I have decided to be the chaos I want to see in the world.
My fiancé and I discovered that when you’re in the Anomaly/Nexus of No Man’s Sky (aka the online multiplayer area) you can transfer items to any other player who happens to be close enough even if you aren’t partied up with them. You can also get your pets to lay eggs. So now I’m running around the Anomaly playing Easter Bunny and hiding adorable critter eggs in other people’s backpacks.
Why? Because right now someone out there is looking at their inventory and going, “Where the fuck did this egg come from?!” And that makes me happy.
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Demons usually have some sort of animal motif attached to them, right? That can present visually in some way in their physical form.
If Azi were to fall, what would his animal motif be?
(I thought of this question and my brain immediately responded with that one interview clip where they're asked their favourite pet and Michael Sheen answers Harry the rabbit, I think? And now I can't stop laughing at this image of Azi being a precious demon with little rabbit ears)
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𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.
tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.
“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.
satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”
you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.
“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.
the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.
when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.
“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.
satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.
it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.
“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”
your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.
you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.
“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.
you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.
“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.
somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”
nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.
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PLEASE MORE DADDY SIMON IM GNAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE AGGGHHGHHHGGHHHHHHHHH
he’s just so fuckin sweet and hot and hhhhhhgggg
simon really is so sweet and hot :((
i really really love the idea of how he’s truly more into the daddy kink thing than you are.
your slip-up only ever happens when he’s fucking you so, so good that your mind is splintering from your tethered control, leaving you rasping out whimpered moans—“daddy, daddy please!”
but simon loves bringing it out of the burning intimacy he shares with you; loves drawing it out with gentle beckoning.
“give daddy a kiss?” he asks, big hand curled around your wrist from where he’s tugged you close to where he’s sitting. you were left to hover by his front, leg brushing against his thigh.
“what?” you puff out, your voice tinged with surprise even amidst the sudden hunching of your shoulders. simon already knows—you heard him, alright.
“c’mere, love,” is what simon replies with instead, pulling you one more time and catching you with surety as you stumble on his lap.
a yelp slips from your lips, only for it to peter out, and simon wonders what it must be that you’re thinking.
do you think ill of him now that he’s gotten more clingy? more insistent?
he was always able to hold himself back, never pushing or asking more than what you give to him—every piece which he collects with reverence—but a spark had been lit in his heart and simon can no longer hold back.
he adores you. he adores the way you look at him, all starry-eyed and devoted, so shy even when you can’t shake away the honest need curling in the way you seek him out.
(“do you like it?” you asked, voice so meek that simon had to rely on his training to pick up the tremble of your voice.
”yes,” he replied, instant, eyes already crinkled in his smile. “thank you, petal. ‘m so proud of you.”
and there it was—the shy curl of your lips, the way your breath stuttered, your eyes ducking away as you let simon’s praise wash over you.
see? what a sweetheart you are.)
“please?” he asks again. “won’t you kiss me?”
simon suppresses the shiver that racks his body at the soft press of your lips on his—a sweet little peck, a ghosting caress.
so, so adorable.
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