#;; and she'll enjoy it so much more

[lisbonsteresa]

YEAH

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Why is she so cold? Randall half-wondered to himself, as he listened to her with a tender smile: He couldn't help but notice this as he held her hand, wishing for nothing more than to warm her with everything he had. He hated to think this poor woman was cold, even in the summer, and so he found himself taking her hands the way a lover might, hoping he could chase away the chill.

"I...I'm glad you came in last night," he smiled, giving her hand a little squeeze. "I...I know how you feel, in a way; my life, it's...been pretty lonely too lately, it's been very, uh...monotonous, I guess is the word. I get up, I go to work, I go to bed...rinse and repeat. And so for you to come along and just...shake up my whole world, it feels like? It's wonderful."

He didn't know what compelled her to come into the shop last night. He didn't know what drew her in put them on one another's path, nor did he knew what about himself it was that so attracted her, but he wasn't about to question it, as he finished shyly, and yet completely earnestly, "I'm...I'm very excited for tomorrow night too-there's no one I'd rather spend an evening out with than you."

[stillcominback]

🎀 🎀 🎀

[stormlit]

couple of lil bg3 aus that have been rattling round my brain:

ylfa. human werewolf, wildheart barbarian. you know what every party of assholes (affectionate) needs? a 12 year old werewolf barbarian who is just a little girl who has gone through the most Fucked Up Horrors - and she wasn't even infected with a parasite. she's learning to cope with the monster inside her, she's insisting that she should be fighting with the party (and the worst part isn't that she is a great fighter and built to soak up all the damage, it's that no adult in her life has ever stopped to say "hey maybe this is a step too far for this literal child"). is pretty sure she's slowly becoming the figure of death as well as a more corrupted wolf. she can be a travelling companion but can also just be found at camp, training with whoever else is there and hanging onto gale's stories. she's obsessed with withers. you lose her approval fast if you're shitty to kids or animals.

georgie. human, paladin, oath of the ancients. a soldier (from wherever in faerun has the mancunian accents lmao) who has spent her career healing, doing whatever she can to help innocent people around her, definitely the folk hero background. being kidnapped by the mindflayers was NOT her first kidnap and torture rodeo, and she's already dealing with that by the time the plot starts, so she seems extremely calm under pressure (but you might catch her fully losing it in camp once they're safe). she's a reckless, compassionate, extremely good aligned character who is ignoring all her own shit for the sake of the mission. also think her shitty ex will reappear at some point for her personal quest if she's in a companion role, but idk for sure how it goes yet and by default i'll probably have her be the tav, that fits her a lot and she's an excellent leader. she's not a fan of the illithid powers and fully does not want them.

nynaeve. healer-focused druid, probably a half-elf? she has a tadpole in her brain, she has a block when it comes to using any associated powers, and she is NOT happy about it. she also has a block when it comes to using high-level spells that she has to work through. once the chief healer and sort of leader of a village outside baldur's gate that got overrun by orcs and other monsters, she barely escaped with her life when one dragged her out as a spoil of battle and was spending her time in search of four of her friends who also got led out by a mysterious magic user right as the battle hit its peak when she got yoinked by mindflayers - finding her friends in the city is her personal quest. she's extremely magically powerful but it's almost always tied to strong emotion and she's yet to control it, though there's a group in the city who want to help (and use that power for themselves, in her view). blunt, fierce, extremely driven by her morals and doing the right thing.

[grymmdark]

i wanna go home and scream and cry and curl up in my bed and sleep for 1000000000 years

[aeipathcy]

@unladielike * ✭ ❪ cont. from here┊☓ ❫

Reanne paused and wryly smiled as Vivian double-checked whether she would continue playing. She didn't have the heart to lie, but she didn't want to let her down either. After all, it'd be awful if she lost this chance to make a new female friend because she didn't want to play a simple game that was mostly reading. There was always the option of pressing the buttons and checking out while she played right?

Wait a second—this was so unlike her! Normally she would've been blunt about not liking this sort of thing! Was she that desperate for interaction that she became meek? Urgh, that was a pitifully disgusting thought. Now—she imagined herself slapping her cheeks as a form of psyching herself up—she had to reset! There was nothing wrong with stating her opinions! If she'd rather use the little time she had playing a different game, it was still valid!

❝ Eh, to be honest, I'm not really vibing with that one, Code: Realize. The heroine isn't clicking with me. The no touch thing ruins my soul, ❞ she began to explain, awkwardly laughing as she tossed a pigtail behind her shoulder, ❝ I mean, I live off physical touch. If the point of an otome game is for the player to live out an ideal romance, I need tons of physical affection in it—a fiery, bold protagonist too. ❞ This title was supposedly the best one to try when starting out with the genre, and now she was wondering if she would truly enjoy it like Vivian would if this basic starter game was something she would categorize the same as all the shoujo manga she used to read.

The girl went wide-eyed for a moment at the nickname suddenly bestowed upon her. Riri? Who the fuck was that? It took a couple seconds for the dots to click, and only then did Reanne find herself wondering if trying to befriend Vivian was a mistake. Weren't they a bit too different here? How was she supposed to feel having her name shortened to these weird phonemes that sounded nothing like her name at all? Her name.... AHHHHHH!

Still, it wasn't like her to give up at all. She'd make it work out somehow. Even if her younger self could last without true friends, the her of today could not—and so she wouldn't try to cut this bond before it had a chance to sprout and grow. Not to mention, her therapist did say more people in her social circle might help with certain impulse responses.

Reanne smiled in relief hearing Vivian's reassurance about the keychain. At least this was just an extra copy. That was good. She carefully stowed it away in her cardigan pocket, keeping her hand there to ensure it was kept securely. While she didn't catch the meaning of this 'yumejoshi' term, she wouldn't say anything about it. It seemed the other girl was sort of in her own world right now and the Reanne was not about to burst her bubble.

❝ You got something different to recommend that I might enjoy more? I'll return Code: Realize and that other one you gave me next time we run into each other, ❞ she interjected to steer the conversation something back to something she could actually reply to, ❝ and also—just call me by name. I hate nicknames. They kill me inside. ❞

[vanilleneo]

@badluckqrow: ❛ you’re not as bad as everyone says you are. ❜ (from Ruby)

Little Red was trying to compliment her, she's almost sure of it. It's just a shame that it somehow manages to sound so much like an insult all at once: perhaps she wasn't as bad as people liked to say, but that didn't change the fact that people were still saying all of those things.

They weren't unearned, of course. Neo has no such delusions as to think that joining up with these kids was enough to undo all the harm she had done. The Fall of Beacon, stealing the Relic of Knowledge and handing it over to Cinder, not to mention everything that had happened before she even knew the name Cinder Fall.

After a moment of staring blankly at the younger girl, both her hands lift in a shrug, one hand lifting while the other lowered, repeating the motion twice. A sort of "yes and no" gesture. She certainly didn't perceive herself as evil, but good? That still seemed like something of a pipe dream.

an assortment of dialogue prompts

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

Lady Merethe of House Sofinoy

"Now, why would I get close enough to a dragon for it to rip me apart when I could simply bombard it with spells from a distance? I've never understood that."

The children of House Sofinoy are known for their somewhat unorthodox ways of thinking, and Merethe is no exception. The youngest of the viscountess's daughters, she has no wish to follow the path laid out for her by tradition. Along with her younger brother, Aurélien, she chose a different way to fight for her people- though her weapon of choice (thaumaturgy) is much more acceptable in the eyes of their peers than Aurélien's (machinistry).

Since the end of the Dragonsong War, she's spent much of her time journeying across Coerthas, working as a mercenary and adventurer of sorts, occasionally joined by Aurélien. The two have also been known to aid the Scions and the Warrior of Light when the situation calls for it, most notably during the war for Ala Mhigo and at the Ghimlyt Dark.

Bonus, the burden of being an older sibling:

Why is it that every time someone wishes to speak with Aurélien, Merethe is the one they send to track him down and pry him away from his work for five minutes? Fury help her, if she has to interrupt her research to find him one more godsdamned time-

Stephanivien can only offer his sympathy. Wasn't his turn to babysit ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[lightaflametoburnmethrough]

[lunarharp]

a random draft where i was ramblingg about witch hat & art to myself for myself :)

rare time i feel like actually going off about the thing i’m having fun with right now in more detail ... but not on twt where strangers might try to discuss back at me lol sorry but that is scary. (not that you even have the room to soliloquy on there)

i love how there's characters for varying types of artists to relate to. people like agott who have been adept at drawing from a young age but feel overwhelmed by feelings of not meeting their expectations. and are driven mostly by feelings of wanting to prove their worth..

people like oru who have always been around the art but now are burnt out from commissions and wondering just what they're drawing for... and ones i relate to the most personally like coco and qifrey, who started drawing at an older age to the skilled people around them. like coco i'm so happy that i'm in the world of drawing(/magic) now and excited every day but also weighed down by fears that i'll never get to what i where i need to be after starting at this late stage and also whether i'm really cut out for this....

and like qifrey i only started drawing after a narrow escape from trauma... i started drawing to make sense of what my life is now, just as he was invited by beldaruit to become a witch because it was the only safe path he could take. (although i've not been through anything quite like what he's been through... ouagh)

and there’s tetia who just wants to draw to make other people feel happy about what she’s made, to have fun, and spread hope and happiness and gratitude. who feels so happy whenever someone thanks her for what she’s created - i understand now how it feels to want to thank them for thanking her and how making art, when you get a meaningful response, can be a truly warm communal type experience. but you do need that response - her overwhelming happiness when the dragon thing was happy and she said it was the first time she’d ever felt fully appreciated for her magic and it made her soooo happy. she had been drawing until then, but it was the last puzzle in place to make her realise the breadth of what magic can be for her.

and riche who is determined to not lose the “her”-ness from her art, doesn’t want to learn new techniques and become more regular and orthodox in style if it means she feels she’s losing something... i get that!!! precious autistic-coded child... the ways we feel about our art differ depending on our own mental landscapes. hahhhh... shirahama said she began this series because she was having a conversation with artist friends about how it feels like drawing just really is magic. i mean..... it is.

i think writing feels like magic too, and i’m glad i can do both now. any creation is total magic. i’ve drawn scenes that were in my head and that’s let other people see them and if i can trust their comments about it, has moved them in some way or at least let them imagine a scene or a situation that they wouldn’t have imagined otherwise. but it’s different from just telling someone about it. when you draw something, or write something it really exists now - outside of you. THAT’S SO WEIRD.

i liked drawing a lot of takarazuka things (before i realised i got kind of burnt out drawing all this transcore stuff that people were not exactly responding to because it’s so niche and weird lmao) but drawing fanart for something that also ONLY exists in art is so special. it’s not acted by real people. like.. they’re just little people that someone drew and now i draw them too. total magic. and she gets up and draws them every day the same as me...

i love that a manga isn’t just art, it’s storytelling too. doing both writing and drawing at the same time - it feels like such a perfect and fascinating combination of skills and facets of creation. i’m better at writing than drawing, so i don’t feel like i can express my original stories well enough in comic form just yet. but i might just get there.

the world is so confusing and overwhelming and terrible every day. only creation is something i can understand. sometimes i can’t understand it - when i feel REALLY bad, it’s definitely like, what’s the point. and i wish i had more things to experience at present than just creation - i want to be outside and just feel and be as well as create. and at some point i’ll definitely stop posting my creations online. but creating has become something that i don’t need to understand the reason for it - so at those times when i wonder what the real point to any of this is.... lately, i usually still create anyway. just as you’d still breathe and sleep even though you’re hurt and confused by the horrors of the world. it’s becoming how i express myself. i find myself drawing pretty much every day because it’s part of how i make sense of shit now and i naturally want to do it. not doing it is painful.

i hope this magic continues. i hope it becomes far more wonderful than i can even imagine from here.

and i won't lose.

[farginen]

riza is neither a morning or night person. she's a twilight person, specially very early dawn. she loves the stillness and quietness, the lighting, how there's no one outside. it's just calm and pretty.

[girlscience]

anyone else feel like they are playing dress up all the time and no matter how you present yourself it's always wrong? or is that just me.

[yongseungkim]

.

[wisheswagered]

also, more headcanon sharing time! this time for both lily and chloe. can you tell i'm obsessed with having morally questionable but sympathetic girlfaves yet-

i've written on lily once before re: my headcanons, but i think the key idea i'm sticking to is the idea that like... she has the warped belief that whether one "suffers" or not is entirely in that person's own control, based on how they choose to respond to it. it's a mindset that has a grain of truth to it taken too far and twisted out of control. as a result, while she still feels that those who inflict suffering on others are in the wrong, she's more willing to do "bad" things because she doesn't fully believe she's "making" people suffer. does that make sense?

her beliefs are a result of trauma and conversations with galatea, not a result of her psychosis, mind you. she's not actively going around hurting people, either... but if she was given a good enough reason to do something arguably harmful, she'd be arguably less reluctant than others to go ahead with it. generally, though, she's not a dangerous person to be around. (i do still worry about unintentionally further stigmatizing/writing stereotypes about people who experience psychosis, though, so if anyone thinks that this portrayal could be harmful, please let me know so i can change it!)

as for "vera," or rather, chloe... in my portrayal, she's the kind of person who'll put herself over strangers any day, and struggles to empathise with people. in general, she dislikes them, seeing them as either "bad" or "naive," but in reality... she has more of a conscience than she wants to admit. as detailed in her experiment file, she's surprisingly fragile and experiences strong feelings of guilt when she actually feels she's done something wrong. but she's very good at justifying to herself that her cold, more selfish behaviors are actually "okay," and usually operates in some level of denial when it comes to dealing with other people.

[chuluoyi]

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre/warnings: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took off his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

[clandestineloki]

miguel o'hara x shy crybaby housewife!reader

cw: non-graphic mentions of violence, suggestive bit at the end lmk if u want an nsfw of this!!

ok but imagine shy lil missus o'hara who's a stay at home wife while miguel goes off to either alchemax or to fight some bad guys

and miguel comes home stressed all the time but just a touch of her hand on his shoulder grounds him after all that fighting

and miguel is tired but happy, grateful for his little love taking such good care of him :)) giving you a forehead kiss before he goes off to the bathroom, settling in the perfectly warm bath prepared for him before indulging in his little wife's amazing cooking 

but one night when he comes home a little bit more tense than usual

she's very tense

she's heard him yelling at his subordinates over the phone and yelling at dumb-ass cops who get in the way of him stopping some thief

and while miguel has always been soft and kind and gentle with her, she's scared that she'll accidentally do something wrong :((

so miguel walks past her, exhausted, and almost smiles at the smell of dinner

no forehead kiss for her :(( poor baby

sitting at the dining table head in his hands as he mumbles about not getting the chance to grab a snack, let alone a break in spanish

and she knows he's hungry, but she knows his whole body will be aching if he doesn't take a bath to regulate his body temperature

but poor baby doesn't know how to say it without him possibly snapping at her :((

she's standing on the other side of the table nervously fidgeting with the dish towel and finding the right words to say

"y-you... you gotta t-take a bath f-first..."

miguel sighs into his hands. "i know, but im really hungry, cariño..."

"b-but... if you don't... you'll be s-sore..."

he looks up, brows furrowing. "what?"

he was genuinely confused why you seemed so scared of him, but his voice came out a bit more bluntly than he meant it to.

your eyes widen and you look down. "n-nothing," you mumble, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "sorry."

"hey, hey, baby..." miguel stands up, walking over to you and pulling you into his arms. "what's wrong? did i say something?"

"no..." you sniffle, "jus thought i made you mad..."

"no, no, no, i'm not mad," he kisses all over u: your teary eyes, your wobbling lips, your forehead, the tip of ur nose

miguel kisses you deeply and then hugs you close to him. "im not mad, i promise. i'm just so so tired and hungry and the food smelled so good i'm gonna die if i don't get to taste it," he whispers, laughing when you giggle at his declaration.

"the bath can wait," he caresses your cheek with his hand.

"b-but you're gonna get cramps tomorrow if-"

he cuts you off with a big smooch to your face. "it doesn't matter. im staying home tomorrow."

"wh-what?!" you look up at him as he sits down, pulling you into his lap. "but you have work- and- and you're spiderman- and-"

he shakes his head, running his fingers through your hair.

"i'm your husband first, and all that other shit second."

miguel sighs, pulling you closer.

"i know i haven't been taking care of you the way i should be."

before you can interject about how he's doing so much already, he presses a finger against your lips.

"ssh. and alchemax and the cops don't really give a shit about me, can probably last every other day without me there. they'd probably have a field day without this jackass there," he chuckles. "but you, baby, i need to return the favor- ah, ah! let me finish, gatita- return the favor for keeping this place a safe space for me."

a kiss here, a kiss there. "entiendes?"

you nod, hugging him. "just glad you're home," you mumble, nuzzling into his neck.

he spends the rest of that hour enjoying the food you made for him while also feeding you and rattling all about the thugs he stopped that day.

then he pulls you into the bath with him, despite your protests, and laughs as he splashes you with the soapy water, making you squeal and threaten to spray him with the shower nozzle

then the two of you dry up and snuggle in bed, not bothering to put on any clothes. miguel smiles down at you and you smile up at him, before he rolls you on your back and crawls over you to make the sweetest yet roughest love to show you just how thankful he is for having a sweet lil thing like u to come home to <3

(part 2 is here~)