#hope you like it it was very fun to render ^^

[bee-sidebranch]

Three Stars Above Clouds, Attack NO. 19, Artfight 2024

@delta-orionis the Stargazerrr

So you have observed the Stars as well?"

"Yes, when the Lights in the City gave me a chance at least, my Recordings are a shadow of what you have preserved!"

"That's always been a problem, my city would shut them off during certain hours of the night so i could observe without the light pollution"

"That's rather considerate! Though it makes sense with your additional tasks"

"..."

"Say, what do you feel when you look at them?"

"Hm, curiosity i suppose? i've always loved catalouging constellations and dissecting the phenomena that occasionally occured above me! It's simply fascinating, the scale of it all"

"Hmm... i agree, it made me feel less alone i think"

[cipher-the-sidhe]

@pluck-heartstrings things always look a little different under a spotlight, huh?

[anitablogs1931]

CONGRATS TO 1K POOKIE!!! Here officially is my entry @xepphir

[tofumaple]

Happy Beyblade Day! So I drew my one of my OCs and her Sacred Beast for this occasion

[extremelybonkers]

23/31

ive been awoken from my coffin. its been... a while but, i return for the collab/trade day! mako belongs to @milkfroggo and I really enjoyed drawing this little dude! thank you again for drawing kawobi. side profiles are. Hard but mako is worth it

[baepsays]

I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN) ‧₊˚𓇢𓆸 ⸻ 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 art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt. if you'd like to be added to the tag list, refer to the series masterlist<3

word count: 7.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST ‖ <<PREVIEW . NEXT CHAPTER>>

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 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 the 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 about 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 fault of 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 plain truth. 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.

NEXT CHAPTER>>

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

divider by @/omi-resources. header is from watashitachi wa douka shiteiru drama adaptation. art in the header by @/RUEheree on twt.

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 is just 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 guys 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 @theorphicangel

[kay-great]

Invincible Variants!xReader Imagine

This got WAY longer than I expected it to. I wrote it in a way that wasn’t specific to an individual variant. Reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’ a lot and has references to their cunt and pussy. M/f Sex scene, consensual but under false terms (reader is dating mark and doesn’t know the variant has swapped him out). Lots of blood mentioned, and reference to character death! (Main character died in different dimension). Also like, facist ideas? Variant thinks those with power deserve to do whatever they want with it.

Enjoy!

———————————————

-reader and OG Mark have been dating since Highschool, but have known eachother since childhood

-you both dreamed of becoming superheros when you grew up, and bonded over childish fantasies of glory and power and adventure and fun!

-you have the ability to control light! Refracting it, bending it into rainbows and high-intensity beams, and simply creating it from yourself. It’s very beautiful, but eventually you had to reconcile that it was not strong enough to fight crime

-this reconciliation happened right around the time that OG Mark got his powers

-at first he tried hiding it from you, but eventually he confided in you, needing your support.

-knowing that he’s living your childhood dreams while you live a civilian life has been really difficult for the relationship, but you guys make it work. Besides, seeing how bloody and bruised he gets- oftentimes you are thankful to be out of the line of fire

-of course, he always comes to you after a fight if he can. And you’ve gotten into the habit of patching him up. Sometimes you tell him to go seek a real doctor, and that you’re not trained enough to stitch him back together, but he insists that his healing abilities render intricate patch-work obsolete. Besides, he says that your soothing hands heal him in more ways than one.

-if all that’s not hard enough, you’re also a Junior in college, and midterm season has been hitting you HARD

-you still have one last big test tomorrow, but the exhaustion of studying for all your other classes has really caught up to you, so you turn off all your electronic distractions, and crash for 16 solid hours

-suddenly you wake up to the distant sound of sirens. Damn- college dorms always have faulty fire alarms. The fire department has probably visited your campus 4 times since the semester started. Your pillow welcomes you as you nuzzle into it- praying it will drown out the distraction.

And it works! The sound is immeadiately muffled as your dorm window closes with a ‘click’.

-your right cheek bunches up against your face as you smile into your pillow. You know that ‘click’ so well- and you have missed your boyfriend.

-the crust in your eyes breaks as you turn to look at your beloved intruder. Strange, it’s dark. They must have pulled the curtains over the window- maybe because they didn’t want to interrupt your sleep? Wow, Mark is the sweetest :)

-Your fingertips gently glow as a delicate sprinkling of warm light floats above you. Mark loves how your powers shimmer to life.

-did you know that your sense of smell is the last thing to wake up? Yes, scent and taste don’t kick in right away. But suddenly you can taste the blood in the air

-and as your gentle light makes its way to the shadowed window, your stomach drops as your boyfriend stands DRENCHED in red, staring at you

-the glowing lights cast strange shadows across the room, and as you leap towards your boyfriend, the lights scatter- throwing their shadows around at lightning speed, disorienting the room in hectic growings and shrinkings.

-but that doesn’t matter right now, your boy NEEDS you right now. Is it all his own blood? God, you hope not! Whats wrong with him? Why is he staring so intently? What’s wrong? What should you do? What should you do? What should you do?

-your finger leaves a clean indent where you caress his blood-ridden cheek. You uncover some of his mask, and somewhere in your subconscious you intake that his mask is different than usual. But your panicked and sleep-torn state doesn’t allow this information to dwell. He’s not moving! Just staring at you! He’s fucking unresponsive- you’ve got bigger problems.

-“Mark?” He notices the tremble in your throat as you choke out his name- oh his name. He hasn’t heard you say it in so long. And now you’re even touching his cheek! Even though it’s all covered in blood. You must really love him, huh? Even though he’s scaring the shit out of you right now. He can tell. His fingers twitch as he thinks to reassure you. He could mark your body with his bloody handprints as he took you in his arms- never letting you go. You’d look pretty like that.

-“Mark?” You repeat. “Are you alright?”

-pleasure crosses his face- you were just the sweetest weren’t you?

“I’m fine now that you’re with me, y/n.” -he luxuriates your name. Like it was a treat to call your name. Like he hasn’t said it in a while. He hasn’t.

“Mark you’re covered in blood!”

-Awwww, you care so much, “Its not mine.”

-This does stand out to you. This is not the first time Mark has come to you like this, but when it’s not his blood, he usually tries to stop from dripping on your carpet. You yelled at him once about the dorm-cleaning fees at the end of the year- and he’s never forgotten. But he’s forgotten now. And he’s talking weird. And he won’t quit staring at you. And the sirens outside don’t really sound like fire alarms. And your instincts tell you that something is wrong.

-And he notices.

-The slightest twitch in your eye, the smallest back step, the tiniest hitch in your breath- and he knows you’re on to him.

-But he knows exactly how to work you. You are the sweetest girlfriend after all. He takes a breath-

“But I needed to know you were alright- the villain I fought, he…” pause for dramatic effect, “…he threatened you. I don’t know how he knew your name but he did. I could never let anything happen to you, you know? And I.. I couldn’t help it I… I mean I had to I…” you look at him frantically, maybe he’s milking it too much “I killed him. Oh GOD! I killed him. Do you think I’m a monster?”

-You gasp, and tear up a little- bingo!

“Oh Mark of course not. You did what you had to do. Oh you could never be a monster, you’re just put under more stress than any person ever should be. Oh I’m so sorry baby, come on- let’s get you cleaned up.” You croon over him. Sticky stains be damned, your arms wrap around his head; and he does not hesitate to pull you flush into him. His arms rub soothingly over your form as his hands find purchase in many bundles of your flesh. He paints you red, and although it spikes your discomfort, you try to work through it- after all, you need to be a supportive girlfriend right now! He’s obviously so vulnerable right now that he can’t even register small things like covering you in blood.

-He can register it. In fact he’s taking pleasure in it. Also he’s not vulnérable, he’s a conniving lovesick psycho who is willing to sacrifice a bit of ego to get you to coddle him. Besides, he’ll regain all his cocky supremacy when you realize his “sad puppy” performance was an act. But until then, he has determined that taking advantage of your sympathy is the most lucrative option. After all, now that he’s got you all dirty, you’re pulling him towards the shower. Just how far can he take this rouse?

-the moldy college shower reminds you of the infamous PSYCHO scene, as the water start to pull the blood from your boyfriend’s being. You are unashamed to be washing him with your honey-scented bar soap. You ARE dating after all. But you think better than to join in; you want to give your poor boy room to process his recent breakdown.

-but apparently he does NOT want space to process. Your eyes blur with water as he pulls your face right under the shower head. He takes advantage of your temporary blindness to remove his suit.

-damn, that’s too bad. You wanted to take a closer look at his suit. But as you fully step into the shower, you are pressed very close to your boyfriend’s incredibly muscular body. And thoughts of clothes quickly melt away.

“Were you going to keep washing me? Or are you busy with something else?” His smirk boils your cheeks as you realize you’ve been caught staring.

-you set out to get all the blood gone. God it smells terrible, but as you uncover more and more of your boyfriend’s muscular body, the less you are able to focus on the blood. Focus on the blood! He has just been through a traumatic experience he does not need to fuck right now! Just focus on the soap. Didn’t he used to have a scar here? Trailing down towards his.. shit is he hard?

-Fuck, it’s disgusting in this fucking shower, but you can’t help the heat pooling between your thighs.

-his eyes are dark.

“You’re doing perfect, y/n, but I think now it’s your turn.”

-oh fuck. Your slick fingers seem to vibrate against his as he takes the soap from your hand. God he’s acting different, but you can’t find it within you to complain.

-since he so uncerimoniously pulled you into the shower, you’ve been in your wet-ass pajamas this whole time. You’ve been grateful to them actually, as they’ve been very helpful in suppressing your arousal. Now, however, as his strong fingers delicately pull as your clothes- you curse them.

God those fingers- fingers that could stop a fucking train, that could catch bullets, and punch buildings- and they were so gentle on your skin. You didn’t know what it was, but somehow it all felt different than it usually did. Your subconscious screamed at you that he was dangerous. That somehow he was different than your usual Mark. Maybe it was the recent battle, but whatever it was, he seemed volatile.

-and yet, coupled with the delicate confidence with which he pulled apart your clothes and groped at what was left- you were intoxicated.

-why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

-and he took full advantage of your intoxication. he soaped up your tits and watched them bounce as he started humping you mercilessly. He didn’t bother to clean off the blood from your neck before sucking at it- seeming to take pleasure in the perverse taste. And his eyes fucking bore into yours- greedy for every pleasured expression he could bribe out of you. And once he had you moaning good and loud for him, he finally leaned in to your ear and whispered-

“I can smell your cunt”

-And with that he pushed in two fingers. And you were reminded just how powerful those fucking fingers were.

-And after he coaxed an orgasm out of you? With that shit-eating grin? He lines himself up to your cunt with all the credence of a hunter putting a knife through an animal they successfully caught. Like he fucking owns you. Like putting his dick in you was his fucking birthright. And he fucks you like that too. Slow and fast and forward and back. He watches your tits bounce until you orgasm, and when you do he flips you over to watch your ass do the same.

-by the time you’re done there is not a trace of blood.

-he carries you back toyour bed bridal style, as you whine that you can’t walk.

-you invite him into bed with you, but he instead just gives you a small forehead kiss, and caresses you again, before he tells you he has to get the blood stains out of his suit first. He goes back into the bathroom, and the sink squeaks as he turns the water on. He doesn’t close the door, but from your view on the bed you cannot see him.

-you decide it’s time to finally open your phone, and you grab it from off your nightstand and turn it back on.

-as soon as the screen lights up, the phone spasms with the bombardment of seemingly hundreds of urgent texts, notifications, alarms, alerts, and missed calls. They all come in in a matter of seconds:

“URGENT: MULTIPLE HIGH-THREATS: SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY”

“INVINCIBLE LOOK-ALIKES HIGHLY DEADLY, AVOID AT ALL COSTS”

Mark💖: “Are you okay?”

“Campus Update: ALL STUDENTS EVACUATE TO TORNADO SHELTERS”

Mark💖: “babe you gotta wake up, if you see an invincible, that’s NOT ME!!

“INVINCIBLE Doppelgängers ATTACKING POPULATED CITIES, EVACUATE CITIES”

13 Missed Calls

Mark💖: “BABE THATS NOT ME”

“AVOID INVINCIBLE AT ALL COSTS”

—

-and the faucet squeaks off.

-and suddenly all you can hear in the whole apartment is the distant sirens and your wild heartbeat

-and Mark strides out of the bathroom

-and his suit is clean, but it’s still not right

-and nothing about him is right

-and it all makes sense now

-but he looks at you- hungry, wild

“Anything on the news?” His voice is poisoned honey.

“What- what do you want with me?”

-And he looks down at your cum-ridden pussy, and you instinctively clamp your thighs together, but it just makes him chuckle a little- god you feel so helpless

“Good question. Today has been a great start for what I have planned for you.”

-And you can’t help the frightened look in your eyes. You always thought you’d be able to stare death in the fucking face, but looking at the eyes of Mark Grayson was too much. He likes the way your eyes sparkled when pin-pricked with the smallest tears. But he wants your compliance, so he offers,

“Hey now, don’t worry. You’re going to love it. Just like how you loved me all of today. You did. I watched you. You let me bloody you just so you could ‘console’ me. You told me I could never be a monster. You washed me. You served me- and got yourself turned on in the process. You let me fuck you any way I wanted. And you loved it. You let me fill you up with cum, and you invited me to your bed afterwards. You knew I wasn’t what you were used to. You knew I wasn’t the right version of myself- you didn’t care. You loved me. And I know you will continue to do so.”

-Like steel. Your body felt like steel. With every word your stomach plummeted further down. Because it was all true, and there was nothing you could do about it. And now you really felt like crying, and he took this vulnerable moment to snare you.

“I lost my y/n. In my dimension. She had the same powers as you- she was weak. But she wanted to be a superhero so badly. She was killed by a common thief. She was protecting some arbitrary civilians.” He started walking towards you, pain on his face- but pain you weren’t sure you could trust.

“If she had just let me protect her- I told her I would. But she was stubborn. She didn’t want to admit that beneath me was her place- that some of us are stronger than others. That I was the strongest of all. Her death made me realize the importance of power. That people who have it must use it. She made me into what I am today. You made me into this.”

-Bile threatened to rise out of your throat. But as he slowly sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, nothing but adoring eyes, you found you couldn’t move at all. Not even when he reached a hand onto your bare fucking hip, rubbing circles into your flesh with his thumb.

“And now I know how to protect you. How to take care of you. I deserve you.”

-Tears spilled freely now, and to your horror he brought his free hand to your face to wipe them away. God he was too fucking close now.

“So I’ll give you a choice. I’m supposed to go back to my own dimension soon. Either you can come with me calmly, or we can stay in this dimension.”

-At that you quirked an eyebrow, the smallest amount.

“Of course, if we stay here, I’ll have to kill this dimension’s invincible so I can take his place. I’ll have to tie you up and use you as bait. He will probably be here within the hour to check on you. Pitiable really. Notice how I have been here protecting you so much sooner than him? Really it’s an upgrade.” His eyes gleamed.

-Fucking hell. Oh god. How are you supposed to choose ?

-You can’t wish death upon your real boyfriend; your best friend for years now. He’s certainly been fighting all the other invincibles- he will be exhausted. And if this fucking sadist in front of you has the element of surprise? Your Mark stands no chance. You can’t do that. And what happens to the rest of the world when your goofy hero with a heart of gold gets replaced with this psycho? You’d be sentencing the whole world to the whims of this monster

But how can you leave your whole life? Your family, your friends- you’ll never get to say goodbye. And instead you’ll be sentenced to servicing this look-alike in front of you. This liar, murderer, fucker who could kill you in a heartbeat. Torture you for not complying. This man who wears the face of your true fucking love. A constant reminder of what you’d lost.

“What will you choose, y/n? Tick Tock.”

—————————————————

Wow this was way fucking longer than expected whoops I hope you enjoyed!! Please interact cuz it’s my favorite thing ever!! 🙏🙏

[fuzzandfeathers]

This comic takes place during Seeing Stars while Blitz and Stolas are on their way to the studio!

Hope you enjoyed! Mild art ranting below the cut 😂

I had to drag this piece kicking and screaming over the finish line. When I first got the idea and started working on it, I had a very different rendering approach I was experimenting with. I finished the entire comic in that style then immediately decided I hated it 😂 I liked the lines for the most part, but not enough to keep, so in the end I just... redrew the entire thing using the original as a reference (don't do what I do). And still this comic irks me. From a technical perspective I actually like it quite a bit; I'm satisfied with the way I drew Blitz and Stolas, at the very least. But in terms of what the comic evokes(?) I'm not not 100% happy with it (or even 90%). It's like a 'this art doesn't make me feel what I wanted it to make me feel' type of dissatisfaction, which is, unfortunately, kinda tough to resolve. I'm a big believer in embracing your failures (and in moving on when frustration is no longer serving you) so this was getting posted no matter how it turned out and eventually I'd run out of desire to work on it further. But I still wanted to let some of these feelings out because it's been awhile since art made me feel that way! And I think it's nice to let other people see the artist perspective sometimes even when it isn't totally positive. On the bright side, it was fun to experiment with a lot of things in this piece! Also this comic was actually finished weeks ago and I've already moved to a better place with my art. This kind of frustration is usually a precursor to growth anyways, so it's best to just be patient and ride it out 😌 Hope this little rant wasn't too much of a downer! The last thing I want is to take away people's enjoyment of the art by being too critical of myself <3 Here's a little peek at the original style! In retrospect, it actually wasn't that bad, I'm just more a fan of the starker, un-rendered look I eventually went with:

[catamount7755]

My entry for @cosmic-nia 's 2k dtiys!!! I had a ton of fun with rendering this one! Hope you all like it :3

cosmic somehow managed to reference the only song I know and like from tgwdlm, which I am very grateful for 🤣

[lunarlando]

Hi I love ur girl dad lando fics sm they're adorable I was wondering if u could write smth where lando and readers girls invite their friends for a sleepover (like a crossover with carlos,charles, Oscar and max F's kids) cuz they're besties and reader and lando putting in lots of effort for the girls and making it a fun time for them and overall fluff and comedy pls xx

Hope u have a grt day and feel free to ignore this request if u don't want to write it xx 🫶🏼

so so sorry this took me so long to get around to, but thank you for your request! as a quick refresher since it's been ages since i've written for this little universe, we've got estelle and delilah norris, adrien leclerc, teo sainz, maeve and clara piastri, and some new additions—luca and lina fewtrell! hope you enjoy x

feel free to request more :)

“If someone told me I'd be in my thirties blowing up air mattresses for a bunch of children instead of going for a night out, I’d call them mental.” 

“And yet, here you are.” 

Here Lando is indeed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blowing up the third of eight child sized air mattresses for the girls’ sleepover tonight. Mattresses one and two have been cast off to the side, ready to go. You’re watching him moan and groan from the kitchen while you prep snacks and drinks for the kids. 

Estelle and Delilah had begged you to have a sleepover with their friends this weekend, and with all of them actually in Monaco for once, how could you refuse? 

“Y’know, you’re making terrible time on those mattresses,” You tease, turning towards the fridge to grab those little smoothie drinks the girls love. You’re all stocked up on their favorite foods, you’ve got their favorite movies queued on the television, and you’re pretty much prepared for anything a group of excited kids would want. 

All you want is for everything to go well tonight, because your girls are your world. 

You’re swept off your feet before you can throw another smart remark Lando’s way, drawn into his chest as his fingers dig into your sides, making you nearly shriek with laughter. You manage to push him away, but not before he’s rendered you breathless with his tickling. 

“When are all the little rascals coming over?” 

You slide your hands up his chest to link around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the curls at his nape. “Should be soon. Carlos is picking up Adrien on his way to bring Teo here, Lily and Oscar are dropping off the twins after gymnastics, and Pietra said she’ll be sending Max over with Luca and Lina pretty soon.” 

“Pietra’s not coming round?” 

“Pietra’s eight months pregnant on bed rest, my love. Have you forgotten, or has all that blowing made you lightheaded?” 

Lando rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip. “Ha ha, very funny, you.” 

“You love me.” 

“Duh. Wouldn’t have let you rope me into this circus otherwise,” He teases. 

“Don’t act like it hasn’t been your life’s dream to host a sleepover with eight kids hopped up on sugar and sweets.” 

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

There’s an undertone there, something more serious in his words that makes you smile warmly.

Lando has always been a family guy. His loved ones are his world, and the little family you’ve been able to create with each other despite all the challenges is one of the few things that take precedence over racing. You still remember the day you told him you were pregnant with Estelle. How he’d gone completely misty eyed and nearly tackled you in a hug before you’d even finished uttering the words. 

He’s told you before, getting to be a father, getting to have a family, it’s a gift he’d never be able to thank you enough for. 

You pull him in closer to kiss him, taking advantage of the girls being busy in their room to have a little time alone to love on your husband. 

“Daddy!!!” Estelle’s loud shriek has you both pulling away from each other in a snap. Lando deflates against you, groaning quietly. 

“Yes, lovebug?” He calls, angling his head towards the direction of her voice. 

“I can’t find my race car pajamas!” 

“That’s ‘cause they’re in the laundry! You got ice cream on them last night, remember?” 

You dig a sharp elbow into Lando’s side, eliciting a high pitched yelp and an incredulous look aimed your way. You raise a brow at your husband. “You gave them ice cream last night?” 

“Shit. Erm, no, ‘course I didn’t,” He says unconvincingly, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t do that, would I? Definitely did not give them—”

“Daddy!” Estelle screeches again, the end of the word long and drawn out. 

“Wow, would you listen to that? I reckon I should go see what I can do for that darling daughter of ours!” He’s wriggled himself free before you can blink, pressing the hastiest of pecks to the corner of your mouth quickly before speeding off to Estelle’s rescue (and away from the trouble he’d been about to get in). 

You laugh and shake your head, because he's just the same as when you’d first had the privilege of loving him all those years ago. He was younger then, more boyish, maybe even a little naive, but that was who you fell in love with. In some ways, he's the same. In other ways, he's grown tenfold. 

Either way, changed or not, you've loved him all this time and will continue to, even after you inevitably become old and grey together. It won't happen for a long time, but you're looking forward to growing old with Lando. 

—

“My back is killing me,” He grumbles later in the night, as he pads gingerly across the room over to his side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight and all the kids had gone off to bed a few hours ago after a fully action packed evening, so now it’s your turn to wind down. 

The days when you’d stumble home hand in hand, drunk and giggling in the wee hours of the morning are nothing but a distant memory. Now, you can barely stay up past twelve most nights. Right now, you’re both exhausted. But the kids had a blast, and that makes everything worth it. 

You giggle at his over exaggerated steps. “C’mere, I’ll massage you.” That makes him perk up, smirking at you like the massage will lead to other things. “Don’t even think about it, mister. Try again another day when we’re not hosting all of our friends’ kids.” 

“Am I able to get that rain check in writing, or…”

“Uncle Lando?” A small voice from the hallway draws both of your attention. Max’s son, Luca, is peering at the two of you, half shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. 

“Luca! What’re you doing up, buddy?” Lando asks, beckoning him into the room. The boy pads in hesitantly, looking worried.

You pat the covers as a sign for him to take a seat and he does, rubbing at his shoulder the same way his dad always does when something is bothering him. Sometimes you can’t believe how similar Luca is to Max. 

“I couldn’t—I can’t sleep,” He mumbles, little brows furrowed. “I miss my mum.” 

“Oh, honey,” You soothe, scooting closer to put your hand over his smaller one. The seven year old’s bottom lip trembles a touch. 

“You know, there was one time your dad and I had to stay in the same hotel room, and he couldn't sleep either because he missed your mum,” Lando mentions, voice light, like he's recalling something casual. 

“You and dad had a sleepover?” 

Lando looks very much like he wants to explain that no, he and Max, two grown men, did not have a sleepover, but at your subtle shake of the head, doesn't. He nods instead, patting the boy on the back. “Yeah, mate, we had a sleepover. Anyways, your dad just couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and d’you wanna know what eventually did help him?” 

“What, Uncle Lando?” 

“We gave your mum a call, and they talked for a bit, and afterwards, he was able to fall asleep right quick. Shall we do that? Give your parents a ring?” 

Luca nods quickly, sniffling. Lando smiles warmly as he reaches over to swipe his phone off the bedside table. You watch as he shows the boy what to do instead of just ringing Max himself. 

Suddenly you're hit with an overwhelming feeling of what Lando would be like if the two of you ever had a son. You’d had the conversation many times before, whether or not you wanted to have a third child. The timing had just never been right. 

Raising two kids under two whilst Lando was away racing most of the time had been rough enough, but the girls were nearly eight now. And sure, his career is still going strong at the moment, but you've got years of experience under your belt now. 

You wouldn't say no to another kid if Lando felt the same way, especially if it ended up being a boy. Make no mistake, you were a girl mom through and through, but the thought of having a little mini Lando running around with his big sisters made your heart swell.

“Mate, shouldn’t you be—Luca! Hey, big guy!” Max answers on the third ring, teasing demeanor morphing straight into parental as soon as he catches a glimpse of his son on the other side of the screen rather than Lando. “What’s up? You having fun with your friends?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Um, is…” Luca hesitates, casting a nervous glance at Lando, who only nods encouragingly. It seems to help, because he turns his attention back, sounding much more firm when he speaks again. “Can I talk to mum?” 

“Can you talk to mum? Of course you can! Let me go find her. You know your mum, always wandering around these days,” Max jokes, winking. Luca giggles quietly. He already looks like he's feeling much better. “Oi, P! There’s someone special who wants to talk to you.” 

Luca chats with Pietra for a little bit, and you can tell just how much that little boy loves and adores his mother. He’s beaming happily when the call ends, a far cry from the timidness he’d come in with earlier. 

“All good now, mate? You’ll try and get some sleep tonight?” Lando asks, clapping Luca on the shoulder gently. 

“Yep! Thanks, Uncle Lando!” He runs off without another word after that. 

“Well, I think we handled that pretty well, don’t you think?” Lando hums, tossing his phone back on the bedside table. “Hello? Darling?” 

“What would you think about having another baby?” You blurt. 

“Another—babe, what? Where is this coming from?” He splutters, looking utterly bewildered. His eyes go wide a split second later. “Wait, you’re not—are you?” 

“No, no, I’m not—I just—fuck, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to ask so bluntly like that, I was trying to ease into the conversation.” 

“Oh. Okay. That’s…yeah. Sorry, you just caught me off guard is all.” He scrubs a hand over his face.  “I didn’t know you were thinking about it. Last I recall we were on the same page about stopping at two. Did something change, or…?” 

“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about, y’know, what if we wind up having a boy? A mini Lando, running around with his big sisters one day?” 

Lando opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut before inhaling a sharp breath and trying again. “I love our little family more than anything.” 

“I do too.”

“Are we really ready to have three kids?” 

“I think we are. We managed eight of them pretty well tonight.” You shrug, sliding a reassuring hand over Lando’s. “Plus, there’s more than enough love to go around, don’t you think?” 

That seems to solidify the decision, because he brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We got this. Let’s have another baby!” 

[bhaalest]

god this is so overdue. im finally making a bg3 side blog

for a first post i wanted to list some of the artists i've been (mostly) refraining from reblogging to main for many months at this point. i meant to only do my favorite few but then i couldn't decide who my favorite few were so... here you go

@meanbossart draws absolutely beautiful art of his absolutely beautiful du drow, and also has an amazingly well-written and well-characterized story about what he, astarion, and shadowheart get up to post-game

@kawareo goes deep how his durge strike suffers from both the urge and orin's attack, and into strike before orin's attack. i love the standalone art and comics, so when i say his writing is my favorite thing he's done that's high praise

@velnna's tav staeve is another very pretty man and i don't know how to describe what i like most about his art other than "very pleasantly textured", it catches the eye in a very pleasing way

@lucklessrat has incredible dramatic and comedic timing in their comics of lethean, and i love what they do with leth being old. you don’t see that often

i have a soft spot for half-orcs and paladins so naturally i think about @everchased's finch constantly. they have several of my favorite bg3 comics ever but the SMITE one is... just gonna say i agree with astarion there

there is so much to say about @jeeaark's tav greygold, from the jokes to the relentless optimism to the visceral (in a very good way) art style, but my new favorite thing is the dark urge (godsdammit) companion series, it's really fun to see DUG and greygold interact and i can't wait for more. also, another half-orc!

@ejoym's durge devlin is wonderfully deranged, i love the dark humor in the comics, the art is really crisp, and the artist makes really great use of colors. i love how pointy everyone is also

@ohpsshaw's durge typhus is going through it at the moment. love his expressive face (and the expressiveness of the whole art style) and puppydog vibe, i can't wait to see how much he... enjoys... the rest of the game as daddy's chosen. also check out the artist's entertaining commentary on her main(?) blog

@taygra5shaon's big scary durge jacq somehow can do adorable and terrifying equally well, sometimes at the same time. this is another artist who has great timing in her comics. i especially like the young jacq ones.

@angiemaniac's tavella and durge companion au presents durge from a different and very interesting perspective. and she does a great job including every companion into the story, while tavella is still a compelling character on her own!

cae is the most beautiful durge you've ever seen and @hellothisisangle's art does such a good job of making him feel dangerous. it's incredibly beautifully rendered, the poses and fashion are always amazing, and on top of it all cae's lore is fascinating too

@wellen-katze's comics are really in a league of their own. their comics vary but my favorites are the ones that hurt to read. my favorite series is this one with ascended astarion and a nameless durge dealing with the tragic aftermath of the story. their comics hurt in an incredible way that i can't get enough of.

ghost, aka niro, by @oathbreakerapologist is wonderfully fucked up. he has a really upsetting presence (/positive) and i can't look away from his relationship with orin. this is probably the least sfw blog i'm linking, which i hope comes off as a complement

with @mistercrowbar's aldiirn it's hard to pinpoint specific things i like because the art and comics are so well-rounded, but if pressed i would point to aldiirn's visual design and the skill with which the artist makes his desire for approval and will to break the rules mesh together. i'm not sure if i want to be his friend or study him like a bug

i love @crocodiller's pining dumbass (affectionate) rowan so much. there's a lot to like about the comics but my favorite is rowan's supportive friendship with karlach. they're also very well-paced and some of the crispest art i've ever seen

i found @ryvenarts and sullen literally yesterday but i'm already very interested and excited to see if there will be more

another recent (to me) discovery, thirkuir by @jayfitzmaurice. i really like his design and the expressiveness of all the characters

@quess-art has an adorable baby durge who still has a compelling backstory i'm excited to see more of. plus the wagging tail is just perfect

@3eefstud's durge Einar is really nice to look at, with amazing colors and gradients. i'm surprised i didn't find them until very recently

i thought @panksage's Ebony Darkness D'urge was just a joke at first but no, the comics are sincere (and also funny) and just beautiful, especially the colors!

i do not know if @arianiziolek's durge has a name. catty little murder lizard (affectionate). has some of the funniest comics but more importantly the best durge facial expressions

@bajablast666 is double dipping with durges kaethan and kelrath. both their art and writing have an intensity that i love (the red outlines they use often are so good) and their writing in particular conveys emotion and visceral feeling so well

karl by @beltart is another on the surprisingly long list of people i initially found from their art, then read their writing and was blown away. i don't think i've seen anyone else depict the weight of the urge as intensely as this and i love it

and finally, a palate cleanser from all the durges, @wirywyrm's tav arthur who's in a sitcom as opposed to a horror story. i really like the texture and detail of their art and also how much of a dork arthur is. least smooth bard(adin) in the realms

incredibly i did leave out a few people, mostly people who draw companions rather than their tav/durge because i sort of locked myself into this format, so i may come back and update this later!

[notlongtolove]

it's dry january

“alcohol makes people say things they shouldn’t.” you hear the faintest tremor in his tone as he swallows hard. “and do things they shouldn’t.” spencer thinks looking at you too long might just undo him altogether.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: bau out for drinks! very very brief mention of case violence in the first line. flirty bau reader renders spencer a bumbling idiot!

word count: 1.1k

note: some days i stare at 5 open tabs of WIPS and some days i stare at my notes app during an hour long train ride and come up with this. no linked poem bc twas a random idea, happy january everyone! fic is titled after this poem though!

a line: You always leave him scrambling, speechless, completely stupid—He adores you for it.

Nothing prepares you for the aftermath of the kind of week where you find five headless bodies drained of blood. Therapy perhaps? But everyone knows the job doesn’t pay you enough for that. They hardly give you enough time off to begin with. 

For now though, O’Keefe’s, on Rossi’s tab, gets the job done. Well, that and a cigarette of course. Always a cigarette.

You exhale a puff of smoke, the stick balanced carelessly between your fingers. The shuffle of shoes on asphalt behind you doesn’t startle you, and neither does the voice.

“You really shouldn’t be out here alone like this when you’re inebriated.”

You don’t need to look up to know who it belongs to. 

“Needed a smoke,” you say simply, flicking the cigarette. The ash tumbles to the ground. “And Morgan’s on his whole ‘new year, new me’ shit.”

“I give him two weeks,” Spencer grins, stepping toward you. “Emily’s got a pool going.” 

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name. Your eyes catch his briefly as you spin to face him. “Are you seriously betting against our dear coworker’s journey towards self-improvement?”

Spencer tilts his head and shrugs innocently. “I’m just making an educated guess based on statistical probability.”

“And cashing in on it.”

“Well, yes,” he admits. “That’s definitely an added bonus.”

You shake your head, your laugh soft and smoky, as you take another drag. The toe of your heel nudges his shoe when you take a step to close the gap between you. “You’re cute, Reid,” you say, almost intimately. “Y’know that?”

Spencer’s cheeks flush a faint pink. You always do this to him. His usual arsenal of facts and percentages is rendered utterly useless against your charms. You always leave him scrambling, speechless, completely stupid.

He adores you for it. 

“You—uh—you really shouldn’t smoke while drinking. The nicotine accelerates alcohol absorption. Inhibits you faster,” he manages. 

“That's kinda the point, handsome.” You retort, leaning in just enough to make his breath hitch. “S’what makes this fun isn’t it?” 

“Alcohol makes people say things they shouldn’t.” You hear the faintest tremor in his tone as he swallows hard. “And do things they shouldn’t.” Spencer thinks looking at you too long might just undo him altogether. 

He’s granted momentary relief when you turn away to stub out your cigarette on the edge of a nearby trash can. It’s shortlived though, because your hand comes to land on his chest the moment you turn back. When your fingers move to toy absentmindedly with the buttons on his vest, Spencer blanks entirely. 

“Like tell you I think you’re really cute?” you ask, your lashes fluttering in feigned innocence as you gaze up at him.

“Exactly,” he breathes out, a shaky laugh escaping him. “Like that.” His hand moves over yours and for a moment you think it may be to pull it away—He doesn’t. 

“And, uh, it’s a well-known fact that alcohol lowers inhibitions, making people more likely to do things they normally wouldn’t—like talking more or saying things they don’t really mean.”

There’s a glint in your eyes that makes his heart thud painfully against his ribs. Spencer hopes to god you can’t feel it beneath your hand. 

“And who says I don’t mean it?” you counter. Spencer doesn’t answer. He doesn’t think he’s even capable of it, his mouth opening just slightly before closing again.

“I mean, you don’t mind my honesty, do you?” you tease playfully. Then your smirk deepens, just shy of wicked. “Unless… you do?” You start to pull your hand away, but his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, stopping you. “Wha—no—I didn’t say—I mean, I—I don’t mind,” he stammers. 

“See?” Your grin spreads, soft and triumphant. “Cute.” 

At that, you lace your fingers with his, tugging him gently toward the bar. Spencer laughs nervously, already wondering how much of this you’ll remember in the morning. “You uh—You’re pretty cute when you’re drunk,” he says softly. 

Your eyes light up, saccharine delight crossing your face. “Aw! So you think I’m pretty and cute?” you echo, voice dripping with adoration. Spencer can only nod, blush deepening as he lets you lead the way with his hand in yours. 

Back inside, it’s clear the group has moved on from their individual drinks when the waitress sets a pitcher on the table. It fizzes, something green and citrusy that Spencer is grateful to abstain from. 

“About time,” Morgan calls, as you slide into the seat next to him. “What’d you do to get my boy genius all flustered like that, pretty girl?”

Spencer’s ears burn faintly as he takes the seat directly across from you, his hands folding awkwardly on the table. 

You ignore Morgan’s tease entirely, turning your attention to Garcia instead who’s already handing you a full glass.

“Me too!” JJ pipes up, her voice light. Spencer freezes mid-sip of his water, his eyes darting to JJ’s very noticeable baby bump.

“JJ, you can’t—you really shouldn’t—” he splutters, gesturing weakly toward the pitcher. Alarm is written across every inch of his face.

“Relax, Spence.” JJ waves him off amusedly as she reaches to grab a glass from Garcia. “It’s non-alcoholic.”

Spencer blinks, his brain trying to recalibrate. “Non-alcoholic?”

Across the table, Garcia beams like a proud parent. “We’re doing Dry January! No alcohol for the whole month. I proposed the idea to everyone.”

“Proposed isn’t the phrase I’d use,” Emily interjects dryly, leaning back in her chair. 

“Coerced,” Morgan says with a pointed look.

“Borderline threatened,” you add with an exaggerated sigh, swirling the contents of your glass lazily.

JJ, of course, opts for silence, contentedly stirring her drink with a smile. Misery loves company. 

Spencer’s eyes you, his brow furrowing. “All of you?” You lean back in your chair, biting back a grin as you take a deliberate sip from your glass. 

“Well, nearly everyone,” Garcia grumbles, nodding toward the end of the table. Rossi doesn’t miss a beat, raising his glass of scotch. “When hell freezes over,” he declares, taking a swig.

Spencer’s gaze flicks immediately to you now, brazen. “So, you’re not actually—”

“Drunk?” You cut him off, your grin now fully formed as you lean forward. “Oh, definitely not. I’m sober as a judge, gorgeous.”

Spencer’s certain he’s not going to survive this night​​—Not when the way you say gorgeous sends his heart stuttering in his chest. 

Later, when you mutter something about being too sober, Spencer can’t help but think, more than ever, that this is going to be a very long night—But he lets you tug him toward the bar by his tie anyway, smiling like a mumbling, bumbling idiot all the while.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: dizzy on the countdown by turnover im in love with you by the 1975

[fivedogsandadragon]

Gift art for the wonderful @wolfertinger666 of his character Nique (HE/HIM)! I had sooo much fun drawing him! Made great practice as I'm trying to get back into the swing of things!

I would've done more actual rendering but I randomly started feeling very ill tonight :') so I decided to call it a day. I also hope I did a good job w/ his hair! Feel free to give pointers/critiques on that if you like!

[parfaitblogs]

winter wonderland ❀ s. reid x reader

in which it snows, you have a vision for a snowman, and spencer reid is all too easy to convince. 

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff tags: established relationship. brat enabler!spencer reid!!! pathetic corny potentially tooth rotting fluff. they kiss a lot.  word count: 1k a/n: wrote this for margot because i mean she did request it… lol… brat enabler spencer reid is prevalent but i mean that's just the parfaitblogs' spencer reid on the reg…

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

If Spencer Reid were ever to pursue a prosecuting career, he'd hope to God you are never his opposition. 

Too many of his firm personal rules held no weight when they challenged your own, and his ground almost always dissolves under his feet the second you disagree. 

Like going out in the snow. 

One minute he was appreciating the grey skies and white sheet covering the ground, and the next, he was pulling boots and winter clothes onto his body to cover up.

An argument that he so sorely lost, that began with you asking him to go out into the snow with him. 

His response had been, "No, there's still snow falling—" not really "—and it'll be freezing."

"That's what warm clothes are for!" 

And even if he wanted to back himself up and not give in, you were handing him a scarf and a sweater, regardless. Never mind the fact that you had already dressed up ready for the snow, looking warm and so pretty, and Spencer was but a man ridiculously in love with you. 

So, he let you drag him out to the snow without any more complaints. 

And you had agreed on a snowman. A simple, normal snowman with a carrot nose and pebbles for his buttons. The only compromise made was Spencer agreeing to you using his purple scarf to wrap around the snowman's neck, instead of a typical red one like he was imagining. 

Truth be told, making a snowman with you was proving to be very difficult. 

His first battle began with you refusing to wear mittens out of the house, claiming you needed the extra grip for the snow to make the perfect shapes. A fifteen minute dispute was what it took for you to reluctantly cover the skin of your hands. Even then, he caught you trying to remove the fabric from your fingers time and time again.

The second battle lay within the design of the snowman. You begging to make something fun, and Spencer reminding you of the agreement to make a normal snowman until you gave up. 

And yet, somewhere between the collection of the snow, rolling it into balls, and putting the snowman together, it developed from a regular shaped snowman, to one with ears strangely resembling a bunny. 

You had conned Spencer Reid, and made a bunny snowman. 

"How did this happen?" he mumbles, almost exasperated, as you grin proudly at the snow creation presented before him.

Mind you, he knew exactly how this happened. 

Your lips had found his in the short period of time between picking up the carrot and carrying it to put into the snowball head, and truly, he is unable to focus when you are that close to him. Which should not be held against him.

A gentle kiss that parted with the fog cloud of your two breaths mingling, the cold nipping at your lips, rendering him thoughtless and confused for half a second too long. That was when the carrot had disappeared. 

Then, as he was placing the pebbles over the lower half of the face for the snowman's smile, you had turned him around to face you, coaxing him in for another kiss that he — this time — had enough willpower to say no to. 

Your response was to shove a fistful of snow into the crook of his neck, encouraging a snow fight he had been trying to avoid this entire time. 

"You do know that smothering my neck and face in snow can cause frostbite. Or hypothermia. The cold can encourage heart attacks and—" You threw another snowball at him. 

"It's a snowball. It wont kill you."

Really, he should've picked up on your distraction techniques sooner. Usually, he did. You were easy enough to read once he had gotten to know you, and your antics were a regular enough occurrence that he could tell when you were in a specific mood. 

But still, you had deceived him, and he hadn't suspected a thing. 

"Do you like her?" you chirp from beside him, a large grin on your lips. 

"A snowman. We agreed on a regular snowman."

"It is a snowman," you protested, albeit weakly, staring at the crooked, bunny resembling pile of snow. "She's... unconventional."

"It's a bunny."

"But isn't she cute?" you press, staring up at him with widened eyes. "Say yes. Please say yes."

He huffs, his breath painting the cold air just past his lips. His resolve is seemingly incredibly easy to dissipate when you stare at him like that. "Yes. She's cute." 

You grin at his agreement, standing on your toes to peck his cheek. 

Though, he's quick to catch your waist and tug you closer, melting cold lips against your own. Out of shock and maybe too much glee, you laugh, and you feel him smile against your mouth. 

Fingers lift to your hair and thread through it, and you're grateful the two of you had decided to play with the snow in your backyard. You aren't sure if he'd kiss you like this out the front of your home. 

"Can we compromise and make another regular snowman?" you ask him, the second his lips part only a fraction from yours. 

He pauses, his eyes searching your face, inevitably for a hint of you trying to deceive him once more. Certain he finds none, he nods his head. "Yes. We can."

You happily smile back at him, your head turning to the side so you can look at your bunny snowman once again. "She's growing on you, though, right?"

"I guess," he turns his own head. "She kind of looks like you."

Your eyebrows furrow. "Oddly shaped and on a lean?"

"Cute," he clarifies with a laugh, locking eyes with you once more. "Be kinder to yourself."

"I am."

You're met with a pointed look, but he's an expert at picking his battles with you, for he sighs, then simply says, "Just start rolling more snow."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[choochooboss]

Submas Sketchdump Vol. 4 July 2022 Part 2!!

I knew that particular month beat my all time record for productivity multifold but I had forgotten SO MANY PIECES from the original collection!! I think I finally got them all?? More stuff under the cut!!

BREAKMAS!! WIP of the first piece I posted of them, here's the link to the final version! I tried coloring this first but the black & white had ultimately more impact so I went with that!

TRAINS!! I like this base color version too! Link to the final version!

The top sketch is a direct reference to Cluedo! A spinoff game, "Missingo", starring certain familiar characters trying to figure out what happened to Ingo/trying to prove their innocence in the case! Also WIP sketches for these two Breakmas comic pages!

As you may know I adore butlermas! For the classy and stylish look which appeals to me in general, and coincidentally I had played PLA & got hit by submas train only one week before butler Ingo's banner rolled out! The pure bliss of finally meeting both twins in a game I felt was incomparable!! This moment in the Curious Tea Party event was really entertaining to me! We got to see submas get serious and stand up against this selfish collector thief! Two towering train twinks with commanding voices looming over the unfortunate guy was enough to make him change his mind ahah! They truly are the protectors

1-hour submas challenge prompt "Descend"! This is the actual one hour result before I continued rendering this!

Mmmmm not my first attempt at drawing them hug and definitely not my best OR last. I want to make that moment something very special when I finally go all out on it!!

Comic cover vibing~

The scrapped last page for this silly comic! Sorry the dialogue is all over the place on the first piece, might be hard to read! I wasn't happy with how I presented Elesa, I wasn't familiar enough with her character back then so I thought of her carrying a toy taser to threat her friend even as a joke was too much and I couldn't come up with anything else for it. This held me back from posting the other three pages for another 5 months! In the last panel

I prefer to not mess up the twins too much but my brain is still very curious and conjures some peculiar stuff like this sometimes.. I think I may have broken his arms there looking at the anatomy, ooops! I hope you don't mind the photo quality or the two weird guys in the corner, they escaped containment!

Idea of warden Ingo, being projected to modern era by his Alakazam, walking through crowd on a train platform & Emmet standing inside a passing train. Their eyes meet for just a few seconds...

Pokemas Ingo practise!

Another WIP of a piece I posted! I started this piece like this but then later I decided to flip the whole thing.

YET another WIP of something I already posted! No idea why I went and mixed up his suits but I like this sketch! They rarely end up looking this clean haha

Sketch version of the self-defense practise piece! I love getting creative with action stuff! I barely ever think of how difficult they are to draw, I just get so excited and fixated on visualising the scenes in my mind I just keep at it, pull out refs and pose in front of mirrors until it looks good to me! I want to draw more action scenes but besides being challenging to draw my brain comes up with more silly and cute ideas than cool ones unfortunately ahah

One more WIP, here's the link to the final results!! I really like how genuine their expressions look here even if the faces are a little off. I recall spending a long time figuring out this perspective. I thought it would be fun to you to see how all these pieces started and... looking at the sketch above and the stuff before that, you can compare some range of my style!

RANDOM SUBMAS MISSILES GO

OHHH looks like some nasty passengers got the best of them!! If I recall correctly there was no fight because they managed to paralyse the two before they could act. Fully awake yet completely helpless... how convenient unfortunate. Thank you so much for checking these out!! Not every sketch is that exciting but I'm always happy to hear your thoughts on these!

Previous posts: Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022 Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

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I wanted to participate in this dtiys, it seemed very fun!!! Happy 1k @somemismatchedsocks, you deserve it! You artstyle is sooo cute and i really like your usage of red-to-blue overlay gradients and noise texture + chromatic aberration in your rendered art !! I like how you rendered Sonic's eyelashes (it's almost reflective) so I wanted to render them similarly!

Original right here: ⬇️

I'm proud of how it turned out!! ^_^ I'm not very good at drawing hedgehogs yet, I have drawn Nine and Tails a lot more by now, so excuse the wonky anatomy !! 🤲 I tried to not use necks to make the characters more accurate to their origina anatomy, trying not to look so much like furries, but that's also a work in progress oops... sonic looks particularly wonky because I do not know how to place the mouth on his snout or place his head properly on his torso without a neck just yet...!

I hope its okay that i changed sonic's glove! I always like putting my spin on characters' designs ! + I put two versions, one with harsher lighting, because I can't decide which one I like best 😖

I loveee rendering stuff with very harsh, dramatic lighting hehe