since a bit of trouble he'd had while he was still drinking 2 1/2 years ago. He picked up on the second ring. Our conversation was a little stilted at first, as to be expected, but he said he was really glad to hear from me. We ended up meeting up for coffee yesterday as so many of you suggested. I'll admit: it was kind of hard to see him, but in a good way? He looked so much better than the last time I had seen him, but he looked exactly like the man I married. He had put off a ton of weight (he gained like 75ish pounds during his struggle with depression, and before some dick says so, I didn't leave him because of his weight gain), he looked way healthier and very put together. I'll just say it: he looked incredibly hot. What made it hard was that I couldn't kiss him hello like I used to. But God, the way his eyes lit up when he saw me, I barely needed to. We got our coffee and sat, and he updated me a little on his life in the last 3 years. What really turned his life around was in part the divorce but moreso a DUI (nobody was hurt, he was caught a few blocks from his apartment). He's since gone to rehab and AA, gotten his license back, and had to use a breathalyzer whenever he started his car for a while. He hasn't had a drop of alcohol since and I told him I was so fucking proud of him. He's also started antidepressants, and made a point of telling me that they're not SSRIs, but when I asked what that meant he got embarrassed and told me nevermind (???). Bottom line is that they've been helping him, he's back to being a gym rat, and he's almost completely turned his life around. This was around the point I started tearing up. It just felt so good knowing he was okay. Better than okay, he was *good*. I also apologized to him for not sticking by him. He cut me off and said I had nothing to apologize for. He was a wreck, and I was being dragged down with him. That also felt good to hear. I apologized for not contacting him much during the last 3 years. That apology, he accepted"

The update continues:

"someone for a few months, too. He broke up with him once he tried to get him to drink on New Year's. He seemed dismissive of the guy. Guess it wasn't too serious. We got up and went on a walk after a few hours, and I think we both realized it felt like a first date. I had to stop myself from trying to hold his hand at a few points, I'll admit. We ended up sitting on a bench in a nearby park, and I confessed. I told him I missed him more than anything, how I never stopped loving him, and how if he wanted to, I'd love to try again from the beginning this time. We'd go to couples' therapy, keep our heads above the water, and take it slow. He was quiet for a minute before he told me something. He said he was doing better now, but there may be a time where he sunk low again. Depression isn't easily cured, and he was far from cured. He still had bad days, but he said there would be one difference: he promised he would never stop trying to improve. He was never going to give up like he did before, and refused to neglect me like he used to. If I was willing to accept that truth, he was willing to try again. I agreed, and he pulled me into an embrace and snuck a kiss to my temple. You know when it's the first warm day of spring after a cold, harsh winter, and the soft breeze and basking sun hit your skin at the same time? It felt something like that, to the 1000th degree. After a while he walked me back to my car and squeezed my hand goodbye, and the second I got inside I started sobbing like a baby. Happy tears, though. I'm currently sitting in bed, kicking my feet like a teenage girl, texting him back and forth to schedule an actual date. He said he'd plan everything, and try his best to make up for the birthdays and anniversaries he missed. He said it would "knock my socks off." What a dork. I love being in love. Not gonna lie, this is gonna be a bit hard to explain to my friends and family. Not looking forward to those conversations, but right now I don't care. My man loves me. Thank you to everyone who had kind words to say, and all the people that messaged me with sympathy and advice. I hope we all find happiness, and love if we want it. I never would have made the leap if y'all hadn't encouraged me. Best of luck to all of you, and sorry for the overly flowery language <3 EDIT: we've scheduled a date for tomorrow evening. I'll let people know how it went two days from now in my final (unless something big happens) update. EDIT 2: at his place presently. Shame me not."

The next image shows a final update three days later. It reads:

"FINAL UPDATE] I went on a date with my ex-husband last night. Update from this post. My (35M) ex-husband (36M) and I recently reconnected. I won't go over the details of why we split or our reconciliation since I'm sure the average redditor can click buttons and most likely read. He was the one taking me out, and promised that it would, in his words, "knock my socks off" to make up for his neglect of me. He sure as hell delivered. A little backstory, we've been together since we were 15 and 16 respectively, and have never moved out of our hometown. This year would have been our 20th anniversary (of getting together, not marriage). We were dating secretly for about five years before our parents caught us one day during summer break. The fallout from finding out their son was gay actually made his parents split. His dad wanted to send him away to conversion therapy. He's seen his father maybe once per year on average, and every time he's incredibly cold towards me. Would never refer to me as his son-in-law, only my husband's "pal." I wonder why. Anyway, not what you're here to read. I'll get on with the lore. He picked me up from the house and wouldn't tell me where we were going, but told me to dress warmly. He ended up taking me to the place where we met: a run down ice skating rink in our town. He used to do hockey, and I spent some time trying to learn figure skating until people started beating me up for it. Both sports would practice at the same time and I remember barely being able to keep my eyes off him. We went skating, I tried to pull off a few of the moves I remembered (he only had to catch me from falling on my ass once or twice, and I won't complain about an attractive man that I love hooking his arm around my waist), and we spent an hour or so there until our feet hurt. At one point I said that my face was getting cold, so he skated around in front of me and placed his gloved hands on my cheeks to warm me up. I just about burned a hole in the ice from how hard I was blushing, I swear to God"

The next image continues the post

"He wasn't done then. We left and went to dinner, specifically the restaurant where we had our first date. It's a cheap hole-in-the-wall place, seeing as we were poor teenagers when we first met. We chatted and ate food that probably took 5 years off our lives, he was an incorrigible flirt, and even held my hand underneath the table like he did all those years ago. I know I said I never stopped loving him, and I stand by that, but I think I somehow fell in love with him a thousand times over again during that meal. At the end of dinner, he asked if I had energy for one more simple thing, to which I agreed. He took me a while out of town to a dark sky zone park, specifically the one where he proposed to me ten years ago. He set out a blanket to sit on and another to cuddle under, and we went stargazing all bundled up together. You never know how much you miss the sound of someone's heartbeat until you haven't heard it for so long. We shared a bottle of sparkling grape juice in plastic champagne flutes and dumb, giggly kisses. It felt so similar yet so different. He told me in a moment of quiet that he loved me, and oh, God. It took everything I had not to cry. I barely hesitated before asking if he wanted to change venues. He seemed surprised, but eagerly accepted. I ended up at his place, as some of you may have seen from my edit on my second post yesterday. I wanted to take it slower than this, but it was so hard to. I was so starved of affection and hadn't been intimate with anyone for just about six years. I'm gonna keep what happened at his between us, but all I'll say is that his medication was no issue and all of you should be jealous. I woke up in his bed this morning, reached over for him, and pulled him close just like I used to do. I haven't been this happy in a long time. We had a sleepy discussion and decided to get back together, but we're not using the term boyfriends. It just feels weird after all this time. So he's my partner, or my lover. He's mine. Thank you, reddit. Wouldn't have done it without a little push from the internet. Let's see where all this goes."

[/End images 1-6]

[image 7 ID] an image of Kermit the frog laying on a bed spread, absolutely stricken and surrounded by hearts. [/End ID]

[ariheartsmatt]

ㅤㅤㅤ( 📄 ) now presenting . . . ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCOWORKER!MATT HEADCANONS

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who always walks into the office a little early, cup of black coffee in hand. not starbucks or any other chain company, he’s loyal to the artsy, organic cafe down the street.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who gives nods of greeting to everyone but you. you get a quiet ‘good morning,’ paired with a shy smile everyday.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who sits at the back of the conference room during meetings. does’t speak much, but when he does, everybody listens.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who’s desk is beside the window, and people watches instead of doing his work.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who always smells so good and clean, and looks all neat and put together. little does anyone know—he wants to be fucked until he’s dumb and drooling.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who will do anything you ask, without hesitation or questions, because he just wants to please.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who, subconsciously, finds any excuse to visit your desk and hand you something so you two can brush fingers.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who almost passed out when you kissed him on the cheek for the first time in thanks for carrying a box for you.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who gets nervous at work events, worried that you’ll bring a boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before—and lets out a relieved breath when you arrive alone.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who secretly loves when you’re a bit taller than him and looking down at him when wearing certain heels.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who loses his focus on whatever he’s doing whenever you bend over to file something.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who can’t help but let his gaze wander to your chest, whether you’re standing right in front of him or across the office, mouth drying at the sight of your red lace bra bleeding through the fabric of your top.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who, very shamefully, has to jerk off in the men’s washroom whenever he gets a hard on at the office.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who’s always thinking about you—while making himself breakfast on the weekends, in the shower, typing boring reports for work, before falling asleep. always.

( 📁 ) coworker!matt . . . who’s completely in love with you, but way too scared to act on it.

authors note. not much to say other than, i had fun writing this and hope everybody enjoys ༉‧₊˚. tags. @bluestriips , lemme know if you wanna be added ✰.ᐟ

[moonstruckme]

Maeeeeee, would you maybe write something about reader being self conscious about not having like, “flawless” skin like maybe there’s some bumps from acne or KP on her body and she’s worried that her bf won’t want to touch her bare skin or cuddle because of it? Could be with Steve or tasm!Peter if you feel at all inspired. If not, no worries :-) <3

Ty <3

cw: reader has insecurities around body acne

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

Peter slumps onto his bed, hardly noticing the two kernels of popcorn that tumble out of his bowl. He cozies right up to your side. 

“Let me in there.” 

You lift the blanket around your shoulders, allowing him to slip underneath and situate the popcorn between you. Peter’s room is slowly becoming your favorite haunt in the city. He’s got a great view, with a window that looks out at the skyline but is too far up to get much street noise. His bed has been worn down to peak comfort, with a springy mattress and sheets washed to soft perfection. And when he lays against you like this, the light of a movie’s opening credits coming from his laptop to wash his face in an ever-morphing gradient of colors, you really just cannot think of any place you’d rather be. 

Peter kisses your head like he knows what you’re thinking, grabbing a handful of popcorn before gathering you close to his chest. His arm comes around your shoulders. When his fingertips brush over bumpy skin, you shift sideways, drawing in a breath. It’s not terribly dramatic, but it’s enough to cause concern. 

Peter looks down at you, colors morphing from green to blue on one side of his face. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing, sorry—just, I have some acne there.” 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Peter’s hand falls away. He presses pause on his laptop, and you feel awash with embarrassment. “It hurts? Want me to have a look?” 

“No, it doesn’t really hurt.” The movie has stopped on a dark orange color, likely adding a warm hue to your now warming face. 

“Okay.” Your boyfriend looks confused. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you say to reassure him. “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just that it’s…bumpy.” 

He nods for a moment. “Right,” he says slowly. “So it bothers you when I touch it?” 

“I…no.” Suddenly, you realize that you have no idea where you were going with this. You feel stupid for bringing it up at all. “It doesn’t bother me, necessarily.” 

“Okay.” Peter relaxes back into his previous position, his arm around your shoulders. But he doesn’t touch your bumpy skin, as though still exercising caution. “Then what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You jumped like I’d electrocuted you when I put my hand on your shoulder.” 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to touch it.” 

His head cocks to the side. “Why not?” 

“Because…it’s…” It feels weird to say out loud. There’s something about voicing insecurities that makes them worse than they are in your head. “Peter,” you say in a soft voice. Pleading a little, because your boyfriend is smart. Surely he can put it together without your help. 

The sympathetic line of his mouth reveals that Peter has, in fact, put it together. “I promise you,” he says, “I don’t give one single shit what your skin feels like. Or what it looks like.” 

“It’s okay if you do.” 

“I don’t. Seriously. I just want to hold you, is that okay?” 

“Of course it’s okay.” Your voice has turned quiet, caught between shame and fondness. “I just didn’t want you to be surprised, or to…for you to think you had to put up with it if it grossed you out.” 

“Oh, my god,” Peter groans theatrically. “Shut up.” He kisses your head, then your cheek, then slouches to hit your shoulder. “I love you, but shut up. I never want to hear you say ‘gross’ in relation to yourself ever again, do you get that?” 

“Okay,” you murmur sheepishly. 

“Good.” He drops another kiss on your shoulder for good measure. “Even if it had surprised me, sweetheart, it’s not like it would have been so jarring. It happens, it’s normal. I don’t care.” 

“Okay.” 

“Are you hearing me? You’re perfect. Exquisite. There is no part of you I don’t want to touch. Not that I’m, erm, suggesting anything other than movie-watching tonight, but. You know.” 

Your lips tug. By the way Peter smiles back, with relief, you wonder if that was half the plan. 

“The only thing I care about,” he goes on, voice dropping into a more sincere register, “is that I’m not touching you anywhere you don’t want me to. So, are you sure you don’t mind?” 

“I’m sure,” you say. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Peter gives you a good squeeze, hand settling comfortably over your shoulder again. “Don’t be sorry. The only thing I love more than feeling you up is listening to you talk. Actually, maybe we should scrap this whole movie and you can just monologue to me.” 

“I’m good.” 

“No? I feel like it’d be really fun.” 

“No, I don’t think so. Press play, Peter.”

[kkusuka]

i would love to be john price's (141's) little bird.

(afab reader, you're lowkey a housewife, g/n pronouns, this was also a lot longer than i meant it to be-1.2k words- and i also wrote it entirely in class)

just the cute little thing he comes home to after long missions; ready to give him anything he needs to fully enjoy his time at home. barefoot and wide-eyed waiting for your bear of a husband to return from his long hard mission, keeping him fed and fucked as much as he needs. and he just loves you so much-- so much that he needs to show everyone how good you are for him.

it's not like he sets out to rub it in, but when his sergeant mentions not having anyone waiting for him at home-- john just can’t help but invite him over, you always talk about how much you love taking care of him, adding another man shouldn't be a problem! and what kind of captain would he be if he didn't take care of his subordinates?

and you aren't complaining! you love when john lets you see into his job! and gaz is just so sweet, saying please and thank you, offering to help clean the dishes, and politely refusing any leftovers even when you all know he has no food to go back to. so, you just have to keep inviting him over, night after night. and he's so good at conversations, even when he and your husband talk with all their military jargon, he makes sure you understand all of it; you just want to keep him in your house forever! so you kind of do…

you can't imagine making him go all the way home to his cold and dark apartment, it's so far and you know he's tired from his month of constant action-- so suddenly kyle has a bedroom set up right next to yours (close enough to hear how john thanks you for being so good to his sergeant, and just maybe a hand goes down below his waistband) a fully stocked bathroom and a place to put his shoes when you all come back your occasion dinners out. (they're dates, you don't think it but they do)

but kyle is not a man so stay silent about his blessings. you're too nice, too pretty to not tell soap about-- and trust john isn't going to complain, and he knows that you won’t either. 'the best roast i think i've ever had' and 'knows exactly how to make a man feel at home' and soap is not one to stray from his desires.

so you end up with your boys, and a bubbling scotsman in your dinning room with no warning. and you're upset, no one told you that you had to make more food and now there isn't enough to give everyone your usual heaping portion- and there is no way you're letting anyone go hungry in your home!

so you end up bouncing around the kitchen, trying to whip something up before the main course finishes in the oven and who but soap offers to help you out! he's got a hand on you at all times (two on your waist when you're chopping the onion, he just wouldn't know what to do with himself if you got hurt making him dinner. so he has to hold you steady, he has to run his hands over your hips keep you stabilized-- don't think too much into it, just stay focused on chopping bonnie)

and soap knows that he can talk for hours, but he can't help it when your eyes light up when he mentions his childhood in scotland and his missions around the world. and your small flinch and frown when he talks about getting hurt. their lass just can't help but worry about them. he just can't stay away from his captains sweet bird-- not when you send him off with a steaming pile of leftovers and a tight hug (pressed against him as hard as you can because you don’t want him to go)

johnny, a man to brag, never shuts up about how it took kyle three months to get a room but it only took him two. (sometimes when he comes back from the bathroom in the morning he can see into your room as you're getting ready. and he doesn't mean to do it but your panties are his favorite shade of blue and they look so amazing on you-- he wants to see them up close so bad.)

and so he tells ghost of all his troubles- unasked and randomly the next time they got sent out. and does ghost really care about johnny's playground crush on their captains bird? yes. how had he been left the only one not getting home cooked meals after being sent out? is he going to say anything about it?

not a chance.

so it takes a little while before the final place at your dinner table to be filled. but after a particularly grueling mission (and already wishing to come over), ghost is finally convinced he belongs with the rest of his team.

and you've never been happier to make extra food; you've been hearing for months about the illusive fourth man of your husband's battalion but having him stand in your kitchen with a cute little store bought dessert was certainly worth the wait. ( 'Ah didnae ken ye liked pink that much, lt' 'it was all they 'ad, can't show up empty 'anded, johnny')

and is he a little awkward and standoffish, of course-- years of military pressure will do that to a man!

and simon is just too sweet, even if he doesn't know it. he's pulling your chair out for you, and running out in the rain to collect the mail that you'd forgotten all about. he even lets you drag him to the grocery store during your weekly trips. (it's not dragging, he'd follow you into the pits of hell if you'd asked him too so the grocery store is really not a big deal.)

everything is just so perfect when all of your the boys are all in the house together!

and suddenly everything in life makes sense again. that plate that you can never reach on the highest shelf in the kitchen, a body is pressed against you as simon leans over you to grab it leaving you with a squeeze to your hip and red face. the gossip that your husband just never understood in the way he should is studently being told to kyle over coffee every morning as your other boys roll out of bed. the soap opera that you rope johnny into watching every thursday night becomes facemasks and wine time.

and john just loves it. he just loves you so much; loves the way you smile at kyles flirting, loves how you cuddle up to johnny on the couch, loves how you let simon hold you so close when you make his tea in the morning, and he just loves teasing you about it. (teasing? yes. making you face the fact that you want your husbands men to run a train on you like a whore. also yes.)

i wanna keep going but i have to let it end at some point

[estfel]

This post really got me thinking about the last year for me.

Sums up how I feel right now about doing morning exercise for 20-30 minutes. The temporary hatred at the thing, hatred of myself, resentment, and rage I feel doing it, is less distressing than the endless hatred I feel not doing it that would follow me throughout the day.

Damn it.

Someone once said "you just need to find an exercise you enjoy". And then I felt like a failure because I DID NOT ENJOY ANY in the moment.

I think it's okay advice for some but it just made me feel like I was weird for hating dedicated exercise. It also didn't help when I was so low I was not motivated to do anything and would rather rot. "YOU JUST" is such a shitty line. Because you don't "just" it's a combination of efforts, and they are hard, and it sometimes really hurts to do the things in the moment that help things hurt less in the long run, and that's a sticky cycle to get stuck in. The many bits that make up self care can feel like a mountain when they all slip at the same time.

I think for me I put so much pressure to do it all at once and "just" get better. All or nothing. Then some good advice I got was quick wins and build it up slow. "YOU just need to..." doesnt exist for a lot of people.

For me, and it's not the same for everyone, the thing that helped was one thing at a time until that one thing gets easier. For me it's never "just do X" because there is never going to be a thing that just makes things better. I love the above posts for showing how hard it can be, and all the things that are good for you but are both infuriating, difficult but beautiful and enriching. Enraging and enlightening.

So last year, I started with breakfast. Never had breakfast really, and struggled to get out of bed because I never ate breakfast and felt like I had no reason. No motibation. I used to feel like I had to do breakfast, exercise, lunch, meditation, walks, work, socialise, clean and tidy and do it all at once. Gogogogogogo. And because I couldn't do all that at once I felt hopeless.

So I just did breakfast.

No worrying about exercise, or other routines. This week, I am just going to eat breakfast every day. Then that got easier. After two weeks, I added something new.

I added 15 minutes of cleaning to my headphones a day. Nothing longer. Didnt matter what I did just 15 minutes then stop. I ended up loving cleaning once I stopped trying to regiment it so hard, so this didn't pan out like I expected. Which was nice. But that doesn't mean some days I don't want to throw the window cleaner out the window.

Then with exercise I think for me it wasn't about enjoyment, it was about ease of access and the capacty for overthinking. I needed exercise that you have to do the least pre-prep for because you can just do it immediately without psyching yourself out. Just go right in and do it.

I love swimming but the act of having to drive there, spend the money, get changed in a weird space that doesn't feel 100% clean and do boring laps because our public pool doesn't really allow you to pretend to be a mermaid and throw shit to dive for and catch, was such a process my brain and body would be in a state of such high "Nuuugghhh" I would just not go then feel like a failure, and that demotivated me more.

The gym was the same. Too much prep, strangers in my space, loud weight drops etc.

But walking in the evening for just 15 minutes down the road I could do. Shoes. Leave house. Simple. Count all the red or blue things on the walk. Then after that got easier I added five minutes.

The once that became my new normal I added, sticking a video I can dance along to on YouTube requires me to wake up, pick up a remote and do it. I can do it in my pyjamas. Then I would get breakfast. It leaves less time for doom brain to talk me out of it.

And sometimes it's about NOT adding anymore. There's enough already. That actually, it's enough for now. Just be with that for a while. It's okay to say, "Ah, I can't do much more right now".

My achilles tendon ripped. Suddenly walking and dancing were not really options. I felt shit. I was in pain. It wasn't an option to "just go and do some yoga" because a downward dog would have snapped my tendon like a twig. So, new goal, breakfast, and physio stretches. I hated those stretches. I wanted to murder those stretches. But things change, and it's okay to say "what got easier, is now harder again" and change it up to fit your now, rather than your was.

I still hate it all a lot of the time. I beat myself up a lot. It's hard not to spiral and dive off the wagon.

But doing it does make a lot of the rest of the time better for me, I have found. Annoyingly.

I don't know what this post was really. I just felt like it resonated and wanted to ramble. I think it's nice to sometimes think about.

But yeah, I resent exercise and hate having to do it, but I'll do anyway.

fucking hate it when the stuff everybody says "actually works" does actually work.

hate exercising and realizing i've let go of a lot of anxiety and anger because i've overturned my fight-or-flight response.

hate eating right and eating enough and eating 3 times a day and realizing i'm less anxious and i have more energy

hate journaling in my stupid notebook with my stupid bic ballpoint and realizing that i've actually started healing about something once i'm able to externalize it

hate forgiving myself hate complimenting myself more often hate treating myself with kindness hate taking a gratitude inventory hate having patience hate talking to myself gently

hate turning my little face up to the sun and taking deep breaths and looking at nature and grounding myself and realizing that i feel less burdened and more hopeful, more actually-here, that i am able to see the good sides of myself more clearly, that i am able to see not only how far i have to grow - but also how much growth i have already done & how much of my life i truly fill with light and laughter and love

horrible horrible horrible. hate it but i'm gonna do it tho

[akanemnon]

Dear Akanemnon.

HI! I LOVE your work! And was wondering, how do you draw them so silly? I'm stuck trying to draw these faces. Also, just Susie and Ralsie in general, how do you do it?

Sincerly,

a fan who hopes to draw as good as you someday.

Well... that's a lot to explain. So I'll just start with the whole faces thing.

The key to drawing silly faces is to lose your fear of making them look ugly. I mean it.

If you turn off that part in your artist brain that makes you want to draw everyone all pretty and cool-looking, you'll have a MUCH easier time drawing silly faces. NOT ONLY THAT. It's ALSO the key to drawing convincing raw emotions! Not everyone looks perfect 24/7. Not everyone has their emotions completely under control to put on a perfect poker face. IF you want to draw silly faces, then EXAGGERATE! Faces can stretch and contort and appear wild. Just look at what expressions some actors can pull off! (Jim Carrey comes to mind) Yes, they won't look necessarily appealing, but that's not the point when making them look goofy.

_______________________________________________

Now to your question on drawing Susie and Ralsei. Generally speaking, most humanoid characters are structured very similarly. The main difference comes from the construction shapes and their sizes. Susie is very bulky, and the way I draw Ralsei actually uses a very similar bodytype to Kris.

Where things get confusing is because design-wise, both characters are very layered (they're also layered in the way they're written, but that's beside the point). When starting out, try not to draw everything at once. Build upon it. That way you don't get confused. Block out all of the details when sketching their bodies, and only once your satified with your foundation, start adding the the clothes and hair and details in general.

[grox]

I do love the thought of people treating a pornography addiction as 1 something real and serious and 2 something that can be "relapsed" on and when they do masturbate again they feel worse than a murderer I genuinely love it because I have a lot of stupid problems that are worthless and it feels really good to like turn my head to the side and see people worse off than me somehow genuinely losing their minds and acting like a dying old alcoholic whos wife left them wearing nothing but a burlap sack because they saw a victorias secret ad at the mall then had a jekyll and hyde moment trying and failing to resist the urge to jerk off. For some reason. And they genuinely really hate themselves so fucking much wherease like pretty much everyone else in the world can jerk off and live their lives. Except for them because there's something broken within them. Just another moment I savor to witness like really savor it

[anon-sect]

Picture source: anonymous.

Nick's two annoying cousins needed a place to crash while they were in between jobs. Alvic decided to help them out with letting them have his spare bedroom in his two bedroom apartment. Things were going fine the first week, but afterward, it started to become annoying.

Nick tried to concentrate on the online gaming, but the noise coming from the living room tv was just so loud and distracting. He had told Heiney and Calvin to turn it down, and they did. Now, they have it blasting even louder than before.

Nick went back into the living room. "Guys, please keep it down round here, okay." He tried saying nicely.

"Dude, go put your headphones on, and you won't hear us out here." Calvin suggested back.

"That's actually a really good idea. Now, be a good boy, and go do that. The two of us are enjoying this movie, and you are interrupting it." Heiney added, as though they were on the lease as the renter.

Nick remained silent for a moment. He needed to teach his two cousins a valued lesson on being grateful for his help. He knew just how.

Nick walked back to his room and pulled out his TF Ray device that he swore never to use on a living being. He was going to make an exception for his two cousins. He came back out to see them being loud as the tv. He saw they weren't paying any attention to him. He put in the setting for black socks. He pointed at Calvin first and fired. He then pointed at Heiney and fired. It was then they looked back at him.

Heiney was about to ask what his cousin was doing but soon found his mouth sealed shut. He couldn't speak. He looked at Calvin and saw the same thing had happened to him as well. He then saw the couch, and everything around them was getting larger in size. He saw a smirk on his cousin's face as though he knew what was going on.

Calvin saw his skin begin to change just as Heieny's was changing as well. It looked like it was turning into black cotton material as both of them were shrinking in size rapidly. He was slightly confused at what Nick had done to them since he seemed unphased by what he was watching.

"You too will do much better as my socks for a while, I think." Nick paused. "And you will be way more quiet as I wear you on my big feet." He lauged a little.

Heiney was mortified that their cousin would do such a thing to both of them. He didn't want to be a sock on his feet. Mainly because he was looking for something one day and happened to find a pair of his shoes under the couch. The odor from the shoes was quite strong. If that was just one pair, the others might have smelled just as bad. He didn't like the prospect of being trapped in a stinky shoe while his Nick walked on them as he pleased. He was powerless as he finally took the form of a black sock.

Calvin was mentally begging for Nick to change them back. He absolutely didn't want to be wrapped around his cousin's foot. Nick would make him a footrest under his feet at times when they were younger. That made him find feet disgusting. The only feet he liked were his own. Now, he would be wrapped around the very foot that used to make him a footstool. He had no way to escape his fate as Nick picked them both up off the couch and carried them away.

Nickc went back to his bedroom and put his new socks on his feet. He went back to playing his game, paying no attention to his new socks. The apartment was much quieter now. He put his headphones on and found the game was more enjoyable that way. "You had a good suggestion, Heiney. Too bad, you and my feet will be getting to know each other for a while." He spoke down to his socks. "Might be forever," He joked, or was he joking, he thought.

TWO WEEKS LATER......

Nick was home relaxing while enjoying another gaming session. He loved his new socks that he added to his ever groing sock collection. They so far had held up to the harsh condition his feet and shoes had put them through. He decided to break them in by wearing them every day for the past two weeks. They needed to know what it was like to serve their owner. Out of all the socks in his collection, they were the most comfortable. He wasn't at all concerned over how his new socks felt at being socks. To be honest, he thought they were better as socks than as roommates in his apartment. They were no longer loud and annoying. They were quiet and useful. They were better off as his socks.

Calvin was both mentally crying and begging for some relief. It was one stinky shoe after another for two weeks straight. He absolutely hated gym time. All that sweat and musk was so bad. And having to be trapped in stinky shoes nearly all the time was torment. Yet, he was trying to hold out that Nick would change them back soon. He didn't want to be stuck like this forever despite being powerless to change anything. He would continue to resist the urge to worship or adore Nick's foot.

Heiney was completely in love with his owner' foot. HIs mental will had been broken by the third day as a sock. He gave up hope of ever being human again. He was nothing but a sock now. His owner's foot had beaten that meaning into his mind. His only purpose now was to make sure Master Nick's foot is comfortable, absorb all his sweat and musk, and serve totally under his owner's foot. He was no longer human, but just a sock for Master Nick to use and abuse as he chose.

[kaiserinnessie]

Hello! Can we get some headcanons about Karasu, Ness (plus anyone else you like) having a crush on reader? Like how would they go about their crush and go about pinning for them etc etc

Anyways hope you'll have a wonderful day or night!!!!! Don't forget to drink water!!<33

Of course!! Thank u for asking:D sorry it took a bit to dooo!!

Karasu, Ness, and Bachira having a crush on you! Only adding one extra because of how long I plan on making the headcannons:P but I’m not afraid of writing more!

No smut in this!!

HIGHSCHOOL AU!! <———

KARASU TABITO

Karasu Tabito is the kind of person who hides his insecurities behind a smirk and a teasing word. He’s always the first to joke around, to make everyone laugh, and to act as though nothing ever fazes him. But when it comes to you? All that confidence starts to crack, revealing the underlying yearning and self-doubt he’s desperately trying to suppress. Poor thing just wants to feel like he’s enough for you!

Big tease!

•Karasu has always been one of the smart ones, as as much as he is smart, he’s FLIRTY. And a huge tease. Granted not as much as a few others.. but it’s definitely still there.

•He’ll catch you off guard with a remark like, “You always do that when you’re thinking, huh?” Whenever he notices you tilt your head.. maybe lip your lips.. whatever it is. He knows. And he exploits it as much as he can.

•Loves to comment on if you’ve had a particular rough morning, maybe bed head or obviously not awake.. he will make sure you know. Though if you ever actually get mad or sad over it he will stop. “Woah.. did ya fight a raccoon last night?”

•if you EVER tease him back you have a 50/50 chance of him returning it or becoming a slightly flustered mess. Not like he will show it easily though.

Tries his best to always be near you…

•Karasu’s natural charisma often makes it seem like he’s always surrounded by people. But when it comes to you, he’ll go out of his way to be near you without you even realizing it. He’ll sit next to you in class when he doesn’t have to, lean casually against your desk just to talk to you between lessons, and find excuses to walk you home. He’ll claim it’s no big deal.. “I’m just making sure you don’t get lost, okay?”…but secretly, he cherishes the moments when it’s just the two of you.

•When he’s near you, he can’t help but feel a flutter of something warm in his chest. It’s the kind of feeling he’s not used to.. a feeling that makes him anxious because he doesn’t know how to handle it. But no matter how much he tries to suppress it, he keeps gravitating toward you, hoping you’ll notice him without him ever having to say the words. Until eventually he HAS too.

Jealousssyyy

•Karasu isn’t the jealous type.. at least, that’s what he tells himself. But when you laugh or talk to other guys, something sharp pricks at his chest. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, one he’s not used to. His first instinct is to mask it with sarcasm, to act as if it doesn’t bother him. But inside, he feels a knot in his stomach, a slight unease at the thought of you with someone else.

•If you’re talking to someone else, he’ll often find a way to insert himself into the conversation. His usual teasing becomes sharper, but it’s not about being funny anymore. It’s about making sure you know that he’s the one you should be paying attention to. He’ll throw his arm over your shoulder, get a little too close, and maybe say something like, “You sure you’re not wasting your time with this guy? You know I’m more fun.”

Absolute sweetie when alone

•Despite his usual bravado, Karasu craves the quiet moments with you. Whether it’s walking together after school, sitting next to you in class, or just sharing a silent moment… those are the times when his emotions are the hardest to hide. He’ll find himself watching you, memorizing the way you move, the way you laugh, the way you make everything seem so much brighter.

•These moments are the hardest for him. Because in the silence, he starts to realize just how much you mean to him.. and how terrified he is of losing you. It’s in these moments when the thought of telling you becomes unbearable, and he wonders if he’s even worthy of being the one you turn to.

Loves to impress you

•Deep down, Karasu has always felt like he’s been playing catch-up. He hides it well behind his teasing and cocky exterior, but there’s a part of him that constantly fears being seen as mediocre. He wants to stand out, to be someone worth remembering. And with you, he wants to be good enough. Not just for your attention, but for something deeper, something real.

•In gym class, he’ll push himself a little harder when he sees you watching. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the thought of impressing you is what drives him to do better. If you compliment him, he’ll respond with his usual smirk, trying to act like it doesn’t matter. But inside, his heart flutters with a mix of relief and excitement. She noticed me. She sees me.

Late night texts? Absolutely

•Karasu is the kind of person who can hide his emotions behind a joke. But sometimes, late at night, he’ll send you messages that are more than just silly or sarcastic.

•He might text you just to pass the time, “What would you do if I wasn’t here? Would you miss me?” Or maybe something a little more personal, like..“Do you ever wonder if life is just… full of random moments that change everything?” It’s his way of reaching out, of saying something without actually saying it. He won’t admit it, but he’s waiting for your reply, hoping you’ll answer in a way that makes him feel less alone.

Once he knows he’s WHIPPED

•There comes a point where Karasu can’t hide his feelings anymore, no matter how much he tries. It might happen when you’re laughing with friends, and his heart skips a beat just hearing your voice. Or when you smile at him in passing, and he’s suddenly unable to breathe.

•It’s in that moment that he realizes.. he’s completely, hopelessly in love with you. And it scares him. Because he’s terrified that he’s just another guy, another fleeting interest. That no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be enough for you. But for now, all he can do is keep pretending, keep laughing, keep flirting, all while hoping you’ll see past the facade and notice the real him.

Alexis Ness

Ness’s feelings for you are incredibly pure and genuine, blooming like a soft, sweet affection that he doesn’t quite know how to navigate. From the moment he develops a crush on you, he becomes like a loyal, affectionate puppy, always wanting to be close to you and find reasons to make you smile. His energy is contagious.. when he’s around, everything feels a little lighter, a little more cheerful. He’s the kind of person who radiates positivity, but underneath that, there’s a quiet yearning and a soft vulnerability that he doesn’t always know how to express.

Ness has a deep insecurity about being seen as ordinary or forgettable. He works hard to stand out, to be noticed, but he often finds himself comparing himself to others, unsure of where he fits in the world. His crush on you brings out the best and the worst in him.. his fears, his doubts, and his desire to be enough for you.

Constantly finds reasons to be with u

•Ness doesn’t waste any opportunity to spend time with you. Whether it’s volunteering to help with schoolwork or suggesting to walk home together, he’s always finding reasons to be by your side. He’ll randomly show up with coffee or your favorite snack, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, eager to see your reaction. It’s almost like he wants to make you happy in the smallest ways, hoping that his efforts are enough to brighten your day.

•Though he’s always friendly and cheerful, there’s a subtle nervousness behind it. He wants to be the best version of himself for you, but he doesn’t always know how. When you smile at him or thank him for the small gestures, he feels a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet joy that makes him feel like everything is worth it. But as much as he tries to keep it together, his heart races, and he often stumbles over his words, embarrassed by how much he truly cares.

As sweet and gentle as a puppy (for you)

•When Ness realizes how deeply he feels for you, he gets a bit shy. He tries to play it cool, to act nonchalant, but it’s clear he’s overthinking everything. When you look at him or ask him a question, he stumbles over his words, his usual confidence faltering. He’ll laugh it off, pretending it’s nothing, but inside, he’s feeling a little like a mess. His sweet nature shines through, but his heart skips a beat whenever you say something kind, and he can’t help but overanalyze every interaction.

•Ness doesn’t know how to express his feelings in a bold way, so instead, he shows you through little actions.. holding the door open, offering his jacket when it’s cold, helping you with your assignments. He just wants to make your life a little easier and, in his quiet way, let you know that he’s always there for you. These small acts are his love language, and they come so naturally to him, yet he still worries if they’re enough.

Loves to make you smile

•One of the most endearing things about Ness is how much he wants to see you happy. He’s the type to notice when you’re feeling down or stressed and will try his best to lift your spirits. Whether it’s with a silly joke, a comforting gesture, or even just a quiet, understanding look, Ness is always there to help. He’s not the type to give grand speeches or make big gestures, but he’s the kind of person who shows love in the small, everyday moments.

•He’s incredibly thoughtful.. if you mentioned liking a particular song or a certain type of snack in passing, you can bet he’ll show up with it the next time he sees you. Ness loves these little moments because they let him express his feelings without needing to say too much. He’s a natural caretaker in that way, and he’s always hoping that his kindness makes you feel special.

Gets Jealous so easily

•Though Ness is gentle and kind, he’s not immune to feeling a little possessive when he sees other people getting too close to you. It’s not that he’s trying to be controlling.. it’s just that he feels a little insecure. He wants to be the one who gets your attention, the one who makes you smile the most. When another guy talks to you or compliments you, Ness can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, even though he would never act on it in an aggressive way. (To you.. can’t say the same for anyone else)

•Instead, he quietly tries to show you that he’s there for you, often becoming a little more protective without even realizing it. He might hang out with you more, offering to help you with things that no one else would, just to remind you that he’s there and cares.(While threatening the other person, only if you show that you obviously dislike them. He wouldn’t want to hurt your friends.. mostly.)

Those quiet moments

•When you’re alone together, that’s when Ness’s feelings are the most apparent. He doesn’t need to say much in these moments, and neither do you. He just enjoys being near you, finding comfort in the small silences. Maybe you’re both doing homework together, or he’s walking you home, but in these quiet moments, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. It’s almost magical

•Ness often finds himself stealing glances at you, his heart beating a little faster whenever you laugh or smile. He’s so afraid of ruining the moment by saying the wrong thing, so he often just stays quiet, content in the fact that he’s by your side. If you ever notice his lingering gaze or the way he shyly looks away when you catch him staring, it’s because he’s feeling more than he knows how to express. He’s falling for you, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

His loyalty

•What stands out the most about Ness’s crush on you is his loyalty. He’s the type who would drop everything to be there for you, no questions asked. He wants to be your protector, your friend, and your confidant. He’s fiercely loyal and would never do anything to hurt you. If you ever need someone to lean on, Ness would be the first person there, offering his support without hesitation. His affection is quiet, steady, and unwavering.

Moment he realizes it all.. yeah

•Ness doesn’t always realize that his feelings for you go beyond simple friendship. It’s not until one quiet afternoon, when you laugh at something he said, or maybe when you thank him for something small he did, that it hits him. His heart does a little flutter, and suddenly, he understands just how deeply he cares about you. From that point on, it’s like a weight is lifted, and he’s even more determined to make you happy in any way he can.

•Ness’s love for you is gentle and earnest. It’s not grand or flashy, but it’s real and constant. He’s the type to love you with his whole heart, showing it through simple actions and soft words. And though he might still be a little unsure of how to express his feelings perfectly, he’s determined to be someone you can rely on, someone who’ll always be there for you.

MEGURU BACHIRA

Bachira is the type to approach his crush on you with a mix of lightheartedness, unpredictability, and deep affection. When he falls for you, it’s not like anyone else’s crush.. it’s loud, it’s chaotic, and it’s full of emotion. Bachira doesn’t believe in hiding his feelings, even if it means being a little too obvious sometimes. But beneath all the teasing and joking, there’s a soft, vulnerable side to him that he doesn’t always show. He wants to make you smile, he wants you to laugh, and more than anything, he wants to be the one to make you feel special.

He can’t ever get enough of you

•Bachira is a natural tease. The moment he realizes he likes you, he can’t help but bombard you with playful comments, jokes, and lighthearted teasing. Whether it’s making silly faces or doing goofy impressions, he’s always trying to get a reaction out of you. He’ll ask you odd questions, poke fun at you in a (mostly)harmless way, and keep things light and fun. But behind all that playfulness is a genuine desire to make you laugh, to see you smile, to know that you’re enjoying his company.

•When he has a crush, he can’t resist constantly being around you. He’s the type who will sit next to you in class for no reason, sneak glances when you’re not looking, and always find a way to get your attention, even if it’s through his random antics. He’s the guy who’ll throw an arm around your shoulder and grin when you look confused, as if everything he’s doing is just another joke.. but in reality, it’s him trying to stay close to you.

When not talking your ear off, it’s his actions

•Bachira’s way of showing affection is a bit unorthodox, but it’s sincere. He’s like a bumble bee always buzzing around you. Always texting you. “How was your day?” “How are youu?” “Can we eat lunch together?” “I miss youuu!!!” “ANSWER.”

•Will remember almost everything you say.. just mostly the dumb parts. Hates studying but will do it for you(he cracks jokes the whole time).. HUGE CUDDLE BUG. Always touching you.. never lets you go..

Gets jelly and it’s STRONG

•While Bachira’s personality is carefree and wild, his feelings for you run deep. When he notices someone else getting too close to you, it’s impossible for him to hide his feelings. He’ll pretend(and fail) it’s no big deal, but you can see it in the way his smile fades for just a moment, or how his hand curls into a fist when someone else tries to flirt with you. He’ll never be outright aggressive..(mostly), but there’s a possessiveness in the way he watches people who get too close to you. He’s like a dog marking his territory.. he’s not threatening, but you can definitely feel his desire to keep you close to him.

•However, Bachira isn’t the type to fight over you(does not count for others) aggressively. Instead, he’ll act like everything’s fine and try to win your attention in more subtle ways, pulling you into his chaotic world and distracting you with his playful nature, all while secretly hoping that his antics are enough to make you notice how much he cares. He just wants to be the one to make you smile and feel special, even if it means letting his jealousy show occasionally(constantly)

Vulnerable with you when alone

•Underneath his loud and energetic exterior, Bachira has moments of quiet vulnerability when he’s around you. He can get a little shy when it’s just the two of you, especially when things turn serious. If you catch him looking at you longer than usual, he might get embarrassed and quickly look away, trying to hide the blush that creeps up on his cheeks. When you talk about deeper things, his usual playful demeanor softens, and you see a glimpse of the real Bachira.. a lonely guy who feels a little unsure about himself but is desperately trying to make you feel happy.

•It’s in these quieter moments that Bachira’s true feelings for you come to the surface. He might not say it outright, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll gently touch your arm or shoulder in a reassuring way, or maybe he’ll put his hand on your back, guiding you through a crowd, always making sure you’re okay. His touch is full of affection. But when in public it grows a lot more.. rowdy. Still out of love though!!

NEEDS to be your first choice

•While Bachira doesn’t like to admit it, he really wants to be the first person you turn to when something goes wrong or when you’re feeling down. He has a quiet fear that you might not see him as more than a fun guy to hang out with. He wants to be the person who makes you feel better, the one who makes you laugh when you’re sad, and the one you want to spend time with above anyone else.

•When you’re upset, Bachira might not always know the right words to say, but he’ll always show up, ready to do whatever it takes to put a smile on your face. He doesn’t want you to feel alone, he knows all too well how it feels, and he doesn’t want you to rely on anyone but him when you need support. The thought of you turning to someone else for comfort stings him more than he lets on, but he hides it by cracking a joke or offering a silly comment, just so he can keep being the one you lean on.

Innocent and sweet(in his love. Bro is NOT innocent in general.)

•One of the sweetest things about Bachira’s crush on you is how innocent and pure it is. He’s not manipulative or calculating in his feelings.. everything he does is from the heart. He genuinely cares about you and wants to make you happy. There’s no ulterior motive.. he just enjoys being around you. Whether you’re just hanging out or studying together, he’s always doing little things to make you feel comfortable and appreciated.

•He doesn’t try to win you over with flashy gestures. Instead, he lets his goofy, chaotic personality do the talking, and though it may not be the most conventional way to show affection, it’s real. Bachira loves wholeheartedly, with a sincerity that can’t be overlooked, even if he’s not always the best at expressing it.

[baepsays]

𓇢𓆸 I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN)⸻ clan head Gojo

Chapter One: Lord Gojo

𓍯𓂃 pairing⋙ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

𓍯𓂃 description⋙ navigating a married life is hard enough, it is harder when you know nothing about your husband other than his heroic scars and dizzying smile.

𓆰𓆪 cw in this chapter⋙ canon divergence, nsfw, MDNI, clan and jujutsu world politics, arranged marriage, husband Gojo, Gojo with scars, one sided conflict, one sided pining, suggestive stuff, they are both a little stupid about e/o, misogyny (not by Gojo), internalized misogyny on reader's part, insecurities, dysfunctional families, fem oriented reader, use of she/her pronouns, self deprecation on reader's behalf, angst, some fluff, condescending Gojo, they do stuff in bed idk how to explain, manhandling, love bites, hickeys and marks, teasing, so much teasing, very lowkey dirty talk, talk about virginity, mentions of breeding, there is reluctant consent, emotionally detached Gojo, Gojo is just a bit mean, sexual tension in the air or just need to runaway? reader in her early thirties, Gojo is in his mid thirties.

𓍯𓂃 a/n: hope you have fun reading <3 if you'd like to be added to the tag list, refer to the series masterlist<3

word count: 7.5k

The world of jujutsu was reformed drastically following the events of devastation that took place during the Shinjuku showdown. Many lives were lost, and many were left alive with the misfortune of living with the memories of the events. One such person happened to be the strongest himself, Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru basically came back from touching death himself. 

The sheer surprise of his life being spared after all that he went through to have his students win a losing battle, and live a better life as a sorcerer—was enough to have rumors circulate that perhaps the now scarred up Gojo Satoru is just a shell of a man from who he used to be.

The intensity of his powers were apparently dulled, especially the six eyes. The great blessing and curse on Gojo Satoru’s name, his six eyes, were left intact, but rendered basically powerless. 

But it did not matter how much Gojo Satoru has weakened, how the current state of him could not compare to who he was. Because this was a man who has escaped death time and time, any fear that may have been there in those glowing eyes, was gone to say the least.

If one does think of it, Gojo Satoru is just as much of a changed man as everyone thinks of him to be, the nights he used to sleeplessly spent were now spent with a better sleep schedule. False pretenses were dropped. He was older, wiser, a man who has been struck with grief all through his life, and was now living a more predictable life. Now he just spent his days looking after his estate, staff, and helping his students as much as he could as a more powerful figure, in terms of not only his physical but also political capabilities.

The gruesome news of what took place in the room of the higher ups before the Shinjuku showdown was the first of such help. Just whispers were heard about the state of the room, if he was ever bravely asked of what exactly happened that day, the eerie smile was enough, on top of his now mostly left uncovered eyes.

The need for silence was more needed than boasting what he had done, with no remorse, as he never felt any for the vile people present in that room that day. As the jujutsu world was more or less at peace, the clan politics was still present, silently fuming away from everyone’s eyes. And as the head of the Gojo clan, he had to step up to his role more proficiently.

And with the newfound responsibilities and increasing age, the pressure to find a wife was becoming more and more vital. 

Hope was not something you relied on usually, or at all. As a person born with no actual cursed energy to wield them in a battlefield, other than being mildly able to see horrifying entities float around, it was hard. 

It was hard as it is to be a non-sorcerer born into a family of jujutsu sorcerers, it was probably harder as an unmarried woman, now in her thirties, surrounded by people who deem women nothing more than a womb on a pair of legs.

It was no concern to them if the world was burning down or if you were dying, your apparent reproductive clock was better understood by them than you. At least as a child it was a hush hush, and tease of sorts when the topic of your future husband was brought up, which was more often than not. This went on until you graduated university like any other normal human being, as the world of jujutsu did not seem to work out. 

You liked that life. The normal life that these people looked down upon, making normal friends, falling out with them over petty reasons than losing them to some blood hungry curse, going on trips them them, stressing about exams, pulling all nighters to submit a assignments, getting asked out on dates, growing plants, spending weekends by reading books and binge watching some show. 

There was nothing significant in the lifestyle these people aspired for and maintained.

And you did not want to end up in an unfamiliar house having to start from scratch, how to mind yourself and navigate the unprovoked stares of disgust. Especially by a man who was supposed to love you for better and for worse, til death does you apart—if it were up to you, you would not like to bind yourself to this man, to begin with. 

But then again, that was all wishful daydreaming. Especially when you are already sitting in a reserved private room at some fancy place, waiting to meet another prospective husband. At this point you have met at least over ten or hundred possible husbands, you have lost the count. To your parents and clan they were either too obnoxious, not as affluent as them, too egregious, not influential enough, or not as powerful as them. But this was no ordinary prospective meeting. After all this was the potential meeting that could tie your family to the Gojo clan.

He was everything they wanted to be, had all the qualities they were looking for in your future husband, and everything they despised. He was too egregious, too obnoxious, too condescending, righteous to a fault, and too giving. Yet, it did not waver their desire to have you tied down to this man. That was the effect of Gojo Satoru. It did not matter how much he had weakened in terms of physical strength compared to the new generation, it was how he boasted of that weakness and walked with his head higher than ever.

You did respect the man immensely. But you could not help but hold grudges against this man, whom you are yet to even meet. Grudges over how freely he lived. You have never in your life felt jealous of your peers’ powers, surely you have felt resentment. But that was over your own blood. But this man in particular you could not escape, probably even to the pits of hell he will follow you there to agonize your life.

The thought of possibly calling him your husband made your stomach fill with bile. 

Your silent thoughts ran wild as you waited silently, sitting opposite an empty chair, surrounded by people chattering anxiously about the absent man in question. Your parents, a few important members of your clan, and a few members of the Gojo clan started to become more and more weary about the clan head’s arrival. 

The clamour in the room stopped way before the doors to the room slid open. That was the sort of energy he exuded. Enigmatic and formidable. 

The man who walked in, adorned in the most finely made white haori, complementing his hair, with a scarf around his neck. He looked almost the part of the groom, with half the outfit already hanging off his shoulders. But it was not the careful stitching of the jacket, or his sculpted body peeking through the compressed shirt beneath his jacket, or the piercing blue orbs set on you, that made you static in your seat—breathless even. 

The three big scars that cut through his left cheek, under his right eye, and the one stretching from his chin down his jawline, accompanied by more scattered and faded out smaller scars, spread through every visible part of his body—that is what had your mind standing still in awe. 

“Ah! Greetings Gojo-sama. Such an honor to be in your presence, finally.” Your father’s voice brought you out of the blue pupils assessing every single cell on your body. The realization that you had dared to hold gaze with Gojo Satoru of all people, that too on your first meeting, ran your throat dry. Quickly training your eyes on the table in front of you, as if it was the most interesting piece of furniture, you reached for the glass of water served to you. Hoping, praying, begging that you did not just offend him. 

“Why? I made everyone wait too long.” The tone of his voice suggested anything but a polite question. Maybe steadiness and jest, but no place for ease. 

“No! Of course not, in fact you are right on time!” One of the Gojo clan members quipped beside him. Looking ever so slightly from the edge of your eyelashes, you presumed this was the usual. 

“Really? Then do you mind telling me if I'm actually on time or not? ” The question was directed to no one in the room but you. 

“Gojo-sama, how can she-” Satoru cuts off your mother before she could finish the poor excuse she was about to make, “I was clearly not speaking to you, was I? Now, are you able to answer my simple question or simply too fascinated by the table?” A calculative smile stretched across his face. 

“It is made out of cedar wood if you are wondering about that.”

The tone of his voice and that smile irritated something in you. All your life you have been a compliant decorative doll made out of unmoving porcelain, yet the sheer change in the inconspicuous inflection of this man’s words, pissed you off beyond everything. 

“You are 24 minutes late.” The words came out unusually harsher than your usual voice. “Gojo-sama.”

The last bit of that respect came from the instant realization of what you did, followed by your mother’s eyes almost popping out of its sockets and your father’s disappointed sigh. They were as sure as you were, that this meeting is not going to work out in their favor. You were, on one hand ecstatic to have ensured that you were never going to be called this man’s wife, on the other hand the anticipation of what was to follow this meeting once you get home, made your stomach drop.

The members of either clan were already engaged in a dispute of words. “How dare a woman born with no cursed energy speak in such a tone with the head of the Gojo clan!” one of the members of his clan spoke with displeasure, slightly sitting up in his seat.

“Please excuse her insolence, she does not know any better. Apologize. Right this instance.” Your father urged you with his teeth pressed together. 

You should’ve noticed the anger in his tone, but you were too busy observing the man sitting in front of you, from the curtains of your eyelashes as you held your head low. He sat with his grinning face held in his hand, the elbow of the said hand rested on the table, as he took a big sip of his tea. All the while boring his gaze in your, already itching with discomfort, skin. 

The sound of the cup of tea pressed between his shining lips, being set down on the cedar table made everyone stop their sharp words thrown your way. It was definitely not the sound that the cup made, but rather whose cup it was, that made them halt their charges.

“I see. Then I must apologize to my wife to be, for making her wait that long for me.”

Weddings are difficult.

It takes a lot of preparation. Mentally and physically, it is extremely straining and of course the preparation, just organizing a lot of things all at once, drives one insane. The venue, the guests, the font for the wedding invitation, gifts for the guests, flowers, color of the silverware etc. meticulous things. And it takes a lot of people to have two people unite, in the name of the law and society, with God as the witness. But it is particularly harder to realize the significance of the act of being wed to a person, when you have no idea who that person is beyond the whispering gossips and scars of battle adorning his pretty face.

When you had no contribution to the choices made for the wedding preparation, or the person you are to be wed, it all feels less magical and more of a fever dream. The days before the wedding, you spent them holed up in your room, not really doing anything more than what you were required to do. So you solemnly spent those swift days contemplating things over and over again. 

You thought you might not want to see your husband to be, before the wedding itself. But when the week before the wedding your father informed you that Gojo Satoru himself seeked out to have dinner at your house, you could not help but anticipate the sight of him. Wondering if he might show up in more casual clothing than his formal getups, wondering if the scar under his eye is still the same or did it somehow morph its shape, even if it has only been three weeks since you have seen him.

So you could not help but feel disappointment when he never showed up. All the food that was decorated on the dinner table was already cold, when an informant came to tell that, ‘Gojo-sama has sent the word that he cannot make it, and he is deeply apologetic to his fiance.’ 

Your shoulders sagged down as quickly as your father just asked everyone to start their meal. You did not understand the loss of appetite when everything before you was so delicious. It was all very confusing, maybe you just wanted to see him one last time before the wedding to reassure yourself. But then again, you cannot get rid of the doubt that did not stem from worry, but is fostered by fear.

“Are you ready?” your mother's voice made you look away from the reflection of yourself and instead your eyes focused on her. Because at least the harshness in her voice was more familiar than your own reflection.

“Time for you to enter. Everyone is waiting.”

The idea of being a married woman, to the strongest, at that—made the weight of the ceremonial kimono feel heavier than any piece of clothing you have ever dawned. The hood of the wataboshi  partially covering your face felt like a shield, because while walking down the aisle it hid your eyes from peeking a glimpse of your groom. As much as it felt like you were dying, with the way your throat was constricting, making it harder for any air to pass—you could not help but take a peek at your groom, from below your hood, who was already standing there waiting for you.

His back was facing the shrine’s altar, and his eyes were trained on you. He looked like no other groom. Probably because no other groom has ever welcomed his bride with such a huge grin, while showing his back to the altar. It was Gojo Satoru after all. When has he done anything the usual way?

“Goodness, felt like you took forever sweetheart.” 

His extended hand reached for yours, to pull you up to the podium, to have you stand beside him. The sight of his palms practically swallowing your entire hand, felt foreign. But the coldness emitting off his touch was worse. It was weird that he was touching you, but at the same time, it felt as if he was far away from your grasp. The distance and the coldness was far too sharp for you to keep holding his hand. And he probably understood that as well, as he loosened his grip to let you slip your hands out of his as soon as you could.

How the entire thing happened was beyond you. Your head was too occupied with how gorgeous he looked in his groom’s wear. Or maybe his blinding hair, or the scars scattered all over him, making him look more commanding than terrifying. It was all just very swift, if you had to describe it.

One moment you are contemplating whether you should make a run for it, not that it would help you. And then in another few seconds you two are already on your third cup of sake, completing the san-san-kudo ceremony, uniting yourself to him and joining your name to his.

“Still want to make a run for it sweets?”

You just looked at him, slightly horrified. “Anyone with two eyes can tell what you are thinking if they can catch a glimpse behind that hood, and I have six of them.” There was a tone of jest in his voice and the grin on his face.

“No. I, am just not feeling that well since this morning.”

“Then we must do something about that.” In one quick second, you were suspended in the air in his arms, your body was held close to his chest with the help of his arms. 

The yelp that left your lips sounded louder than it should have, because that room full of relatives and influential people fell silent to the ordeal in front of them. But your astonishment was not due to the fact that your newly officialized husband has decided to embarrass you in a shrine where god witnessed your union—it was rather how contrary to the earlier, he felt warm.

“You feel warmer.” you could not help but let your thoughts slip out in a murmur. “Surprised?” you nod hesitantly realizing how that slipped out in a murmur.

“My infinity was up earlier, I noticed how you got startled. And how dare I make Lady Gojo flinch. ” There was a sense of tease in his tone, but also laced with pride and maybe some joy? He never fails to leave you perplexed. You had nothing to answer to that. Lady Gojo. That is who you were. The weight of your title made your head spin as Gojo walked you two out of the shrine, with you still in his arms.

The reception went as smoothly as it could have. Honestly coming to the reception was harder than the reception itself. Being in an enclosed space with Gojo was really more scary than marrying him in front of thousands of people. Now you just have to do exactly that for the rest of your life, or until your services are required. 

He did not say or do anything much for the better part of the car ride to the location, other than handing you a water bottle and some packed riceballs, which were kept in the car before you two got there, with his instructions you presumed. You took it without any reluctance.

“Eat well. Who knows how much you might be able to eat there.” He was not wrong, you were expected to look and act as the perfect newly wed bride to the Gojo clan head, and that meant sitting there pretty and smiling at everyone. So you silently ate what you were given, unperceptive to those blue eyes staring at you with the intention of noting down every little detail about you, as a grin involuntarily stretched across his face, unbeknownst to either of you. Just Ichiji saw that in the rear view mirror and felt some relief for his employer. 

With congratulations coming left and right, the title of Lady Gojo, being thrown at you at the end of every sentence, you could only think that your husband was right. Even the people of your previous clan were more respectful to you than they ever have been. As nice as they all have been, the pressure still hung suffocatingly high in the air. And you understood it had everything to do with the Gojo name being attached to you now. Or maybe it was Gojo Satoru himself, attached to you at every step, who made them hold their tongue. Your groom made it his mission to follow you around wherever you went, and loomed over every conversation you had with every familiar or unfamiliar individual. 

“Will you let her breathe in peace?” “You really thought he was not going to be too much at his own wedding?” Two people chimed, with another man following them closely with solemn eyes.

“Sure, make my wife hate me . Some friends you guys are.” Never in your life you thought you would see Gojo Satoru pout. He was formidable, smug, maybe petty, and condescending, but the only thing you could think for a second was, cute.

Upon introduction you acquainted yourself with Geto Suguru, Irie Shoko, and Nanami Kento. Few of Gojo Satoru’s friends and comrades. They were probably the only people you had a sound and relaxed conversation with. Satoru seemed more at ease around them as well. They were in fact, the first bunch of people you felt were nice to you without any incentive hanging over them. The individual dynamic they have with your husband, and just all four of them together made you feel jealous of their bond. But again, that is something one only gains by growing up together or almost dying beside each other. And they have all of it.

The night ended soon after with everyone taking their leave, and the hall slowly becoming desolate. Satoru was ready to retire for the day as well. As he went to have the car fetched for you two to take your leave, your mother took advantage of that chance to catch you in the hallway, before you could leave after your goodbyes. 

“You do know what you have to do tonight. Yes?”

The grip she had on your arm became increasingly tighter as each second passed without an affirmative answer from you. “Yes.”

“Do as you are instructed. And just let him take it.” Those were the last words you heard from your mother. Any sane person would gag at such interaction, but it was no more a  surprise to you. Seeing your mother put on a faux smile as she entered the main hall, with one last glance at your way, ‘take it’ , that is all that you heard. You have been taught to just take it, all your life. If your male cousin likes your things, they can just take it. Your father is scolding you for speaking an octave too high, you just have to take that. You have to simply take all the snide comments and slimy suggestions, they are for your own good. When people made fun of your lack of powers, you were told to just take it as a lesser being. And now as you sit beside your newly wed husband, while being driven to his estate, you have to mentally prepare yourself to just let him take it.

After all that is all you were made for, that is all you are worth.

“Still not feeling well?”

The sudden question made you look at the source of the voice sitting beside you on the plush leather seats. “Yes?”

“Yes, you are not feeling well? Or yes, you were not listening to me?”

“Oh. I am sorry.” “Was that either of the options? Hmm?” The smile on his face was oddly comforting, and genuine. But that made it all more sickening.

“I did not hear you, I was just distracted.” “I guessed as much.” He did not say anything more, he looked away and went back to facing his side of the window, as did you. Or so you thought.

Satoru has been observing you since he came back from getting Ichiji to get the car up in front of the hotel, where the reception was held. He followed you closely from behind sensing the cloud of distress making its way back above your head. He somehow managed to get rid of them during the reception, and something or someone ruined all his hard work. And he did not appreciate that. 

Right now he was trying to get a glimpse of your reflection on his side of the window. It was not slick. Nor was it very effective. Trying to find your eyes in the dark tinted glass was making him annoyed. He just wanted to hold your face in both his hands and stare down in your irises to draw out all the unspoken answers from the depths of your soul.

But that would effectively scare you off more than you already were.

So the next best thing was showing concern through more subtle actions. Like running out of the car just as it stopped on the stone driveway, in front of the huge doors of the main entrance. He made his way over to your side before you could even open your door. And in a blink of eye you were back in his arms. Now without the Haori, his skin was much warmer through the fabric of his Montsuki.

“Don't want you to tire yourself out more." He mumbled, way too close to your face than you would appreciate, his eyes were focused on the stairs leading into the entrance of your new house. 

“Who am I if not your most obedient servant, Lady Gojo.” 

Now it felt like he was trying his best to embarrass you. Was he trying to patronize you? 

“You should not say something like that Gojo-sama, what if someone heard you?”

“If someone dared to eavesdrop on words meant for my wife, in the privacy of my arms— they know better than gambling with their lives.” The chuckle that left him was anything but humorous. The threat was very real behind those words, probably more present in his voice than his words.

The walk to the bedroom was long, it took many turns at long hallways to reach what seemed like the opposite end of the entryway. Where stood two sliding doors proud and all alone in that entire hallway. And every step he took to get closer to them felt like a sigh of breath leaving your throat to never return. And he probably felt that with the gripping dent of your nails in the back of neck, but he welcomed that. He felt nothing but contentment in you losing your composure in his arms. And he wished for nothing, but a lifetime of you letting yourself express your most hidden self in his arms, and have you leave your mark on him.

The bedroom was huge. And it was decorated with more than hundred candles, to perceptive eyes. All the expensive decoration, furniture, painting and scroll went invisible to your eyes—because there was only one thing in that room that caught your interest.

The bed. It stood on all its strong legs, near the huge windows overlooking the outside. It was surrounded by more candles, scented ones. And it smelled like the ocean and sweet tropical fruits. There were bouquets of roses and Lilies on each side of the bed, on the bedside tables. As Satoru placed you down on the fluffy and soft covers, the mattress almost engulfed you in itself. And it all became too real.

You might be Lady Gojo now. But the man hovering above you was Lord Gojo.

He can joke about being at your beck and call all he wants, but he was not the one married off to serve you. It was you who was instructed to just be a good wife and take it. You were here, on his bed, to serve him. To let him take you, take your virginity, and claim you as one of his many conquests. All you were good for, was to lie there and take his seed, to give him an heir and silently sit in a corner unless you are spoken to.

So why was he walking away from you? 

“You are not- going to?” the hand you used to hold onto his wrist, to prevent him from walking away from you, was shaking. 

“What do you mean?” The scrunch of his eyebrows made you think for a second he might be genuinely confused about what you might be referring to.

“You should know what I mean.” He truly is such a cruel man.

“If you don't speak to me clearly, I am afraid, I am too dumb to understand.” The smirk on his face said otherwise. “You are so mean.”

“How am i being mean to my own wife, if i don’t even understand what she is implying, hmm?” 

“How will it be any more helpful if I say it out loud?” “I don’t know? You might have to find out for yourself.” He was annoying you now.

“I am trying to perform our duties and get over this, Gojo-sama.” Hopefully your stern voice camouflaged your nervousness and fear.

“Do you want to consummate our marriage that bad, Gojo-sama?”

The incredulous look on your face upon being addressed by the same title as him, by Gojo Satoru himself, was the last thing you expected out of this conversation. 

“You- you, just- cannot address me like that!” “Why not? You are also a Gojo now. In fact, you are the lady of the clan now.” His argument was making more sound sense to you than your own head.

“I would have to argue your position is much more important than mine. From this day forward you are also Gojo-sama whether you like it or not. I hope you get used to it. And I don’t want to be called out by some title by my own wife.”

“You keep saying ‘my wife, my wife’, yet you are acting oblivious about our marital duties!” Suddenly the air was much heavier than how lightly it was circulating through the huge room. “You might get away with putting up a front, but my position in this marriage has been set in stone. So please spare me the questions and put an heir in me as soon as you can.”

You anticipated an array of reactions after such audacious proclamations. You guessed as much, the very second your tongue stopped speaking, the emotions on his face might be anything but that humorous and kind softness he has, oh so graciously, offered you up to this moment so far. And that made you look away from his face, which looked more halted than stoic, and in your experiences, surprises are almost always followed by anger or joy. And you were definitely not expecting him to clap his hand and offer you a big smile.

Your hand on his hand felt more foreign than before, so you pulled it off him. And it allowed him the satisfaction of at least not feeling your miserably shaking and soaking palm. And there it was, the anger. 

Just as you let go of him, his own hand grabbed a mean grip on your wrist. It was confusing to understand what exactly happened in the moments after that. One second he is pulling you off the bed towards himself, next he is bending down to reach you half way across and pushing you on the bed with the weight of his body. You were essentially pinned onto your new marital bed. Both hands pinned on either side of your head, with a mean grip on your wrists by his huge calloused hands, and you were sure that you were done for.

“Since you have already cooked up these false ideas about what this relationship might look like, how about I show you a little glimpse into these imaginations?” 

His face was probably close to yours by no more than half of one centimeter, you could feel his eyes searching for something in your own eyes, and you had no confidence to fake it. So you just shut your eyes real tight and waited for what was to come.

Satoru’s right hand glided itself from your wrist, to your forearm, under the sleeves of your kimono, until it reached up to your arms, where the bunched up clothing did not allow him any more access over your skin. The loud gulp you took, out of some sort of relief, was gone in a second.

Satoru was not a man to give up on the first hindrance, and people learn that usually the hard way. His eyes were more concerned with how your eyebrows were scrunched up, how tightly your eyes were closed and how your eyelashes were looking longer like that, or how you might end up making your lips bleed if you keep on biting down on them that hard. And how beautiful your neck looked, with the little knot in your throat going up and down with nervous gulps. 

His right hand started working to get rid of the belts on your kimono, and his hand was slipping past every layer of clothing to reach your body. While his mouth made itself useful on your neck, peppering the most delicate kisses from the base of your neck, collar bones, along the column of your neck, up to your chin. And with several little scattered kisses on your jaw, Satoru’s eyes found your mouth open in a small gasp. Thankfully your lips did not bleed. But your eyes remained closed, too afraid to see what was going on, in the dim light of the candles illuminating the room in an orange hue, you were too scared. 

You did not want to think about how his hand felt so cold and soothing on your burning skin or how his lips felt so warm and comforting. You did not want to see those blue eyes, or those scars spread all across his skin, particularly the one under his eye—it made you train your eyes back into those dilating pupils every time.

Satoru's hand was just below your breasts, it just stayed there. Sometimes moving an inch too close and then just going back to drawing circles around your torso, squeezing your waist at times—all while his teeth and lips worked all over your decolletage. Little bites and long intervals of his lips sucking marks around your neck, drew out hisses of pleasure out of you.

Who knew that being under your husband could make one feel this much pleasure?

His left hand never left its grip on your right hand. The platinum ring on his finger became warm over time, just like his cold hand, as it remained intertwined with your fingers. While his right hand found its way down your stomach, on the waistband of your panties. It was nothing impressive, not the sort of underwear one expects a newly wed bride to wear. It was a simple cotton panty, the bare minimum. Your family forgot that detail probably.

But Satoru absolutely did not mind. He liked the slightly loose elastic, it felt like any moment he could slip it off you, or slip his own hand inside. And it felt worn in, soft and malleable. He could tear it off you in a millisecond. 

“Get it off already.”

“Ordering me around already, Gojo-sama? Hmm?” You were losing your patience. Who could’ve predicted that? 

“Stop that.” “Stop what?” “You know what.” 

“Again, Gojo-sama, if you do not tell me how will I know? Your poor, poor husband is not that sharp.” His patronizing voice vibrated in the crook of your neck. 

“Stop. C-calling m. Me. Gojo-sama.” 

“I don't know? Should I?

“Yes! You sound ridiculous!” Your eyes finally shit open and you rose up to now lean on your elbows, to get a better look at him. The unfastened kimono slipping off you and pooling under you in the process. 

His eyes remained trained on you, hooded and shadowed by storms and turmoil in the blue sea, as he found refuge between your open legs. He was practically lying on your breast, with your bra on the verge of slipping off and giving him easy access to them, to mark them all over in pink and purple. Because clearly the plethora of lovebites on you, were not enough.

He did not say anything. Just the hand which was previously on your waistband, glided downward until it reached the back of your knees. His fingers worked with stealth while his eyes distracted you, like a predator. He grabbed onto your knee and pushed you back down on the bed, as both his hands found their place back on your wrists. While he cozied himself between your legs, and sat back on his knees.

He leaned in close enough to hover his own set of lips just above your own, just as they barely made contact—he moved his neck to glide those lips across your cheek, to your ear. 

“I am glad we agree.”

“Then I can count on you, to not call me by that title again, right sweetheart?” 

You did not have to see his eyes or his face to nod an instant yes.

“Use your words. Lady Gojo.” His voice came out harsher than ever.

“I won't call you that again.”

“Ah. What an obedient wife you are. Hmm? Your parents will be proud.”

With those last words dripping with nothing but sarcasm, he got off you. He silently fixed your kimono, tucked you in, and kissed your forehead with a whisper of goodnight. Right before he left you there to contemplate what just happened, and locked himself in the bathroom attached to your bedroom, for what felt like more than an hour. You did not really know if you were supposed to wait for him or not, what was he going to do when he came back? 

All sorts of thoughts raced through your head, as you drifted into sweet slumber, on the most soft and comfortable bed you've ever come across in your life.

While Gojo Satoru hunched over the sink, looking like a freshly ripened tomato. He stared at himself into the mirror, with nothing but disbelief at his own audacity. 

The morning came faster than it should have. It felt particularly premature to you when you spent the rest of your night, after the events that took place on your marital bed, by watching the ceiling above you with a blank stare. You did pass out for a brief while, but that was out of being overwhelmed to the point of losing consciousness. You were not sure if this was ok, to sleep in this huge room by yourself. But you could not, or maybe did not want to stop Satoru from storming out of the bathroom, and then speeding out of the room without sparing you a single glance. You wanted to enjoy one night peacefully in this bed, to compensate for many tumultuous ones to inevitably follow. 

Even when getting off your bed to pace around the room, to maybe tire yourself out, sleep did not come. But if getting married was not tiresome enough to knock you out, then maybe walking around the room won’t do you any good as well. So you decided to take a walk in that huge garden sitting outside the floor to ceiling windows nearby your bed. 

You did not make it much far into the huge garden. After the neatly arranged traditional garden, laid vast lands of grass and wild flowers, and bushes, and an arrangement of trees, including two cherry blossom trees sitting across each other, along the edge of a lake. It was lit with the reflection of the moonlight, falling on the surface of its water, scattering everywhere in a chaotic rhythm, because of the busy fishes moving around in it, probably enjoying the serene night.  You would have liked to go take a seat near the lake, on one of those benches placed around it. But when you approached the nearest bench, under one of the cherry blossom trees, you found your husband already occupying it. 

Maybe in another world, you went up to it and sat down beside him silently, maybe you spoke with him and tried to start a conversation. Maybe you two just sat together in silence, or maybe he saw you and walked away. But in this world, you could not even cross the five feet of distance that laid between you and that bench. Instead you walked back to your room, as silently as you could. You spent the rest of the night trying to get some sleep, as you laid on your side, and stared out of those huge windows by your bed, until the dark sky became blue.

Who knows what the outcome could have been if you walked up to that bench last night. Who knows what could have happened if only Satoru turned around and asked you to sit down instead of patiently waiting for you to come up to him. I mean, you should know better, five feet of distance is not that much for their presence to go unnoticed by him or his six eyes. Especially when it is you. 

The morning itself was more uneventful, compared to last night. The shower was particularly soothing. ESpecially where he touched you last night. Maybe it has something to do with his powers you told yourself, but you knew better. Why it was burning everywhere he touched or why those marks of his teeth and lips stung so sweet—was not something you really wanted to think about, as it made you go weak in  the knees.

It was all very uneventful, until you came out of the bathroom after your shower, to find Satoru sitting at the end of the bed. He was still in the black kimono from the wedding. He looked like he did not get any sleep either, or so it seemed, because this time around his eyes were covered with his blindfold. It was eerie, for most people to see Gojo Satoru without his black blindfold, but for you it was probably the other way around. It was weird to see him with it for once. And that person felt like an entirely different person, than the one you married yesterday. 

“Goodmorning, Goj- Satoru-san.” His given name did not roll off your tongue the smoothest. But he appreciated that you listened to him. 

“You can drop the honorifics as well.” There was an appreciative smile on his face as he spoke, but even with his blindfold on, you could tell that smile did not reach his face. “I do not know if I can.”

Satoru did not push you. One step at a time, right? Even if these steps did not come out of your own volition, but his petty threats, he still welcomed them with a humorous smile. 

“I wanted to apologize about yesterday.” He did not suit humility, that is what you thought when a grin stretched along your face. Seeing him squirm and look so uncomfortable was new, even when his eyes were covered, you imagined them to look more sorry than body language. Satoru really was just not familiar with saying sorry, but he never backed away from apologizing when he needed to.

“I really crossed a line there, just to prove a point.” you did not say anything back but just stood in front of him with your freshly out of shower wet hair dripped droplets of water on the carpet. “I would understand if you do not want to forgive me, I would like to make it up to you however.” He was trying his best. His best to not stare at you blatantly in that silken baby blue robe clinging to your body, that he personally picked out for you. Or the peeking marks he left on you, that made him go dizzy. It was all him.

“It is alright.” you went to sit beside him, but instead of sitting just by him, you sat on one of the corners of the bed, keeping the distance between you two. “Really?”

“Yes. I do not think I would have minded if you went all the way. I do not really have any say in that.” 

“What?” He genuinely looked confused for a few first seconds. Then something else creeped up on him, something close to pity or disgust. 

“I was wedded off to you to serve you and your bloodline. It is my purpose.”

Satoru felt disgusted. By everyone and anyone who has ever made you think about yourself like this. But he was mostly disgusted by himself.

“I do not know how much more plainly I can put it, and it is not just some opinion of mine, it’s just the truth. But you are wrong to think that.” He got off the bed, to stand in front of you. At an arms length he looked further away than he actually was. His shoulders looked stiff and his jaw was tight. You have somehow managed to piss him off by saying things you were instructed to say all your life, to not piss off your husband.

“You are wrong.” 

That was all he said before he stormed out of the room without a second glance. Exuding the sort of energy that said he might erupt like an angry volcano any minute.

SERIES MASTERLIST ‖ <<PREVIEW . NEXT CHAPTER>>soon!

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

divider by @/omi-resources. header is from jjk manga, and watashitachi wa douka shiteiru adaptation

honestly i have been cooking this for almost a month and i am so indecisive about what i wanted to do with him i do not want to make an angsty story where the angst if because of Gojo being an ass, lol i think there are plenty of those, done far better than wtv i can do. so this guy is still very canon adjacent, emotionally unavailable in a way you know the people you think you have all figured but then suddenly you are like wtf??? i do not know anything about you. so lol i am using my own emotional constipation as heavy reference. he has many many layers, i want to explore his death in the shinjuku fight, his powers which i have left intact mostly but in a more weakened state than his students and what not. i want to explore his thoughts on that. reader's insecurities i wanted to make them as real as possible so if i make anyone sad, it was the goal, also i am sorry. it will get sadder just saying. even though i will make them have so many suffocating with tension scenes. it will be happy eventually!!! and i hope you gusy likeee itttt

tag list (1): @cheralith @slayzzz @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @arcanarix @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @emyyy007 @ineedbetterhobbies0809 @littlemisswitch67 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @tabalugax @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @thetiredcollegestudent @tokyolhtl @emochosoluvr @moncher-ire @hyunjinspdf @younjunie @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @em0cleo @novaisbebita @hisarmsaremycocoon @wise-fangirl @sheep-infog @arrozyfrijoles23 @ppejmurde @miizuzu @ricecake-mochi @tushkiiiiiii @ovela @69-gojos-wife-69 @fariylixie0915 @lxxnour @mereniss

[autemis]

OMG, what is this patch?! (SPOILER)

The little things they’ve added around Henry and Hans's room are everything! I know many have already pointed these out, but that won’t stop me from babbling about it too!

Alright, let’s start directly with the potion right outside their room! The happiness potion (Idk what it’s called in english, in german it’s named "eine Prise Glück", which translates kinda to "a little bit of happiness").

What is this description, pls? "Such luck can’t be found anywhere else. One of the side effects is dancing in the moonlight." That sounds so beautiful! It feels like a metaphor for their romance - a secret they can only share in the dark, but that doesn’t diminish its beauty. A love that feels like a dance under a clear night sky, where the moon and the stars are the only silent witnesses who don’t judge.

german description for 'a little bit of happiness' - what does this potion even do out there? Did someone put it there or is it just a subtle symbol for blossoming, young emotions?

Also, the little dog toy right next to Hans's bed - a symbol of interest in Henry's life. Hans got it (I’m totally convinced of this) for Mutt, to show his affection and interest - the dog who is really important to Henry. It also could be symbolize an apology for what happened at the beginning of the game. Hans broke his promise to help Henry find his dog, which is why he tries to show his appreciation for Mutt. He shows that he cares about him and doesn’t just tolerate him. Mutt is important to Henry and therefore to Hans - not just because he simply likes the dog, but also because he knows how much Henry cares about Mutt.

The dog toy on Hans's nightstand—where did he even get it from? Did he buy it or did he even make it himself?

And of course, the stamina potion under Hans's bed, along with the poetry book! I don’t know what the thought process behind this was, but I’m thankful to whoever decided to put it there. Just the idea that Hans owns a poetry book with an undoubtedly queer subtext is brilliant! It suggests he has a certain interest in this topic - no matter what. (I think we don’t actually know who wrote it, do we? Personally, it seems like Hans might have written it himself, given how the book is laid out - no embellishments on the pages, just plain text and -I'm sorry Hans- medium-good poetry.)

Hans seems to really want to engage with the topic and apparently also with his own emotions. It’s such a sweet little detail that really shapes his character! He clearly is still a bit confused, but he’s trying to handle it in his own way. I really don’t want to be needy, but I hope we get more of these little things in future updates or with the DLCs.

The stamina potion on the other hand is pure comedy - what does Hans need this extra strength for? For when he has a bit of time alone or when someone is visiting? Or maybe it isn’t even for him? Perhaps it’s for someone else who has to keep up with Hans through certain "activities."

Stamina potion and "leicht anstößiger Gedichtsband" ("lightly risqué poetry collection") under Hans's bed. He really should have hidden it in a better place - or perhaps he wanted someone "special" to find it?

I’m crying tears of happiness because of this patch! But also because Henry just casually stole Hans's poetry book - that's so hilarious! Imagine the mental crisis Hans will go through when he notices his book is missing. 🤣

[psshaw]

OKAY SO I have a lot of swirling thoughts and factors on this, and also a head cold, but here's my best shot.

If you make someone you’re attracted to, you get to look at them all the time. We all deserve such a gift.

Several layers of distance! I can explore weird, rough, and vulnerable subjects without people assuming they’re meant to represent me. They're a safe buffer for when I don't want to talk about myself or what I want. Plus, I much prefer thinking about their problems. They’re like a little hotel room I get to trash and leave someone else with the bill!

When I see a girl I think is cool, I want to be like her. When I make cool girls I have to be careful because I might make her a cooler girl than me. She might bite my style! Or worse, I'd have to bite hers. Boys are for writing, girls are for dressup games, haha.

I like to keep fiction and reality separate. The project of myself is separate from the project of forcing everyone to look at my little pet-baby-dolls, and I see no reason to mix the two types of expression.

In that vein, I really don't like playing as myself! I made "me" in BG3 once, and while I loved making my character and looking at her makes me all gender-euphoric, I hated asking myself "what would I do". That's not a fun fantasy! (Also most video game girl clothes suck, as we know.)

Internalized misogyny of some kind— for a long time, women in art or ads would register to me more as mannequins, tokens, or even voids. The bland, surface-level femininity being sold was like white noise, nothing to do with me. (A stark contrast to the real women in my life, some of whom I’ve always admired and wanted to be like. All of my distaste for girlhood came from the marketing and being assigned products!) I think I got the idea that if she was designed by somebody, then she wasn’t going to reflect what I wanted. Granted, I feel this way about a lot of stuff. But when people talk about misogyny in fandom, I feel like I know exactly what they mean.

Being a dude sucks in an interesting way, haha. They slot much easier into the “I genuinely thought this would go well for me” or fall-from-grace narrative. I also like subverting expectations, so it's fun to give them unexpected sensitivity or emotional cleverness. And frankly, it's just less loaded to do violence to them.

When I’m fascinated by someone, I try to get really, really in their head. I’m talking “getting a weird rush from imagining them filling out forms” levels of granularity. With dudes, there’s a lot more to explore because their experiences are stereotypically different from mine— I like to joke that it’s like teratophilia. (Nevermind the uh, sharp teeth and etc they all seem to get.)

At this point I’m just spoiled. Every time I draw a dude, it’s halfway to drawing two dudes making out.

[magnoliaswriteatsunset]

I remember having tears in my eyes when I had recently started using the period tracker when it initially came out. Caleb decided to visit Destiny cafe that day as he had been for most days since I added him with the other love interests. I wanted a nice and comforting message since my period cramps were hitting me hard and I felt unwell. I was away from family at the time, by myself, even though I would be back soon enough. I felt alone, in some ways. Content with solitude but craving support from loved ones during a time where I feel vulnerable and in pain. Caleb said one sentence and I just felt myself go rigid. “It’s your body, so you know it best.” Something along those lines.

Perhaps because it was the first day of my period where my cramps are the worst. Perhaps the hormones causing mood swings are what did it. Perhaps it was the wounds on my heart I didn’t realize I had. But I felt tears push at the backs of my eyes. I had never been in a romantic relationship before. I had never really felt like the men in my life understood what I wanted and needed during my period, just sympathizing with me and trying their best to not make it worse. It’s confusing for all involved. Before I heard Caleb say that sentence, I had simply accepted that if I were to ever be in a relationship with a man, I would have to deal with this part of my cycle by myself. I think I had lost hope before I even realized I had it in the first place. Hearing so many stories of how people who endure period pains being left to their own devices because their partners either don’t care to learn, because medical professionals don’t listen, felt isolating and terrifying. Even if there are good stories and ones filled with so much love and care it’s like watching a wound heal itself little by little, the worse stories stuck more.

Having my experience validated by this fictional man, who loves and cares for the love of his life, trying to understand her and work with her through the struggles they face, was healing. It felt like my autonomy and knowledge of myself and my body was validated in a way I didn’t know I needed. For the first time, I realized how I wanted to be loved and cared for. Especially during this kind of experience. I felt heard. Listened to. Even if he couldn’t really hear me. Even if he never will. Even if all I can do is press a button and listen to a pre-programmed message.

I know someone, some people, took the time and effort to carefully craft each response and message. To animate and give voice to each one. To ensure it not only suited each love interest but also create a feeling of safety and comfort for all the players. Feeling how much love and care the devs and cast put into making these messages and this feature, without knowing how much effort they put in, how many sleepless nights they laid awake pondering what it should do and look like, how many hours were spent fretting over each detail, it made me feel so loved and appreciated. And so incredibly grateful that I get to experience the result of their hard work and dedication to Love and Deepspace and its players. I will always be grateful to this game, its developers and voice cast, and this fan base for providing for me in ways I never knew I needed. Thank you, Love and Deepspace. And to all the wonderful hunters who help each other feel seen and heard. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❄️💫🌊🐦‍⬛🍎💪❤️‍🩹

I look forward to what the future has in store for us. 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

I wish that, instead of reacting angrily or feeling attacked by the love many women feel for Love and Deepspace, some men would adopt a more open attitude and use the lessons this game offers to improve the way they treat their partners and women in general.

Love and Deepspace is designed to make us feel loved and to convey what love should feel like. For me (and I know for many others), it has taught me to understand what I truly desire in a relationship and how I want to be treated. Love interests are designed to make us feel valued, prioritized, and deeply loved. They are attentive, respectful, and caring, showing their love without coercion or demands, putting us first, and the evolution of the relationship and its intimacy is built on trust and mutual respect.

Even mechanics like the menstrual cycle representation, which has been criticized so much, are a reflection of the care and empathy that should exist in a healthy relationship. Understanding your partner's stage of the cycle not only allows you to support them more sensitively, but also to show meaningful support during phases like the luteal phase or menstruation itself.

This game isn't about sex or pornography, as many people think, but about love, respect, and genuine affection. It teaches us what true love feels like, what a healthy relationship should be like, and what it means to be authentically loved. There's nothing wrong with this, nor should those of us who enjoy this experience feel ashamed.

[wbbfannnnnn13]

Almost, Always - Chapter 6

paige x azzi

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

A/N: Okay so... this one is pretty much straight up smut... I've never written it so wanted to give it a go... if you're into it, enjoy ;) and if you aren't or you're a minor DNI, just skip on ahead to about half way through the chapter for some important plot lol... I added a pretty obvious mark in it to make it easier to find that point.

WC: 3k+

Warnings: explicit sexual content -- minors DNI

Chapter 6 – Almost Easy

The night before had changed everything. After the tension and uncertainty had nearly unraveled them, Paige had pulled Azzi close and promised, really promised, that she was done running. That she wasn’t going to let fear dictate how they loved each other. That she wouldn’t hide them anymore. She told Azzi she was all in, every day, in public, in private, in everything. And Azzi had believed her. She’d seen the conviction in Paige’s eyes, felt it in the way she held her, in every word she said without flinching. So Paige stayed the night. They curled around each other like they were stitched together by something unshakable, the silence between them no longer filled with doubt, but with peace. For the first time in a long time, Azzi hadn’t fallen asleep wondering if Paige would still be there in the morning because she was already wrapped around her, steady and warm, as if she’d never planned to leave at all.

The morning sunlight crept in through the slats of the blinds, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Azzi stirred slowly, eyelids fluttering open as warmth pressed against her bare back and the soft weight of Paige’s arm curled around her waist. For a long, contented moment, she lay still, breathing in the scent of sleep and skin and something uniquely them.

She could feel Paige’s steady breath behind her, a subtle rhythm brushing against the back of her neck. A small smile tugged at her lips. It had been so long since they’d had a morning like this—a morning that wasn’t shaped by travel schedules, media appearances, or guarded conversations. Just stillness. Just Paige.

Azzi shifted slightly, and Paige stirred behind her, pressing a lazy kiss between her shoulder blades. The kiss was soft, barely there, but it sent a gentle ripple through her.

“Morning, princess” Paige murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Mm,” Azzi hummed in response, stretching under the sheets.

She turned to face her, and Paige was already looking at her—eyes sleepy, lips curved in a slow smile, fingers moving to brush a curl from Azzi’s cheek.

“You always wake up this pretty?” Paige whispered, her voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with playful heat.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “Shut up.”

Paige leaned in, kissing her again, this time deeper. Slow and lingering, like she had nowhere else to be, nothing else to think about but the warmth of Azzi’s mouth beneath hers. Azzi responded instinctively, fingers tangling in Paige’s hair, pulling her closer until their bodies aligned beneath the sheets, heat building between them.

Their kisses turned more urgent. Azzi’s breath caught as Paige’s hand slid slower, fingers exploring her chest. Paige’s touch was slow and deliberate, grazing her skin like she was painting every inch of her into memory. Azzi gasped softly when Paige’s fingers dipped lower, trailing teasing circles just above her hipbone.

"So sensitive this morning, Az," Paige murmured, voice thick with affection and desire. "You like that, baby?"

Azzi bit her bottom lip, eyes fluttering shut as she arched into the touch. "Always," she breathed.

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing hot against Azzi’s ear. "You’re so fucking gorgeous like this," she whispered. "My pretty girl." Her hand moved again, slow and certain, gliding across the waistband of Azzi’s panties with practiced ease that made her shiver.

Azzi’s breath hitched, her body already responding, pulsing with anticipation. "P… please," she whispered, her voice breaking, needy and soft.

"I got you," Paige said, kissing her neck tenderly. Her hand slipped lower, fingers pressing against the inside of Azzi’s thigh with an intimacy that made her head spin. Her skin tingled at the contact, muscles tightening in anticipation as Paige’s fingers teased closer to her center, skimming deliberately slow, maddeningly light. "Imma make you feel good, baby."

Azzi arched toward her, lips parting with a breathy moan.

Paige’s fingers moved with purpose now, slipping inside her underwear going directly between Azzi’s folds, slick and warm and familiar. She circled her fingers over her clit with delicate pressure, just enough to make Azzi’s hips buck.

"That’s it, baby," she murmured. "So wet for me."

Azzi let out a soft, breathy laugh between gasps, a teasing edge in her voice. "What can I say, P? You know exactly what you’re doing." Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, gaze locking with Paige’s, heat dancing in the space between them. "And I like when you talk to me like that… makes me even wetter."

Paige leaned in, eyes dark with affection and heat, brushing her lips just barely over Azzi's cheek, her voice a whipser. "Yeah? You like when I tell you how good you feel? How perfect you are under me?" 

Azzi’s lips curled into a soft, breathless smile, her cheeks still flushed from Paige’s teasing. She met Paige’s gaze, eyes heavy-lidded, and nodded slowly, letting the gesture carry every unspoken word—yes, she wanted her; yes, she loved being touched like this; yes, Paige was the only one who could unravel her so completely.

Paige grinned, teasing her with her fingers—sliding them dangerously close to Azzi’s entrance but stopping just short, brushing slow, deliberate strokes that had Azzi squirming beneath her. "You want it, baby?" she whispered.

Azzi’s hips rolled forward instinctively, chasing the touch she craved. A frustrated whimper slipping past her lips. "Please," she begged, her voice laced with need. "Baby… I need you."

Paige didn't make Azzi wait any longer. She slid a finger inside her, slow and deep, curling it just right. Azzi gasped at the sensation, hips lifting off the bed involuntarily, chasing the fullness. Paige kissed along her jaw, murmuring low praises before slipping in a second finger, stretching her gently. Azzi moaned at the added pressure, her breath catching as her body clenched around the new rhythm. "So perfect like this, pretty girl," Paige whispered, curling her fingers again, deeper this time. Azzi could barely speak, her mouth falling open, head thrown back as pleasure surged through her with every deliberate thrust. 

Azzi cried out, her voice breathy and raw. "Fuck, P… don’t stop." Paige kissed along her neck, lips brushing over sweat-damp skin. "You drive me fucking crazy, Az," she whispered, picking up the pace of her fingers thrusting into her. "I want to feel you fall apart for me." 

Azzi gripped at her shoulders, nails digging in just enough to leave a mark, as her hips lifted in time with Paige’s touch. Paige’s fingers thrust deep, curling with practiced precision that had Azzi gasping beneath her.

"So good for me, Az," Paige whispered, her lips dragging along Azzi’s jaw, breath hot and uneven.

She shifted slightly, pressing her palm tighter against Azzi’s clit, rubbing firm circles while her fingers moved inside her with a rhythm that bordered on punishing. Azzi’s body arched, moaning uncontrollably as the pleasure coiled tighter, every nerve lit with electric heat. Paige’s name spilled from her lips in broken gasps, her hips rocking to meet each thrust, desperate and aching. Azzi’s mind swam, half-lost in sensation, half-focused on the sound of Paige's voice—the way she murmured praise and encouragement with every touch.

She loved that. Loved how Paige always talked to her during sex, the way she called her baby, pretty girl, Az—it made her feel wanted, worshipped. It wasn’t just about pleasure; it was about being seen. Every whispered word, every soft command made Azzi fall a little harder, made her body respond faster, her heart beat louder. Paige’s voice had always done something to her, but like this, tangled in heat and love, it was everything.

“That’s it, baby,” Paige coaxed, her voice raw. “Cum for me. Let me feel you.” Azzi’s breath was ragged now, her thighs trembling, her fingers digging into the sheets as Paige’s hand moved with relentless precision.

"Don’t stop, baby," Azzi gasped, her voice catching on a moan, trembling beneath the weight of pleasure. "Please, P… don’t stop. You feel so good—just like that." Her body arched against Paige’s touch, a desperate ache rising with every curl of Paige’s fingers. "God, I’m so close," she breathed, her hand fisting the sheets, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation threatened to pull her apart completely.

A guttural cry tore from her lips, her voice breaking as her whole body shuddered. Her climax hit her in a wave of molten heat, every nerve lit and surging with electricity, her muscles clenching around Paige’s fingers as she shattered beneath her touch. “Fuck, P—” Azzi gasped, her voice shaking, breath stuttering through the aftermath. Paige caught her cry with a kiss, swallowing the sound like a promise.

And in that moment, Azzi could only cling to her, trembling, lost in the swell of pleasure and affection and everything Paige gave her. She collapsed against her chest, breathless, heart pounding, letting the aftershocks roll through her like a tide she didn’t want to end.

Later, tangled in sheets and breathless, Azzi ran her fingers slowly down Paige’s spine, tracing soft lines with her nails. Her touch wandered lower, curving just beneath the sheet, coaxing a quiet hum from Paige as she stirred. Azzi leaned in, pressing a lazy kiss to the base of her neck, letting it linger there, breathing her in. She smiled against Paige’s skin, content in the warmth and stillness that wrapped around them like a second blanket. Her hand settled on Paige’s hip, her thumb brushing idle circles as she watched Paige shift closer, instinctively seeking her out. The moment felt suspended—hushed and intimate, their bodies tangled in the remnants of something electric and tender.

“You always wake up like that?” she teased, voice low.

Paige grinned into her shoulder, her lips brushing against Azzi’s skin. “Only when you’re next to me, pretty girl.”

They stayed in bed longer than they should have, wrapped around each other, soaking up every inch of this rare peace. Azzi didn’t realize how much she missed this softness until it was returned to her—how much she’d craved being held like this, wanted like this, loved like this.

Eventually, they moved. Azzi wandered into the kitchen first, pulling on one of Paige’s oversized shirts—an old UConn tee she knew Paige loved seeing on her. The cotton hung loosely over her frame, brushing the tops of her thighs as she slipped on a fresh pair of underwear. She didn’t bother with anything else. There was something about wearing Paige’s clothes that made her feel close to her, even when they weren’t touching. And she knew exactly what it did to Paige, too. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror and smirked a little before heading to the kitchen. Moments later, Paige followed, her eyes dragging slowly over Azzi with an expression that made heat coil low in her belly. Azzi pretended not to notice as she reached for the coffee pods, but she could feel Paige’s gaze like a physical touch.

“Don’t touch anything,” she warned playfully. “You almost broke the machine last time.”

“First of all, rude,” Paige said with a playful grin, leaning against the counter. “Second, you’re lucky I’m yours.”

“Debatable,” Azzi muttered, bumping into her as she passed, grabbing the coffee pods herself.

They moved around each other easily, like gravity. Music buzzed softly from the television in the living room. Paige leaned against the counter, watching Azzi cook—admiring the way she moved, the little hum in her throat when she stirred the eggs.

Azzi felt her watching and smirked. “You’re just standing there staring.”

“I’m admiring,” Paige said. “It’s different.”

She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around Azzi from behind. Azzi let out a soft laugh, leaning back into her as Paige’s hands slid around her waist and settled at her stomach. Paige pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her neck, nuzzling against her like she couldn’t get close enough.

Azzi’s hands instinctively came up to rest over Paige’s, her fingers lacing with hers. The moment was quiet, tender—something fuller than heat or desire. It was comfort. It was home.

"I love this," Paige murmured against her skin. "Just… being with you like this."

Azzi smiled, her eyes softening as she turned her head slightly to catch Paige’s gaze over her shoulder. "Me too," she whispered. "It’s everything."

They stood there for another moment, holding onto each other like the world couldn’t reach them, wrapped in a silence that spoke louder than any words.

Breakfast was slow, shared on the couch beneath a blanket they’d dragged from the bed. Azzi let her legs tangle with Paige’s, her fingers idly threading through her hair as Paige scrolled her phone.

Then came the buzzing.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

Paige frowned, brows drawing together. Azzi’s stomach sank slightly. She didn’t like that look.

“What’s going on?” she asked, leaning in.

Paige opened one of the notifications. A link. Then another. Then came the tags.

A blurry photo of Paige in Azzi’s jersey, leaving the arena.

Azzi’s heart jumped. Not in a good way.

Paige Bueckers spotted repping Azzi Fudd’s jersey. Couple goals?

More headlines followed. Fans were already speculating, comment sections flooded, threads exploding with theories and gossip.

“Wow,” Azzi said softly, trying to keep her voice light. “That was fast.”

Paige tried to shrug it off. “Guess I’m trending.”

But Azzi saw it—the shift in her. The subtle tension in her shoulders, the quick way her hand tightened around her phone. She knew that look too well. It wasn’t just surprise—it was panic, creeping in beneath the surface.

“You okay?” Azzi asked gently.

“I’m fine,” Paige said too quickly. “It’s just… whatever. Noise.”

But it wasn’t noise. Not for Paige. Azzi watched her pick up her phone again. Scroll. Close it. Pick it up again. She was spiraling—quietly, but clearly. And Azzi felt a twinge of something between worry and heartbreak. It was like watching cracks reappear in a wall they had just started to mend. She wanted to reach out and pull her out of it, to wrap her arms around her and tell her none of it mattered. But the helplessness crept in too—because she couldn’t stop Paige’s fear, couldn’t protect her from the pressure of being who she was in the world. Azzi hated how familiar this looked, how quickly the weight of the outside world seeped back in, and how powerless she felt to keep it from stealing their peace again.

Azzi placed a hand on her arm. “Are you sure?”

Paige nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

“You don’t look okay.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Azzi frowned, thumb brushing Paige’s wrist. “You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.”

Paige let out a breath. “I knew this would happen. I just didn’t think it’d happen this fast.”

“You mean people talking?”

“Yeah. The headlines. The speculation. It’s like the moment we’re happy, the world wants to rip it apart.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

Paige hesitated. “Yeah. I want to be the kind of person who doesn’t care. I’m trying to be. But it’s hard when it feels like every part of us is on display.” She tossed her phone onto the couch with a sharp exhale. “And it’s not even about basketball. There’s nothing about you dropping 30 last night or me putting up a triple-double against the Liberty. No one’s talking about that—just us, just this.” Her jaw clenched.

Azzi’s heart ached at that. Because she knew. She knew Paige’s fear, her history, the weight she carried every time someone looked too closely at them. And she loved her for trying, for showing up. But it didn’t make the ache in her own chest any less sharp. If anything, it added guilt to it, guilt that maybe she was pushing Paige too far, too fast. That by wanting them to be seen, to be open, she was dragging Paige into a spotlight she wasn’t ready for. Azzi’s fingers curled tighter around Paige’s hand.

"I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing this on you," she said quietly. "I know it’s a lot. And I’m not trying to push you into something you’re not ready for."

Paige turned her head, eyes soft but fierce. "You’re not," she said firmly. "Az, I’m not upset with you. I’m not scared because of you. I’m scared because I’ve spent years hiding and second-guessing, and now I’m trying to unlearn all of that. But I want this. I want you. And I’m okay with us being seen… it’s just going to take some adjusting."

Azzi offered a faint nod, but something about the moment still clung too heavy on her chest. Her thumb traced lightly over the back of Paige’s hand, the motion absent, her eyes drifting away with a far-off tension she hadn’t quite shaken.

“I know you say you’re okay with it,” she said carefully, voice hushed but colored with something deeper—uncertainty, fear. “And I believe you’re trying. I do.”

Paige tilted her head toward her, brows drawing together. “But?”

Azzi hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “But it’s not like you’re shouting it from the rooftops either.”

The words slipped out before she could soften them, and as soon as they hung between them, she wished she could pull them back.

Paige blinked, caught off guard. Her posture changed in that barely noticeable way Azzi knew too well—tension tightening in her shoulders, her jaw setting just a little too firmly.

“Is that what you want?” Paige asked after a beat, quieter now. “For me to shout it?”

Azzi sighed, her heart pulling tight. “No. It’s not that.” She paused, fingers tightening around Paige’s. “I just… I think I’m scared too. Scared that if we keep existing like this... in this in-between space... we’ll forget how to really be together out loud. Or worse, we’ll drift back into hiding again, without even realizing it.”

Paige looked down at their hands, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles. Her voice, when she spoke, was gentler. “I don’t want to be in-between anymore either. But I need you to trust that I’m working my way through it, for real. Even if I’m not shouting it… doesn’t mean I’m not choosing it.”

Azzi nodded again, the tension in her chest loosening slightly—but not disappearing. The silence that followed was soft, but it carried weight, a lingering thread of uncertainty that neither of them knew quite how to unravel.