#Like they’re just a little dangerous to have around

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

You should do cheka in 10 yrs maybe hes a first year in nrc

Omg Cheka NRC era?? 😭

A lot of the headcanons I have written here were inspired by child!Simba’s behaviors, just cuz I don’t think he’d yet have the traits of adult!Simba at 15 years old + we don’t know a lot about adolescent!Simba.

What comes after Ever After?

Cheka Kingscholar is one of latest fresh-faced first years at NRC—and, as Fate would have it, the Mirror of Darkness sorts him into Savanaclaw, the very same dorm his beloved uncle once ruled over. Cheka’s so excited about the news that he phones up his uncle on the spot and lets him know!! (“Oi, aren’t you in the middle of the opening ceremony right now?! Sheesh, to think that the heir to the throne has no regard for maintaining decorum during formal functions… Ol’ Kifaji would shed a tear if he knew.”)

Speaking of phoning back home, Cheka keeps lines of communication with his family open! He’s constantly calling or writing to say hi or to give life updates. Boy can yap for what seems like forever, which deeply annoys Leona, but makes his parents gush about how excitable he is.

He’s the bane of most of his classmates’ existence. His cheer and boundless energy alone are annoying enough to deal with, but he’s also got a cocky streak to him. Cheka frequently boasts about how he’ll be king someday and speaks passionately about these lofty, grand ideals he has. It gives the impression that he doesn’t fully understand the weight of his crown quite yet.

His ego has him stupidly challenging his dorm leader like every other week for the seat. Cheka always gets his ass handed to him, but that doesn’t stop him from getting back up and trying again!! His dorm members think he’s reckless, but they have to admire his tenacity.

Cheka’s a “go with the flow” kind of guy. If something goes wrong, he’ll let it slide or shrug it off. He lives by this motto from his home country… Hakuna matata! Ever heard of it? It means “no worries for the rest of your days.” Unfortunately, this also means he had a tendency to run away from problems rather than attempting to solve them. This has earned him no shortage of ire from staff and fellow students alike.

He’s not very interested or gifted in academics; Cheka has a habit of getting distracted in lectures and cutting classes in favor of going on what he calls “adventures” into unknown nooks and crannies on campus, especially the forbidden areas. He’s too curious not to! “Danger?” Cheka barely bats an eye. “I laugh in the face of danger.”

He likes to eat grubs and other bugs in his food, claiming that they “taste like chicken” and that they’re an excellent source of protein. Cheka’s adventurous stomach has made him infamous on campus; he’ll sometimes receive dares to try out strange food concoctions (chocolate milk, corn, and jello was a recent one), which he’s always up for.

Cheka is not as good at magift/spelldrive as he would like (despite pestering his uncle to coach him). He also weirds his classmates out whenever they’re playing a sport and he tries to rally them to do a group chant.

A proud member of the Pop/Light Music Club!! He’s great at improvising lyrics and getting the audience to clap and dance along to the upbeat songs he writes.

Has two bodyguards enrolled at the school to protect him, similar to the hat Sebek and Silver did for Malleus 10 years ago. They’re kinda goofy and laidback, but if Cheka is ever in need of help, they’re there for him.

Sometimes Kifaji pays a visit to Night Raven College to check up on his prince. He usually has a scolding prepared for Cheka, whether it be on his behavior or grades, but it comes from a place of genuine love and concern. Cheka reassures him that he’s doing fiiine, so lay off and let him live a little, won’t he?

Cheka loves to swim around in the Savanaclaw lounge’s indoor pool. He once dove into it from the second story railing and did a dive bomb, sending water flying everywhere.

On nights when he can’t sleep, he gazes out of his bedroom window and stares at the stars. They look so different on Sage’s Island than they do back home—but stargazing always makes Cheka feel less lonely. He knows the great kings of the past are looking down on him, and that his father and uncle are blanketed under this same sky.

[strawberryforks]

slipping smiles//tim bradford x reader

reckless smiles adjacent (call fic)

warnings: you could have died, swearing, animal-in-danger, no beta we die like my sleep schedule

a/n: writing calls is surprisingly fun! SORRY for the (definite) inconsistencies. asks are open! dedicated to @scenesofobx because your comments have made my day <33 enjoy!

You’re dressed in a cute little workout outfit. Leggings, a cropped skintight long sleeve top with thumb-holes, overtop of that a gray sweater, and over that, a puffer vest that you leave open because it’s not as cold as you thought it would be. The vest you realize, might be a little extra, but you’re already committed now, halfway to your favourite taco truck. It’s your day off and since you can’t just do nothing, you’ve decided to go on a jog. It’s around lunchtime (you’re headed to get yours) and you pick this time purposely—you’re a cop, you’ve seen a lot. Enough that you don’t go running when it’s dark out and when there aren’t other people around—12PM ensures witnesses and sunlight and since you’re jogging on a sidewalk in the suburbs; in a relatively wealthy neighborhood, you don’t expect anything to happen. You run this route often and know that in a little bit, you’ll run across a bridge, that the small lake running underneath will be frost kissed, reflecting sun back at you. You know you might stop to take a picture—what you don’t know is that the group you’re nearing, jogging towards, are buying.

Up ahead, a man with a hood pulled down, obscuring his face passes a brick—not a baggy, a brick—of something into the hands of another man, this one wearing a ball cap and baggy jeans, sans face covering. You reach for your off-duty weapon and the badge you keep tucked into your wallet. “LAPD, hands in the air!”

Because nothing is easy and karma is against you, all hell breaks loose. Two of the guys pull out their guns, one shoots bullet after bullet in quick succession—you dive out of the way, ducking behind a grey civic that acts as a shield, absorbing bullets so you don’t have to. The other two start running and dammit, those ones are the guys who brought the drugs. The ones you really need in custody. You dial 911 and give your general address, you give your name and badge number, “10-57, requesting backup,” then you hangup. You call Chen—knowing she should be patrolling in the area; that she usually does, at least. “Hey! Pursuing armed suspects or about to… would love some help. Drug deal gone—“ and then you hear dispatch regurgitating your earlier words, hear her TO accept the call and then you’re shooting back, running behind other cars paralell parked on the sides of the road, using them as cover, and darting after the two escaping. A bullet whizzes past your side—you turn and bury one in the shooters shoulder. The other man, you shoot in the hand, causing his gun to go flying. Then you’re sprinting after the two. Distantly you hear sirens. Up ahead, alongside the criminals, is a scraggly looking stray. A cop car skids to a halt on the other side of the men, Chen and Bishop jumping out, guns raised. The criminals are now paused atop the bridge, looking at you like they’re planning to go through you, like it's the easier option now that the cavalry has arrived. You approach, another car sliding behind you. This one, Tim Bradford climbs out of, looking like the soldier he was—dangerous, determined. “It’s over! Interlace your hands behind your head!” you shout. The two men, both shot by you, are already stuffed into the backseat of a shop, headed for hospital before they’re to be booked.

The criminals are outnumbered and outgunned. They raise their hands slowly, fingers splaying, guns clattering to the ground and you approach, wrenching brick-boy’s hands behind his back, your own outstretched, waiting for a pair of cuffs to be thrown into them. Tim passes you a pair and you shove the restrained criminal towards your TO, past the cowering stray who the asshole swipes his foot at. The criminal kicks the dog who yelps and is knocked under the guardrail. You shove him harder then, forcing him to his knees in front of officer Bradford as you throw yourself at the fence, peering over where you see water. The dog fell through the thin layer of ice. You see him paddle up once, twice, and then he dips under again. Comeon, comeoncomeoncomeon, you plead. He doesn’t surface. Tim Bradford’s the last person you look at, the one who reaches for you as you vault over the guardrail and take the plunge yourself.

The water is cold. So cold that it seems to slow time down. Everything takes an extra minute, everything slowed as your eyes shoot open, blinking to adjust to the feeling of wetness against them. Underwater, you paddle, spinning around, looking for the dog. You see him, his little legs are frantic, pawing against the water. Still holding your breath, cheeks puffed up, full of air you’re losing faster than you’d like, you make large strides and close the distance between you and the pup. With the dog in your arms you try to surface. A layer of cold glass stops you. You bang your fist against it—breakbreakbreak. Weighed down by panic you climb along the underneath, looking for the crater you fell through. You claw your way to the hole in the ice and the dog surfaces before you do because you stick your hands out, up in the air, and pump your legs as quickly as you can. Your head breaches the water and you grab the ledge of the ice, wincing, terrified, when it gives way, only widening the break in the ice. You push the dog up onto the ice—the solid kind, and watch as it coughs up the cold water you’re still in. The cold water that’s feeling less cold. It's not the water, you know, it’s just you feeling less. Your feet are numb, your hands too. People are shouting but it still feels like you’re underwater. Still feels like something’s blocking your ears. Vaguely, as you attempt to pull yourself onto the ice you see flashing lights. Cop ones, ones from LAFD vehicles, too. There’s an ambulance here—as much for you as the men you shot, if only you could make it to them. If only. You’re getting tired. Sounds blur together, sensations, and colours too. You’re cocooned in a haze, a fog that just keeps getting thicker and thicker. A voice breaks it.

“Boot!” snaps Bradford. He’s closer than the others, you think. “Look at me,” he demands. You do, of course you do. He’s lying on the ice, body weight dispersed over a larger part of it so nothing shatters and he’s reaching out for you. There’s a few blurs behind him, firefighters, you think, telling—yelling at him, but all you can focus on is the words he’s saying. “Focus!”

You do your best.

“I need you to grab my arm. I’ll pull you up,” his hand is reaching towards your own and even though you can place your fingers—can’t feel them, you watch them carefully, making sure you direct your hand into his. Then, Tim pulls you from the water, sliding you along beside him and shifting so you’re between his legs, his forearms wrapped around your chest, holding you tightly. You’re shaking—still are, as two LAFD members drag Tim backwards to the bank, you with him. They take you from him and you didn’t fight his hold but you squirm in theirs, remembering the reason you took the ice-bath in the first place: the dog. “They’re going to help you,” Tim says, “you need to get warmed up.”

Your teeth clash with each other brutally in agreeance but you shake your head. “The d-dog. I-I have to get him, make sure he’s okay.”

Tim shakes his head incredulously. You don’t budge, insistent as ever and finally he relents. “I’ll get the damn dog. You, get warmed up. Listen to them.”

The dog would be okay, Tim would make sure of it—he’d take it to the vet himself, pay the bills, buy it a fucking sweater. Tim would do anything as long as you get seen by the paramedics because your lips were blue and he was terrified.

He hides that fear under a scowl as he searches for the pup and pulls him into his arms. The dog is small—a scraggly chihuahua mix of some kind—and he’s just as cold as you; a little less, thanks to the matted fur he’s covered in. Tim unzipped his jacket and wrapped the dog in it, then he headed up the bank to check on you. You, who had been ushered into the back of the ambulance and despite your assurances, “I’m fine, I’m fine, just a little chilly. Guys, this really isn’t necessary, I could warm up just as easily at home—“ shut in. A woman climbed into the driver's seat, her partner in the back with you and the doors were wrenched open a second time, your TO and the stray in his arms joining you. “I’m riding with her,” he tells the paramedics. He sits down on one of the small half-benches. “You’re okay?”

“Is the dog?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’ll take him to the vet to be sure but he seems okay. Now, Boot, answer.”

“I’m okay, just a little cold and sore. Don’t take him to the shelter after the vet. I’ll pay the bill just let me know how much.”

“You want to adopt him?”

“Yeah, I could use a roommate.”

[raintemper]

More of them,, but they’re robot cats this time lol… I’ll draw Moon and Pebbles soon, and some others maybe

I’ll do anything but actually draw them as Iterators apparently

Don't look too close, Ive never drawn such mech heavy designs until now...I don't know what I'm doing. I got a little more confident with NSH but I was absolutely just going blind with Suns. It took me 2 days to figure out how I wanted to start with Suns...

Some background info dump of them for this? Au??? Idk yet lol, under the line if interested

Erhm. Set in a post apocalyptic world, much like how Rain World actually is. Alternative timeline where iterators don't exist?? Failed??? The ancients have not yet ascended?? Maybe??? Idk the details are still blurry to me also 😞. They are in a high security lab facility ground type setting. (Perhaps just an excuse for me to draw apocalyptic higher tech designs????) It is cold outside, some failed iterator structures still produce rain, and occasionally the air may become toxic.

Suns is an offensive/surveillance model meant for fighting and protecting as one can probably tell with his tail blades. It folds back in an attempt to make it less dangerous and also functions as a way to swiftly cut into something if needed. They are the only one of them (excluding Pebbles for special reasons) to be equipped with a mouth hiding sharp teeth and/or lasers for even more attack prowess. They are also still huge. Sorry I run with the huge Suns agenda. He is a tower. Easily wrestles most lizards. I still like the idea of fluffy Suns, so he still has it as a robot cat. Some insulation for the colder outside temperatures, he's outside a lot. Suns is not built to be friendly. Mostly acts and behaves as an unassuming robot early on.

Moon and Suns were the first properly functional/successful projects. They were edited and reconstructed a lot from beginning to now. Maybe they were both originally purposed as therapeutic companions.

The overseers are little drones that fly around. They still project things and are still sometimes unhelpful with directions, follow at your own discretion. The lizards and predators mostly ignore them as well. They do recognize the different drones with time. They've learned to recognize NSH's drones, which sometimes might contain some edible collected material, so they do occasionally try to eat those. And most of the smaller predators try to leave the area if they see Suns' drones.

NSH is closer to a pet model. He is made for reconnaissance and scouting. He is still tiny because I like him tiny, he's adorable. NSH has three pairs of legs for rough terrain traversal, and is a fast little guy. He helps in collecting samples and materials from the outside, marking maps, as well as finding viable safe spots/shelters. He has no mouth but has a component in his chest where he can collect small samples, as well as storage units in his drones to store excess. He has small vials of decontaminate fluid to clean any samples he collects, they have to be refilled occasionally. Also, as mentioned in the art, he can open his neck and chest area and just swallow bigger samples. He can even keep them alive inside him if he wants to. Otherwise, they're killed and turned into power for him to use. Sometimes he finds lizards with cool patterns and tries to swallow them to show Suns, who oftentimes will kill it afterwards.

He was the experimental project for emotive programming alongside Unparalleled Innocence/UI, hence his fully functioning screen as a face. As opposed to Suns, who functions more as a security camera. I think NSH and UI are both similar in the more playful/chaotic personalities, so I decided for them to be created around the same time and put into the same testing. Overtime, UI did not respond very well and was repurposed (She's not gone). Emotive sentience was programmed into NSH first and then tested on Moon. It was generally successful in both cases. NSH really enjoys messing around and can even imitate his fellow iterators faces. It works really well temporarily scaring predators using Suns' color markings lol.

Because NSH and Suns are both outside often, they have solar panel components in their design for extra power. The two of them are very close because of their shared experiences. NSH likes the outside more, Suns has little opinions of it. They worry about NSH because he's so small and curious and occasionally brings back dangerous things.

Suns is a little bit of an outcast here because of his difference in role. He is mostly left to roam and function on his own/not approached as he carries his role. The others are research focused and Suns is more obviously purposed for battle, so there is a little bit of a divide. Not to mention, he technically does not have the programming for emotions that Moon and NSH have. Suns does learn on his own though :D, some of it is learned from NSH too

I will leave it here for now. I will probably talk more about Moon and Pebbles for their own post. And the others as well. I'm still thinking about their designs though.

Erhm hopefully this makes sense somewhat and was at least a fun read.

[adarafaelbarba]

Ooo hiii if it’s all right, can I please request a Sonny Carisi x fem!reader where she’s Munch’s daughter, so she’s grew up around the original squad so SVU is practically her family. Also she has a civilian job like owning a coffeeshop. She met and fell in love with Sonny when he was a detective and present day (now that he’s an ADA) they’re married and just recently had a baby (daughter) and she brings their baby to the squad as a surprise visit (when they’re not that busy of course)?💜

a/n: mentions of Munch, but not heavily indulged since he's passed. RIP Richard Belzer ❤️

You hadn't seen the squad since your dad's funeral, where you left your baby with your mother-in-law. Sarah was too young to even understand what was going on anyway, so it was for the better. But it meant that the squad didn't know about her yet. To be honest they didn't even know you and Sonny were married. He preferred keeping you and your daughter safe. And with how dangerous the life as the ADA could be, with the cases he dealt with, he wanted to be on the safer side.

However, today was different. He'd asked you to come to the precinct on your want to work, Sarah was going with you as you only had office work to do today. You loved your husband so much you'd do whatever he asked of course, so made your way to the precinct to see what was going on.

Laughter filled the room as you got off the elevator, and a few familiar voices mingled with new ones. Aunt Liv had apparently been hiring new ones since she saw her last.

"Hey doll! Hey baby!" Sonny exclaimed when he saw you, rushing over to kiss and hug you and your daughter.

You smiled softly up at him, caressing his cheek. "What's the rush, handsome?"

"I wanted them to know, about us, and our little princess." He murmured, booping Sarah's nose.

The two of you turned to the squad, and both Fin and Liv gasped. "baby?!" You both nodded at that, smiling wide.

Liv instantly wanted to hold the little girl, but uncle Fin, he wasted no time to hug you. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, doing better every day, Sonny and Sarah help of course, but would've been nice to have dad here too."

"Her name's Sarah?" You nodded at that.

"John is reserved for our future son, well, one of our sons. Sarah is kinda named after her nonna."

Sonny smiled proudly as he looked at you and your daughter interacting with the squad. So happy to have his little family there with him. Although he wanted to keep you safe, he knew that if the squad knew about you and him, they'd be more ready if something happened to him.

~~~

Tagging:

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[theladyheroine]

Minibots in TF One 🪐🛸

❥ Hello everyone! Taking another break today, but I was watching TFOne with my sister & it drew me back to this idea I had! Thank you & enjoy! 🥳

So real quick, I know they’re called Mini-Cons sometimes in comics or other media, but for this headcanon I’m just gonna call the little Cybertronians Mini-Bots! Anywho, I mentioned that they’d be in the background during Transformers One in the post above, but I wanted to elaborate on that since they’re so cute. 🥰 I apologize if that’s a strange reason but let’s get into it! 😅

Now I don’t think the Mini-Bots would be half the size of a Cybertronian because I forgot Bots without a T-Cog reach less than that or just barely. So I’d imagine they’d be around 10ft tall or below since the Cogless Bots are all around 18ft and over.

Thank you to whoever made this height chart! 🙏 I hope you don’t mind me using it!

Since Mini-Bots are so little I assume they would take over positions that require extra assistance or maybe even maintenance since they’re a little small to take on big jobs like mining or similar work.

Personal assistants, package delivery, organizers, maintenance, or social workers are some of the main jobs I feel they’d have during TFOne. Education would be another addition, but not for combat purposes really. Some of the bigger jobs could also include archiving, science, and entertainment. But by entertainment I mean any kind of creative field too! Plus these occupations don’t seem very dangerous either.

Now since these guys are smaller they’re very good at building and fixing things. I imagine they make all the machinery for the mining facilities, as well as handle any transportation units. They make sure everything is operational and if something is broken they go to fix it. In a way they’re kind of like little dwarves! 😆

Anywho, I feel they’d be very good at arts & crafts too. According to a post I found in the TF Wiki, fashion is a thing in Cybertron! I unfortunately can’t find the post now though, I’m real sorry. 😅🙏 But things like jewelry, accessories, battle masks, or other attachments for Cybertronians would be their field of expertise. Especially when Optimus Prime first takes over, they have more room to express themselves!

While battle attachments aren’t really necessary until much later in this universe, you can anything leave up to the Mini-Bots! They might even get you a discount if you come in with the parts yourself. But they’re willing to do a simple repair job too. It’s what they were made for!

Also real quick, if anyone has anything to say about fashion in this universe feel free to let me know! I’ve seen a couple posts about it online and it sounds so cool!

As for transportation, they can ride the shuttles and trains just like any other bot, but it might be difficult to get around. Similar to Zootopia, I imagine they’d have their own section to ride on or even their own modes of transportation. Kind of like little tubes or tunnels running around Iacon?

Or if they do choose to ride the shuttles with other Cybertronians, I can imagine them climbing up their taller buddies for a better view. That just sounds so cute! ☺️

There are a smaller buildings that act as charging stations or homes for the Mini-Bots. Shops too! Of course they sell what they have to everyone, but if a customer or a client is a little on the big side then there’s a window they can walk up to and ask for anything.

That is all I have for now but let me know if you have some new ideas! I love talking about the culture in this movie, especially since we’ve seen that Cybertron looks like now! But I hope you all enjoyed, thank you!

[pokemonfrommemory]

Sawblade dinosaur

[guckies]

Someone said all tubbo does is put the eggs in danger since joining….

The eggs have free autonomy… the put themselves in the danger majority of the time… Eggs were literally created by the feds so realistically they could take them back at any time… The code is still about and has literally been beat multiple times by direct egg parents…

Tubbo just takes care of them when they show up…

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

ford: here’s the current plan: i dive down while the shiver-flock is distracted, get through the coral, grab one of the urchins, and then we make a run for the ship as soon as i surface

stan: hm, alright, i hear ya. counterpoint: we don’t have any diving gear

ford: i’ll hold my breath

stan: six, and i say this with the upmost respect, you can’t even hold your breath going up and down the stairs. your lungs are worse than mine, somehow, and i don’t know how you even managed that

ford: okay. ouch

stan: and, i mean, what if you get a brain-eating amoeba or somethin’?

ford: bold of you to assume i don’t already have twenty anomalous variants swimming around in my grey matter

stan: okay, what about bacteria and parasites and viruses? the ocean is chock full of micro-shit that wants to kill you

ford: i am encroaching on their home without their consent. as far as i’m concerned, they have every right to do so

stan: for fuck’s sake- ford

ford: what?

stan: i’m asking you to take care of yourself for once here

ford: do you have another plan?

stan: uh…no

ford: then, and i say this with the upmost respect, don’t fucking tell me what to do

stan: i-

ford: i’m sorry, that was rude, i appreciate your advice

stan: hey, thanks

ford: i’m still doing it though

stan: (sigh) yeah, i kinda figured

[itspileofgoodthings]

Learning how to love my teenage boy students and they’re learning how to love me within the proper teacher-student dynamic.

[quietwingsinthesky]

even deserves gentle forehead kisses

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it’s all been said before but the whole pronouns thing for some people is getting so ridiculous it’s honestly just sad

[dovedrangeas]

i have so many posts in my drafts about weird terf shit ive seen, but i don’t want to post them and risk summoning a ton of them to my blog to rant about how im always going to be female and trans women are misogynist men and gender neutral language is misogynistic and all men are dangerous by nature while all women are victims by nature and…………

[scientia-rex]

A lot of younger people have no idea what aging actually looks and feels like, and the reasons behind it. That ignorance is so dangerous. If you don’t want to “be old,” you aren’t talking about a number of years. I have patients in their late 80s who could still handily beat me in a race—one couple still runs marathons together, in their late 80s—and I lost someone who was in her early 60s to COPD last year. What you want is not youth, it is health.

If you want to still be able to enjoy doing things in your 60s and 70s and 80s and even 90s, what you want to do, right now, is quit smoking, get some activity on a regular basis (a couple of walks a week is WAY better for you than nothing; increasing from 1 hour a day of cardio to 1.5 will buy you very little), and eat some plants. That’s it. No magic to it. No secret weird tricks. Don’t poison yourself, move around so your body doesn’t forget how, and eat plants.

If you have trouble moving around now because of mobility limitations, bad news: you still need to move around, not because it’s immoral not to, but because that’s still the best advice we have. I highly recommend looking up the Sit and Be Fit series; it is freely available and has exercises that can be done in a chair, which are suitable for people with limited mobility or poor balance. POTS sufferers, I’m looking at you.

If you have trouble eating plants because of dietary issues (they cause gas, etc.) or just because they’re bitter (super taster with texture issues here!), bad news. You still want to find a way to get some plants into your body on a regular basis. I know. It sucks. The only way I can do it is restaurants—they can make salads taste like food. I can also tolerate some bagged salads. On bad weeks, the OCD with contamination focus gets so bad I just can’t. However, canned beans always seem “safe,” and they taste a bit like candy, so they’re a good fallback.

If you smoke and you have tried quitting a million times and you’re just not ready to, bad news. You still need to quit. Your body needs you to try and keep trying. Your brain needs it, too. Damaging small blood vessels racks up cumulative damage over time that your body can start trying to reverse as soon as you quit. I know it’s insanely, absurdly addictive. You still need to.

You cannot rules lawyer your way past your body’s basic needs. It needs food, sleep, activity, and the absence of poison. Those are both small things and big asks. You cannot sustain a routine based on punishment, so don’t punish your body. Find ways to include these things that are enjoyable and rewarding instead. Experiment. There is no reason not to experiment—you don’t have to know instantly what’s going to work for you and what won’t, you just need to be willing to try things and make changes when things aren’t working for you.

You will still age. Your body will stop making collagen and elastin. Tissues you can see and tissues you can’t see will both sag. Cushioning tissues under your skin will get thinner. You’ll bruise more easily. Skin will tear more easily. Accumulated sun damage will start to show more and more. Joints will begin to show arthritis. Tendons and ligaments will get weaker and get injured more easily, as will muscles. Bones will lose mass and get easier to break. You’ll get tired more easily.

But you know what makes the difference between being dead, or as good as, in your 60s vs your 90s? Activity, plants, and quitting smoking. And don’t do meth. Saw a 58-year-old guy this week who is going to have a heart attack if he doesn’t quit whatever stimulant he’s on. I pretended to believe it was just the cigarettes, and maybe it is, but meth and cocaine will kill you quicker. Stop poisoning yourself.

Baby steps; take it one step at a time; you don’t need to have everything figured out right now. But you do need to be working on figuring things out.

[tonycries]

Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam��, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too. 

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room. 

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this. 

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle. 

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already. 

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked. 

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them. 

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious. 

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

. 

A weighty beat passes. One. Two. 

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this? 

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What? 

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face. 

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity. 

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better. 

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word. 

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually. 

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth. 

“Out.” 

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now. 

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?” 

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him. 

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but. 

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar. 

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal. 

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away. 

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.���

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan. 

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his. 

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this. 

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth. 

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast. 

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers. 

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. 

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth. 

And Gojo keeps going. 

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily. 

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good. 

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?” 

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs. 

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit. 

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous. 

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together. 

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute. 

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone. 

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife. 

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch. 

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly. 

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance. 

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you. 

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there. 

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least. 

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.” 

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear. 

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side. 

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?” 

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him. 

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find- 

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted. 

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles. 

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are. 

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices. 

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper. 

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you. 

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes. 

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his. 

“Clean that room up.” 

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie. 

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[lesbian-not-american27]

Ok but you have to include the full clip though

The guys name is Paul Parker and he’s literally my hero

The clip is funny ofc, he literally tells sco mo to square up, but it’s also heartbreaking to see how run down and exhausted he is- how all our volunteers were- during black summer. My parents are both full time rfs members and I’m nearly of age to become an offical member myself, and I can’t begin to describe how run ragged they are every bush fire season, let alone 2019-20. My dad’s birthday was just a few days ago and while we were sitting in our living room cutting the pavlova he was still on call with the radios by his side. Our emergency service workers- the rfs, the ses, paramedics and support services and so many more- are overworked and underpaid and constantly let down by our government, and good old Scotty from marketing is a prime fucking example.

Fuck Scott Morrison, support your local brigades.

I just spent some time scrolling through this blog and am suffering from sever laughter. Thanks so much for collating the countries craziest moments. One of my favourites is when Scott Morrison was in Hawaii while the bushfires where burning.

December 2019: As Australia's east coast is engulfed in the worst bushfires in living memory, rumours begin to circulate that Australia's Prime Minister Scott Morrison may have secretly fucked off for a holiday in Hawaii.

Keep in mind, this is what is going down in Australia at the time:

The Hawaii rumour is initially written off as a fringe conspiracy, because surely nobody could be that fuckin tonedeaf, and it was quickly forgotten about... until an Australian man visiting Hawaii UPLOADED A SELFIE ON THE BEACH WITH THE PM THROWING A SHAKA.

At which point all hell broke loose.

Overnight the formerly popular "Scomo" became the most despised man in all of Australia. Think "firefighters shouting out of their windows to news cameras" level of despised.

After about two days of radio silence and pretending like he was still at home running the country, the Prime Minister's handlers finally dragged him onto call with an Australian radio station, where he pinky promised to return to Australia as fast as he could in an attempt to calm things down.

Unfortunately Scott's empathy consultant (a real job) then had to watch Scott pour more gasoline on the dumpster fire by uttering the now famous phrase "Look I don't hold a hose mate" when asked by the radio interviewer why the fucking fuck the fuckhead wasn't fucking in Australia doing his fucking job during a massive fucking crisis.

Testing just how much worse things could get, Scomo then proceeded to NOT rush back to Australia as promised, instead attempting to complete the rest of his holiday, a fact that was exposed when a passerby snapped a picture of him still lounging on the beach two days later.

Eventually, holiday complete, Morrison did reluctantly slink back to Australia, and in an attempt to calm things down, he decided to pay a visit to a small town that had been destroyed by the fires.

Which was a big mistake.

Scomo still had not registered how absolutely and totally he had screwed the poodle with his Hawaiian beach vacation, and he walks into what is now taught in PR classes as one of the greatest examples of "what not do do in a crisis" in all of history.

Scotty from Marketing, as he is now dubbed by the nation, spends a painfully cringe-inducing hour wandering around a burned down town with TV news cameras in tow, having to FORCE PEOPLE TO SHAKE HIS HAND in what is some of the most awkward footage you will ever see.

At this point it's probably also worth mentioning that, before becoming Prime Minister, Scott Morrison's biggest claim to fame in politics was being the guy that was so far up the coal lobby's arse that he literally brought coal into parliament and waved it around, claiming it doesn't hurt people.

So when a protest was organised it turned out to be one big national fuck you to the Prime Minister, the likes of which the world has never seen before or since.

Needless to say, at this point Scomo's career was dead in the water, but thanks to the rules brought in to stop Australian political parties from knifing their leader every two weeks (a popular Aussie passtime) Morrison basically couldn't get fired until after the next election.

And so, when the election rolled around in 2022, we decided that was an opportune time to travel over to Hawaii to erect this bad boy tribute to the Prime Minister, on the very beach where Scomo had sat and drank margaritas that one fateful week in December as Australia burned (thanks to @chaser for funding the ticket)

[satoruxx]

normally toji prides himself on being the perfect guard dog—not that he would ever tell you that. but you never have to worry about guys coming up to you when your hulking monster of a boyfriend remains at your side, continuously glaring down his nose at everyone he sees.

this usually works pretty well.

on adults.

but now, as you and him wait in line at the counter of the grocery store, he can only let out a huff of irritation as he watches the little brat in front of you both stare over his mother’s shoulder—big wide eyes locked on you.

at first you don’t really notice, too busy blabbering about something silly as you look around the store. but when you finally lock eyes with the child, you notice the way he seems to go shy, pressing his cheek deeper into his mom’s shoulder. his eyes flick away from your face for just a second, before timidly looking back. as soon as he does, you break into the sweetest, most giddy smile.

(toji would move mountains for a glimpse of that smile—and yet here this kid is just getting it without a shred of work.)

you tilt your head, raising a hand to gently wave at the boy, who flushes further under your attention, but lifts his cheek a little more. chubby fingers come up to meekly wave back, and you hold back a silent coo of affection, eyes filled with honey-like sweetness. with every little giggle and silly face you make at the boy, he seems to get more and more comfortable—toji watches you melt.

the unlucky little brat then quickly peeks at the giant man looming beside you, and toji can’t resist. his face pulls into a evil smile, teeth on full display as he wiggles his fingers sinisterly. the expression has its desired effect—the kid recoils, eyes going wide before burying his face into his mother’s neck. in a few minutes, the boy and his mom are heading out the store and you and toji start loading the groceries onto the belt.

“i saw that, you know?”

toji glances up, seeing your semi disapproving frown, and he cocks his head in faux innocence. “saw what?”

“you’re mean,” you shake your head, crossing your arms. “scaring little kids like that. quite literally the object of their nightmares.”

“ah, he’ll be alright,” toji grunts, taking the bags from the cashier in one hand and reaching for your palm with the other. “it’ll build his character.”

you snort. “he’ll have trauma.”

“like i said,” he grins, a canine display. “character.”

you roll your eyes as he tugs you out of the store—your grip on him unwilling to falter.

toji lives just like this, successful in scaring off any other person who considers giving you attention, whether that’s an adult or a little kid. and despite your exasperated complaints to at least lay off the children (they’re harmless), toji has known for a long time that he can be nothing but selfish when it comes to you.

so forgive him, if he quickly turns to this evil little tactic to scare away kids—it’s all he can really do. besides, it always works.

until now.

you’re sitting under a tree at a small park, working on some dumb assignment for one of your lectures. toji lays on his back next to you, arm draped over his eyes in a momentary respite from the normal danger of his life—eerily content.

the peace is broken by the rustling of tiny footsteps in the grass.

“here you go.”

toji pulls his arm away to peer at the owner of the voice. a boy stands there, hair tousled as he waits in front of you with his arm outstretched—in between his chubby fingers is a singular dandelion.

your eyes widen, cheeks splitting into a wide smile as you coo out your affection. “aw for me?”

the boy nods mutely, cheeks flushed as he thrusts the flower further into your view. you delicately pluck it from his hands, inhaling the fragrance with a grateful smile. “well thank you. it’s beautiful.”

he shyly kicks at a spot of grass, lips pulling up into a giddy smile under your sweet praise. “just like you,” he mumbles under his breath and you squeal softly, giggling at how adorable this kid truly is.

toji sits up before you can say anything else, lips pulled into a displeased frown as he crosses his bulky arms across his chest. “hey.” his voice comes out low and tense, even as he stares down his nose at the boy. “what are you doing?”

you turn to look at your boyfriend, at the exaggerated sneer that normally works wonders in scaring kids away, and you hold back an exasperated sigh. “toji—“

“who are you?” the boy frowns, sass appearing out of thin air as he looks toji up and down like he’s nothing but dirt under his colorful sneakers. you gape at him, eyes darting back and forth between the two as a smile threatens to make its way into your face. toji’s lips part in surprise, a tingle of heat crawling up his neck as he hears your hushed gasp of held back laughter.

“her boyfriend,” he grunts back, eyes narrowed in a way that’s oddly similar to the expression on the kid’s face.

“no way!” the boy huffs, pouting indignantly. his cheeks flush as he glares at toji—unfazed.

“uh, yes way.” toji realizes how petty he sounds, but he’s adamant—unwilling to stand down in anything that involves you.

the boy crosses his arms, mirroring toji’s pose. he rolls his eyes emphatically, lip curling as he sneers down his nose.

“isn’t she too pretty for you?” he asks bluntly. you smother another disbelieving gasp, and toji suddenly feels an unfamiliar thrill rush through his veins—this kid had guts.

“what do you know, brat?” there’s a smirk evident in toji’s voice now, and he uncrosses his arms to lean back on his palms, eyes shining with feral mirth.

“i have eyes,” the boy snaps back, putting both hands on his hips to appear more intimidating—it doesn’t work, he just looks cuter. “i can see her.”

“well quit it,” toji huffs in return. “not yours to look at.”

the kid narrows his eyes. “you’re mean!”

“and you’re nosy!”

“how am i nosy?”

“you’re comin’ over here and givin’ my girl flowers!”

“she deserves flowers!”

“of course she does! from me, you little brat!”

“you suck, old man!”

“what did you just call me?!”

a shout from across the park disrupts the heated bickering, and you all turn to see an older woman waving the boy over. he looks down at you, a sweet smile washing over his face as he tilts his head innocently. “that’s my mom. i have to go home now.”

“heh, sure thing. get home safe, okay?” you shoot toji an amused glance as you speak, and he sends a displeased glare back as he stubbornly crosses his arms again.

the boy nods, beaming at you. “okay! see you later!” he chirps. but just as he’s about to leave he turns back, eyes fixated on toji. “i hope your boyfriend learns how to be nice!”

and then he runs off.

you snort out another laugh, which only gets louder when you catch a glimpse of the way toji is practically sulking in the corner—scowling at the kid’s back with narrowed eyes.

the whole thing is so unbelievably endearing, and you can’t stop grinning as you pack up your things and stand up.

“let’s go home, toji.” you hold your palm out for him, and you’re rewarded with a pointed glance—he takes your hand anyway. even as you both exit the park, toji has an unamused pout on his face, glaring ahead.

you can’t resist.

“don’t tell me you actually feel threatened now,” you giggle, grabbing his bicep and pressing close. toji glances at you from the corner of his eyes, unamused—which only seems to make you laugh harder. “oh come on! he was so cute!”

“little brat,” he grumbles in return. “couldn’t take a hint.”

“you’re mad because the eight year old kid at the park didn’t want to believe you were my boyfriend?”

“the fuck do you think? of course i am. what do i look like if not your fucking boyfriend?”

you chortle, practically falling on him with the weight of your amusement. he sighs, disgruntled.

“it’s not funny, kid.” toji rolls his eyes at you—internally, he’s trying not to grin.

“it’s so funny, toji.” you straighten up, smiling at him with stars in your eyes. “you’re ridiculous and it’s so cute.”

he scoffs, giving you a sidelong glance before reaching up to tug at your cheek. “i’m definitely not the cute one.” he murmurs offhandedly before internally smirking at the way you seem to be caught off guard by his statement.

“whatever,” you mumble, holding his arm as you both continue walking home in relative silence. from the corner of your eye you can see toji’s expression as he mutely stares ahead, deep in thought. you decide not to disturb him, content on just feeling his warmth bleeding into your palm—always at your side.

toji replays the incident in his head multiple times as you head home. the bickering, the sass, and the unfiltered adoration that little brat seemed to have for you.

something clicks.

as you’re pushing open the door of your apartment, you hear toji quietly chuckle from behind you, and you turn to look at him over you shoulder. “what?”

he shakes his head slowly, eyes shut even as an uncharacteristically soft smile tugs at his lips. “just thinking…”

“about what?” you ask curiously.

toji grins at you, cocking his head fondly. “when we have a kid, i want the little brat to be just like that.”