#as i call it in my head

[llovely]

here's a fake interview about my me & my girlfriend that i transcribed from my head. enjoy!

[pangur-and-grim]

I’m too gullible with people. I’ll have encounters and be like “aw they seemed nice ☺️” and then everyone around me will be like NONONONONO THAT WAS THE DEVIL!!!!!!!

[go-go-gadget-autism]

”Right. And what’s his name?”

“Simon.”

you stare at your husband for a second, dumbfounded. “and… what’s his last name?”

“Riley.”

“…You named your dog Simon Riley.”

He grinned from ear to ear. “Bloody handsome name, innit?” You sighed, dragging your hand down your face. “You are so stuck up sometimes.”

“You always said you wanted a guard dog.” Right, and now you’ve got two of them. “Is he chipped-?” “Got him all ‘is necessary shots and the like, birdie. Don’t worry your pretty little head.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you can’t help but smile at him. As strange as your husband may be…

You think he’s perfect.

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[calypsolemon]

dance on a razor's edge

[ionomycin]

it's you, after all

[bumpscosity]

i had a dream last night jerma casually said the f slur on stream looked over at chat and realizing what he just said started yelling "I CAN RECLAIM IT. I CAN RECLAIM. IT I CAN RECLAIM IT" before turning off his camera, saying "I HAVE TO LEAVE" and then turning off the stream

[yi3248]

a peace offering for my last drawing

[ash-and-starlight]

one day, in a thousand years

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

smutty headcanons part 4, mdni please :))

"stay right where you are," simon says as you're mid-step in your attempt to get closer to him.

closer to where he sat comfortably, legs spread apart, his cock heavy in his hand, pumping slowly.

hazel eyes piercing, staring right into yours.

"just watch," he says, and it takes every fibre of your being to stop yourself from dropping to your knees right then and there.

he continued the motion, up and down, up and down, his pace never faltering as he watched your eyes darken with lust, breath growing heavy despite being untouched.

"please," you whisper after a few minutes, desperation reaching a fever peak. he only clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

"please what, pretty girl? i taught you to ask for what you want, didn't I?" he says, and you shrink a little in embarrassment.

but you weren't even sure what you wanted. to sink down onto his cock and ride him till the sun goes down, or to suck him dry, until your hunger for him was satiated.

"tell me what you want, princess. i'll give you whatever you need,"

bonus:

"fucking hell, couldn't have waited till i got home ya freaks," johnny says as he enters the room, eyes locked onto yours as you bounced on simon's lap.

despite the haze of your brain, you reach your hand out for him, your pace faltering as you do.

simon clicks his tongue, gripping tighter onto your hips as he begins to fuck up into you, taking over control of the pace.

you crumple down onto him, grasping onto his shoulders as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

"well, are you joining us or not?" simon asks, glancing over to johnny who stood with his mouth agape, just watching.

you have never seen him move faster in your life.

[hotdogmchiggin]

I guess DARE wasn’t a thing in Goron City

[quess-art]

I need D'Urge to be a companion 😭 Especially since he's canonical even when you create a custom Tav

(Some headcanons, some based on little snippets of dialogue from the game)

[hellenhighwater]

Genuinely being a single woman in my thirties, living alone, is such a mixed blessing sometimes. I do love my house and when I'm here I literally never want to leave. But on the other hand, I do get tired of leaving to go hang out with people, even though I love seeing them. Especially because I have such a great group of friends but they live all over the place, geographically, and therefore most of them don't know each other. And I actually really love hosting? But I never have people in my house because logistically it's always more practical for me to go to them than vice versa.

But sometimes I buy new old dishes and wanna just have a little fancy wizard party, but all my guests are far away. Please may I have the teleport spell. Or a high-speed commuter rail system.

[ghoulishautism]

free meme edit for anyone to use

[scythelordsucks]

saul goodman as nine inch nails albums