#he also is very good at the stock market

[designernishiki]

friend and I have been talking about the concept of an alternate timeline where they didn’t kill off mine and instead, while laying low and trying to unlearn being Evil basically, as both penance for his actions and as a tojo-mandated involuntary vacation, he’s sent to okinawa (with some sort of supervision, of course) to work for morning glory. ie; mr. orphan hater has to help babysit orphans to pay for his orphan-related crimes and hopefully learn something in the process. shenanigans ensue.

[sunshine-tattoo]

some stuff about Alastor:

he was in his early 30s when he died in 1933

putting his birth year around 1900 or so

because of his age, there's a very good chance he fought in the WW1 trenches

hes black but had a mixed background and could potentially pass in white social circles

which was very useful since Louisiana is incredibly racist and segregation was very powerful then

he grew up speaking a mixture of English and French in New Orleans

gave himself a trans Atlantic accent at some point so he would be taken seriously

he had a very popular radio show host in New Orleans from the mid 20s to early 30s

also he was a serial killer

we don't know who he targeted as his victims (or why) but he did often eat them

my guess is rich white men who were paying slave wages during the Depression but that's just a theory

he was killed accidentally by a hunter who saw him in the swamp and thought he was a deer

which is why he has deer attributes in Hell

thought that the stock market crash in 1929 was really funny

probably because a lot of stupid rich white men lost everything

loves to cook and learned how from his mother

aro ace

Rosie the Cannibal Overlord is his very best friend

was a voodoo king when he was alive and brought those same skills and powers to Hell when he died

he is one of Viv's oldest characters, having first conceived of him during her high school days in the early 2010s

a lot of his aesthetic is based on Doctor Facilier from The Princess and the Frog

which is kinda funny that his voice actor (Keith David) now plays Husk on the show

[thetransfemininereview]

Do you have any recommendations for gaining access to these books? I have a pretty long list of ones I want to read but can't afford most of them. The library has the big ones (Whipping Girl, Detransition Baby, Nevada) but the newer or less well known ones have been difficult to find

No this is actually so real though. Let's talk about it.

One of the big problems that I'm trying to address here is the fact that there is a lack of ability for trans books to reach their perhaps core audience, trans people. Over the last few years trans librarians have been trying to increase the number of trans books in circulation, but that's super contingent on where you live. Not to mention the fact that, at least in the US, states are actively trying to criminalize circulating trans books in libraries.

I know Tumblr is allergic to economics a lot of the time, but you've gotta look at the math to understand why this is the current state of things. Essentially it's a vicious cycle. Lots of trans people can't afford to buy a $25 hardcover on a whim, and traditional publishers put a lot of stock into how well a book performs on release, cause that's how they make money. So when the core audience can't afford it and isn't marketable, they register that as a lower demand, which means that fewer trans books get published, fewer end up in libraries, and the cost of an individual book is driven higher. Low demand, high price. Then because the price is high, trans people cant afford the books, and the cycle continues.

It is the dilemma of the transfemme author that most of their core audience is also gonna be transfemme. It's a self-selecting process that's very hard to break out of. And at the end of the day, there just isn't very much money to go around in the trans community because trans people so frequently get cut off from generational wealth. So when you get an ecosystem of transfemmes selling books to other transfemmes who also sell books to them....

I took a class on the Sociology of Art a few years ago, and one of my core takeaways was that the boundaries of a field (yes my teacher liked Bourdieu, come for her ass, not mine) are fundamentally governed by institutions and entities with the money and power to dictate their rules of play. In Althusser's language, you would call those ISAs (Ideological State Apparatuses). When you read Weber, he talks about how culture needs to have some level of social legitimation in order to become a force of power in the world (I butchered that but it's the gist lol). And it's like.

The people who have the money to read the books dictate which books receive the money. Organizations like Lambda Literary, presses, big name publishers, etc. One of the big problems in the field of trans literature up to this point is that the only people who've had the money to produce social legitimation from the organizing schema/matrix of an ISA have also only chosen to read a very small slice of the extant literature. Then, because those non-profits and presses and companies only champion a small selection of books, that in turn dictates for those who have less money which of those books deserve social attention, critical acclaim, sales, library slots, etc.

And like, all of that is an illusion, but it produces a material reality for the transfemme author. It dictates the material conditions for the reproduction of said literature and who can participate in it.

So, what's to be done about it?

"Buzz" is a big deal in the publishing industry. A good review, an award, a thinkpiece - all of that can be the difference between a successful book and a flop. Publishers look for that. If nobody talks about a book and it doesn't sell well, they'll drop the author faster than you can say Susan. Again, vicious cycle. But like, at the end of the day, a "field," an "ISA," a "legitimated" work of art, that's all just a class prerogative. The different between a Very Important Literary Blog and a "person talking about books on the internet" is money. Like. It's just money. The reality of it is really banal.

It's who has the money to read books. It's who has the money and time to write about books. It's who has the money to gain institutional access to book. It's who has the money to read enough to say, "Oh, well that might seem true, but if you look at X, Y, and Z it's clearly not." It takes money to fact check. It takes money to challenge institutional myths. It takes money because when an institution makes a claim about a book and none of the people who care enough to argue with them have the cash to challenge it, the claim tends to stand.

And like, the honest truth is that between the books, the website, and the education, I've spent a lot of money bringing this website online in the form you're reading it in. A lot of the books I've read were really fucking expensive. I grew up in a wealthy family, my parents were accepting. They have both the means and the desire to support my passion projects. I'm lucky.

The goal of The Transfeminine Review is to create at least one independently trans-run website that can challenge that brand of institutional legitimation work from non-profits and big publishers and cis outlets, a website that can actually highlight transfeminine literature as it exists in the world, not as the Big 5 publishers have dictated it. Topside, Metonymy, Arsenal Pulp, LittlePuss, etc. They've all taken on that challenge from the angle of producing books, but there hasn't been a corollary trans secondary ecosystem dedicated to documenting and critiquing them. Or there is, but it's extremely diffuse and hard to find if you don't know exactly what you're looking for. Then there are the general queer outlets, like them. and whatnot, and they do their best but literature is a side hustle at best. There's the queer-helmed literary outlets like Electric Lit (shout out Denne Michele Norris) but they spend most of their time talking about cis authors. None of it is designed to help or review self-published literature from poor authors, and let's be frank, most transfeminine publishing is still done indie or self.

It's an investment, essentially. On the longshot, the hope is that this website will inspire others to do similar work, and that eventually through the collective efforts of trans authors and their readership, we can begin to change the math on trans publishing and help to spread it to a wider audience.

Now.

None of this changes the current reality that trans lit is expensive.

Unless you're lucky, you're probably not gonna find much trans lit at the local library even if you dig for it. Another good place to find free trans books is transreads.org, but their selection is mostly non-fiction, and the fiction is, again, largely the same few books you can find elsewhere. Another good online queer library is https://www.queerliberationlibrary.org/, which might be a good place to look (shoutout to Skye for bringing it to my attention!)

There are a couple of cheaper places to find trans books. If you shop around on itch.io, a lot of self-published trans authors have "name your price" models, which can be more accessible. Creators on itch will also bundle their work on a fairly regular basis, so you can get like 10-20 books for $10, which is, by my token, an excellent price.

If there's a particular author you're interested in, a lot of self-pub trans authors have Patreon accounts where they serialize their novels. You also can find serial (pre-edit) versions of a bunch of books on Scribblehub.

This has gotten steadily less affordable over the last few years cause Amazon is evil, but Kindle Unlimited ($11.99 a month, but there's a free trial) has thousands of trans books. Most of them are erotica, but like, there are a lot of hidden gems in there, and if you're a voracious enough reader, then it'll definitely be much cheaper per book than buying trad.

The problem with all of these, though, is that they tend to favor specific genres and tropes. Like there's only so much variety on itch.io or Scribblehub or transreads.org or KU. So if you like the genre conventions, then awesome! But if you don't it's probably not for you.

And none of it will give you access to some of the rare older tradpub books or the new but scarce releases that I've been going through unless you're willing to pay the full price for them.

I wish I had a better answer, but that's unfortunately the current state of the industry :/

Hopefully this ramble is helpful.

Beth

[wttcsms]

balancing act ; satoru gojo.

pairing satoru gojo x f!reader   word count 3.9k   synopsis gojo bets that he can get you to fall in love in three months, and you bet that he can't go three months with staying committed to one person and not bang them. neither of you plan on losing. content contains modern no curses!au, mentions of sex and vulgar language (but no smut yet), simp gojo <3 author’s notes i plan on wrapping things up quickly this time around, so i have five parts planned for this mini series!

Satoru Gojo is used to a wide array of reactions to any of his antics: awe (the summer analyst, Miwa, always stares at him like he himself is the one who created the stock market), irritation (Nanami is rarely ever in agreement with the comments Gojo leaves on his work), lust (Gojo gives just as much he receives because he’s benevolent like that — his words, of course). 

But he’s not quite used to being laughed at. 

He’s handsome, and he knows it, a deadly combination for any man because Shoko claims that all men are born with an astonishing amount of audacity and it only ever grows as they get older. Satoru brings up the fact that Shoko technically cheated her way through med school, and that any doctor worth her degree wouldn’t get onto patients while lighting up a cigarette of all things, but Shoko is equally stubborn and audacious as any man, and it just makes her a worthy opponent to get into arguments with. 

Being attractive and arrogant isn’t enough to keep him from suffering mild humiliation from time to time, though. The reason why Satoru doesn’t get embarrassed is because the world is unfair, so he happens to be born rich and smart enough and talented enough to just keep on getting richer. Even he is entirely aware of his privilege, but he’s got the type of personality that would be endearing even if he wasn’t hot, so everyone loves him. 

And you don’t hate him, he knows that. He also knows that you don’t love him, which is fine, because it’s not your love, or awe, or irritation, or lust (okay, maybe some lust would be nice) that Satoru wants from you. He just wants you for you, your honesty and whatever scraps of yourself that you toss to him. 

Today’s scraps are your laughter, which rings through the whole entire office, singing above the noisy clacks of keys being smashed by the analysts and the whirring of the printer shooting out hundreds of pages a minute. He feels a warmth spread from his stomach to his chest and maybe it even rises up to his neck, he’s not so sure. He should feel slightly embarrassed, he thinks, to have said something seriously only for you to find comedy in it, but he doesn’t. He just feels pleased with himself for making you laugh, like he’s done something great.

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.” You’re still smiling, even though you’re not bothering to look at him anymore. Your attention is now focused on the report one of the analysts has turned into you, and from the lack of comments you’re leaving, he assumes it’s Megumi’s work. 

“I was being serious, y’know.” Satoru’s more than tall enough to see over the cubicles, especially when he’s standing up, and he leans over it, his head and upper body leaning into your personal desk space. The cubicles don’t do jack shit for privacy, anyway, so he doesn’t feel bad when you complain that he’s invading your privacy. If it was privacy that you craved, you wouldn’t have three monitors raised, each of them displaying a jumble of numbers and words that Satoru doesn’t care about. 

“So was I.” You tell him.

Just thirty minutes ago, you walked into the office with a quad shot espresso, unceremoniously plopped your Longchamp tote onto the floor, and dramatically sighed to get your desk neighbor’s attention. Utahime is always a good sport when it comes to your antics but doesn’t bother extending the same courtesy to Satoru, which he considers to be very unfair considering that he’s technically everyone’s boss. It is his name that’s displayed on the side of the building, and his private equity firm that he’s built up alongside Suguru. 

“What happened this time?” Utahime asks you, like the good sport she is. Satoru, at that time, was pretending not to eavesdrop even though he is, because he’s a nosy bastard. 

“I hate men.” You say, leaning back in your chair. “He left me for someone nice.”

The way you say it lets him — and Utahime, who is actually the person you’re talking to — know that that nice was a direct quote from your ex.

Utahime furrows her brows, looking confused. “But you are nice.” 

Debatable, is what Satoru wants to say, but he’s remaining silent so he can get the full story out of you first.

“No. I’m a workaholic with no personality outside of my fancy finance job.” 

Ouch. 

Satoru doesn’t see an issue with you, though. So what, you’re hardworking and focused? He thinks it’s kinda hot to see someone with so much ambition and discipline. He wouldn’t have hired you if you were anything less. 

“He’s just insecure.” Utahime says, soft voice trying to soothe you, even though Satoru hears the familiar sound of your manicure typing in your login details to your computer. He knows it’s silly to think he can tell the difference between your typing and anyone else’s, and he doesn’t want to think too hard about what that could possibly mean when it comes to defining his feelings for you.

“You said the same thing about my last three exes, and they all said similar things about me.” Satoru can’t see either of you from this angle, but he’s certain that you’re opening up your emails right about now. The conversation is coming to a close, and he needs to start focusing on his own tasks, but then you say something interesting, practically baiting him to come out of his office.

“I’ve decided that from this point forward, I am swearing off men.” 

Utahime laughs. “You can’t just swear off all men because of a few bad ones.”

“Not forever.” You clarify. “Just for the time being. All the men I’ve dealt with  in Tokyo suck.”

On paper, all your exes are fantastic catches. There’s the surgeon (who found you to be too independent), the professor (who thought you were too busy to give him the attention he needed), the hedge fund associate (who thought that he liked smart girls, but apparently, not ones smarter than him), and your newest ex, the investment banker. The irony isn’t lost on anyone — an investment banker criticizing someone for being a workaholic obsessed with the prestige of their finance career? If he was going to scramble for an excuse to want to see other people, he should have chosen some other cliche line instead of using the same one someone else must have said to him. 

“What’s this about men in Tokyo?” Satoru strolls up to the divider between you and Utahime, hands in his pockets, pretending that he hasn’t been listening to the entirety of your conversation from the very beginning.

“That all of them suck.” You say, with that unwavering confidence he likes. 

“I’m a man in Tokyo.” He’s grinning.

“Yeah. I stand by what I said.” You’re not even being courteous enough to look at him, still focused on whatever email is on your screen.

His grin only grows wider.

“Maybe all the men you’ve been with are subpar, but I bet I could change your mind.” 

“Is this even appropriate for work?” Utahime interjects. 

“If it’ll make my dear employee Utahime happy, I can grab someone from HR to supervise this conversation.” Satoru says.

“It’s a trap.” You tell her, lips curling up in a smile that lets him know you’re going to say something very mean and probably true about him. “He’s already broken protocol with everyone who works there.” 

“You’re very disrespectful to your boss. Anyone else would have fired you on the spot.” Satoru only pretends to be wounded by your comments, but everyone knows that he’s as good at taking it as he is at dishing it out. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Satoru owns this firm because he’s not very good at professionalism himself. 

Utahime mutters something under her breath, deciding not to engage further in whatever it is the two of you are doing.

“So, whaddya say? Wanna test out your ‘all men in Tokyo suck’ theory with me?” He knows this teasing won’t go anywhere, even if he wants it to. You’re good at your job, and you’re good at being a professional. Somehow, he doesn’t think you would consider fucking your boss as something very professional. 

“I would, but I have standards.” 

Satoru wants to make a snide comment about all the guys who have dumped you, but he can’t, because it’s already been established that they’re not just decent by regular standards, but stellar. Rich, successful, well educated men who could probably make you cum. 

Well, Satoru is richer, more successful, and more educated than all of them combined, he thinks. And he would gladly make you cum like crazy, if you let him. 

“C’mon, what’s wrong with me?” 

“Promise I won’t get fired if I’m being honest?” You turn your desk chair, looking up at him with mock doe eyes, and the sight shouldn’t be both endearing and hot to him, but it is. 

“Give me your worst.” He tells you, both of you smiling at the challenge. 

“I don’t give anything of myself to a man who can’t even bother to commit to anyone.” 

Of course, you have a point. Satoru’s not known for dating anyone. He takes women out on extravagant dates, yes, but he doesn’t actually practice the act of dating. 

He doesn’t see a point to it. Most people, save for his friends (a bit weird to consider some of his closest companions are actually his employees), see beyond his shiny veneer, and dating would just complicate things. Dating means someone seeing the duller, not-so-great parts of himself.  

“I could commit if it’s you.” 

The way he says it, without that familiar teasing lilt of his, makes you burst out laughing. He really is trying to commit… to the bit, that is. For a moment, Satoru almost tricks you into thinking he’s serious. 

“You are so full of shit, Gojo.”

You’re focused on your work, not the momentary hurt look that disappears from his face as quickly as it came. 

“Don’t be such a pessimist.” He tells you. “I bet I could make you believe in love again.” 

“Who said I didn’t believe in love?” You frown at that. “I just don’t believe that the men in this city are capable of it.” 

“Bonus season is upon us.” Satoru says, suddenly having a bright idea. He’s so rich that his wealth seems to be an extension of himself, and like all other parts of his body and mind, he uses it to his advantage. 

“Ugh, don’t tell me this conversation is going to affect my bonus check. I really will go to HR, then.” 

“I’ll double your bonus pay if you let me court you for three months.”

“Court me?” You’re laughing at him again. He eats it up, savors it, lets it settle on his tongue and warm his insides. 

“If you’re so convinced I’d be horrible and only prove you right, wouldn’t you jump at the chance to make some easy money?” 

He’s trying to bait you into accepting; you know it. You also know that nothing from Gojo comes easy. He makes it entirely too convenient to forget that he’s razor sharp and cutthroat, the things he needs to be in order to remain on top of the finance scene, but he’s always joking, always teasing, that it feels like he almost doesn’t like being taken seriously. 

“Like I said, I don’t deal with men with commitment issues.”

There was a brief moment in time where you considered going out with Gojo. The two of you have always been rotating in the same social circles, way back to your high school and university days. You don’t shame him for having casual sex because Gojo is genuinely sweet when he wants to be, and you know that everyone he’s ever fucked has done so more than willingly, probably too eagerly. They all get broken up over the fact that Gojo never wants to actually enter into a relationship with them, and it’s probably because they chose not to take him seriously. He has a bad habit of spitting out the truth but presenting it like some sort of joke. A guy shouldn’t take you out to a nice dinner and make you cum twice before even thinking about himself if he doesn’t want a girl to fall in love with him. 

For as long as you’ve known Gojo, he’s never dated once. Never a high school sweetheart or a tumultuous college relationship bound for disappointment and a messy breakup. Even now, he doesn’t follow the example of the other men in positions of power like him, who pursue doe-eyed college girls to shower with affection and trap into manipulative relationships. 

He’s cute and funny and would treat you right, but you can’t deal with the embarrassment of having someone only for one night or two, only to have them do the same thing they did with you, just with someone else. It would feel like a mockery. Your pride doesn’t give you room to give in to Gojo’s charm.

“Is that really your only stipulation?” He shrugs, like this is something insignificant, and you’re being so silly. “I’ll stay committed to you for the entire duration of the bet.” 

You narrow your eyes. “You need to keep your dick wet at all times. I’m pretty sure you die if you don’t get off at least once a day.” 

Utahime coughs, but it sounds too much like a laugh. 

“True, but I bet you’d be great at keeping me alive.” 

Oh, he is definitely getting sent to HR.

“So you want me to believe in love, and you’re convinced you can do this by the time bonus season rolls around, which is only three months.” You’re entering business mode, rearranging the facts and coming up with strategies in your head. Satoru never thought that someone thinking could be so attractive, but here he is, and here you are. 

“I’ll agree to participate, but only if you can handle what I consider to be proper courting.”

“What does that consist of?” He’s got you, hook, line, and sinker. There’s nothing Satoru Gojo cannot accomplish. He’s built up his own wildly successful private equity firm, doubling his family’s fortune. He graduated top of his class. He gives every girl he’s ever been with consecutive, mind blowing orgasms using just his tongue and two fingers. There’s nothing you could possibly say that his natural talents and money can’t handle. 

“No sex. No kissing. No touching.” You lean back in your chair, looking far too smug. 

“Done.” 

He doesn’t even have to think about agreeing, but you falter, just for a second. 

“Really?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“It’s not just you saying no to sex with me, but sex in general.” You pause, trying to spot when the realization of the severity of his situation is. When he doesn’t give you a reaction, just still continuing to tilt his head in mild amusement, you continue. “You can’t flirt or take anyone else on a date, and you definitely can’t fuck them, either.” 

“Yes, I’m aware.” 

“You’re going to regret this.” You huff, certain that Gojo is dumber than you thought. He might think this is all fun and games now, but when he’s pent up and unable to get off, you’re certain you’re going to receive a text from him forfeiting the bet altogether. It shouldn’t bother you that he acts like your addition to the bet is easy, because his failure means your pockets get fatter, but it’s no fun playing games when someone isn’t ready to fully play to win.

“Hmm. We’ll see.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Make sure to finish going over all the analysts’ slide decks because I’m taking you out tomorrow night.” 

The timer for the bet starts tomorrow, then.

Satoru thinks it’s cute that you thought you had him there, dangling sex like he’s some barbarian who can’t survive without it. Sure, fucking is fun, and sure, you’re definitely denying yourself of some of the greatest experiences you could have had, but he uses his brain more than his dick. 

If any girl is worth going celibate for, it’d be you.

Sitting in his office, he can’t concentrate on his work. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much that you think not having access to your body would be enough to turn him away. Either you really do think he’s a sex addict, or the men you’ve been with aren’t as great as they appear to be. It’s probably a mixture of both, but this conclusion doesn’t make him any happier. 

Neither does having Suguru saunter into his office, without knocking. Just walks in, like he owns the place. And with his fifty-percent ownership of the firm, and his last name right next to Gojo’s on the building, he kind of does.

“HR is going to have a field day with you,” his best friend says in exchange for a greeting. Satoru would have preferred a hello.

“HR is in charge of the payroll that I fund,” is Satoru’s retort. 

“Only you would force an employee into a childish bet instead of asking her out like a normal person.”

“Didn’t force her.” Satoru conveniently doesn’t acknowledge the latter half of his statement.

“Didn’t really give her much choice, either.” Suguru smiles. “Shit, even I’d deal with your ass for two hundred grand more.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m committed to one woman only.” 

“God help her.” And then, after taking a second to think, Suguru continues. “Actually, if He really cared, He wouldn’t have kept leading her to the same places as you.” 

“Maybe I’m her blessing.” 

No one in the office knows why Suguru is laughing so hard behind Gojo’s closed door.

“There’s no way this is legal,” Utahime tells you, taking a sip out of her iced matcha latte before continuing on her half-lecture/half-rant. “Gojo needs to be behind bars.”

A bit dramatic, all things considered. It’s not like Gojo’s comments even make the list for sleazy things male coworkers have said to you before, and you’re not entirely innocent, either. You like to poke and prod at him because it’s fun, and you know that Gojo can take it. 

Utahime does not respect Gojo, but she does like him enough to tolerate him. They’re like brother and sister, so much so that one time, someone made an offhand comment about how they should just fuck to get rid of their antagonism towards each other, and they both threw up because they were so disgusted. 

“It is a bit inappropriate,” Nanami comments, and you know he’s right because when has Nanami ever been wrong?

Granted, Nanami must have been wrong sometime in his life. He started out with a similar background as everyone else working in the firm. He landed an internship and then a return offer in investment banking, despised it, pursued academia, and was halfway done with a PhD program in economics before he decided to come back and work for Gojo and Geto. He doesn’t tell anyone why he came back, and no one is close enough with him to ask and expect an honest answer.

Nanami having lunch with you is a treat because he prefers avoiding everyone in the office, so it almost feels like you’ve won a coveted prize, one to show off whenever you get back to the office. He likes to keep to himself, but even he’s only human. The interest in your little bet with Gojo is harbored by him, too, same as everyone else who’s heard about it. 

You should feel embarrassed about having your life so publicly known, but finance is a small, incestual pool. Everyone working within it knows each other, has fucked each other, and will continue to exclusively hate and love only each other. It’s a bit cultish, if you think about it, so you try not to focus on the social aspects of the job. 

“It’s not like I’m on his team or anything. I technically only handle deals managed by Geto.” You say this in defense of yourself, as if it changes the morality and ethics of the whole bet. It doesn’t, but the attempt doesn’t go unnoticed. 

“Geto and Gojo are essentially two halves of the same whole.” Utahime replies. “Geto just has more public decency training.” 

“You’re telling me that you can see Geto betting someone that he can make her fall in love with him in three months?” 

“No. He’s not as audacious. I like Geto, he’s very cautious.” Nanami looks thoughtful for a second. “He would bet six months, just to be safe.” 

Satoru knows that he’s screwed the moment you’re being introduced as the newest student in his class. School started two weeks ago, so everything’s already been settled. Everything important, that is, so the hottest girl in class has been established, along with who’s going to be relentlessly bullied, and who everyone is going to cheat off of. He has different routes mapped out for getting to class, depending on his mood and who he’s trying to avoid, along with a new secret hiding spot that he’s not going to share with anyone, except for Suguru, and maybe Shoko. 

He likes that he’s already gotten all this shit dealt with so he can spend the rest of the year relaxing, but he’s watching you as you’re standing in front of the class, talking to the teacher and then introducing yourself.

The first thing he notices is that the ugly school uniforms are decidedly not ugly. He comes to this startling conclusion when the boxy, starchy white button-up shirt doesn’t look like cardboard on you, and that the gray wool of your skirt doesn’t wash you out. 

The next thing he notices is that you speak differently than any of the other teenage girls he’s dealt with, save for Utahime and Shoko. Shoko has no issue with speaking her mind, and if Satoru presses enough buttons with enough pressure, he can get Utahime to curse like a sailor. He spaces his aggressions out accordingly, so that way when she does blow up in his face, she does it in the presence of an adult. You introduce yourself confidently; there is nothing shy or meek about you, even though standing in front of a bunch of disinterested teens — your strange new peers for the rest of your high school years — should be anxiety inducing. 

Then, you take the empty seat next to him like it belongs to you, and Satoru is starting to think that maybe it does, that maybe it always has. 

(Well, Suguru is sick today, that’s why the seat was available.)

Anyway, all of his carefully laid out plans are now tossed out the window. He needs to figure out what route you take to get around, and what the rest of your class schedule looks like, and maybe it’s just him, but the former hottest girl in school has now been demoted to second-best. 

He feels a shift in the air, like the universe is trying to signal major change in his life, and rather than run away from it, Satoru settles into his seat, noticing how you’re not even giving him the time of day. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling rising inside of him; something that says you’re going to constantly knock him off-balance and—

—he kinda likes it.

[mushroomates]

the fellowship grocery shopping (modern au!):

frodo: has a list which he always loses halfway through shopping. tries to bring his own bags but they’re never enough, or he forgets them in the car and realizes mid checkout. does not like a lot of the name brand foods, goes for the knock offs- partly because he thinks they taste better and partly because he’s rooting for the underdog. (also they’re cheaper which means more money go towards buying treats for the neighborhood cats.) makes an exception for name brand strawberry poptarts, a pippin favorite. keeps his fridge stocked with snacks for his friends.

sam: grows a lot of his own produce and makes an effort to shop local. has his own chickens and a thriving herb garden. he often trades with neighbors-tomatoes for honey, basil for goats milk, etc. once a month he teams up with boromir and goes to costco for insane amounts of flour (he bakes his own bread) and a foot long hotdog. sam refuses to get his own membership.

merry: has a list of things to get that he has worked very hard to compile. this list stays on fridge, and whenever he runs out of something he adds it. this is always sabotaged by pippin who, in a port attempt to mimic merry’s handwriting, adds a copious amount of sweets and things only pippin likes. ends up buying them anyways only to not share with him- will gloat by snacking in front of pippin and not offering any to his cousin.

pippin: does not actually grocery shop. yes, he has food in his house but this is more because he just tags along whenever someone else is going. selectively copies whatever they get into his own basket. has eight jars of peanut butter because he loves peanut butter but does not consume it at the rate he believes he does. also for backup, incase he runs out mid sandwich and needs eight jars of the stuff. loves to ride in the shopping carts when no one’s watching. definitely scooters along isles. loves to hijack boromir’s shopping trips as boromir is the only one who will push him in the cart and give him a lil treat at the end.

gandalf: kind of just. wanders around the store. gets lost in the bakery. buys the most random things, causing the clerks to conspire about what he’s doing with two packs of rubber gloves, a rosterseie chicken, and a tub of mayonnaise. is he a murderer? a professor? a single mother? what is he doing with this stuff?

aragorn: does a lot of trading with neighbors, like sam. likes to accompany arwen on errands and do the little things. she points at an item and he puts it in the basket. he bags at checkout. drives her home. unloads the car and put it away. real quality time and acts of service. yes, arwen is capable of doing these things herself, but he likes to do it for her: hunts so be always has a surplus of jerky, does need to buy more salt then the typical person.

boromir: also hunts. has a thing about using every part of the animal, will eat bone marrow straight out of the femur with a spoon for breakfast. eats a lot of protein. is real big about no food waste and will use everything he can. has his own compost bin and a humble herb garden. likes hosting barbecues for everyone, and makes the burgers and hotdogs from scratch. every other tuesday is grocery day. he goes to costco and buys his things in bulk. he’s the only one in the fellowship with a costco card and everyone loves to take advantage of it.

legolas: mainly just happens upon farmers markets and grabs what appeals to him in the moment. does not have any seasonings or cooking oil as it’s not something that’s ever really occurred to him to buy. will forget he has food in his fridge for weeks and when he finally does it’s gone bad. this, however, does not stop him from eating it. makes a lot of smoothies.

gimli: has a lot of preserved foods and a cupboard dedicated to emergencies. owns a lot of canned beans, fruits and vegetables- anything that will keep well. has a freezer filled with food in his garage with backup stock. is a very good with coupons- pippin likes going with him just to see the total (and the clerks jaw) drop. eats a lot of trail mix and jerky. enjoys fresh fruit when he can but doesn’t like to buy it because it doesn’t last.

gollum: sneaky little man. he hides in the bottom part of the carts meant for heavy items and parties his way across the store with his hands, scooting along tile and grabbing anything with reach, tossing it back up to the cart and continuing on his journey. then he just rolls right out the door. no one can stop him.

[ode2rin]

“you’re cheating.”

you accused firmly, your conviction unwavering. there was not even an ounce of doubt in your judgment. it seemed to be the only logical explanation for what was transpiring right before your eyes.

“i swear, baby, i am not,” reo pleaded, but you were having none of it. you clung to your accusation, refusing to back down.

there was simply no other way to interpret the situation.

unable to contain your incredulity any longer, you pointed directly at the perpetrator of your accusation— an unbelievably unfamiliar word that reo had placed on the scrabble board.

“phpht”, is he fucking serious? how were you supposed to even pronounce that?

scanning the jumble of letters on your own rack, you conceded defeat. “you’re cheating. i'm out,” you declared, playfully rising from your seat as if to emphasize your point.

reo stood up, facing you with protests laced with laughter, vehemently defending his outrageous choice of word. “i’m not cheating! i swear it's a real word. i'm not making it up!”

“who the hell comes up with that? phpht,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest and arching an eyebrow. “and did i even pronounce it correctly?”

“google it, it’s a word.”

“sure it is,” you retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. “i’m done with this game.”

reo sat and leaned back to his chair, seemingly unfazed by your antics. “may i remind you, love, that this was your idea?” he teased.

the worst idea, apparently. 

if you had known how insufferable your boyfriend could be when it came to board games, you would have scoured every genre available on netflix to find a movie you both could have enjoyed instead of suggesting this battle of wits that you were clearly losing.

“yeah, because i thought it would be fun,” you huffed, “but here you are, taking it so seriously as if we were in a competition for the title of best scrabble player of the year!”

reo let out a laugh at your outburst that turned into a boyish grin adorning his face, “what can i say, baby? i simply have a wide vocabulary,” he playfully boasted, clearly enjoying your annoyance. “besides, you’re into smart men. i like to remind you of that from time to time.” he even had the audacity to wink.

“show off.”

“only to you.”

“i’m still not playing this with you anymore,” you declared, rolling your eyes, yet unable to suppress the tugging smile forming on your lips.

“how about this one then?” reo proposed, placing another board game on the table, his eyes seeking your approval.

oh, hell no. 

approval is the last thing he is going to receive for his choice of game.

playing monopoly with a man who religiously checked the stock market every day at 7 am like clockwork? you weren't crazily in love enough to endure that (you are, just not tonight).

“and have you criticize every property purchase i make? nope, thank you very much.”

a mischievous grin once again danced on reo's lips. “you could just admit and tell me i'm good at everything, baby.”

“good at everything, you say?” you asked, a hint of teasing in your voice. “i’m pretty sure you suck at hiding your jealousy, especially when—”

“alright, let's play snakes & ladders instead,” reo interrupted, a playful surrender evident in his tone. “i’d even let you win.”

and sure enough, you both played snakes & ladders, in which you miraculously lost twice. perhaps luck had ceased favoring you after you earned yourself a boyfriend like reo. 

you couldn't bring yourself to complain about it, though. you were indeed lucky to have a man like him, even when he’s pulling up words unknown to anyone in a scrabble game.

note. just a silly drabble because i miss him and i'm having the biggest writer's block rn. also, i swear that's a word don't make me defend myself here╰（‵□′）╯

[sigh-tofm]

Can you do the TF141 with an autistic S/O?

i think most of the readers i write are a little autistic by virtue of being extensions of myself but…

… price

- knows how exhausting socialising is for you. always keeps an eye on you in public in order to see the signs of anxiety as soon as possible. you know you can always sidle up to him and link your arm in his, stay halfway obscured by his broad shoulders if you need to. whether you’re at a military gala or a sunny street market, he’s your solid constant. he’s also a slick talker and can always steer the group conversation away from you if you just can’t socialise anymore. he will get you both out of there and take you somewhere quiet for you to breathe a little. when you go home, the rest of the evening is spent in comfortable silence, and you just exist together in the same space.

… kyle

- is aware of your sensory and dietary restrictions, and always honours them. you have no problem eating the same dish multiple nights in a row, so it’s easy for him to keep you fed. it creates a sense of stability and routine for you both, knowing exactly what’s coming. he also makes sure to always be stocked up on your favourite snacks. when he’s deployed he will set his phone to send you automatic texts every day around dinnertime to ask if you’ve eaten, since he knows you easily forget. you send him a heart in return and go to defrost one of the meal he’s prepped for you.

… johnny

- loves your hyper fixations and getting to listen to you go on about your niche topic of interest. sure he’s not following all of your many tangents about weather systems, edwardian politics, photons or germanic languages, but he feeds off of your broad grin when he asks you to explain something further. while he’s seated on the sofa with his sketchbook, you’re cross legged on the rug with a fidget toy in your hands, talking about aviation technology. it’s a good day.

… ghost

- is also probably on the spectrum. you both have your little quirks, and you both find yourself quite comfortable in each other’s silent company. you both catalogue each other’s little tells and can after only a short while quite easily interpret each other’s feelings, even though you struggle with everyone else’s. an outsider might think you hate each other, judging by the way you don’t look at each other, much less speak, but you two have achieved a perfect symbiosis of peaceful co-existence and a matter of factly, but very deep, relationship.

[driftingdryad]

Just because I love him so much lol. Kakashi being dirty 🫣 You can’t tell me he hasn’t has some animalistic traits hehe. How would he be in a relationship with those traits? 😏

Omg yes, I gotchu babes!

Canine-Traits!Kakashi is one of my favorite Naruto headcanons/AUs. Thank you for the request bestie, I had so much fun with this! I might even need to do a part 2 sometime hehe. I hope you enjoy 💚

𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞-𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬!𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩

Word count: ~1.3k

18+, afab/fem reader, mentions of consensual biting, mentions of consensual choking, mentions of menstruation

♡ When Kakashi falls for you, he falls hard and fast. He's always been one to wholeheartedly trust his canine instincts — he wouldn't still be around if he didn't — so when your third date leaves his instincts screaming that you're the perfect mate for him he doesn't fight it.

The intensity with which he moves forward after that is a bit frightening at first, after all he seemed so aloof and laid-back when you first started casually dating. You honestly hadn't thought anything serious would come from it either. He was Kakashi of the Sharingan, one of Kohona's most elite ninjas and you were just a civilian who happened to hire his genin team to help you move. It's hard to wrap your head around, but you can't deny that you feel the spark too, so you push away your fear and let yourself fall into the whirlwind that is Kakashi Hatake on a mission to make you his.

♡ Resource provisioning. Once Kakashi decides you're the one his Alpha makes sure you'll never have to worry about not having the things you need again. Say goodbye to your shitty little apartment on the bad side of the civilian district, and welcome to the newly reinhabited Hatake compound where Kakashi will make sure you're provided for and your every need is met. With top-notch security, a constantly stocked kitchen, and all the comforts you could dream of, the Hatake compound soon becomes your safe haven.

Like a good mate and Alpha, Kakashi is extremely attentive to your needs and makes sure that he is always on top of providing for you. The pantry is always stocked with all the food you could need for a delicious and well-balanced diet, as well as some of your favorite treats and snacks, of course. Kakashi's attentiveness extends to anticipating your needs as well. You can't remember the last time you had to purchase new bath products. Whenever you reach the end of a bottle, a replacement seems to appear by the next time you enter the bathroom. If you make an off hand comment at breakfast about needing to get a new toothbrush next time you go to the market, you can bet a new one will be waiting on the counter by the time you go to brush your teeth after your meal.

As part of his need to provide for you, Kakashi is also extremely soft and doting. Small gifts for you appear around the house and compound very frequently. A vase of fresh wildflowers waiting for you on the kitchen table; a new downy soft blanket he found while away on a mission added to one of your favorite cozy spaces; the next book in the series you're reading when he notices you're close to finishing your current one; a pretty speckled river stone he found in the Land of Waves; the hair clip your eyes lingered on a moment too long while at the market. Kakashi's thoughtfulness knows no bounds.

You're not used to being doted on so heavily, and you remind him frequently that while you love and appreciate his gifts, he doesn't need to spoil you. He's firm in his response that he knows he doesn't need to, he wants to, and it brings him great satisfaction to do so.

♡ Kakashi can't bring himself to call you his girlfriend. It feels so juvenile, and you're so much more than that. You're his mate, his perfect match. He doesn't want to embarrass you though, so he does his best to call you his partner instead.

One night, while the two of you are out drinking with your friends, Kakashi slips up and refers to you as his mate. He's thankful at first that no one seems to notice, but in the following days when everyone— including yourself — starts referring to you as his mate it's clear that his slipup didn’t go as unnoticed as he thought. He's absolutely over the moon about it, too!

♡ Kakashi is absolutely obsessed and fixated on your throat. Whether it's his nose buried against your pulse point, lips, teeth and tongue trailing across your delicate skin, a discreet hand on the back of your neck or a firm hold around your throat Kakashi is there. In part because of it being a major scent point, but more importantly because it shows your trust and submission.

♡ Kakashi's keen nose can tell when you're ovulating or on your period, and uses it to his advantage when taking care of you. He can usually pick up on your cycles starting a few days in advance and is always sure to give you a heads up — who needs a calendar when you've got a Kakashi?

Kakashi knows your favourite menstrual products and your most common cravings, so he'll make sure to stock up on things before your period starts. When the cramps start hitting hard he’s there with a hot water bottle and those magical hands of his ready to massage your lower back. And when the cramps get unbearable, but at the same time you're insatiably horny? Never fear, Kakashi isn't afraid to get his sword bloody!

♡ Scenting you. Just because you can't smell him on you doesn't mean that others can't. Most ninjas have a keenly trained sense of smell, and those from certain clans and bloodlines especially can pick up on scents and their meanings. Kakashi makes sure they know who you belong to and who they'll be dealing with if they so much as think about bringing harm to you.

You often wake to him nuzzling into your neck or wrists, lathing his tongue across your sensitive skin, sending a delighted shiver down your spine. When it comes to sex he never fails to scoop up his come as it drips out of your poor little swollen pussy and spread it across your pretty skin, embedding his most intimate scent into your flesh.

♡ When Kakashi is away from the village for long stretches, his scent eventually fades into a background note on you. Upon his return, he tends to be uncharacteristically tense and irritable until he's able to get his hands on you. It's not uncommon for you to find out about his return via him appearing seemingly out of thin air and whisking you away to a private location where he can strip you bare, pin you down, and cover you in his scent again.

Usually re-scenting you involves some intense nuzzling and licking across your body as well as lots of skin to skin contact. If he isn't injured and has enough energy be prepared for a good hard fuck, most likely with a hand around your throat and his sharp canines buried in your shoulder, the pain heightening your pleasure. As much as he loves filling you to the brim with his seed, on these occasions Kakashi always pulls out with a deep growl just in time to paint your chest and throat with thick ropes of his pent up come. If you want to drive him even more wild, treat him to the sight of you massaging his essence into those beautiful tits of yours. Then prepare for round two!

♡ Kakashi's prey drive is so fucking strong when it comes to you. This man derives so much joy and thrill from hunting you down and catching you. Of course you never stand a chance against him, but he lets you evade him long enough for you to enjoy the thrill of being hunted as well.

It can be scary knowing that such a dangerous man is lurking in the shadows behind you, but knowing it's your dangerous man gets you soaked. Which definitely doesn't help you evade Kakashi. He's got the smell of your arousal ingrained in his hindbrain, and the smell of your slick permeating the air is enough to make him snap. No more playing games, you better run because when Kakashi inevitably catches you you're going to be face down with his hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he mercilessly fucks you into the dirt ₊˚⊹♡

[fireblossomdoll]

Ups and Downs

Synopsis: You're pregnant and having mood swings today, but Madara makes you a snack

Content: Uchiha Madara x Reader, f!reader, pregnant!reader, pregnancy!!, fluff, crack, mood swings

Word count: 987

A/N: A request from anon <3 (here are hcs about Madara and pregnant!reader)

You were already in the third trimester of your pregnancy. You couldn’t wait for your baby to come. You had picked and decorated a room with Madara, both of you really wanted this child. 

You decided to go to the market today to buy a little charm you had heard of. You had seen some children wrapping these cute pendants on their kunai, so you wanted one for your baby. The streets weren’t very crowded today, making for the perfect day out.

When you got to the store, you couldn’t find the charms. You had asked a few kids where they had gotten theirs and all of them led you here. Yet, as you searched the shelves, you couldn’t find the damn thing. Even worse, there was no staff in sight. You marched further into the store, looking for someone who could help you, and you started to think this trash place was empty.

“Hello?” You asked, annoyingly to no response.

“Hellooo??!!” You asked again, raising your voice so that the store’s useless employee could hear you.

An ugly, greasy looking guy appeared from behind one of the shelves.

“Hello, ma’am! How may I help you?” He said with his ugly smile. He sounded so nice it made you frown immediately.

“Finally! Where are you people hiding the cute charms I’ve seen around?”

“Uh, our kunai decor?”

“Are you dense? Yes, the kunai charms.” You were getting increasingly irritated by this.

“We’re unfortunately out of stock of this item.” He said, still with that hideous smile.

“The hell you mean, out of stock?! I’ve seen it everywhere!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It is indeed one of our most popular products, and because of that, it’s currently sold out.”

“Argh!”

You were exasperated and left the store in a bad mood. You just wanted to do a nice thing for your baby, but everyone seemed to be against you today.

As you walked back home, more people started to come to the streets. Of course, you couldn’t even have this one thing.

In front of your house, you saw your roses blooming. They were so pretty! You remembered how Madara helped you find the seeds, plant them and take care of them. Even if he didn't really want to garden, he still helped you grow these beautiful roses. 

Madara had taken such good care of you during this pregnancy. You loved him so much, you couldn’t have asked for a better husband. He always made sure to not let you use too much effort, and he smelled so nice.

He would let you play with his hair while he cooked you breakfast, lunch and dinner. His hair was so soft and long, you loved fiddling with it. Oh yeah, sometimes it would smell like roses if you two worked with them for too long. And he would cook for you. Such delicious food, but maybe not what you wanted right now. You wanted something lighter and sour, like a green apple. But also very sweet, like honey.

As you wandered through the living room, you heard muffled voices coming from the other side of the house. You went towards Madara's office and put you ear on the shoji to listen to what he was saying.

“–find the scrolls? –”

“ –working on it. The team hasn't–”

You couldn’t hear it properly, but what they were talking about didn't matter. You knocked and waited. Nothing happened so you knocked again, with a little more force.

“Hmm? Come in.” You heard Madara's deep voice come through.

You opened the shoji, seeing Madara and Hikaku with some scrolls laying on the table. Both looked back at you, as you stayed halfway hidden by the shoji, not really entering the room.

“Madara,” You dragged his name a bit.

“Yes?” He gave a little cute smile.

You looked down and around the round before continuing, “I wanted something to eat,” He arched an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but you kept going, “Some apples dipped in honey would be very nice, you know?”

“Right now, dear? I'm in the middle of something,”

“Please? Cut apples with honey sounds so good, though,” You insisted.

He sighted and stood up.

Did you bother him too much? Maybe he was tired of working and trying to get done was fast as possible, and you made him late. Or maybe he was very concentrated and you interrupted all his thoughts by coming here. “Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, my love, I'm not bothered at all, just getting up,” Madara looked in your eyes, “This wasn't so important, Hikaku can deal with it by himself.”

“So it was important matters that I–”

“Not at all, let's get going,” He interrupted you and pointed towards the hallway, “Shall we?”

You followed him to the kitchen, where he picked a couple of green apples from a basket.

“You should sit down,” He told you as he grabbed a knife.

You sat down by the table and kept looking at Madara as he prepared your snack. He looked so good today, it made you smile.

When he finished cutting the apples, he poured honey into a small bowl. You were very happy with how things were looking. The honey and the apples looked delicious, you couldn't wait for Madara to bring them to you.

“Now, now, here's whatever this is supposed to be.”

Madara placed two bowls in front of you, the sliced apples and the honey. 

“Yay! Thank you!” You said as you reached out to grab one apple slice.

He walked to your side and bowed his upper body until he was slightly above your head. “No problem. Try not to make a mess with the honey, okay?” He told you before kissing your temple.

“Sure,” You said with your mouth full of apple and honey. “It's so sweet!”

“Well, it is honey,” He giggled, leaving you in the kitchen.

[chanshoesunite]

Chan wants to record your moans for a song

GENRE: smut WORD COUNT: 2.6k Author’s Note (Author Hare): This is my 500 follower hug for y’all inspired by two prompts given to me by my favourite reader of all times, Author Tortoise. Maybe you can guess what they are! WARNINGS: rated M (minors do not engage!), unsafe sex (wrap it up, kids), slight dirty talk, Chan calls reader a slut (but in a very loving way)

You unlock the door, enter the flat and kick off your heeled ankle boots, balancing two bags of takeout as you do. Having successfully completed that task, you dump them on the floor and shrug out of your coat as your obligatory “honey, I’m home” call stays unanswered. You smile to yourself – you’d expected that; it means that your boyfriend is still so focused on creating music, he forgets the world around him. That is also the main reason why he got you a key to his flat – more than once had you been standing in front of the door, waiting for him to open it for you, and he simply hadn’t heard the doorbell, lost as he was in his creative process.

You’re still in your work clothes – a black dress (that might have screamed “overdressed!” to some people, but you are aware that being overdressed is a concept created by people who don’t want women to feel beautiful every day), stockings and bright red lipstick – as you make your way through the hallway with the sashimi you’ve picked up at Chan’s favourite place to treat him for dinner.

You knock on his studio door, but the gesture is again futile – through the glass door, you can see that he’s wearing massive headphones and can’t hear anything that’s not blasted through those. You take a moment to watch him – he is clad simply in a black oversized shirt, his hair a dark mess as if he’d dragged his hands through it a hundred times today while looking for words and melodies to match in ways that you find to be positively magical. Elbows on his desk, his gaze is turned towards the ceiling as he vibes with the music, nodding to the beat, critically analysing something he has created. It’s so incredibly attractive, the way he is so focused on and passionate about his work, your heart is full just looking at him.

The song seems to end because Chan looks down and catches your eye. He gives a little start – after all, he thought he was alone in his flat until a few seconds ago – and then a glowing smile takes over his face. He waves to you in an almost childlike gesture, and you mirror his smile as you enter the studio. Chan pulls the headphones off, letting them rest around his neck before putting them on the desk. “Hey, baby girl,” he greets you happily, rolling back in his swivel chair and patting his thighs. “Come here!”

You oblige, sitting in his lap, your legs dangling over one of the armrests as your arms come to rest on his broad shoulders. You lean in to kiss him, and though you mean it only to be a peck, your kiss lasts a little longer and feels a little more heated than your average welcome back kiss. “Hi,” you whisper, smiling, as you pull back eventually.

Chan’s eyes are fixed on your red lips, but eventually stray as they take in your dress. “You look beautiful,” he pronounces, his hand sliding down the skirt of your dress and coming to rest on your knee. “Did you have a good day?”

You nod emphatically, your curls bouncing as if supporting your claim as you recount your successful day at the publishing company where you work. “The presentation went very well. The boss was ecstatic and said I’ll get to manage more of the marketing campaigns since I’m doing such a good job.” You nod to the takeout bags. “I got us some sashimi to celebrate.”

Chan’s face, which had lit up at the news, now takes on an even more enthusiastic expression. “I’m so proud of you, baby, those are wonderful news! I’m so glad your boss can see how dedicated, hardworking, and talented you are! And I’m happy I get to celebrate with you. Thanks for bringing dinner.” He nuzzles into your neck, and you giggle, feeling giddy at his euphoria.

“Thanks for being such a hype boy, babe. And how was your day? How is the new album coming along?” You glance at the computer, where Chan has obviously been busy mixing a sound file. Chan shrugs. “Ah, you knaur.” He’s trying to sound non-committal, but you know that he cares deeply. “I’m trying to write a new unit song. Hyunjin is in it, so it needs to be racy.” He winks at you. “Another hoe anthem, you mean?” Your boyfriend bursts out laughing. “Something like that. Do you want to hear it?” “Sure!” You always love listening to early versions of songs – it is intriguing to watch Chan decide what to keep and what to cut, what to put on demos – and then listen to the final product as it is released. The process is fascinating, and you love being a part of it, even if you’re only a spectator.

Chan reaches around you, and you turn to face the computer, leaning back against his broad chest. His left hand slips around your waist, securing him against you as he starts the song. Immediately you know why this song is meant for Hyunjin; it is a dark-sounding RnB track that seems to continue the tradition laid down in “Red Lights” and “Taste”. There is an almost hypnotic organ melody that reminds you of church, but in a distinctly unholy way as it is paired with lyrics such as “I know that we shouldn’t, but I want to”. Chan’s voice on the demo carries the song without difficulties, and it’s positively captivating; breathy whispers and slight vocal fries add to the sexy tone of the song.

You feel the mood in the room shift, anticipation making room for arousal. You shiver in Chan’s arms listening to it, and you feel your boyfriend shift beneath you before he presses a kiss to your neck. “Do you like it?” he breathes into your ear, and the air against your neck tickles you in a decidedly not innocent way.

You nod, releasing a breath you don’t know you’ve been holding. “It’s definitely racy,” you agree, your breath hitching as Chan continues to kiss your neck while the song moves into the second verse. You can feel him smile against your skin.

“It’s almost as if hearing my voice singing it is doing something to you, baby girl. It must be like me getting dirty thoughts when you wear lipstick like that,” he almost purrs, gently biting your earlobe as his right hand finds your breast, teasing it through the cloth. A tiny gasp escapes you, and even though the music is still playing, it doesn’t slip Chan’s attention. “God,” he almost growls. “Your moans would sound so good on this track.”

That one sentence causes you to groan again, and Chan’s hand slips from your waist downwards, under your dress and directly into your panties. He gasps at the wetness he finds there and starts stroking you softly, maddeningly, but not in any way that could actually do something for you except tease you further. “Does it turn you on that much, baby girl? Hearing me sing a naughty song, knowing I wrote it thinking about your body? Do you like the idea of me recording your moans, putting them on the track, having the fans wonder who got so horny just listening to the demo version? You’re such a little slut, baby.”

At the word slut, he pushes a finger into your pussy, and this time, your moan is anything but quiet as you throw your head back. The song comes to a close, ending, just as it started, with the organ melody, and the only thing you can hear is Chan’s finger sliding into you and the two of you breathing heavily.

“So,” he drawls, almost sounding bored but of course he’s anything but as his thumb comes to circle your clit. “What do you say?” You meet his eyes as he glances down on your face, still hypnotized by your lipstick. “You know,” you rasp. “Your song is so hot I wish I could fuck it, but I can’t. So I will fuck you instead.” You watch as Chan’s pupils dilate, and the growl that escapes his throat as he claims your lips is almost feral. Well, you know what you do to him, and you have him exactly where you want him.

“Turn on the mic,” you breathe as you pull his hands off you. In a quick gesture, you grab the hem of your dress and discard it onto the floor, standing in front of him in just your stockings and black underwear, lasciviously leaning against the desk. “Let’s see how good these moans sound.”

He seems to contemplate your words for a few seconds before he takes a step closer and, his eyes never leaving yours, leans forward to push a few keys on his keyboard. This right there, this silence before the storm, this uninterrupted eye contact, might be one of the hottest moments you’ve experienced in a long time.

Chan is on you in a second, hoisting you up onto the desk as he kisses you deeply. Your hands grab for the hem of his t-shirt, greedily pulling it off to feel more of his skin. Chan’s meanwhile busy opening your bra, and in his impatience, he has to fumble for a bit to get it off you.

“Eager?” you tease against his lips before biting down, eliciting a groan from him. “You have no idea, baby girl,” he admits as he finally gets the offending garment off. He lets it carelessly fall to the floor, already focused on nothing else but your naked breasts resting against the palms of his hands. He kisses you deeply as he strokes your stiff nipples, his erection pushing against your scantily clothed pussy as he stands between your spread legs, trying to still be closer to you than he already is.

You cross your ankles behind him, helping him in his endeavour, and you both gasp as he grinds against you. “Off, off, off,” you breathe, gesturing to both his sweatpants and your underwear. Chan smirks. “Who’s eager now?” he asks, nipping at your collarbone. You roll your eyes playfully. “Who has written a song about fucking me?” He seems to consider that for a second. “Fair point. Move your hips for me, will you, baby girl?”

You help him pull your panties off and take the liberty of pulling down his sweatpants and underwear in one go, letting his girthy cock spring free. Chan appreciates the view for a second, seeing as you’re only wearing stockings now. “You’re the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen,” he declares in a raspy voice, and it only adds to your need. You make to touch him, but Chan easily catches your wrist and pins it to the desk with his hand. You actually whine at that. “Please, don’t tease me,” you beg, wanting nothing more than to feel his length stretching you out deliciously.

Chan’s smile is wolfish. “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get what you want.” And before you can protest any more, he lets go of your hand, pulls you to the edge of the desk and guides his cock into your pussy. Your gasps mix with his broken moans as he slowly pushes in. Chan pauses, but only for a moment – both of you are far too turned on to take this slow, and even though the height of the desk isn’t perfect, the newness of the location adds a level of spice to the encounter.

He starts thrusting into you, fast, hard, causing the desk to shake beneath you. You scramble to push the keyboard to the side, falling back onto your elbows as Chan’s punishing pace throws you off balance. You stare up at him: his hair sticking to his forehead, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his neck, the muscles in his arms playing as he holds onto your hips with a ferocity that might result in bruises. You give yourself over to your sensations: the cold desk below you, the sound of skin slapping against skin, Chan’s steady groans at the pleasure you give him, his big cock positively railing your wet cunt.

You grab onto him, pulling yourself back up and clinging to his broad shoulders, wanting to be even closer to him, feel his breath on your skin. “You feel so good,” you moan into his neck, biting his shoulder lightly. His retaliation comes in form of a thrust so powerful that it punches a loud groan out of you.

“Fuck, baby girl, you’re so hot, making me take you in my studio,” he gasps as he pushes into you again and again, relentlessly. “You’ll sound so good on this song, and it’ll be our little secret, but at the same time everyone will know. Everyone will know that only I can fuck you so well, make you make the hottest little noises, make you fall apart on my cock.” He slips a hand between you and starts stroking you to make sure the falling apart can actually happen, but he knows your body well enough to have you panting and at the edge of your orgasm within minutes.

“You’re such a good girl, making the most beautiful noises. Tell me, baby, who’s making you feel good? Say it. I want to hear it.” Pushing against him, trying to get closer to the delicious friction, you gasp, “You, Chan, only you can make me feel like this!”

You can feel Chan’s concentration slipping, his thrusts becoming sloppier, but he seems determined to make you come first, so he redoubles his efforts stroking you, whispering dirty nothings into your ear, how you’re a good little slut for him, taking him so well, how you’re made for this, made for him, how no other pussy could ever feel this good.

“Come on, baby girl, be good and moan for me and Hyunjin.” For some reason, that and a well-timed thrust does it, and you come on Chan’s cock with a loud, drawn-out groan, your pussy spasming wildly around him so he follows you over the edge mere seconds later. He crushes his lips to yours once more, and you make out as he spills into you, and continue to do so as you both slowly come off your highs.

A few moments later, you break the kiss to lean against his shoulder, still enclosed in his embrace. “That was a really nice entrée,” you declare, and Chan chuckles. He is quiet for a few seconds. “Are we gonna pretend you didn’t come the second I mentioned Hyunjin’s name?” You know he is teasing you, so you decide to go along. “Well, maybe you should invite him over some time?” Slowly, gently, you push against him so can slide out of you. You can feel a dribble of come making its way out of you and onto Chan’s desk, but that looks like a him-problem.

Chan clutches his chest in mock-terror. “Am I not enough for you?” You shake your head. “Oh baby, you’re sometimes more than I can cope with,” you say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you grab your underwear. “But in a good way. The best, really.” Chan slides an arm around you, stabilising you as you slip on your panties. “I’ll take it as a compliment, then.” He glances at the takeout bags. “Dinner?”

You nod. “Have you turned off the mic?” Your boyfriend turns around to check the equipment. He curses. “Oh naur, it seems like it was off the whole time!” He catches your eye as you slip on his t-shirt, and there is a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll have to do this again soon…”

[sightofsea]

good omens post-s2 fic recs

here's a list of fics i found really great so far!! all of these are completed, will go back and add in WIPs once they've finished.

Not for All My Little Words by @mia-ugly and @soft-october-night was the first thing i read post-s2 that i was like yes!!! yes this is it!!! its such a fun banter-y little romp of aziraphale trying to woo crowley with literary quotes as crowley hops around the world. VERY fun

Drinking Buddies and Diaries by dove_dove was another one. it's crowley teaching muriel how to be human and aziraphale getting weirdly jealous and bitchy about it. there's also a lot of aziraphale's diary entries in here. incredibly funny very satisfying ending and completely in line with the humor of the show.

puttin' on the ritz by @moonyinpisces. what can i say that hasn't already been said. funny horny goofy 20s romp. implies that crowley crashed the stock market bc he's googoo gaga. you can't get anything better than this

I'm the treasure baby, I'm the prize by stereobone. crowley takes up sex work only he never fucks the guys, he just hypnotizes them so he can use them as free therapists. just such a good concept and so well executed.

a rarer height by hyruling. this. THIS was the long fic i was waiting for. the arguments are so visceral, the scenery is a absolute gem. the tension and softness is palpable i just wanna lie down in a bed of it. absolute GOAT. emotional wreck for the ages.

Just Once More by NaroMoreau. i'm a simple girl i love a time loop and hoooooo boy does this DELIVER!!!! excellent aziraphale character study. excellent themes excellent language excellent everything.

[anundyingfidelity]

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter I)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 1.3k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff. Slow updates oops.

Notes: welcome to my very first spn fanfic, hope you enjoy this short series of Sam and Dean!

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter I | Chapter II

Chapter I: A Boring Life

Taking a quick look at the clock on the corner of the screen of his computer, Sam let out a long sigh. Lunch hour was far from near. He continued drawing the monsters he saw in his dreams on the notebook, those who wouldn't let him continue his abnormally boring and stupid life.

"Hey, Sam," a voice called, making him jump slightly on his seat.

He cleared his throat shutting the notebook and sitting right this time as he took in your figure towering over him in the cubicle with a smile on your lips.

"Hi, uhm... Is something wrong?"

You chuckled slightly. He wanted to slap himself for saying that. For Sam, bosses coming to him meant he might have done something wrong. He didn't want to know what he screwed up. Barely three weeks have passed since he started working there. As much as things were strange and weird around, Sam just wanted a quiet life.

"Not at all," you answered in a friendly manner. "Actually I just wanted to give you kudos. I've received good compliments from customers who called for help, you're doing excellent!"

Sam breathed out, feeling a heavy weight on his back dropping. He smiled. "Well, thank you. It feels good doing that."

But a raise or something would feel absolutely better, he thought.

"Sure! You're brilliant, have you ever been told that?"

"Uhm, not here. I mean- I want to say you're the first one. Sorry, the first one to say I'm brilliant, I- uhm I never really got kudos before? I don't think so but it does feel great."

He stumbled so much with his words that it made you laugh a little but he noticed you tried to suppress it. So you gave him a nod.

"Yeah, of course. I also see you're very organized with your stuff and reports," you remarked before taking a quick glance around and leaning a little bit toward him, your face morphing into a shy look. "Probably I shouldn't but could you help me with some reports today? You'd be off the phone, I just really need to send them by the end of the day and I'm extremely busy."

You bit your painted lower lip with big doe eyes, waiting for an answer. Since the first day he saw you around the company, he thought you looked extremely familiar. Like he had seen you before. Hell, it was like he knew you ages ago. But he wouldn't say it out loud, he might look like a creep.

You'd usually come like this to his spot just to talk and get into business, sometimes he'd go to ask you something he wasn't sure about from a call, but he never, ever herd from a complaint or that his work was shit from you. In fact, you were very kind and smart, always letting him know you were there if he needed anything. And you were pretty. So damn beautiful that you got his heart agitated and his body aching when you bent over a desk wearing tight black pencil skirts and those matching high stockings. He began to think probably you liked him but you used to get close to all of your employees on the tech support floor. You were just being nice to everyone.

"Uh, sure. I can do that," Sam curved his lips into a smile.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver! I'll send you those in your email, ask me anything if it's difficult, okay?"

You responded with happy demeanour and quickly walked away back to your office, leaving him alone before he had the moment to say something. Just two minutes later he received an email from you with a bunch of reports and data to organize.

Sam scanned the files quickly while hearing the sounds of a chair rolling to his side.

"I think she likes you, man," Ian, the messy and chill coworker of his, teased. Sam chuckled.

"Nah, she's just nice to everyone. Besides, she needs help."

Suddenly, a notification popped from the side of his screen on the computer.

It was a message from you. It read:

Put on the headphones and listen to some music if you want ;)

"You were saying?" Ian joked again.

He smiled. Well, at least he'd be off the phone. Shouldn't be that hard, right?

The night fell and Sam found himself alone on his desk at eight o'clock working on your reports. Seeing the long reports and files he thought could make it on time to finish his shift at four and leave on time. It was fucking Friday. Poor him.

At least you ordered delivery for dinner for both of you. The good thing was that he wasn't really alone on the floor, you were in your office but soft music played as you worked on your stuff. Moments later, you found yourself sitting by Sam's side as he worked the final things on the last report.

"It's done," he announced, his body falling to the backrest of his chair.

"Thanks," you whispered shyly as he sent the finished files back to you. "I'm so sorry though, it's so late."

"Well, didn't have anything to do either."

"Really?!"

Your surprise made his eyes fall on you. He shrugged. "Just sleep."

You raised your eyebrows. "I thought maybe a girlfriend was waiting for you or something?"

He shook his head, pressing his lips together. "No, nothing like that."

The question was odd coming from you, so he decided to play a little.

"What about you?"

This time you shook your head. "Just my books and my TV."

Sam hummed. "It's a boring life, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well I get to pay my bills by the end of the month... And I meet nice people here... And I see you- Sorry."

You cut off your words all of a sudden, your eyes blinking rapidly saying you realized what you just said.

"My bad. We should get going."

You gave him a smile to try and brush off your words, but they were strong enough to get in Sam's head unnoticed. He watched you walk away, turning your computer and lights off on your office as Sam did the same on his spot. Once done, you walked out the floor together in silence.

"Thank you again. I don't think no one would ever do this for me here," you admitted with a deep exhale.

"Yeah, no problem," Sam smiled kindly as you got closer to the elevator.

"Really, I owe you. Do you have a car to get home or something? I can give you a ride if you need."

"I do, don't worry," he said as you stopped in front of the elevator, the doors opening.

"Great, so I think this is it," you grinned at him. "Have a good night."

"Thanks. I hope you have a good weekend, boss."

You nodded. "You too, Sam. Take care."

He saw you disappearing inside the elevator with a wave of your hand and a beautiful smile on your face. With a sigh, he made his way to the locker room and took his briefcase and stuff out. It was just a couple of minutes that he saw you leaving when he went back to the elevator. Checking his watch, the lift arrived and before he could get inside, he got a shocking picture in front of him.

Dean Smith, the marketing director, had you pinned against the wall and kissing down your neck. Your blouse unbuttoned, skirt up, lips open and eyes closed in bliss. Dean noticed the doors were open, pulling away his plump lips from your skin.

"Sorry buddy, wrong floor," he beamed and pushed the right button.

When you opened your eyes once again, you met Sam's open mouth and wide eyes as the doors closed. Great, now he might think you're a slut. 

[salty-says]

Going back to my roots and writing. (Haven’t written fan fiction for 3 years 💀). Anyway the One Piece Live Action has caused me to become very active on tumblr and fall down rabbit holes.

So here is a little Drabble about Shanks x Luffy’sMom!reader

A/N: LMFAO I DIDN’T KNOW ANY OP PLOT RLY BEFORE WRITING THIS AND I KNOW KNOW LUFFY’S FATHER IS GARP’S CHILD NOT HIS MOM 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Being the daughter of a marine admiral meant that she grew up with an instilled hatred for pirates. Garp put her through training early on in hopes he could mold her to become a great marine like himself.

She developed fighting skills and had a strong sense of justice. That was until she went out on a mission in her teens to monitor a suspicious group of pirates. The other marines she went on the mission with decided to take their anger out on said pirates beating them to a pulp. A nasty feeling resonated within her chest as she watched her fellow marines serve their definition of justice.

That night made her start to hate the marines and the sham they were. She disconnected herself from Garp and moved to Foosha Village to start her own life away from the marines and her father.

She was very wary of pirates still. Always held onto some lingering fear for them deep down, always looked behind her back.

On the island she bought a quaint cottage and began her own garden in hopes to sustain herself without having to rely on the villagers for supplies.

After a couple of years, she found her place on the island and even become well know for her fruits and vegetables. She always brought her fresh produce to the market each morning, where she had a cute booth. The villagers adored her and also took interest in her mysterious past.

She sometimes found herself going to Party’s Bar after she made good friends with the bartender, Makino. They would talk about all there was to talk about on the island. Sailors, pirates, bandits all passed through.

However one day, old memories began resurfacing. Ones she thought she repressed long ago. She ended up going to Party’s Bar to get shit faced in hopes of shutting everything out.

At the same time as she was downing drink after drink, some sailors stopped on by at the bar. One of them was clearly very interested in her. So in her drunken state she let the man take her to an inn on the island to stay the night.

She didn’t think much of that night until one day she started feeling unbearable nausea. She went to the doctor and found out that she had gotten pregnant.

That was 9 years ago. Her small cottage now occupied by her and Luffy. She absolutely adores Luffy and would do anything for him. Sure he would frustrate her here and there but she was his mother and she loved him more than anything.

She was keen on Luffy’s interest in pirates and sailing the ocean. She decided to not share her own reservations about pirates, as she wanted Luffy to establish his own opinions when she herself couldn’t at his age.

a pirate ship became very well known around Foosha Village. A grand ship with a Jolly Roger with 3 lines across the left eye. She was aware of their presence but didn’t take mind as long as they didn’t interfere with her.

Often Luffy would come back late for dinner beaming about the stories he heard from a man named “Shanks”. She learned that he was the captain of the ship that housed itself at the docks.

With a simple reminder of him to be careful she encouraged Luffy to learn more about Shanks and his crew.

One day while she was at her booth in town, a red-haired male approached her. Instantly she noticed how cute he was and how the white shirt he wore let her admire his toned muscles.

With a blush she darted her eyes back to his face and he deeply chuckled. She smiled, “How can I help you today sir?”

“I’m looking to purchase most of your stock,” he smirked at her.

She quirked her head to the side and smiled, “Either your throwing a big party or heading out to sea.”

“Maybe both,” the red-head shrugged.

She giggled and began showing him the crates of fresh produce. He handed her some berry, “got any plans tonight?”

She blushed, “no, none really. Probably just going to make some dinner for me and my son.”

His smile faltered a bit at the last part, “Ah, I presume your married then. Sorry if my advances made you uncomfortable.”

She threw up her hands in dismissal, “Oh no. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. Actually your advances are quite welcome,” she leaned on the counter, “and don’t worry there is no husband you have to worry about.”

“Aye, how lucky am I?”

She smirked, “quite lucky”

He chuckled and leaned forward towards her, “I never introduced myself. The name’s Shanks.”

Her eyes widened a bit and her body shifted away from him. He quirked his eyebrows at this, confused by her sudden change in composure.

“..pirate,” she quietly murmured to herself. Shanks in hearing this now understood her sudden shift. “I can assure you sweetheart,” he grabbed her hands gently, “I’m a very good pirate.”

Her eyes lightened and body relaxed at his touch. And with a slight apology she told him her name. “Only a beautiful name such as that can suit a beautiful woman such as you.”

She blushed. “It’s scary how much you’re flustering me. I don’t think I would let you leave this island if you keep this up.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a while.”

“I think my son would like that. He’s very fond of you. Your name graces our dinner table every night.” She rolls her eyes.

Shanks’ eyes widen a bit connecting the dots, “I presume Luffy is your son then?”

“Aye”

“That make sense now. He did say his mother was wary of pirates because she used to be a marine. And looking at you now, I’m glad you’re not one anymore because you’re way too beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles.

Her face turned red. “Please take me out to dinner before I pass out from how flustered you’re making me.”

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

[tobiasdrake]

My favourite thing about the Dragon Balls making death less permanent is that, in spite of taking away some impact, it gives us one of the best parts of the show.

Vegeta.

Narratively, he should have died on Namek. He has stalled for long enough, he is able to see the Legend come true (in his eyes), he knows Frieza will die, his ideology and strength have been surpassed by Goku and he no longer has much to offer.

And that's why bringing him back after his death is insane, because Vegeta has had his big sacrifice play and seen his past concluded... and yet he has to keep living. He's quick to jump to anger at Kakarot, but for a while there he is surely lost on what to do.

Frieza is dead. Nappa and Raditz are dead. The Super Saiyan has been born, his people have been avenged, he doesn't even have a need for a wish anymore.

What does he have left? Both as a character and a person, all he can offer now is rage. And so, that exactly what he does, because for a time its all he can do.

What he has left is himself, which has always been his motivating factor. He never really cared much about avenging his people, about Nappa and Raditz, or about the Super Saiyan. For Vegeta, it's always been about glorifying Vegeta.

We first started to get a glimpse of the kind of man Vegeta is when he and Nappa briefly discuss Raditz's death. Nappa wants to resurrect Raditz using the Dragon Balls but Vegeta thinks Raditz can go fuck himself.

Shortly after, they have a brief discussion about Gohan. Gohan's existence intrigues Nappa. He wants to start some sort of twisted Saiyan eugenics program to repopulate their race with Saiyans who are stronger than ever before.

Vegeta sees hybrid Saiyans as a threat to his personal glory, however, and wants to kill all humans instead.

Vegeta would rather the Saiyans go extinct than allow new Saiyans to come into existence that are stronger than him. This sets the stage for his relationship to his people's genocide.

Which he actively contributes to.

Going a step beyond refusing to revive Raditz 'cause "Fuck 'im", Vegeta kills Nappa himself.

Goku breaks Nappa's back so he can't fight anymore, which causes his existence to lose all value in Vegeta's eyes. So Vegeta personally disposes of the last remaining Saiyan besides him and the two Earthlings.

If Saiyans cannot advance Vegeta's ambitions, then what good are they?

From there, Vegeta goes to Namek and learns of the Saiyan genocide. His reaction is about what you'd expect from him up to this point.

He has no interest in revenge against Frieza for the Saiyans. He just wants to be out from under Frieza's bootheel. Vegeta's greatest ambition is to be the strongest in the universe.

Also, fun fact: He's heard of the Super Saiyan but never put any stock in this Saiyan gobbledygook. He only starts to consider the possibility once he sees Goku in his incomplete proto-Super Saiyan state.

"The Super Saiyan is fake but if it does exist THEN IT SHOULD BE ME."

Literally the first time he ever expresses any sentiment towards his fellow Saiyans is when he is actively in the process of joining them in death.

That Vegeta is dying and no longer has a future to think of seems to have done a number on his personality. This is the first time he ever even hints at caring for someone other than himself.

The thing about Vegeta is that he was very young when his planet was destroyed. In a sense, Vegeta and Goku are mirrors of one another. Neither of them are culturally Saiyans. Neither ever truly knew Planet Vegeta and its people.

They're a post-genocide diaspora, raised in other cultures by other people. Goku grew up to be culturally Earthling. And Vegeta... is culturally Frieza. He was raised in the grips of coldhearted capitalism, self-glorification, and the devaluing of people, places, and things into disposable commodities for market, and he internalized all of it.

The reason Vegeta is so different from Nappa and Raditz, so much crueler and more self-interested, is because - like Goku - Vegeta has never truly connected with his Saiyan heritage. How could he? His culture was annihilated.

Capable of reflexively dismissing his people's genocide with "LOL Fuck 'em" in the moment but then, with the honest vulnerability of impending death, admit "No, that sucks actually."

Vegeta spends the back half of the Namek arc forced into an uneasy alliance that's tearing him in half over who he is.

"You dumbass, if you had time to save me then you had time to let me die and sucker punch the enemy!" Vegeta barks at Gohan.

Meanwhile, Vegeta.

And that's after Gohan and Krillin betrayed him, too. Exposure to the Earthlings and their different ideas is getting to him. The way Gohan and Krillin treat him and each other is... it's not so much healing as deprogramming some of the things he learned from Frieza.

He's being exposed to a way of life that's different from the one he's always known, and it's affecting the way his mind interprets things like teamwork or the death of his people. The way he thinks and expresses himself.

People are complicated and much of who we are is a product of environmental factors. Change Vegeta's circumstances and you change Vegeta.

So in his final moments, killed by the same person that killed the rest of his kind, he allows himself to feel the grief that he'd previously written off as "LOL Sucks to be them!"

Pretty much the entire rest of his arc is the steady deprogramming of Vegeta, once he's stranded on Earth with no way back into space, disconnected from the toxic ideology that raised him. Having to first figure out how to take his value system he learned from Frieza and apply it to his new circumstances.

But, over time, becoming more and more of an Earthling in his own right. Learning that it's okay, actually, to care about other people. To be emotionally invested in someone besides himself.

That it's okay to live a domestic life on a planet somewhere and be part of a culture, rather than simply defining himself as a conqueror.

That it's okay to not be the strongest in the universe. That he is not a failure if he finds a mountain he cannot climb.

Even finding religion. He uses his final moments before his second death to turn to (ex-)God and ask the fate of his immortal soul.

Vegeta is a diasporic member of a dead race raised in the image of the people that destroyed his home, killed his people, and robbed him of his culture. Slowly unlearning the belief systems of colonization, consumption, and capitalist individualism that defined so much of his life, and instead discovering the beauty of people and life.

[sachiko1309]

I belong to you

Summary: After Aubrey had dealt with her past and finally freed herself from her abusive father, Carlisle made sure to spoil her rotten, buying her a whole island in her name. A new beginning for the couple celebrated with inaugurating their new bed...

This is a part of a story I write on Wattpad (its also finished), as I am conviced this man needs more attention. Its called "Save Haven". Feel free to hop over, my account name is in my description. 🥰

Word count: 3457

Warnings: smut, daddy kink, dirty talk (a lot of it), rough, Dom Carlisle, sub reader, Minors DNI! this contains adult content!

He walked us through the house, but I was way to occupied with him and my feelings than to look thoroughly. There would be time a different day. When he stopped walking, he slowly set me down on the floor. I let go of him, watching his face through my tearstained lashes, a smile spreading over my lips. “Not to sound like I am not appreciating your gift, but why?” I asked, my voice still shaky from the crying. Carlisle shrugged his shoulders: “I wanted to make you happy.”

“You don’t need to throw away that much money, to make me happy.” I scolded him. “This is way too much. I cant take that gift. Its… how am I ever supposed to make it up to you?”

“Its not enough.” Carlisle held his ground. “You are here with me. Spending your time with me. You even considered giving up your mortality to stay with me. That’s more than I could have ever dreamed to have, more than I am even entitled to asked for. And still, I have it. This is nothing compared to the things you already gave me.”

“Its expensive! And I want to stay with you, because I love you, not because of your money. How are you even able to afford all of this? I mean, I know you are rich, but that’s clearly another level of rich.” I tried to argue, searching for reasons to talk some sense into him. But my statement seemed to do nothing more than make him laugh: “And I am very grateful that you choose me because of who I am and not what I am.” He said giving my forehead a kiss. “This is not expensive at all. Do you even know how rich I am? I have been working as a doctor for over 200 years. In the beginning I worked in two hospitals one dayshift one nightshift. There is a lot of money that starts to collect itself. More than I could ever spend. And after Alice joined us, trading on the stock market became another source of income. So please let me spoil you. It’s the least I can do.”

I just huffed, trying to retort something, but he just put a finger on my lips. “No arguing anymore. Remember what I told you on our first date?”

“That you are old school?” I asked, raising a brow in confusion.

“Exactly. And what did Bella suggest if the towns gossip would push you out of your work?” He kept on asking without giving me an explanation.

“To become your sugar babe? That was a joke, Carlisle. You cant just…” I was again interrupted. “I can and I will. I am going to be your very old school, very rich and good looking sugar daddy.” With that he simply pressed his lips against mine, ridding me of every chance of arguing back.

“God, how I missed doing that all day.” He mumbled into my hair and I instantly relaxed against his chest, taking in his masculine scent of books and smoke.

Carlisle immediately picked me up again and pressed me against the wall. Out of reflex, I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders. He narrowed his eyes, as desire slowly pushed itself to the front. I swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful golden eyes that had grown dark with need. When I ran my tongue over my lips, I heard him groan. "And?" I asked, his strong reaction towards my lust making me cocky, heat pooling in my stomach. "What else did you miss?"

He dipped his head, his lips just above my collar bone. "You." He whispered. Cold breaths fanning over my skin made me close my eyes and whimper out in lust, goosebumps rising all over my skin. "I want you." He repeated, his voice a low growl against my skin.

I swallowed hard, as he pressed up against me, the feeling of his hard cock straining against his pants making my breathing go rigid. His hands let go of my waist; his lips skimming up to my ear. A sound rose from the back of my throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and desire washed over me again, and I grabbed onto Carlisle collar, saying: “Please, daddy.”

He pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. After the next inhale, his lips crushed onto mine. I was pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. His kisses were deep, drugging me senseless. His tongue, all cold and icy, luscious, and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of my mouth. Whimpering helplessly, I looped my arms around his neck. My body already throbbing and aching, arousal pooling between my thighs, and he had just started kissing me.

There was no need to be hurried. His mouth devoured mine, leaving me breathless, and him oblivious to me working frantically on his clothes. “Slowly, little girl.” He groaned when he felt his vest coming undone. “Slowly.”

Carlisle grabbed my wrists to stop me. “Slowly.” He pulled away just enough, his mouth barely hovering over my lips. “Let’s make tonight count, hmmm?” His eyes had grown dark and dangerous. “How…” I started, but his cold breath fanning over my skin made reel up in need. He was able to make me go weak in the knees just by the way he touched me, and he knew it. “How slow are we talking about?” I was finally able to press out.

“Very slow.” He whispered before dragging my face in for a kiss. “So slow…” He savored the lusciousness of his words. “…that by the time I’m done with you, you won't have an ounce of strength left in that beautiful body of yours.” He wore a wicked grin on his face, walking us over to the sofa in front of the fireplace that was set on the light stone wall across the bed. He gently laid me down, hovering over me before pressing a searing kiss to my cheek, just as gentle as when he laid me down.

“I’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, kitty.” He gingerly kissed me, fiddling with the strings of my dress. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Normally he was very careful of the others hearing our interactions. But it seemed the more time we spent together, the bolder he got. Finally, able to loosen my dress enough, he shuffled it up my body, pulling it over my head.

“Fuck.” he breathed. “Feels like you’re trying to kill me already, love.” Keeping his place between my legs, his arms trailed up my chest, playing with my tits. “So fucking gorgeous…” Placing my hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue, I sighed “Daddy…” Head thrown back. I could swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty golden hues into the abyss of his lust.

Moving from his place between my legs to help me remove my underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. Once he was settled back between my thighs again, I could feel his hands gripping them tightly. “Such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, little one.” His face was so close to my center, his breath fanned against my skin with every word he said. “Can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.” Littering my thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to my core.

“I haven’t.” I breathed out, my voice audibly shaking at his actions. He just tutted at my words. “I had to wait nearly 400 years for you to step into my life. Only to then see you being abused by another man. Forcing me to sneak around everyone’s back, only to be with you.”

My hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize my need for him. “Please, Carlisle…”

“Please what, little kitty?” He mocked coyly.

“You know what.” My hips began to rise from the sofa, searching for some relief.

“Uh uh.” He moved his head further from where I wanted it the most. “I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“I… can you… I want you to eat me out, please?” Squeezing my eyes shut, not being able to look at him, as he finally connected his lips with my center. “Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Fuck!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my pussy. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “For Gods sake, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “That sweet pussy of yours hooked me the moment I had my first taste. And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.” I couldn’t help myself but mewl at his words. The way he praised me in his old-fashioned way of speaking turning my bones to water.

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” His finger found the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My pussy pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger. 

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the sofa, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Daddy!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over me all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and ha to pull him away.

“I need you.” I said timidly, my gaze on the floor. “I need you inside of me.” But the way he looked at me with those dark eyes and predatory look, made me feel brave and…sexy. Carlisle let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I slipped my hand underneath his clothes, gently shoving the fabric down his shoulders. He got the hint, getting up from his knees and undressing himself, making a show for me to watch. His fair skin, scattered with scars from the many fights he had been in, giving his soft appearance a slight hint of roughness, that had me reeling in desire.

"You sound so needy.” He growled, watching me intently as I laid there, spreading my legs for him. "I love it when you are all desperate and riled up for me." He shook his head, a cocky grin appearing on his lips. And I whined at his words. "You are such a slut." He grinned, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me across the sofa to have more space to settle between my legs. But he didn’t. Standing next to me, he looked down with a smirk.

"Do you know what that dress did to me all day?" He asked, his voice a tad gentler. "I should have fucked you when you came down the stairs." A hot shiver ran down my spine and fluttered inside my core. "I would have fucked my cum so deep inside you, until you are a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have had you walk back down. Nothing more than a ripped dress covering you, barely doing anything to keep your modesty, all while my cum runs down your thigh."

I winced at his word, closing my legs in embarrassment. Did he really mean that? "Carlisle…" I started, "…that’s…" I was cut off with a loud moan pushing through my lips as he inserted two fingers. His fingers curled once more, and with it, my toes. "This pussy belongs to me." He pumped his fingers inside of me, slowly crawling on top of me. "Your pussy belongs to me. And I will have it whenever I want it."

Without a warning, his fingers abandoned my needy core, his cock taking their place. The thickness stretching me out, as the head of his penis pressed against my puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out once more. His hands gripped my hips in a bruising hold, his thrusts just as rough. I cried out each time he filled me up. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. He had never fucked me like this before, without preparing me with his fingers thoroughly, but I relished in it. Relished in the way his balls slapped against me with a wet snap. Relished in the way he made a mess of me; my wetness being smeared around between us.

"I belong to you." I whimpered, back arching and hands gripping his biceps, as my nails failed to dig into his skin. Carlisles thrusts faltered and he finally looked at me. He pulled me flush to his chest, my bare breasts against him. Gripping my chin and looking deep into my eyes. "Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy. Forever." I repeated, my voice slightly muffled by his fingers gripping my chin hard. Picking up his pace again, he let go of my face, grabbing both of my hands and burying them beneath his fingers.

Like a ravenous predator, his eyes meet mine. A pleasure visible inside of them, that was beyond my wildest dreams, the high I so desperately yearned for just a tad too far to reach. “Please.” I whimpered, finally completely pushed over the edge and into submission. His previously slow pace got replaced by a more moderate one that had me gasping for air. The searing heat returning, yet this time it was more than welcomed, much like his cock, leaving not a spot untouched in its way.

“Daddy…” I whispered, not able to do much more than moan or plead his name. My head hung back, lips parted and back arching as I gave myself into his hands. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, showing how much this affected him as well. It was the sound of his voice, growling my name followed by a string of curses, that dragged me towards my release in fast steps.

“Carlisle, please…” I breathed out, loud enough to catch his attention. “More…” Arching my back, to press myself against his chest, unable to fight his strong hold that held me in place as he pounded into me mercilessly.  “M-More, please” I rasped.

His response was letting go of one hand and grabbing ahold of my hips, as he kept on driving himself in as deep as possible, knocking the air straight out of my lungs, leaving me clutching onto his shoulder and hand. “It’s as if you are trying to send me over the edge just by looking at me.” His voice was low, unsteady. A mere shadow of its usual self. “My pretty little girl, so eager to be ruined.” I was unable to even process his words. All I could sense was him, so I shrieked, when he let go of me and roughly manhandled my legs upwards.

With knees now brought to my chest, I could do nothing but claw at the pillows, as his strong hold kept me in place. The feeling of his cock more prominent than ever, as blind spots were slowly taking over my vision.

“Carlisle!” I yelped, but my train of thought got interrupted by another thrust.

“This is what you requested, is it not?” He growled. A mewl ripped from my throat, a series of pants and gasps filling the room before my jaw was in his grasp once more; forcing my gaze upon him. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, is it not?” He repeated.

Not being able to do much more than gape, I parted my lips, staring into golden hues now wild and firm, boring into my soul. Even though I stared at him, I could not focus on anything, all my attention on the snapping of his hips, the feeling of his tip touching that one bundle of nerves that made me cry out in desperation. “Th-There - There!”

My words were jumbled and slurred; my brain drunk from the bliss overtaking my body one tidal wave after another. I bucked my hips, frantic for that sensation to grow stronger. “Here?’’ He drove into my core again, prompting my eyes to fall back into my head. The only word I was able to say being his name and hushed pleads, interrupted by countless gasps, and mewls.

A familiar feeling started to rise within the pit of my stomach, sending all my senses into overload. It was blistering, devastating, and I was unsure how much longer I could hold on. With Carlisles fingers now capturing my clit between his thumb and forefinger, combined with the icy heat of his kisses on my neck and shoulder, it was beyond what I could have ever asked for.

Searing, hot, like a rapid, undying fire my body started burning. With eyes barely opening I tried to warn him, yet my core did it for me. Walls clamping down, earning a curse from him, as fresh marks now stained the skin of my hips.

“C-Can’t - I can’t.” I cried out, but he cut me off with his lips, dragging me into a kiss full of passion. Hunger, vigor, intense and demanding, that’s what crossed my mind as he kissed me. “Come, my love.” His voice almost drowning in the hurdled cry that left my mouth after he parted from the kiss. “Come for me.”

It was all I needed to hear, to finally shatter around him. My vision turning blurry, as a violent jerk overtook my body, all the nerves tensed and contracted in pure bliss. It was blinding and fierce, and in a fervid moment, I arched my back, finally releasing the blistering heat inside of my body with a cry of his name. Surely heard by everyone in this house.

Trembling, that was all I could do. My frame hit the sheets, head spinning, as I was gasping for air. And I barely even noticed Carlisle being brought to his own release a shuddering growl of my name falling from his lips. The once fervent snaps melting into nothing but a few bucks until he steadily came to a stop.

Once more, my swollen lips were captured by his own, slower, gentler this time, but still as passionate as ever. Unable to come up with much resistance, I merely hummed and leaned into him; sighing as his length retreated from my core, leaving behind an empty feeling.

It took a moment for him to gather his composure, but soon he got up, he was making a run for the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up. At least that’s what I assumed; my head still too fogged up to really comprehend anything beyond the tingly feeling inside my body. Within seconds, he was back, kissing every part of my body he could reach while cleaning me up. “Rest.” It was a quiet whisper. “You did so well, little one.” He sighed, pressing a peck to my mouth. “But for now, rest.”

I could feel him picking me up and carrying me through the room. The next thing I noticed was being sat down on a soft surface. But when he let go of me, I cried out for him. Immediately his cold hands were back on my body. “Shh, my love. Its alright. Sleep now. I am here.” Closing my eyes, I registered him climbing into the bed as well. Cuddling into his side, I fell asleep, his arms holding me securely in a cold embrace.

[mellosdrawings]

But what does everyone else look like in 10 years?🤔

Riddle is a doctor? I whole heartedly believe the guy is incapable of growing facial hair and feels like a baby standing around Trey and his friends who’ve got Viking beards LmaO.

The leach twins probably a lot more scary looking. Floyd Maybe even got a scar on his face somewhere🤔

Jack and Ruggie? That’s interesting to me, Ruggie maybe has a small business? Maybe?

EVERYONE IN NRC HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL IT MAKES ME SHED A TEAR THINKING ABOUT THEM GROWING UP😭

(I HAD TO REWRITE THIS WHOLE THING THREE TIMES COZ TUMBLR KEPT CRASHING I'M LIVID)

I honestly haven't thought much about anybody but the N2 squad and Najma and Kalim, but here's the ones I can imagine:

Riddle puts his foot down and goes into law instead of the medical field. He becomes one impressive attorney who knows far too much about the law to possibly be human. His parents aren't too happy about it but he still has a pretty good job so they aren't as unpleasant about it as they could be. Chances are Riddle cuts almost all bridges between them though.

Trey does indeed become a viking bearded pastry chef living a cozy life. Every once in a while he organizes tea parties for Riddle and Che'nya.

Ruggie might open a pawn shop or something akin to it. He also has a Youth House on the side where homeless/poor kids come for hot meals, homework help, and distractions. He still takes odd jobs from the palace when there are big events, and regularly visits to bother Leona.

Azul and the twins become successful businessmen who have their tentacles reaching everywhere. They opened branches of the Monstro Lounge around the world and have far too much power in the stock market. Seriously those guys are menaces.

Epel keeps playing Spelldrive professionally in national teams. Sometimes he takes a modelling gig or two (seriously, who hasn't seen athletes in perfume or razor blades ads?)

Idia is stuck in STYX. Rip.

No, I'm kidding, while Idia really is mostly stuck in STYX, Ortho is free to roam about and visit places. Idia watches through his eyes and occasionally mentions when he wants to see something in particular. Ortho comes back home very regularly but those outings are their time out from STYX.

There. That's about all I can think of rn o/