#Protection Against Natural Disasters

[sonalikrishnan]

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[frostbytte]

A friend and I discussed stuff and. Lotsa thoughts down here

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from @liberwolf:

Could you explain Tariff's , like who pays them and what they do to a country?

Well, I can definitely guess where this question is coming from.

Honestly, I was pretty excited to get this prompt, because it's one I can answer and was part of my studies focus in college. International business was my thing, and the issues of comparative advantage (along with Power Purchasing Parity) were one of the things I liked to explore.

-----------------

At their simplest, tariffs are an import tax. The United States has had tariffs as low as 5%, and at other times as high as 44% on most goods, such as during the Civil War. The purpose of a tariff is in two parts: generating revenue for the government, and protectionism.

Let's first explore how a tariff works. If you want to be confused, then you need to have never taken an economics class, and look at this graph:

(src)

So let's undo that confusion.

The simplest examples are raw or basic materials such as steel, cotton, or wine.

First, without tariffs:

Let us say that Country A and Country B both produce steel, and it is of similar quality, and in both cases cost $100 per unit. Transportation from one country to the other is $50/unit, so you can either buy domestically for $100, or internationally for $150. So you buy domestically.

Now, Country B discovers a new place to mine iron very easily, and so their cost for steel drops to $60/unit due to increased ease of access. Country A can either purchase domestically for $100, or internationally for $110 (incl. shipping), which is much more even. Still, it is more cost-effective to purchase domestically, and so Country A isn't worried.

Transportation technology is improved, dropping the shipping costs to $30/unit. A person from Country A can buy: Domestic: $100 International: $60+$30 = $90 Purchasing steel from Country B is now cheaper than purchasing it from Country A, regardless of where you live.

Citizens in Country A, in order to reduce costs for domestic construction, begin to purchase their steel from Country B. As a result, money flows from Country A to B, and the domestic steel industry in Country A begins to feel the strain as demand dwindles.

In this scenario, with no tariffs, Country A begins to rely on B for their steel, which causes a loss of jobs (steelworkers, miners), loss of infrastructure (closing of mines and factories), and an outflow of funds to another country. As a result, Country A sees itself as losing money to B, while also growing increasingly reliant on their trading partner for the crucial good that is steel. If something happens to drive up the price of B's steel again, like political upheaval or a natural disaster, it will be difficult to quickly ramp up the production of steel in Country A's domestic facilities again.

What if a tariff is introduced early?

Alternately, the dropping of complete costs for purchase of steel from Country B could be counteracted with tariffs. Let's say we do a 25% tariff on that steel. This tariff is placed on the value of the steel, not the end cost, so:

$60 + (0.25 x $60) + $30 = $105/unit

Suddenly, with the implementation of a 25% tariff on steel from Country B, the domestic market is once again competitive. People can still buy from Country B if they would like, but Country A is less worried about the potential impacts to the domestic market.

The above example is done in regards to a mature market that has not yet begun to dwindle. The infrastructure and labor is still present, and is being preemptively protected against possible loss of industry to purchasing abroad.

What happens if the tariff is not implemented until after the market has dwindled?

Let's say that the domestic market was not protected by the tariff until several decades on. Country A's domestic production, in response to increased purchasing from abroad, has dwindled to one third of what it was before the change in pricing incentivized purchase from B. Prices have, for the sake of keeping this example simple, remained at $100(A) and $60(B) in that time. However, transportation has likely become better, so transportation is down to $20, meaning that total cost for steel from B is $80, accelerating the turn from domestic steel to international.

So, what happens if you suddenly implement a tariff on international steel? Shall we say, 40%?

$60 + (0.4 x 60) + 20 = $104

It's more expensive to order from abroad! Wow! Let's purchase domestically instead, because these prices add up!

But the production is only a third of what it used to be, and domestic mines and factories for refining the iron into steel can't keep up. They're scaling, sure, but that takes time. Because demand is suddenly triple of the supply, the cost skyrockets, and so steel in Country A is now $150/unit! The price will hopefully come down eventually, as factories and mines get back in gear, but will the people setting prices let that happen?

So industries that have begun to rely on international steel, which had come to $80/unit prior to the tariff, are facing the sudden impact of a cost increase of at least $25/unit (B with tariff) or the demand-driven price increase of domestic (nearly double the pre-tariff cost of steel from B), which is an increase of at least 30% what they were paying prior to the tariff.

There are possible other aspects here, such as government subsidies to buoy the domestic steel industry until it catches back up, or possibly Country B eating some of the costs so that people still buy from them (selling for $50 instead of $60 to mitigate some of the price hike, and maintain a loyal customer base), but that's not a direct impact of the tariff.

Who pays for tariffs?

Ultimately, this is a tax on a product (as opposed to a tax on profits or capital themselves, which has other effects), which means the majority of the cost is passed on directly to the consume.

As I said, we could see the producers in Country B cut their costs a little bit to maintain a loyal customer base, but depending on their trade relationships with other countries, they are just as likely to stop trading with Country A altogether in order to focus on more profitable markets.

So why do we not put tariffs on everything?

Well... for that, we get into the question of production efficiency, or in this case, comparative advantage.

Let's say we have two small, neighboring countries, C and D, that have negligible transportation costs and similar industries. Both have extensive farmland, and both have a history of growing grapes for wine, and goats for wool. Country C is a little further north than D, so it has more rocky grasses that are good for goats, while D has more fertile plains that are good for growing grapes.

Let's say that they have an equal workforce of 500,000 of people. I'm going to say that 10,000 people working full time for a year is 1 unit of labor. So, Country C and Country D have between the 100 units of labor, and 50 each.

The cost of 1 unit of wool = the cost of 1 unit of wine

Country C, having better land for goats, can produce 4 units of wool for every unit of labor, and 2 units of wine for every unit of labor.

Meanwhile, Country D, having better land for grapes, can produce 2 units of wool per unit of labor, and 4 units of wine per unit of labor.

If they each devote exactly half their workforce to each product, then:

Country C: 100 units of wool, 50 units of wine Country D: 50 units of wool, 100 units of wine

Totaling 150 units of each product.

However, if each devotes all of their workforce to the product they're better at...

Country C: 200 units of wool, no wine Country D: no wool, 200 units of wine

and when they trade with each other, they each end up with 100 units of each product, which is a doubling of what their less-efficient labor would have resulted in!

The real world is obviously much more complicated, but in this example, we can see the pros of outsourcing some of your production to another country to focus on your own specialties.

Extreme examples of this IRL are countries where most of the economy rests on one product, such as middle-eastern petro-states that are now struggling to diversify their economies in order to not get left behind in the transition to green energy, or Taiwan's role as the world's primary producer of semiconductors being its 'silicon shield' against China.

Comparative advantage can be used well, such as our Unnamed Countries (that are definitely not the classic example of England and Portugal, with goats instead of sheep) up in the example. With each economy focusing on its specialty, there is a greater yield of both products, meaning a greater bounty for both countries.

However, should something happen to Country C up there, like an earthquake that kills half the goats, they are suddenly left with barely enough wool to clothe themselves, and nothing for Country D, which now has a surplus of wine and no wool.

So you do have to keep some domestic industry, because Bad Things Can Happen. And if we want to avoid the steel example of a collapse in the given industry, tariffs might be needed.

Are export tariffs a thing?

Yes, but they are much rarer, and can largely be defined as "oh my god, everyone please stop getting rid of this really important resource by selling it to foreigners for a big buck, we are depleting this crucial resource."

So what's the big confusion right now?

Donald Trump has, on a number of occasions, talked about 'making China pay' tariffs on the goods they import into the US. This has led to a belief that is not entirely unreasonable, that China would be the side paying the tariffs.

The view this statement engenders is that a tariff is a bit like paying a rental fee for a seller's table at an event: the producer or merchant pays the host (or landlord or what have you) a fee to sell their product on the premises. This could be a farmer's market, a renaissance faire, a comic book convention, whatever. If you want to sell at the event, you have to pay a fee to get a space to set up your table.

In the eyes of the people who listened to Trump, the tariff is that fee. China is paying the United States for access to the market.

And, technically, that's not entirely wrong. China is thus paying to enter the US market. It's just the money to pay that fee needs to come from somewhere, and like most taxes on goods, that fee comes from the consumer.

So... what now?

Well, a lot of smaller US companies that rely on cheap goods made in China are buying up non-perishables while they can, before the tariffs hit. Long-term, manufacturers in the US that rely on parts and tools manufactured in China are going to feel the squeeze once that frontloaded stock is depleted.

Some companies are large enough to take the hit on their own end, still selling at cheap rates to the consumer, because they can offset those costs with other parts of their empire... at least until smaller competitors are driven out of business, at which point they can start jacking up their prices since there are no options left. You may look at that and think, "huh, isn't that the modus operandi for Walmart and Amazon already?" and yes. It is. We are very much anticipating a 'rich get richer, poor go out of business' situation with these tariffs.

The tariffs will also impact larger companies, including non-US ones like Zara (Spanish) and H&M (Swedish), if they have a huge reliance on Chinese production to supply their huge market in the United States.

If you're interested in the repercussions that people expect from these proposed tariffs on Chinese goods, I'd suggest listening to or watching the November 8th, 2024 episode of Morning Brew Daily (I linked to YouTube, but it's also available on Spotify, Nebula, the Morning Brew website, and other podcast platforms).

[hoe4hotchner]

helloo can you write a hotch x reader where the reader is very clumsy and bruise easily and always show up to work in bruises which cause them to worry and especially hotch and she have to reassure him that it’s just her that bumps and trip into things and stuff

Discoloration | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘎𝘯!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘯, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘊: 0.6𝘬

           You were no stranger to clumsiness. Bumping into things, tripping over nothing, catching your arm on the edge of desks or walls - it was just part of your daily routine at this point. Unfortunately, that also meant your skin was often painted with bruises in varying shades of purple, blue, and yellow dotting your arms and legs like some kind of accidental artwork.

           Arriving at work with another fresh set of marks wasn’t uncommon for you. But as the days went on, you noticed more and more concerned glances from your team. You brushed it off, figuring they'd catch on soon enough. Everyone at the BAU had sharp eyes, after all, and it wasn’t long before the questions started.

           It was Hotch, of course, who took the lead. One afternoon, after you’d bumped your shin on a filing cabinet, you saw him watching you, his brows furrowed in a way that showed more than just curiosity. It was worry.

           “Agent, can we talk?” Hotch asked, gesturing to his office with a slight nod. You knew that tone - it was serious, a mixture of concern and authority that he wielded effortlessly.

           You followed him upstairs, your mind already piecing together what this was about. Once inside, he closed the door and turned to you, his dark eyes scanning you like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

           “Are you okay?” he asked, voice soft but direct. "I’ve noticed… the bruises. And I’m not the only one." He gestured to the rest of the team sitting down in the bullpen

           Your heart sank a little, realizing how it must look from his perspective. You smiled nervously, shaking your head. "Oh, no, Hotch, it's not what you're thinking. I’m just really clumsy. I bump into things all the time - honestly, I’m kind of a walking disaster."

           His frown deepened, and he took a step closer. “I’ve seen how often you come in with new bruises. If something else is going on, you can tell me.”

           You could feel the tension between his concern and your own awkwardness at having to explain your constant lack of grace. “Really, it’s just me,” you insisted, your voice steady but gentle. “I trip over my own feet, walk into doors, catch my arms on things. I’ve been like this forever. My skin just bruises really easily.”

           Hotch still didn’t look convinced. He studied you for a moment longer, then let out a small sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re sure?”

           “I’m sure,” you said, offering him a reassuring smile. “I promise, Hotch, if something was wrong, you’d be the first person I’d tell.”

           He nodded, though the tension hadn’t entirely left his features. He trusted you, but his protective nature wouldn’t let go of the worry that easily. “I just don’t want to see you hurt,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

           You softened at his words. “I appreciate it, Aaron. Really. But I’m okay. Just a little clumsy.”

           Finally, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe we’ll have to wrap you in bubble wrap.”

           You laughed, the tension in the room dissolving at last. “Might not be a bad idea,” you teased. Glad to see him joke around for once.

           He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm, his thumb brushing against a bruise there. His touch was careful as if he was trying to protect you from further harm. “Just… be careful, okay?”

           “I will. And thank you for worrying.”

           With one last glance, he nodded, his features relaxing a little more. You left his office, feeling lighter than when you’d walked in. It was nice to know he cared so deeply, even if it was over your clumsiness.

           But next time, maybe you’d make a conscious effort to avoid the corners of furniture.

[marylxvrr]

" BENEATH THE SURFACE "

𐙚 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 — a ruthless criminal mastermind who commands fear and respect, yet becomes dangerously obsessive when it comes to you, willing to destroy anyone who dares to get too close, and ensuring you're always under his control . . .

𐙚 Trigger Warnings: Obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, threats of violence, and stalking.

College was draining enough without the added stress of trying to make ends meet. Working at the café helped pay the bills, but you were still behind on rent, your fridge was nearly empty, and your textbooks were secondhand disasters held together with duct tape.

You sighed as you wiped the counter for what felt like the hundredth time today. The café was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the usual rush replaced by the hum of soft jazz playing over the speakers.

The doorbell chimed, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You turned to greet the new customer, your smile practiced but polite. “Welcome! What can I get for you—"

Your words faltered when you looked up.

He was... striking. Impeccably dressed in a dark suit that screamed luxury, his presence was commanding and utterly magnetic. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes had an almost predatory gleam as they locked onto you.

“Just a coffee,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet. “Black.”

“Coming right up,” you said, quickly averting your gaze and focusing on the task at hand.

Something about him made your skin prickle. He didn’t look like your usual customer, and the way his eyes lingered on you felt... intense.

When you placed his cup on the counter, his fingers brushed against yours as he took it. The contact was brief, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile.

You froze. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Relief washed over you, and you gave a nervous laugh. “Right. Of course.”

But as he walked away to sit in the corner booth, a nagging feeling settled in your chest. You hadn’t been wearing your name tag today.

---

Over the next few weeks, he became a regular at the café. Always sitting in the same booth, always ordering the same coffee. He never stayed long, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you, though he never said much beyond polite small talk. It was unsettling, yet oddly flattering. A man like him—wealthy, confident, and undeniably attractive—paying attention to someone like you? It didn’t make sense.

Then, one night, everything changed.

---

The café was closing, and you were the last one left, cleaning up after another long shift. You were locking the front door when you noticed a sleek black car idling across the street.

Your stomach twisted uneasily as you hurried down the sidewalk, clutching your bag tightly.

“Y/n.”

You froze.

He was leaning against the lamppost, his suit as immaculate as ever, his eyes gleaming under the streetlight.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“I was waiting for you,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart pounded as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why?”

“Because I’ve decided I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to step around him, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“You don’t understand, Y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “There are people out there who would hurt you. People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone as... vulnerable as you.”

“Let go of me,” you said, panic creeping into your voice.

His grip tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded, struggling against his hold.

“From everyone. From this world that doesn’t deserve you.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, your fear growing as the realization dawned on you.

“You’ve been following me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I had to,” he admitted, his tone softening. “I had to make sure you were safe. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you struggle? To know you’re barely scraping by while I could give you everything you’ve ever wanted?”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “You don’t even know me!”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve watched you for months, Y/n. I know how hard you work, how kind you are even when the world doesn’t deserve it. You’re perfect.”

His words were like chains, wrapping around you and pulling you deeper into his control.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips curling into a small, bitter smile. “But I won’t let anyone else have you.”

Before you could respond, the black car pulled up beside you. The door opened, and he gestured for you to get in.

“Don’t fight this, Y/n,” he said, his voice both pleading and commanding. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you a life worth living. But if you try to run... I can’t promise what I’ll do.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him, your body frozen in fear.

“Get in the car,” he repeated, his tone firm.

And in that moment, you realized you had no choice.

---

[amirasainz]

Helllooo,

Would it be alright if I request a platonic grid x reader, where the reader is also a driver and gets into a crash, and all the drivers get protective over the reader and are very dotting towards her

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

Broken arm

The atmosphere at the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya was electric as the F1 cars roared to life for the final laps of the race. The sun shone brightly over the crowd, casting a warm glow on the track, but for Yn, the youngest driver on the grid and the pride of Red Bull Racing, this race was becoming increasingly tense. She was battling hard, fighting for her first podium, when disaster struck.

Coming out of Turn 3, Yn miscalculated her entry, her rear tires sliding dangerously. She tried to correct, but it was too late. The car spun violently, hitting the barriers with a sickening crunch that echoed through the stands. The red flags waved immediately, signaling the end of the race. Panic washed over the paddock as other drivers slowed down and began making their way back to the garages.

Inside the Red Bull garage, the mood shifted from excitement to dread. “Did you see that? She was flying!” Daniel exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern. “I hope she’s okay.”

“Keep calm, Dan. They’ll get her out,” Max replied, trying to mask his worry, but his voice was tight with tension.

As the teams packed up their equipment, everyone’s focus remained on the screens showing the crash. The cameras zoomed in on Yn’s car, which was now stationary, surrounded by marshals and medical personnel. The sight of her crumpled car sent a chill through the drivers’ hearts.

“I can’t watch this,” Lando said, pacing back and forth in the McLaren garage. “Someone needs to go check on her.”

“I’ll go,” Carlos volunteered, but he was stopped by Lewis. “Wait, we need to see if she’s out of the car first.”

Finally, the moment everyone had been dreading came. The cameras caught Yn slowly emerging from the wreckage, with help from the medical team. She was cradling her left arm against her chest, her face pale but her eyes still fierce. The sight of her injuries sent a wave of anxiety through the drivers watching from their respective garages.

“She’s out!” Pierre shouted, relief flooding through him, but the worry remained etched on every driver’s face.

The teams moved in silence, their minds racing. “We should go to the hospital after the race,” Charles suggested. “She’ll need us there.”

“Absolutely,” George agreed, glancing at his teammates. “She’s one of us, and she’s going to need all the support she can get.”

The race had concluded, but the drivers' minds were not on their standings. They jumped into their cars and made their way to the hospital. The atmosphere was tense, each driver lost in their thoughts, reflecting on the fragile nature of their sport.

In the hospital waiting room, the mood was somber. They had gathered a few massive bouquets of flowers, bright colors spilling from the paper, trying to lift Yn’s spirits. “I hope she’s not too badly hurt,” Daniel said, biting his lip nervously.

“She’s tough. She’ll bounce back,” Max reassured, though his own anxiety lingered. “I mean, she’s always giving us a run for our money out there.”

Finally, the nurse appeared, a kind smile breaking through the tension. “You can see her now. She’s awake, but she’ll need some time to rest.”

The drivers filed in one by one, entering Yn’s hospital room. The sight of her lying in the bed with a cast on her arm tugged at their hearts. “Hey, superstar,” Daniel said softly, his smile brightening the dim room. “You scared us half to death out there.”

Yn looked up, her expression a mix of pain and amusement. “Well, at least I made it exciting,” she joked, though her voice was strained. “I think I broke the car more than my arm, though.”

“Stop joking around. We were all freaking out,” Lando said, shaking his head. “You should have seen us in the garages. I thought we’d lose it!”

“I was more worried about you than my race,” Charles added, leaning closer. “Just seeing you get out of that car…” He trailed off, remembering how terrified he felt.

“Yeah, you’ve got to stop trying to drive like us old guys,” Lewis teased, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re still young; it’s okay to take it slow once in a while.”

“Yeah, Yn,” George piped up, crossing his arms. “You’re supposed to make us look good, not give us heart attacks.”

As they all settled into the room, Carlos placed the massive bouquets of flowers on the bedside table. “These are for you. Just a little something to brighten your day.”

“Wow, you guys are so sweet,” Yn replied, her eyes sparkling with gratitude, though the pain in her arm reminded her of her predicament. “I might have to keep you all around to spoil me more often.”

“Only if you promise to get better and come back stronger,” Max said, his tone serious. “We need you out there, pushing us. It’s not the same without you.”

“I promise,” she said, her voice steady despite the pain. “But you all have to promise to drive safely. No more crazy moves, okay?”

“Deal,” they all chimed in unison.

As the hours passed, the drivers took turns keeping Yn company, sharing stories and laughter, and even some embarrassing moments from their racing careers. They joked about their first crashes, and as the sun began to set outside the hospital window, a sense of warmth enveloped the room.

“Next time, I’ll win a race just for you,” Yn declared, a determined glint in her eyes.

“Make it happen,” Lando replied, bumping her foot playfully. “But for now, let’s focus on healing that arm. We can’t have you holding us back when we race again.”

“Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me,” she laughed softly, her heart swelling with affection for her fellow drivers. “Thanks for being here. You guys really are the best.”

As they prepared to leave, each driver gave her a reassuring hug, careful not to bump her injured arm. “We’ll check on you tomorrow,” Lewis said, a protective gleam in his eyes. “Rest up.”

The group exited the room, the weight of their worries lightened slightly by their shared moments with Yn. They knew she would be back, stronger than ever, and they would be right there, cheering her on. Racing was a dangerous sport, but in that hospital room, they found comfort in each other and the bond that made them not just competitors but a family.

[thecoochiefairy]

sucky sucky. satoru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 10K words. blackpregnantfem!character, satoru gojo, pharmacists!satoru, sub!satoru, dom!satoru, nasty sex, shower/tub sex, sweet sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, face sitting, condomless sex, size kink, daddy kink, creampie, squirting, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this for that one anon who wanted satoru, cause i wanted him too. love you pookie. hehe.

showering w/ satoru. ride me, baby. sitting on his face.

DAWN WAS YOUR FAVORITE TIME OF THE DAY. The sun hadn’t risen just yet, the sounds of your box fan humming through your pitch black bedroom always brought you comfort, and it was almost as if the entire world was still asleep. Your feet sunk into your bunny slippers, your soft steps pad along the white marble floor of the condo you resided in with your husband—who was currently sound asleep, able to knock out in a natural disaster as you crept out of bed. 

You decided to not turn on any lights as you came down the hallway, letting the dim screen of your phone guide you as you went towards his office close to the living room. Your hand lightly planted along the swell of your belly, taking deep breaths as you tried to focus on making it to his baby blue IMAC, needing to do more research. You were desperate at this point. 

You were nine months pregnant, the full term having been a wonderful experience as you waited for your bun to come out of the oven—the only issue was, you were almost a week after your due date, and you were now miserable. Your entire body felt heavy as your baby sat directly on your bladder, causing you to have shortness of breath at times, making you waddle essentially all the time. Regardless, you had the support you needed. Even if you were an emotional wreck. 

You keep the door cracked as you push the light switch halfway up, allowing the room to be dim as you make your way over to the desktop, clicking your french tipped fingers along the mouse to ignite the screen. Your heart shaped Cartier wedding ring glimmers along your finger—it always reminds you of the price, how you cried for Satoru to return it for something cheaper, and he felt that you deserved nothing but the best. 

You didn’t mean to wake him up, but you did anyway. You sigh lightly as you can hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hallway, his tall and broad frame unable to sneak around even if he tried. 

“Baby, please come to bed.”

You turn your head, pulling back the flyaway of your curls as they’re hidden under your baby pink bonnet to protect your hair. Your edges swirl to perfection along your forehead, glasses tipping at your nose. 

You softly ask, “Did I wake you up?”

 “I woke up when you left. Your absence was too loud." 

He rubs his eye with his big fists, his body leaning up against the door frame. His voice was low and husky with sleep. His hair is white as snow, his bangs covering his eyes as he rubs at his face, shirtless as his basketball shorts fall right below his defined and veiny V-line. The minimal tattoos along his body and arms are visible with the light from the computer, but considering how small they were you’d almost miss them.

You turn yourself towards him as you apologize, “I know you have work in a couple of hours. You should go back to sleep.”

"It is four in the morning, baby. I’m good. C’mere.”

He stretches his arms out, his veins popping along each one as he motions for you to come over to him. You knew he had work tomorrow, but the way he said it made it feel like you were crazy for even staying up this early. Your eyes glance at his biceps as he stretches, his toned body and defined abs on full display.

“I’m just doing some research. Google says raspberry leaf tea can sometimes induce labor, I might need to grab some tomorrow,” you hum more to yourself, your eyes flickering up as he walks towards you, seeing the amusement within his icy eyes.

"I might just have to block that Google shit entirely, you find more things to research and it sends you into a complete spiral.“  

You sigh, turning to him as you chew on your lip, wanting to hold back your pout.

“Baby…” you sigh, almost in an exhausted manner, hearing as that makes him chuckle at your disappointment of his words.

"Don’t make that face at me. You know I’m right.”

He knows you're trying to help the process, and you're tired of sleeping on your side, being swollen and achy. He leans down as he presses a kiss onto your jaw. Your hormones are all out of whack as you even try not to get emotional at his words, knowing he meant no harm.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you lightly defend, hating when he was dismissive. You then click off safari along the computer as you attempt to stand, pressing your hand along the desk as you groan lightly—you just wanted to stand without struggling.

"Hey, let me help you, baby.”

He stands behind you, placing his hand on your lower back to steady your stance, but hesitates as you push his hand away.

“I can do it myself, Satoru…” 

Fucking hell, there it was. The tears forming in your vision. You didn’t know why you were about to cry. You wipe your eyes as you hold your belly, taking a deep breath as you sniffle, “I’m not helpless.”

"I know you’re not, pretty girl. Let me just help you, okay? You can walk yourself back to bed.” 

You were always prideful and resilient, but right now—you were a hot mess, the pregnancy hormones making you teary eyed often these days.

He knew how to handle you. It just depended on your emotions, and he was there to respond in any way he needed to. Like now, it was best not to make you become defensive—because you were—instead giving you an ultimatum, to make you still feel in control of yourself. You lean your hand along his stomach as you use your other hand to wipe your eyes, “Baby girl’s sitting on my bladder again.”

He places a hand along your belly, his palm firm as it sits atop of your own. 

"Do you need to pee, baby? You’re always feeling like that.” 

His voice was so tender as he spoke, he knew you were sensitive right now, so he had to be gentle with you.

You shake your head, “Just wanna lay down.” 

He nods, understanding as he makes sure your legs are sturdy before he helps you walk down the hallway, taking your hand to let him guide you. His big palm practically engulfs yours, but the warmth of his hand instantly gives you some comfort as you take slow and wobbly steps towards your bedroom. 

You successfully make it towards the soft white comforter set, golden swan headboard curving under the lights of the room as you sit yourself on your side of the mattress. You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you then say, “I wasn’t crying.”

He lets a low chuckle escape from his lips as he stands in front of you. Taking your face in between his hands that makes you look up at him, his soft thumbs graze along your skin, wiping away your tears. 

"Oh, you weren’t? An intruder cutting onions in my house?”  

His lips press a sweet kiss to your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on his skin. It was your favorite fragrance, a mixture of sandalwood and musk. 

You release a soft sigh, gently pushing his hands down as you say, “You’re unserious as hell,” rolling your eyes. You then ask, “Are you sure your employees will be okay if you have to leave work tomorrow?” 

You had a doctor's appointment to determine whether or not they could just pop your water bag, or give it a couple of days to let the baby come herself. Your husband was a Pharmacists CEO—which seemed fairly easy within the name—but it was so much more into his job, keeping him at work for hours at a constant.

"They’ll be good, baby. I think you forget that I have a team working for me, I don’t hire any dumbass staff. If anything they’re excited to play on the clock while I’m not around.”

You absentmindedly lock your fingers around the pendant of your necklace, nodding as your other hand rubs along his flexing forearm. 

You then remind him, “You need to sleep, Satoru. Otherwise you’ll be the dumbass on your team, walking around like a zombie on the clock.”

"I’ve been dealing with sleepless nights for almost a year now because of someone,” He leans down, “Gimme’ your mouth. I’m missing you like hell.”

Your eyes scan across the dangerous glint of his, always a mischief somewhere in them. Your lash extensions flutter as you say, “Kay,” almost a little too girlishly, raising your mouth up to his. 

He could be a completely different person when things became a little feisty between you two, feeling his mouth wrap around your lips, hungrily sucking your tongue inside to reel you closer. It makes your cheeks warm.

It felt like years since he held your mouth to his own, the taste of you making him grunt as he took his time with it. He knew he’d have to be cautious to not get carried away, you were heavily pregnant, and the last thing he wanted to do is hurt you. 

He sucks on your bottom lip as his hand moves down to your ass, squeezing and massaging his fingers into the plush skin under his hand.

The feeling makes your breath lightly hitch through your nose, and a throb comes between your legs. You pull your mouth back, pressing your forehead against his as you softly say, “I’m tired, ’toru,” using that as an excuse as you felt yourself becoming incredibly horny, not wanting to continue further than that.

He knew your signs of exhaustion when they came, so he wasn't surprised when you pulled back from his lips, but a part of him didn't want to stop. The sight of your pouty expression makes him release a low groan. Your swollen face, your long eyelashes, your pretty lips. The pregnancy absolutely made you sexier. 

He reluctantly pulls away from your face, "C’mon, imma’ try to get some rest before I’m cussing out my employees for no reason.”

Somewhere in you feels bad. You know he’s been holding back for months, considering your libido has been incredibly low since you became pregnant. But for whatever reason with you close to giving birth, your lower body was on fire, needing him in ways you couldn’t imagine yourself acting. It was egregious. Maybe you should’ve googled something on that.

When the next day came, you were being dropped off by the chauffeur at your doctor's office. The walls inside were pink, your smile soft as you greeted silently at other pregnant women. You sat in the waiting room as your hands were along your belly, watching the smaller children play with the toys provided by the office, imagining yourself to have a playful baby of your own. It’d already been Satoru’s third time calling you today, making sure you arrived safely to your appointment while he was at work. And he said you were worrisome. 

When it was your turn to be called back, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. You were so close to the due date, and still, the baby hasn’t shown an indication of coming out the oven. 

You were greeted by your OB, a middle-aged woman who was friendly enough, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. After getting your weight checked, you sat on the examination bed as she began looking over your swollen belly.

“How are you feeling?” she questions, cream colored skin being complimented by her red lipstick, onyx hair clipped perfectly into a bob.

“I’m okay,” you say softly, giving a smile to her, “I’m just feeling a little heavy. It’s been a bit of a struggle to walk at times, she won’t get off of my bladder,” you give a light laugh, “I just wanted to see if I was okay to get induced today? I’m just—I feel ready, doctor.”

The doctor nods as she looks over your information sheet on her clipboard, listening to you as you spoke with her. After a short pause, she answers, “Well, you’re full term, your water could break at any moment. However, I suggest waiting a few more days before we try the induction process, your body will go naturally when it’s ready.”   

She moves the stethoscope along your belly, listening to your baby’s heart rate. But not what you wanted to hear. It makes you sigh, “May I ask why there would be a difference between induction, and if the baby came on her own tonight?”

“The induction process can be a little more painful for you, honey. The contractions are more intense as we try to force your body to go into labor,” she moves away as she takes off her stethoscope, placing it back onto her neck as she pauses, “I would try some natural techniques that can induce labor, but, there’s no guarantee.“

“That makes sense,” you nod more to yourself, “I was up doing some research last night. Didn’t find much considering my husband ordered me back to bed. Are there any at home suggestions you’d give me as far as going into labor?”

The doctor gives a chuckle as she writes something on her clipboard, “I see. Your husband is a smart man, he knows what’s best for you right now. How about you try walking more? It helps bring the baby lower into the birth canal, maybe that will help your body’s natural contractions begin?” She looks back at you, “Sex is also a very healthy way of triggering a natural induction. A lot of my momma’s have some quite interesting stories,” she pats your leg lightly, same sweet smile against her face.

You’re a grown woman, but an older woman suggesting sex with your husband is something that makes your throat go dry. It even makes you blush a bit. You blink, pulling down the baby tee you wear that desperately wants to release your breast from the confinement of the material, your nipples extremely sensitive.

“Uh…sex can trigger my labor?” You repeat.

"Absolutely, sweetheart. It can help release oxytocin and prostaglandins, which can stimulate your body’s natural contractions. I’m sure your husband will be very happy to hear that,” she gives you a little smirk before adding, “It's a very effective way to start labor, a nice release for both momma and poppa.”

“Is it safe, even with my baby girl being so close to my cervix?” You have a thousand questions—definitely should've been a little quieter as you snuck into the office last night. Maybe you would’ve known this by now.

The doctor laughs, seemingly surprised by your question, but answers it anyway, “It’s absolutely okay. Baby girl won’t be harmed. A lot of my patients have sex throughout their pregnancies, it’s completely normal,” she moves back and takes her seat on her office chair, “Just be careful, but don’t be too careful. It might just do the job for you.”

At that moment, your head turns as a knock comes to the door. When it opens, it reveals Satoru—who’s not dressed within his lab coat and button up. He wears a black long sleeve, matching sweatpants accompanied with his blue New Balance 9060 sneakers, shades on his eyes as his vision strained from the sun at times. His top is practically suffocating his large frame, it’s like he has to crouch down to make everyone else comfortable. You see he holds your pale pink Nike duffle, your birth bag slung over his shoulder in preparation for anything. It almost makes you giggle. 

“You’re here,” you say, a warm smile coming to your face, not expecting him to be since you didn’t call him to come.

He loved this. He loved how you were absolutely radiating right now, all round and pretty, carrying his baby. He moves closer, bending over as he presses a kiss to the top of your head before greeting, “Hey, my pretty baby. I had a free hour in a half so I thought I’d come check up on my girl. She’ good?” he questions the doctor.

The doctor nods, placing her clipboard back into its holder, “Everything looks great. Your wife is full term and healthy, and your baby girl is ready to meet you both,” she gives a kind smile before giving a quick wave, “I’m going to have the nurse bring some pamphlets, it’s got some more information in there, just to help out. Do you have any other questions?”

You shake your head, “You’ve been amazing this entire journey, doctor. I just wanna say thank you—you’ll be one of the first people I come visit with my little muffin.”

You don’t know why you’re about to cry, but it’s a radiance of happiness you feel as you rub your eyes, so glad to have a good physician in this situation. You ignore Satoru’s, “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” rubbing your back immediately as he sees your vision glossing over.

The doctor gives a light laugh, clearly used to this type of behavior from her patients. “No problem, honey,” patting your knee once again, “How about you let papa take you out for a nice big lunch, hm? I have another patient coming in, I’ll see you soon. Congratulations.”

She leaves you both within the room, your fingers padding your eyes lightly, giggling at yourself as you greet him, “Hi, how’s work been so far?”

He’s still rubbing soothing circles along your back, finding it cute the way you were being overly emotional right now. 

His lips press to your temple, “Busy as hell. You’ hungry?”

You nod your head, taking his hand as you step off of the table as you hold your belly, a light gasp coming to your mouth as you begin waddling towards the door, thankfully not seeing the way Satoru holds back his laugh as you ramble on, “Baby! I saw this cute little restaurant not too far away when the chauffeur dropped me off, it had chicken tenders, Mexican food, burgers, all kinda stuff!…”

It’s not like your legs just stopped working, but he knows the added weight was probably hard to get used to. He chuckles as you speak, following after you as he opens the door for you both, letting you walk out first as he says, “That’s perfect, baby.”

It was in fact cuter on the inside. Small circular tables, thinly designed chairs, brown architecture and green plants hanging all around the ceiling as calming music played throughout the building. The bustle of people walking past brought a sense of comfort to you, your eyes trailing to the roses that sat decoratively along the table.

“Isn’t it so pretty?” You blink, giving a polite smile to the waiter that places tall glasses of lemon water along the table, giving you time to glance over the menu.

He could honestly care less about a restaurant’s interior. If they had the best burgers in the world, he was there, but the way you were glazed over at the interior, made the whole situation a little sweeter. 

He reaches across to hold your hand, giving a light squeeze to your fingers as he answers, “It’s pretty as fuck, baby, just like you.”

“Don’t be tryna distract me, boy. Why’d you leave work? I never called you,” you remind him, “Pregnancy doesn’t make me all ditzy and shit.”

He knew that question was coming, even if you were happy that he showed up. 

He shrugs, his thumb stroking your skin, “I was worried. You’ seen my big ass carrying that labor bag, I wanted to be there in case they induced you. Is that a crime?” he questions, “Plus, I needed a break from my annoying ass employees.”

“Oh, now they’re your annoying ass employees. You spoke so highly of them last night, what’d they do today to piss you off, Mr. Pharmacist?” You tease, accepting the fries they placed down in front of you that you ordered, taking one in your mouth, your stomach grumbling at the salty potatoes entering your system.

He reaches over to steal a fry—ignoring the way your hand smacks his—“One of them spilled a whole bottle of medication that’s hard as fuck to get again. Another one put some wrong information on a medical document. My third worker was late, and had no explanation why. So yeah, call me pissy. Don’t care.”

“Stuff happens, Satoru. Now imagine if your workers were irrational about you just ducking off the clock because you wanna have lunch with me? That isn’t fair to them,” you point out.

He pauses, listening to you as he gives a nod, chewing through the fry he had in his mouth. Satoru knew you had a point, and he respected the way you always made him realize those points. So he simply replies with, “Yeah. You’re right. Sorry, baby.”

“I know I am,” you agree. You give an excited clap as they place down your nachos, craving Mexican food like no other. They also give Satoru his gourmet burger and fries, the man refusing to eat anything else at times. He was the pickiest person on the planet. 

You shake your head, “You and your beef. You’d be perfect as a pregnant woman, with excessive amounts of protein.”

“Shitt, to be able to take off work, wear whatever I want and crash out on somebody if they comment on my eating habits? Somebody call the government and start making pills to get men pregnant. Quickly.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well, I don’t think you’d enjoy the luxury of having the doctor tell you they don’t want to force your induction, and you have to wait several more days to see if you’ll naturally go into labor.”

He leans back into his seat, placing his arms over his chest as he stares at you, “Damn, maybe you’re right. Being a woman is stressful—no offense.” He pauses, his own eyes glancing at the way you looked a little disappointed from the doctor’s words, not getting what you wanted. He leans forward, his hand reaching over the table to take one of yours, “Hey. She knows what she’s talking about. Baby girl will come when she’s ready. You’ll be a great momma, y’know that right?”

“Maybe she’s hiding in there cause she thinks imma’ be a bad momma,” you sigh, kneeling yourself on your elbow against the table, “You’ think babies can feel anxiety?”

He listens to you express your concerns, his jaw clenching. He knew you were nervous. You were carrying the product of you and him for months, you wanted everything to go perfectly. Satoru wanted that for you. But he also wanted you to stop being so hard on yourself, so he says, “Nah, baby, I don’t think she can feel your anxiety. She’s probably too busy listening to how amazing her momma’s heartbeat is, probably a lullaby to her.”

You exhale lightly, feeling a bit better at his words. On the other hand, you find yourself…gazing at your husband. His dark shades along his strident face, alabaster hair and muscular frame wanting to explode through his top. He made the table almost look small, and your mind flashes to memories of you…creating your bundle of joy, an entirely different Satoru in those times. You pull your fingers away as you put another nacho into your mouth, giving a weak smile, feeling the blush on your cheeks as you say, “You’re so sweet.”

He catches the way you stare at him. Your feline eyes blink slowly, your dark curls filling the roundness of your flushed cheeks.

He leans a little closer, his tone lowering as he says, “I’m sweet, huh?”

You didn’t have to wonder whether or not Satoru looked at you in the way you were currently staring, because it was a constant gaze in those arctic pupils. There was a time he’d fuck you anywhere. You could always feel his eyes on you, especially today as you wore an all white baby tee and yoga pants set, brown sandals complimenting your pedicure, the gold along the strap of your sandals matching the dermals on your lower back. The set clung itself to your frame, never ashamed of your body even within the pregnancy. Your child bearing hips, full ass, nipples protruding through your top. You were stunning.

You always feigned an innocence, giggly like a schoolgirl when he flirted as if he weren’t your husband. Your eyes glance up to him, “You’ wanna know what the doctor said?”

His eyes were practically glued to every part of you. He took notice of the pedicure with the little white flowers against your feet, the way your shirt hugged your frame perfectly, and how he could see your pretty brown skin through the white fabric. His grin meets your face, ignoring the way you tilt his chin up to keep his eyes on yours, “Tell me.”

“She suggested that sex might be a way of inducing my labor,” you rub your fingers along his ear, a habit of yours when you talked to him in close radius.

The way that those words slipped from your mouth, the tone of your voice, it had his mind in overdrive. 

He feels your fingers against his earlobe, and he almost loses himself at the touch, his jaw clenching, “How you’ feel about that?”

“Like I need to go home and confirm that on some physicians website. I mean, that sounds terrifying! What if you bump my baby girl's head? Is that too impossible to think about?” You scrunch up your nose.

He holds back his laugh as you seem so concerned about hurting the baby that way. He knows it’s an irrational fear, but it’s adorable nonetheless, his hand coming up to rub your cheek as he says, “Baby, you do realize she’s protected in your womb, right?”

You sigh lightly, “Mhm. I just wish she’d sit up more, she makes me feel like I have to pee every millisecond. Like now. And you need to get back to work,” you remind him.

He glances at his Chopard watch, knowing he had to leave. He loved spending time with you, but he did need to get back to work. He felt awful, but that’s what it was like owning a massive corporation— you didn’t always have a life outside work.

“I’ll probably be back a little late. You’ gonna miss me?”

You roll your eyes, accepting the pecks he presses along your mouth as you say in between them, “I always miss you, Daddy,” giggling as he raises an eyebrow at the nickname. 

He could feel himself losing restraint. You stand as you wrap your arms along his neck, Satoru lowering himself so you don't have to stand on your toes. He grunts as he smacks your ass, pressing a kiss to your jaw, not wanting to pull away. But he had to. So instead he gives a sigh, watching the chauffeur pull up to drop you off at home as he waved, “Later, baby.”

The rest of the day was mostly you laying in bed, rewatching American Horror Story and also pushing yourself to read another chapter of a book you’d been interested in. You also pushed yourself to do your usual routines of being a housewife, feeding your large black husky that didn’t do much besides holler and follow you around, or even tend to your garden outside. 

You thought about the doctor's words, and although you were a bit fearful of them, maybe a relaxing night between you and your husband wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe it wasn’t about your concerns for the baby, maybe you were just nervous of having intimate time with him, considering it’d been a month without it. So, you had a plan. 

You waited until you heard your husky barking loudly at the door as it unlocked, meaning Satoru was home. You could hear his deep voice chastising the dog for her noises, dropping his keys along the counter like he always did. You lightly pad your feet along the cold floor, clutching the fluffy pink towel wrapped around your bare body as you peek around the corner at him.

He had dealt with so much work bullshit, and all he wanted was to take a hot shower and lay with you in bed. But the sight of you, dark curls pulled out of your face, natural freckles sprucing against your nose and cheeks, the pink contrasting with your brown skin, he was glaring at you.

“Was work that bad?” You poke fun, holding the towel at the top to keep it from falling.

He shakes his head, his eyes still glued to you. You looked so sexy, and he hadn’t touched you in weeks. He wanted you. He craved you. His eyes trail down your frame, taking notice of the curves along your legs, and he gives a grunt.

With a few quick strides, he’s standing in front of you, his large hands taking hold of your face as he answers, “Work was hellish, baby.”

“Mmm, I’m sorry,” you say, pressing a kiss against his palm, “Wanna come shower with me? I’ll scrub your back like you love.”

He exhales, almost sounding like a sigh of relief. A shower after his stressful ass day, and his wife? He didn’t argue the offer. The way you stood in front of him, your hands clutching the fluffy material against the curves of your body, it made his fingers itch. He needed you. He needed to touch you. 

“Yeah? You’ being all nice to me and shit, but I’m not complaining.”

You take his hand as you pull him down the hall, making your way towards the double doors of the bathroom. Satoru notices a pop of red along the floor, focusing his eyes in as he then realizes it’s a rose petal. When the door fully opens, candles sit all around the mesmerizing black clawfoot tub with golden feet, already filled with water that looks surprisingly warm. Not just red rose petals—but pink ones, lilies, sunflowers, colorful flowers overall floating atop of the water, swimming prettily.

You turn towards him, beginning to remove his watch as your warm face comes down, “I just thought maybe a relaxing night between us would be nice. You’ um…You’ like it? I used a lot of flowers from my garden so…I hope you do,” you nervously smile, pulling your hair behind your ear.

His eyes scanned the room. He could smell the sweet aroma of flowers, and the way the room was dimmed had his shoulders relaxing almost immediately. His eyes trailed the petals on the floor, realizing just how much effort you put into this.

“Baby, you shouldn’t have gone to this trouble. I should be doing shit like this for you.”

“It’s okay, I know you would have if you weren’t at work,” you place your palm against his cheek, “It wasn’t so bad, Storm helped me carry most of the stuff I needed anyways,” you refer to the dog, “She slobbered on the stems, but I cut them anyway.”

He chuckles at the way you talk, knowing your dog was like your first child . He reaches over and pinches your cheek, “You and that husky of ours have a whole ass bond. But I appreciate this, baby, really. Is the water still warm? Need me to refill it for you?”

You shake your head, “Just need you to follow me in.” 

You raise on your toes, giving him a soft, tender kiss. As you come back down, you turn away, removing the towel from around you as you stride over to the tub, arching your bare body as you make your way in. 

You sink beneath the water as you ask, “You’ coming?”

He was practically mesmerized as you made your way to the tub. The way the candles illuminated along your skin, the water moving as you slid in, he was almost at a loss of words. But he couldn’t just stand there like an idiot. 

He smacks his lips, “You think I’m not?” making you giggle at the way he yanks his tie off, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

Your eyes watch as his clothes drop to the floor, scanning the curve of his abs, how perfectly sculpted he was. Veins ran through his arms and fingers, flexing up and all the way down to his v-line that harshly dipped into the monster that sat between his legs. It made your eyes pull away a bit, seeing as he was already coming into the tub with you.

He knew he had your attention. The way you stared as he undressed, the way he caught your eyes taking notice of his body, he was confident. A little cocky, per usual. Especially when you looked away, almost as if you couldn’t look at him. He slips into the water across from you, his hands immediately taking hold of your hips as he pulls you onto his lap.

“Is it warm enough?” You question, wrapping your arms along his neck, adjusting yourself on top of him.

As you straddle him, his hands move along your thighs, holding onto you tightly. He’s already nodding as he answers, “Feels good, baby.”  

He brings you closer, burying his face in between your neck and collarbone, inhaling your scent deeply. He loved how you smelled. He loved everything about you. You take the pink sponge you had within the water, your other fingers gripping the nape of his hair along the back of his neck as you tilt his head, dipping the sponge deeper before squeezing it above him. You watch as his light hair darkens, pulling back out of his face to reveal him fully. 

“It’s getting close to that time of renewing our vows,” you remind softly.

Your touch felt good. He enjoyed it. The way you took care of him, the way your fingers worked through his white locks. He closes his eyes at the feeling, leaning a bit more into your touch. When you mention renewing your vows, his eyes flutter open, gazing directly into yours. 

He gives a grin, “Baby, I’d marry you thousands of times over and over again. I don’t give a fuck where we do it, you’re just indecisive.”

You sigh, “I know. I just want it to be as perfect as the first time…” you think to yourself, eyes lighting up as you suggest, “What about Singapore? Maybe only our parents and friends, make it small, explore the country, yeah?”

He lets you speak, knowing just how perfect you wanted everything to be. But honestly? Satoru didn’t care. The first wedding was nice, but you were the only thing that he truly cared about. He just enjoyed listening to you.

When you suggest Singapore for the renewal, he chuckles a little, “You know my parents will argue with that. They’ll want to host it somewhere fancy like Rome or something.”

“And Singapore isn’t?” You blink, “God, you really were raised bougie as fuck. My parents thought the Statue Of Liberty was the nicest thing they’d ever seen.”

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh a little at how you put it, knowing you weren’t entirely wrong. But he shakes his head, “Singapore is extravagant, but it’ll be like talking to a damn brick wall, trying to persuade them to even consider Singapore. They’ll probably suggest some damn castle in Europe.”

“It’s unfortunate for them that it’s our wedding, hm?” You tilt your head, “Your controlling ass parents gon’ have to suck it up. Cause I can be a bridezilla,” you roll your eyes, ignoring his chuckle against your lips as he kisses them.

“You’re their princess. They’ll put up with your crazy ass and plan the wedding where you want it. Me on the other hand? I don’t give a fuck if it’s in the middle of some street, as long as you walk down the aisle and say you still love me.”

You giggle as he tickles your neck with his lips, pulling yourself back and you’re inches away from his face. You sigh, “I love you.” 

Satoru raises an eyebrow, “You’ having a stroke or something?”

You roll your eyes, “I mean it.”

He grins at your eye roll, knowing you were playful. But when you tell him you mean it, his blue eyes shift into a softer, more serious expression.

 He brings his hands up, holding your face gently as you continue, “I just…appreciate you for being so patient with me. You love me, even if I cry because the sky’s blue.”

Your sincerity makes him want to melt. He didn’t care how many bags of potato chips he had to buy you, how many stuffed animals you wanted, or how many times you changed the sheets because your pregnancy hormones had you paranoid that the bed smelled weird. He could deal with it. He would deal with it. You were having his baby, carrying the most precious thing he’s ever had. He’d deal with you forever.

Satoru leans upwards, capturing your lips in a soft, passionate kiss. He pulls back, gazing at you as he says, “I’d go to the fuckin’ ends of the world for you.”

When he clutches you back against his mouth, it makes your heartbeat in your ears. You feel his nails dig into the skin of your hips, almost as if he’s trying to be soft with you. Key word—trying. You lightly pull your mouth back, breath hitching as he quickly wraps his fingers along the back of your neck, holding you close, your lips centimeters apart. 

“Satoru…”

The way you breathe his name, it almost made him lose his mind right there. The way your body pressed against his, the way you sat in his lap, it made it damn near impossible to hold back. He wanted you so bad. He’d wanted you the moment he walked through the door. He needed to make you his again.

“I’m hungry,” he grunts along your mouth, your eyes fluttering as you blink, his light ones deep within your vision. 

“Oh, um—“ you inhale, “Do you wanna stop? Want me to make you something?”

“Yeah. Open your fuckin’ legs.”

Your light gasp is swallowed by his mouth, his head twisting to the side, mouth overlapping as his tongue envelopes yours. Your shoulders fall, trying to get a grip along him as your body sinks lower within the warm water—the heat of the tub, the heat within your kiss, you feel fuzzy.

He pulls your mouth from his, clutching the side of your face as he questions, “Good, baby?” to which you nod your head, running your tongue over your bruised lips. He nods with a grunt at the confirmation, and it’s quick—you nearly lose your breath as he pulls you up by your hips, your small frame being bent along the rim of the tub, Satoru scooting your thighs above his face as he puts himself beneath you. 

“Hold the edge of the tub. Arch your back,” he orders, and you grip your hands against the black marble, lifting your hips high, his large palms cuffing you by the skin of your ass. You hesitate as you try to look beneath yourself, nearly wanting to roll your eyes as your belly is in the way of seeing his face.

You stand on your toes beneath the water, legs lightly shuddering as you say, “Don’t wanna hurt you, baby…”

You grip the edge, biting your lip as you feel him spank your ass, rubbing the skin to soothe the sting it gives. 

“Pussy is fuckin’ pretty, baby. Can I taste you?”

You let one of your hands gently reach down, pushing your weight onto his palms as you clutch a lock of his hair. You nod your head as you exhale shakily, “…Yes, please.”

He grunts, his tongue flattening as he drags it up the entirety of you, the rush of pleasure unexpected as you immediately tense. You can feel the vibration of his chuckle at your reaction, holding you tighter as his warm breath fans against your slick folds. He spreads you farther, his tongue darting out, licking another slow stripe up your slit before circling your clit with the tip. 

It’s his moan that makes your lashes flutter, it’s like a candy he’d been rewarded with. You whimper as he spanks you again, “Fuck, baby. You taste like heaven,” he’s already stuffing his face in between your legs, pulling you down as he’s lapping at your clit like an animal, making the flesh even more wet from the arousal that’s collecting on your pussy.

“O—oh shit,” you gasp lightly, clutching his hair tighter, your legs shuddering more than before. His tongue swirls around your sensitive nub, soft and throbbing as it rubs against his lips, being tugged at each time he sucks in between his mouth. His jaw nudges at the opening of your walls, your legs beginning to tighten on each side of his face.

“Baby, you're dripping,” he groans in between licks, his voice muffled against your pussy, “Oh my god, shit is so fuckin’ sexy. Give me more.”

“Baby—w—wait,” you pull at his hair harder, your arousal beginning to spread in all parts of your mind, knowing he was desperately trying to pull that side of you that didn’t normally appear. 

He raises one of his hands as he orders, “Come hold it. Not gonna let you run from my mouth, so imma’ ask nicely for now.” 

You nearly pout, taking one of your hands as you reach back and intertwine your fingers together, Satoru placing it back against the skin of your ass, fully holding you in place, eating you out just how he wanted to. 

Your moans fill the air as he continues to devour your pussy, sucking and licking with reckless abandon. He buries his face deeper, inhaling your scent deeply as he laps at your juices, drinking in every drop he can get.

"Mmmmph...need you to ride my face baby," he moans, that pleading voice beginning to get to you. He always knew how to knock your walls down. His hands grip your hips tightly as he begins motioning them in a thrusting motion, pulling you harder against his mouth to make you grind on him, whimpering to you,  “C’mon, baby. C'mon, cmon. please.”

With each beg, his tongue begins to reach for your squelching opening, probing at your inner walls, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your head kneels back as you arch, moaning as you pull yourself towards him, whimpering with him as you quietly ask, “Put your tongue in me.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you like that?” 

“Y—yeah, ‘toru,” you whine softly, digging your nails within your own skin, the same hand that’s trapped under his.

He parts his mouth wider, giving your clit a good suck before he slides his face down, exhaling heavily as he sticks his tongue out, sliding you down on it, feeling as it curls within your walls to touch against your most sensitive spot. The both of you moan out, your eyes turning to the mirror of the bathroom as you see yourself—arched against his mouth, hair sprawled over your face as you angle yourself perfectly to grind on his tongue.

You’re becoming hornier by the second, taking your hand from under his that was trapped as you go back to holding his hair. Your giggle is sultry as you move your hips forward, circling them down onto his mouth as you whimper, “Want me to fuck down on your mouth baby? Tell me.”

“Yeah, baby. Need you to drench my fuckin’ mouth,” he groans deeply, shaking his head side to side, spanking you at your words. This is just what he wanted from you. 

He continues to feast on your pussy, his tongue delving deeper inside you, exploring every inch. Your moans echo through the bathroom, spurring him on as he laps at your juices, savoring your unique flavor.

"Fuck,”  he gasps, “You’ taste so. Fuckin’. Good…” he’s thrusting his tongue in and out of you with each word, mimicking the act of penetration. Each stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, causing your legs to tremble and your grip on his hair to tighten.

"You like that, baby?" he pants, his breath hot against your core, “Like when I tongue-fuck this pretty little pussy?"

Your response is a desperate whine, your hips bucking involuntarily to meet his tongue. Your velvety walls clench around the invader, creaming as he savors your taste. He's relentless, spearing in and out, stretching you open more and more. 

"Take what you need from me, baby. This is your fuckin’ mouth, make it yours.” 

His nose presses into your clit, rubbing it with each powerful thrust of his tongue. He starts moving it in and out slowly, but your hips are grinding chaotically, also savoring your tightness and relishing the feel of your inner muscles clenching around him. His hands are back to gripping your ass firmly, keeping you in position as he eats you out aggressively. 

“Gonna make you cum so hard on my tongue, baby. Milk it for me..."

Your juices coat his chin and neck as he devours you, slurping and sucking greedily. He can't get enough of your taste, your scent even filling his senses. Your hair is flying all over your face and down your back, your head falling back as you’re moaning pathetically, dipping your hips down, almost like you’re dancing atop of him. 

He’s going, “Mhmmm, mhmmm, yeah. Like that. Yes. Moan louder. Shit, baby..." he murmurs against your slick folds, "Love seeing you lose control like this."

He doubles his efforts, tongue flicking rapidly against your sensitive bud before wrapping his lips around it and suckling hard. The vibrations from his moans send shivers down your spine as he works to push you closer to the edge. His strong hands grip your ass even tighter, spreading your cheeks wide to access your dripping entrance better.

You can only see the side of his face from the mirror, your craving for him is beginning to heighten, and now, you’re hungry. You pull yourself back from his mouth, looking at him through the mirror as you sultrily talk, “You want me to cum all in your mouth, baby? Beg.”

He looks up at you with lust-filled eyes, the brightest irises you’d ever seen somehow darkening. 

“P—please, baby,” he begs, his voice low and needy, "I want to taste you when you're flooded. Keep going, give it to me. Fill my mouth with your cum, let me drink you down."

You begin grinding slowly against his tongue, his eyes rolling back as he moans. You tell him with a shake to your head, “You can do better than that, Daddy. C’mon…wanna hear you mean it, ‘toru. Wanna cum all over your face baby,” you whimper, toying with him, “C’mon baby, beg me, please…” you reach down, beginning to rub your clit, “Don’t wanna cum all alone…” 

His eyes snap open, blazing with a hunger so intense it makes your breath hitch. He pulls back slightly, his chest heaving as he gazes up at you with raw desperation.

"F—Fuck, baby, please," he rasps, his voice thick with desire, "Let me make you cum. Let me cover my face in you. I need it, need to feel you coming apart on my tongue, in my mouth. Please, baby, let go for me..."

“So greedy, baby boy…” you nod your head, placing your clit back on his mouth, breathless as you pull his jaw down, “Put your tongue back in me, make me cum so I can sink down on your dick after.”

He lets out a guttural moan against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations sending shivers through you. He plunges his tongue back inside you, fucking you with it as he suckles your clit.

The both of you moan together, back to grinding on his mouth, your whines long and high-pitched as you feel your lower body jolting, orgasm coming in harsh waves as you cum within his mouth. Your moan gasps into a giggle as he spanks you in repetitions, tugging you back down to be on his lap. Some of the water had begun to drain, and you could see the hard strain of his tip, a bright pink, painful between his legs as it dripped pre-cum.

You pull him into a kiss, sloppily running your tongue against his mouth, lips parted wide as you ask between making out with him, “Want me to sink on it, baby?”

He breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks up at you with wild, desperate eyes. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, "Yes, fuck yes... put that shit in, it’s so fuckin’ hard for you…”

He places a gentle palm along your swollen belly, to which you pull away and place on the back of your neck as you quietly assure him, “I’m okay.” 

He grunts as he kisses your forehead—he was always concerned. You reach down as you run your hand along his tip, slapping it in between your clit and opening as you stick your tongue out, “Kiss me, baby,” whimpering, begging,  “Gimme’ your mouth.”

He leans in, capturing your lips, returning the nasty kiss you’d given him earlier, dominating your mouth that has your neck fall back a bit. He clutches your neck closer, keeping your lips together as his tip spreads your pussy open, sinking your hips lower, dropping down onto his rigid length. You gasp into the kiss as he fills you completely, stretching you in a delicious pain around his fat girth. 

He breaks the kiss, his chest heaving as he looks down at where you’re joined, watching intently as he gives you a slow thrust upwards as he gasps, "Shit, baby... so tight... fuck."

You wrap your arms around him, hiding your face within his neck as you dig your fingers in his hair, voice tiny, high-pitched as you cry softly against him, pouting into his ear, “Ughn, Satoru….”

He holds you close, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other grips your hip tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he listens to your whimpers. 

“That’s it baby—agh,” he whimpers himself, bouncing you down onto his dick, always close to splitting you in half, “Just relax baby—mmph,” he’s moaning pitifully with you, listening to the sounds of your skin clap together, tears brimming your eyes as you clutch him tighter. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure through both of you. He groans, low and guttural, as he buries his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "Fuck, baby... you feel so good... so fuckin’ perfect..." he growls, his breath hot against your ear.

He continues to pound into you relentlessly, each thrust driving deeper and harder than the last. Your cries and whimpers fill the air, mingling with his own groans of pleasure. He can feel your walls clenching around him, trying to milk his dick for all it's worth.

"Ah, fuck yeah... that's it, baby," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency, the water from the tub splashing high each time. "Take it all, every inch... hnngh."

As he picks up speed, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, punctuated by your moans and his grunts.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" he rasps, his voice strained with lust. "Gonna make a fuckin’ mess?”

You dig your face farther into his neck, your cheeks warm, tears dripping from your eyes as you groan lowly, “Agh—gh—fuck,” you sniffle, “Deeper, go d—deeper…”

His grip on your hips tightens, fingers sinking into your flesh as he responds to your plea. He takes both palms back to your ass, spreading the skin to open you up more, pulling you up until you’re barely along his tip, dropping you back down, skin burning as it sticks together from the creaming you’re spouting out. It makes you gasp, clawing at him as you place your fingers within your mouth, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. But it also makes you extremely wet.

You bring your face up, placing your hands along his hard stomach as you begin picking up your own hips, slamming them down against him. You see as that makes his head tilt back against the edge, holding you tighter as he helps you fuck him, his moan dragging out, pausing through each drop of your hips. His adam’s apple bobs severely, hair pulled out from his face, dark pink lips bruised as he grits his teeth.

His chest heaves with ragged breaths, muscles flexing beneath your palms as he meets each of your downward thrusts with an upward grind of his hips. The angle changes, allowing him to hit that sweet spot inside you with unerring precision, stretching you wide and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Fuuuck, baby..." he growls, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "Ride me just like that... Take what you need..."

His hands slide down to grasp your thighs, thumbs digging into the sensitive skin as he guides your movements, encouraging you to lose yourself in the rhythm, in the feeling of being so completely filled and owned by him. The water churns around you, a frothy mix of sweat and soap, as you both surrender to the intensity of your passion.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” You question, your small and cute voice making his tip jump inside of you. You look him directly in his eyes, placing your hands on your breasts as you rub your sensitive nipples, bouncing up and down against him.

“They’re so sensitive…” you whimper, “Wanna touch them? Might make me cum…”

“Let me suck on them, pretty. Know that’ll make you cum.”

He comes forward, but you push him back, wrapping your fingers along his throat, squeezing as you begin swirling your hips on top of him, “I missed when you begged me, where’s my needy boy? I miss him,” you whine, palming your nipples harder, feeling as his abdomen tightens.

He lets out a choked gasp as you tighten your grip on his throat, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Right h—here baby," he rasps, his voice muffled slightly by your fingers. 

"Need you so bad... Want to feel you cum on my dick…” His hips buck up sharply, driving himself deeper inside you as he strains against your hold, desperate for more friction, more pressure. "Don't stop, don't ever stop…” he begs, his body trembling with the force of his impending climax.

“Don’t want me to stop, baby?” You’re lifting your hips slowly, dropping them down harshly, the loud sound echoing in the bathroom, your giggle evil, moaning messily as you feel yourself beginning to cum on his tip.

“N—no, baby—Don't stop—“ his deep voice cracks with desperation as he feels your walls clenching around him. 

“Ooooh, yes, baby,” your own voice is failing the control you want to give, your walls tight as they suck him in deeply. The sensation of your orgasm soaking his dick is too much to bear, and with a grunt, he buries his face between your breasts, his teeth grazing the tender flesh as he surrenders to his own release.

He listens to you first, holding you close as you let out a breath, not expecting it to turn into a sob, squirting heavily, the gush of it all drenched in between his continuous thrusts as you gasp, “I’m cumming, I’m cummingg.“

You can’t help but want to see his vulnerable side one last time as you talk to him, “Cum in me, pretty boy. Cum in me, Daddy. Please.” 

He groans, his hips jerking erratically as he plunges deeper, chasing his climax. Your words, the desperate plea in your voice—it all shatters what little restraint he has left. He softly cries out, slamming into you one final time, his dick pulsing as he warms your insides with his cum.

As the aftershocks subside, he collapses onto you, his weight a comforting press against your skin. His breath hitches as he tries to regain composure, but the tremors running through him betray his vulnerability.

 "Baby..." he whispers, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "That was... fuck, I needed that."

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your hip, a soothing caress meant to comfort both of you.

You don’t want to ruin the moment, lifting your face up as you give him a soft peck, leaning your head on his neck as you say, “Love you, ‘toru.” 

He holds you close, just enjoying the peaceful moment together. He whispers against the skin of your neck, “I love you too, baby. So much.” 

He doesn’t bother moving, even though the water has started to turn lukewarm. He wants to stay right here with you, holding you close. But eventually, he lifts his head, looking down at you as he asks, “You ready to get out before we prune up?”

Your face is warm again, nodding along his skin as you say, “Gotta pee,” as usual.

The moment the words leave your lips, he can’t help but laugh a little. He gives a chuckle, “Of course you fuckin’  do.”

You slept more often than usual in these last few months, but this had to have been the heaviest you’d slept of all. You were trapped under Satoru’s heavy arm, who snored unfortunately close in your ear. But it was somehow soothing. The love you shared for this man was like no other. 

But when you wake up within the middle of the night, you feel yourself beginning to cramp, and it’s more irritating than anything. You’re too tired to get up and take your medicine, trying to force yourself back into sleep. But the cramps become more intense, and it makes you whimper lightly from the pain, holding your belly with your palm. You decide it was time to get up, lifting Satoru’s arm as you slowly slip out of bed.

“You’ alright, baby?” His deep voice calls, still half asleep.

“Just gonna go pee,” you tell him, pressing your feet into your slippers, ignoring your dog that lightly whines, nudging your body in support as you fully stand.

Even as he was half-asleep, he was still paying attention. When you told him you had to go pee, he grumbled a little, rolling onto his back. He felt cold without you in his arms, and he wanted you back immediately.

You take a deep breath as the cramps run through your entire body, worsening with each step. You frown as you clutch the material of your oversized shirt, just wanting to make it to the bathroom. But as you take another step, you feel a heavy pressure in between your legs, and you look down to see as fluid rushes down your legs, dripping onto the floor. Your heart could’ve stopped. 

You’d been to several classes, read pamphlets, researched—even Google couldn’t stop you from your reaction when you weren’t supposed to panic. 

Your body trembles as you scream, “Gojo!” 

He grunts, “Jesus, baby. I know you’re fond of screaming my name but—“

He turns, seeing the fear within your eyes, looking down to see the fluid sliding down your legs. He thought he was a man that wasn’t afraid of anything, but this was more than what nightmares were made of. 

“Oh shit.”

[4nicolas]

can we talk about how nice it would be to cuddle true form sukuna? mfer could cradle you with four arms, he’s also giant and definitely warm.

heian era sukuna x reader

—————————————————————————

when you woke up, you felt like you were trapped, unable to breathe, unable to move. opening your eyes slowly, you squint, realizing why you felt this way.

a head of spiky pink hair laid atop your chest, just barely grazing your neck and chin. sukuna was laying on top of you, his head resting right below your collarbones and his body halfway on yours.

two of his arms lay over you, one pushed up over your shoulder, tucked neatly under the pillow, the other lazily laying over your waist.

sukunas other hands lay resting on the other side of you, his top pair of arms trapping your head between them. one of his legs was tangled with yours, rendering your legs unable to move as well.

unable to do anything you simply closed your eyes, listening to sukunas light snores and the way his bare back rose ever so slightly signaling he was still breathing and alive.

his presence was calming to you, which was something you’re fairly sure only you could say. when he was around you, your body felt more at ease, feeling protected by this walking natural disaster; you weren’t scared, you could never be, in fact you were enthralled by him.

the way he looked at you, the way his hands moved up and down your body, praising you even though thousands praised him. he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, his eyes always holding a certain longing in them.

you learned to treasure these moments, sukuna rarely ever shown a “soft” side. it simply wasn’t who he was. he grew up being a feared murderer and that was who he grew into.

everyone knew sukuna as the king of curses, the embodiment of evil, an abomination, but to you, he was just sukuna.

the same sukuna who cradled you in his arms after a long day. the same sukuna who listened to you rant about your day and random topics you enjoyed. the same sukuna who would have uraume fix you the best meals, making sure to take care of you before him. the same sukuna who would kill everyone in the damn world for you.

no one saw this side of sukuna, that was a fact, you were the only exception, the only person in the entire world who could be so close to sukuna.

sukuna always made sure you knew that, telling you that no one else deserved his attention like you, how he’d kill anyone else who tried to do the same things you did.

a low groan and slight shift brought you back to reality, seeing the pink haired man move, adjusting his position. you felt him take a deep breath before turning his head to face you, propped up on his chin, his eyes examined you.

you were sure you had terrible bed head, your face felt puffy and you could feel yourself sweating but that didn’t stop him from looking at you like you were everything.

his eyes were so impossibly soft, his pupils were dialated, you were unsure whether it was from just waking up or something else. the both of you stayed silent, each of you getting refamilarized with the wrinkles and crevices of your faces.

you always thought sukunas eyes were beautiful, the deep crimson seemingly pulling you in. his eyes were captivating, so unique that even animals stop and stare.

everything about sukuna was unique. sukunas lip upturned slightly, a soft smile forming on his features. “g’morning…” he spoke right into your face, his voice deep and raspy from just waking.

you couldn’t help but smile back, swallowing as you returning the goodmorning. sukuna sighed, sounding content as his arm to the left of your face went up to cup your cheek.

you instantly leaned into his touch, his hand was rough and calloused but he touched you with such gentleness it didn’t even matter.

your mornings normally went like this, you woke up first, sukuna waking up shortly after, leading to lazy cuddles and warm bodies pressing against each other.

a comfortable silence fell over you, the two of you were lost in one another’s eyes, unable to tear away. you closed your eyes, leaning your head back before exhaling.

you could feel sukunas eyes still on you, observing sleepily. sukunas thumb starting rubbing circles into your cheeks, his hand on your waist traveling up and down.

the contact made you smile, looking down at sukuna. wiggling your arm from underneath his body you wrapped it around his back, feeling his muscles and scars from everything he’s done.

sukunas body was that of a deity. it exceeded anything close to ethereal. everything about his body was scarily strong, his arms and legs huge and powerful.

one could say having two faces and two sets of arms was weird yet it benefitted everything that he was. this man was made to be worshipped, he was something extraordinary, straight out of a fairytale.

your hand rubbed his back, his body seemed to relax even further against your touch. you were at peace, well as much peace as one could be squished under four hundred pounds of pure muscle.

now sukuna closed his eyes, copying your actions from earlier as his pushed his face into your chest, taking deep breathes, just enjoying the moment with you.

sukuna always slept with his shirt off, whether it was a preference or it was for you, you didn’t know, but he did. you recalled hearing him say something along the lines of enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against you, but you might’ve dreamt that.

every chance sukuna got he tried to be impossibly close to you, his hands lingering on your hips, cupping your cheek, holding your hand, kissing your knuckles, hugging you.

his favorite thing was to be with you; killing people who pissed him off was close second, and eating those people was third. when sukuna was away from you his mood plummeted, he acted like a completely different person the moment you were more than ten feet away from him.

you’ve brought this up before, but he simply shrugs it off, ignoring it in a way. you thought it’s because he didn’t want to admit to being clingy, scratch that, you knew it was because he didn’t want to admit to being clingy.

he would never say such foolish words yet here was, pressed up against you, arms wrapped around you tightly with his face pushed into your chest.

moving your hand up his back you reached his hair, gently combing the pink locks, scratching his head tenderly. sukuna groaned into your shirt, taking in a deep breath before exhaling.

sukuna loved breathing in your smell, there was something about it that made him feel giddy, excited even. he loved holding you in his lap, simply holding his face in your neck as he inhaled your scent.

when he’s stressed or frustrated about something going on, your scent would bring him back to earth, helping him focus and be more alert from you just being next to him.

your body always brought him back to his senses, whether it be the softness of your hands on his body or the hugs you give him. he couldn’t get enough of you.

sometimes he wondered if you put him under a spell, that maybe you had some technique that causes him to act like this. he was not used to feeling so… so strongly about someone.

the way his heart would beat faster when you were around, the way his stomach gets queasy when you touch him, the way you intoxicate him with every little thing about you.

he often thinks about what he’ll do when you’ll die, hell if you get killed, many people have it out for sukuna and he was constantly on edge fearing that you were in danger.

he hated when you were away from him, scared you weren’t going to come back. he would even go as far as to send uraume to watch you from a distance, not wanting to take any chances.

he cared about you and it hurt him. it hurt him how you were leverage against him, something that made him weak, something that could be used against him.

none of this mattered right now because you were in his arms, protected from all danger. as long as he was here you wouldn’t have so much as a scratch on you, and if you were to return injured, even something as little as a scratch, the thing that caused it would be in for a new world of pain.

his hands held you tighter, pulling you closer to him. as long as he had you here, he didn’t have to worry. he was fine because you were cuddled up against him.

you felt yourself growing tired again because sukunas warm weighted blanket-esk body was on top of you, not that you were complaining but you really didn’t wanna go back to sleep.

not like you had any say in the matter, as long as sukuna sleeps, you sleep, even if he didn’t join you until 1 or 2 in the morning.

sukuna shuffled above you, extending his leg further over yours to make double sure you weren’t going anywhere, even though he knew you’d never try.

his hands return to their normal places as sukuna feels his eyes growing heavy again. he could worry about you when he was awake and you were out of his arms.

until then though, he was happy, happy being in your arms as you were in his.

—————————————————————————

yeah uhm, I freaking love sukuna and had this idea at 3am. i’m tired and don’t feel like proofreading so if it sucks, sowwy!

that’s all.

[hanasnx]

" AND THE SPIDERMAN IS ALWAYS HUNGRY " — venom.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: takes place within the marvel's spider-man 2 game timeline. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ predator/prey dynamic + kink ノ kidnapping ノ stockholm syndrome ノ explicit sexual content ノ dubcon ノ finger coiling in hair mention ノ hands wrapped entirely around a torso mention ノ decided not to do tentacle porn for this one ノ p in v ノ objectification.

You can hear the thunder pound against the entrance to his lair, demanding passage, sending a great storm to tear down the walls and wet the earth it's denied. Your companion believes himself to be larger than life, and above the travesty of natural disasters. Its tendrils house its cave, keeping the harsh weather out—and you in.

Before your abduction, your last ditch effort to appeal for your own life was to befriend this... stranger. You're unsure of what it is, or who it claims to be, other than the English name it gave you: VENOM. Apparently, you've got a PhD for a reason, because you're still alive, yet he won't let you leave. Lab conditions are not ideal, but he fetches what you list rather intelligently. It makes you wonder how he knows so much about Earth, when he's informed you that he's not from here. You hesitate to call him an alien when he looks so humanoid. He's rather affectionate with you to an uncomfortable degree, rewarding your dedication to his cause with experimental touches you do your best to appropriately shy away from. You've seen what he does to those that disappoint him, and his form changes shape at will. Some nights you wake up in a cold sweat after he's speared you through your gut with his sharpened hand in your dreams.

"Your... meteorite- it's under ground. I've yet to pinpoint the exact location but—" you explain, and you hear the husky sub-vocals of interest, exhaling as he looms over your shoulder to eye the monitor you're typing on. His jaw opens, and that sickening tongue slithers out like a snake, wetting his glistening razor teeth. You gulp as you watch him cautiously, your stomach churning at the sight of him move in slow like a predator, so close to your body. The weight of his hand at the back of your chair alarms you, and your neck begins to ache from how your crane it to look up at him. "—I'll... have the... coordinates... by morning..." you trail your words. Subconsciously, you lean away from him, but what's an inch of space when your companion fills a room?

He hums appreciatively, which comes out as a rumbling growl. When you were first captured, such a sound might've caused you to tremble, but you're a little more used to him now, so you avert your eyes to stare at the screen, the only brightness in the room. The weight from your chair shifts, and you tense. You don't dare move a muscle, and your eyes brim with moisture from refusing to blink. A palm sets on your shoulder, it's heavy and there's no warmth to it. Vaguely damp, it bleeds a cold through the material of your shirt and a strength pulls you in its direction. For a second—a second—you question if you should've revealed you might've outlived your usefulness. The gruff hum nears, and a presence ventures impossibly closer, and out of instinct you shy away, pinching your opposite shoulder up to angle your head, protecting your neck. A wet and gummy sensation presses its pad to your cheek, and the quietest squeak of disgust escapes you, narrowing your closest eye as it travels up to leave a slimy trail in its wake. His tongue licks up your jaw to your temple, matting up the hair it touches.

Air cools the sodden path he left on you, and when he seems pleased with himself, he leaves you. A powerful shudder shoots up your spine and with a shaking hand you wipe off the evidence of his affection with your shirt sleeve.

Now, you don't shy away nearly as much. His plans have been delayed, but you've come to look forward to his little signs of endearment towards you. A finger that coils a lock of your hair around it, a bundle of your things he retrieved from your apartment for you, even going as far as to use his strength to raise your arm and twirl you like a little doll. Small actions that are evident of some strain of humanity, however buried deep inside underneath his toothy exterior.

After you realize your bravery, you come to ask him for more attention. You run a hand down his cheek, trace a fang, invite yourself onto his lap... He takes note of your bids.

Swapping pleasure becomes as easy as sharing breath, and love-making with him is nothing short of violent. Large hands encircle your torso entirely, claws bluntly dig into soft flesh, prickling your skin in a most delicious way as a rod he fashioned for you divvies up your insides. Your palms are flat on a surface, bracing his weight as he pushes into you. As if he did it on purpose, the phallic shape he formed has a girth a size too big, watching with intrigued interest at how your little pleasure hole struggles when stuffed full. He curls his great body forward, that slippery tongue's tip slotting into the dip of your tailbone, and tracing the line up your spine. You shiver, your palm coming to one of his fingers on your waist to wrap entirely around it.

Like a weightless toy, Venom handles you effortlessly, pushing and pulling you to seat fully on his length just as he offers his hips to you. The noises you make is like music to him, pressing his chest to you so he can be as close to your symphony as possible. You turn your head, brows pinched and pretty countenance skewed, panting like a little desperate animal. A delicate sheen of sweat layers your skin, the taste of it intoxicates him, and he wetly licks another stripe on your neck, molding it against your jawline until you angle your head. Your own hangs out of your mouth, chasing his, and he obliges you, entwining his coiling tip around yours just as he sheathes, forcing a choked sound out of your throat.

Now that you've invited him, he advances, the girth of his tongue causing your jaw to ache from being pried open as he fills another one of your holes. That crooked grin doesn't bother you as milky white eyes observe your strange and addicting behavior, feeding off the chemical in the brain he's inhabiting.

[writing-with-sophia]

Common character motivations

Revenge - seeking to get even with someone who has wronged them

Love - driven by romantic feelings for another character

Greed - motivated by a desire for material possessions or wealth

Power - seeking to gain control or influence over others

Justice - motivated by a sense of fairness and a desire to see justice served

Redemption - seeking to make up for past mistakes or wrongdoings

Curiosity - driven by a desire to learn or discover something new

Duty - motivated by a sense of responsibility or obligation to others or a cause

Ambition - driven by a desire to achieve a specific goal or succeed in a particular endeavor

Fear - motivated by a desire to avoid danger or harm

Guilt - driven by a sense of remorse for past actions or decisions

Jealousy - motivated by envy or a desire to possess what another character has

Betrayal - motivated by a sense of betrayal or desire for revenge against someone who has betrayed them.

Ambivalence - a character who is conflicted or uncertain about their goals or desires

Freedom - a character who seeks to escape from a restrictive situation or society

Fame - motivated by a desire for public recognition or notoriety

Identity - driven by a need to understand or define who they are

Family - motivated by a sense of loyalty or obligation to their family or loved ones

Discovery - driven by a desire to explore or uncover hidden knowledge

Patriotism - motivated by a love for their country or a desire to protect it

Rebellion - driven by a desire to challenge authority or the status quo

Artistic expression - motivated by a need to create or express oneself through art, music, or other creative endeavors

Religion or spirituality - driven by a desire to connect with a higher power or to live according to certain beliefs or values

Altruism - motivated by a desire to help others or make the world a better place

Atonement - driven by a need to make amends or seek forgiveness for past actions

Nostalgia - motivated by a desire to return to a simpler time or relive past experiences

Status - driven by a desire for social or professional standing or recognition.

Insecurity - driven by a need to prove their worth or gain acceptance from others

Legacy - motivated by a desire to leave a lasting impact or to be remembered in a certain way after they're gone

Survival - driven by the need to survive in extreme circumstances, such as a natural disaster, war, or an apocalyptic event

Belonging - motivated by a desire to fit in with a certain group or community

Love of knowledge - driven by a passion for learning and acquiring new information

Addiction - motivated by a compulsion to engage in a particular behavior or activity, such as drug use or gambling

Inciting incident - motivation driven by a specific event that triggers or sets the character on their journey

Fear of death - driven by a fear of their own mortality or the mortality of others

Intimidation - motivated by a fear of others or a desire to intimidate others for personal gain

Envy - driven by a desire to possess what others have or to be like someone else

Manipulation - motivated by a desire to control or manipulate others for their own benefit

Protecting others - driven by a desire to protect loved ones or innocent people from harm

Sense of duty - motivated by a sense of responsibility to fulfill a particular role or obligation.

If you want to read more posts about writing, please click here and give me a follow!

[sonalikrishnan]

Why Crop Insurance is Essential for Small and Marginal Farmers in India

Agriculture is India’s major economic activity with approximately 55 percent of its workforce engaged in agriculture or allied activities while small and marginal farmers constitute over 85% of this population. These farmers, owning less than 5 acres of land, play a vital role in ensuring the nation’s food security. However, they are also most vulnerable to risks, including unpredictable weather and fluctuating market prices. For such small farmers, protection is crucial because even a single crop failure can lead to devastating financial losses.

In this context, crop insurance in India is a lifeline, providing small farmers with the necessary protection and financial stability. This blog delves into why crop insurance is essential for small and marginal farmers, its benefits, and its transformative role for rural India.

The Challenges Faced by Small and Marginal Farmers

Small and marginal farmers in India face a range of challenges that threaten their livelihoods:

Unpredictable Weather: With climate change, events such as cyclones, floods, hailstorms, unseasonal rainfall etc. have become more frequent and severe.

Pests and Diseases: Crops are susceptible to pest infestations and diseases, which can destroy entire crops.

Rising Input Costs: Seeds, fertilisers, and pesticides have become costlier, increasing production expenses for farmers.

Read More at main blog: https://kshema.co/why-crop-insurance-in-india-is-essential/

[sanguineterrain]

Hello madame terrain, I have been thinking about boxer!jason for some time now and I'm wondering if you have any thoughts about him? if not that's totally okay too ☺️ love all your writing!!!

lol hi, madame terrain is adorable 💕 also boxer jason is big brained!!! let's do it ;)

boxer!jason todd x gn!reader. reader is an apprentice to a ringside doctor (leslie thompkins). tw creepy OMC intimidates reader, jason protects/defends r, fluff, my attempt at boxing stuff.

****

Leslie said she'd be back in an hour.

You're currently at the thirty minute mark, hoping for a natural disaster, an angel, anything, because...

"Doc gives me stuff for my pain all the time," Keith says for the third time. "It's real simple."

Keith Dixon is one of the gym's regular fighters. You haven't seen enough matches to judge his fighting, but you can confidently say that his people skills are in the toilet.

He'd barged into the office ten minutes ago and had refused to leave even when you said Leslie was out.

You need to make a break for it.

"You have to wait for Dr. Thompkins," you say, lifting your chin. You won't give in and risk losing this job. No way in hell. "I can't administer medications. I'm not licensed."

Keith rolls his eyes. He's a hothead, new to Gotham. Likes to fight. Likes to fight mean.

"Look, you're new. I'm just giving you a heads-up on how things work around here," he says, backing you up further. You're nearly against the wall.

Where the hell is Leslie?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dixon, but I can't prescribe painkillers without her supervision."

"Uh-huh. Know what I think? I think you're just not cut out for the ring," Keith says, cornering you against the cabinet. "Cute thing like you shouldn't be hiding in an office. The Doc ought to know better..."

"Is there a problem?"

The new voice makes you flinch, just a little. Keith pulls back, posture easy but guarded. The second guy holds himself similarly. He's also well-built, clad in a gray tee and black sweatpants. His hands are wrapped.

"J-man," Keith says, daggers in his teeth. "Man, I thought you were benched for the week. You meet our new assistant? They're still getting used to how things run around here."

The mystery man looks at you. His eyes are a lovely teal.

"Is he botherin' you?" he asks.

"I—" You swallow. "I was just explaining to Keith that I can't administer medicine without Dr. Thompkins."

Keith huffs. "Jason, tell 'em how this works."

Jason faces Keith. They nearly match each other in height and bulk. You hope to God they don't decide to brawl here and now.

"I think you're the one who needs a reminder, Dixon," Jason says coolly. "Seems pretty straightforward to me. You need to wait for the Doc. So was there something else you needed?"

Keith's mouth presses into a line. You can tell he's got about a hundred ugly thoughts on his tongue right now.

"Nope," he grits out.

"Mm. Then step off."

Keith obeys. You slip out of the corner.

"I'll come back," he says.

"When the Doc's here," Jason adds. It doesn't sound like a suggestion. "If y'need a reminder of her schedule, I don't mind giving you one."

Keith looks at you. You hold his gaze, heart pounding.

"Of course," he says, all false charm, and pushes past Jason. "See ya in the ring, J.T."

You can't relax even after Keith leaves. Jason remains in the doorway. You close your eyes at the thought of dealing with another fighter. It's not bad with Leslie here, but this is your first time alone. It's already a disaster.

Obviously, none of the fighters respect you like they respect Leslie, even after three weeks of you working here. You don't even know all of the fighters.

"Hey." Jason doesn't move from his spot as he asks. "Y'okay?"

"Yes," you say, keeping your back straight. "I'm fine. Do you need medical attention?"

"I just came to get some more wraps. But I can get 'em at home."

His voice is softer now that Keith's gone.

"No need," you say. "That's what I'm here for."

You get a roll of tape from the drawer. It takes you three tries to pull the edge out. You drop it twice.

You feel Jason's eyes on you. You keep pulling the tape, but it won't comply.

"I got it," he says. "I can wrap myself. Toss it here."

You pause, tape half unfurled. "Dr. Thompkins told me to do all wraps myself."

"Leslie's cool. I won't tell her, anyway."

You shake your head. "Why don't you want me to wrap your hands?"

Jason glances to the side. He leans against the doorframe, purposely casual.

"'Cause Keith's a big guy. And I'm a big guy. And your hands are still shaking."

You tighten your grip on the tape.

Jason gestures to the office. "This is your space. I won't come in if you don't want me to. That's not how this works."

"It's... it's the job," you say, startled. "I don't—I've heard that Keith's rough with everybody."

"Yeah, well, he's an asshole. You shouldn't have to be rough back. Good fighters turn it off outside of the ring. I don't want to make you feel small. Alright?"

Tension bleeds out of your spine. You no longer feel like prey.

"It's easier if I wrap them for you," you say, and turn your back on him to fetch the antiseptic.

The tiles behind you creak as Jason hesitates for a moment. Then he walks in and sits in a chair, so you're higher than him.

He looks up at you. He really does have beautiful eyes. His eyelashes are dark and delicate. There's a faded bruise on his cheek.

He's boyishly handsome, with a mouth that looks like it smiles a lot.

"Do you also fight here?"

He nods. "Since I was eighteen. Been here a while."

You take one of his hands in both of yours. Jason's already thrown out the old tape. His knuckles are cut up. They're covered in scars. His fingernails are short and neat.

His hands are big, far bigger than yours. Veins feed into each other from the backs of his hands up his forearms.

You take out the antiseptic spray.

"Might be cold," you warn.

"'S okay."

You spray his skin. Jason doesn't even flinch.

"Your hands are really soft," he says.

"Oh, thank you. I use Isley's Salve. Works great."

Why did you share that?

Jason's mouth quirks. "Yeah? Might have to try that. My hands have seen better days."

"I have some in my bag." You let go of the half-done wrap and dig through your backpack. You pull out the small tube of salve and squeeze some onto his hands.

Jason is quiet and still as you rub in the lotion. He's pliant as you finish the wraps, letting you turn his hands over. You pull the wraps tight.

"All done," you say, face suddenly warm like you've been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.

He flexes his hands a few times. "Thanks. You're good. I can see why Leslie chose you as her apprentice."

You shrug. "Anybody can wrap hands."

"Dunno. I've seen some pretty shit wraps in my time."

"Oh. Well, um, I'm here most of the time, so feel free to come by and get your wraps changed."

He hums. "Sure. Don't worry 'bout Keith. I'll take care of it."

Your eyes widen. "I don't want more trouble..."

"You won't get trouble, I promise. We don't tolerate that here. 'Sides, he's overstayed his welcome."

You nod. "Okay. Thank you, Jason."

"No need for thank you's. Y'alright getting home?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Leslie's dropping me."

Jason nods, then picks himself up. He pauses like he wants to say something else, but he strides out of the room like he's in a rush instead.

"Well, um. G'night," he says over his shoulder. "Take care."

It's about fifteen more minutes until Leslie returns.

"Everything alright?" she asks in a tone that tells you she already knows the answer. "I ran into Jason on my way in. He said Keith Dixon gave you some trouble. I'm sorry I took so long. Are you alright?"

"You ran into—I thought Jason went home for the night."

Leslie looks like you've just told her the sky is red. "He wanted to make sure you were okay. So he waited till I came back. Are you okay? Did Keith hurt you?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm alright. Just shaken up. He's a bully. Wanted painkillers."

Leslie frowns. "He won't bother you again. I'll make sure you're not alone."

"It's okay. I mean, Jason was there."

She nods. "Mm. He's a good boy. I know his father."

"Yeah, he, uh, was nice. I wrapped his hands."

Leslie raises an eyebrow. Your shoulders rise.

"What?" you ask. "You said to practice my wraps."

She shrugs. "Nothing, nothing. I did tell you that. I'm glad you got some practice in."

You follow her to her car. Soon, Leslie pulls out of the lot.

"Leslie, do you mind if we stop at CVS?"

"Sure. What for?"

You feel for the little tube in your pocket.

"Need more Isley's Salve... I'm, uh, running low."

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

Random Plot Points

A little about me as a writer, I love daydreaming about adventure stories. I usually know the general set up and larger plot points but oftentimes struggle with the how, how do characters get from point A to point B. 

So, I made a list of random challenges for my characters that I look at when I'm stuck.

Sharing in case helpful to others! (intended for adventure, sci-fi, fantasy stories) 

characters are delayed/blocked/experience a natural disaster (storm, fire, flood, avalanche, earthquake, epidemic, etc) (BONUS and forced to take a detour from the original path)

character(s) is trapped (quick sand, fall through ice, in room filling with poison, on sinking ship, in a trash compactor on the Death Star, etc) (BONUS- fall into hidden room and discover something) 

characters go to a festival/ball/party/political summit (where inevitably it all goes wrong)

character(s) overhears a secret (at bar, at party, from a whispered conversation below them in a stairway, etc) 

characters are attacked by an animal or mysterious force 

characters(s) caught in a mob/riot

character wins/loses something in a bet

character is brainwashed or possessed 

character is stranded/lost

character is poisoned 

character succumbs to injury or illness 

characters are chased/ attacked by antagonists 

character is captured or arrested (and needs to be rescued)

character is kidnapped and kidnappers make a demand for their release (financial ransom, exchange of information, prisoner exchange, etc) 

character(s) go undercover to retrieve information

characters decide to steal something they need for their quest (weapon, magical object, money, information, etc). (BONUS- time for a well-planned heist!) 

characters need to protect/ retrieve/ destroy something 

characters uncover a network of spies (up to you if they're unexpected allies or antagonists)  

characters discover hidden passageway, room, ruins etc that leads to an important clue

characters forced to hide from someone/something

characters need to escape 

characters lured into trap set by villain (BONUS if the villain doesn't even care who wins but only goaded them to learn how a magical object works, the extent of heroes powers, emergency response system of a government, etc) 

characters set trap for villain (BONUS- use someone or something important as bait) (if in Act 2, they fail) 

characters reveal critical information to villain in disguise 

a character is mistaken for someone else (and then is wrongfully arrested, receives information not intended for them, etc) 

characters receive help (hitch a ride, get help hiding from captors, get help escaping somewhere, etc) from an unlikely new ally 

characters forced to team up with an unlikely ally/ morally grey character, etc

characters learn something from simple library research (an oldie but a goodie)

characters just literally just stumble upon or witness something important (secret weapon, secret society etc) 

characters uncover a secret map/ coded message on the back of an old unassuming document (time for a classic treasure hunt!) 

someone escapes from prison (an old villain or an old ally) that changes the quest 

someone is being blackmailed (or otherwise forced to act against the protagonists)

someone is discredited (rumor, disinformation campaign etc) 

something stolen from your characters 

something (document, magical object, money) turns out to be fake

OR, something unassuming turns out to have special powers or meaning  

something is hacked (defense system, infrastructure, bank, private records, etc)

something critical is attacked (important bridge, port, bank/ financial system, safehouse, capitol building, character's familial home, etc.)

a computer virus is unleashed 

a biological weapon is unleashed 

a piece of information the characters believed was true, is false 

an ancient myth turns out to be true 

a secret is made public 

A law is changed or a vote on a critical piece of legislation loses/wins 

a political opponent wins an election/ a political ally loses an election 

character(s) help a passerby (from raiders, local tyrant, beast, mystical force, etc) 

characters "follow the money" and realize someone who was thought to be their ally is actually working for... (crime syndicate, villain, local tyrant etc) 

[paganminiskirt]

I also love how Vegito and Gogeta are not only distinctly different beings, and the former is conducted primarily by Vegeta while the latter is conducted primarily by Goku - but Vegito is clearly the more benevolent and emotionally involved of the two people, while Gogeta tends more towards frigidity and vindictiveness. Because as individuals, Vegeta’s “good side” is just as subliminal and rare to witness as Goku’s “bad side,” right; Vegeta is not a nice man by nature, and Goku doesn’t have a grudge holding bone in his body. Goku’s lack of any impulse towards vengeance is the only reason Vegeta is still breathing. This is well established.

But when Vegeta is shown to care for other people, it always manifests as him lashing out in defense of them against some greater source of cruelty - he gets pissed at Beerus for humiliating his father, he attacks Beerus for hurting Bulma, he freaks out on Cell for killing Future Trunks & knocks Present Trunks out immediately after hugging him for the first time, because he knows his son would insist on staying with him through his kamikaze attempt on Buu. Because Trunks is like that. Because Trunks is his son.

And Vegito takes that principle and drags it out to the extreme! The whole first fight with Buu is just him playing this sadistic cat and mouse game, very much in the arrogant style of Vegeta, but he also makes constant mention of the loss of Gohan, Goten, Trunks and the others - using the language of “stealing” “hunting” and “kidnapping” that brings to mind Vegeta’s own childhood trauma. He displays some aspects of Goku’s personality of course, with the playfulness and the attempts to get Buu to surrender, but Vegeta is obviously steering this ship. It’s his confidence and self-superiority that makes them lose the fight, and his belief in the necessity of a warrior’s “pride” that he explicitly cites as his reason for looking down on Buu.

Because this is what Vegeta’s attempts at “good” look like, right? Preternaturally violent and egotistical, but with a sense of protectiveness and paternity that renders his behavior heartwarming, at least enough to show you that he’s grown from the smirking, bloodthirsty garden gnome he was first introduced to us as. Underneath all the bravado, Vegito is aggrieved on behalf of someone else. He’s being kind in the only way he knows how.

Gogeta… is not that guy. He doesn’t do rescue missions, and he doesn’t feel the need to remind you of his superiority. He portrays himself as an avenger, not a defender, with lines that evoke a sense of justice and consequence like “it’s over, I’ve come for you” and “your own bad energy will be your undoing.” He snidely tells Frieza he’s coming back for him after he’s done with Broly, even though he’s visibly incapacitated and not really picking a fight. He forgoes Vegito’s up-close and relatively simple combat style in favor of these dramatic, wide-ranging attacks, more like an act of god than a natural disaster. And while Vegito allowed Buu to play with him a bit, postponing the end of the fight to sate his own lust for battle, Broly doesn’t even get to touch Gogeta once he goes super saiyan, his dedication to the pursuit reminding you of Goku’s final battle with Frieza.

…Except Goku offered Frieza clemency, and looked genuinely disappointed when he rejected it. Gogeta does no such thing. The audience gets to watch, half in awe and half in horror, as he renders this uber-aggressive Saiyan attack dog into a flailing, incoherent mess, not bothering to stop and ask him to surrender even though the updated Broly is a much more sympathetic character than Frieza or Majin Buu ever were. He enunciates the final kamehameha with such gravitas that you actually feel scared for Broly - and in the older movie, when Janemba switches back to his original form, he takes one look at Gogeta’s glowering face and scurries away in terror.

Hey, remember how Gohan fled in fear when Goku (under extreme duress) threatened him during the fight with Frieza? After he transformed into a super saiyan for the first time, guided only by mindless rage after Frieza’s pointless killing of Krillin? During a fight which only began after Vegeta, someone who caused him immeasurable harm in the past, told him to avenge the killing of both their families & the genocide of their race? All of which took place on a planet which the earthlings only had to travel to in the first place because the Saiyans killed several of their friends - a slaughter which Goku witnessed the aftermath of, at which point he told Nappa “there will be no mercy for you, you bastard” in the original manga?

Goku gets slotted into this role quite a lot, doesn’t he. He’s a protector, but also a savior, a planner, a consoler, and an avenger. He does his best to help people and he raises hell when he can’t, but he’s not vengeful by nature. Quite the opposite. See how he treats Vegeta in the Namek saga, smiling at him and bantering with him like he’s a coworker, and not the guy who crushed his bones to dust while cackling with sadistic delight.

But that’s because Vegeta only did that much damage to him. Nappa killed all the others - with Vegeta’s eager permission, yes, but that’s still enough distance to allow Goku to psychologically seperate him from those crimes. Goku’s clemency initially emerged as a byproduct of his desire to help people, but we have seen that same drive give way to brutal punitiveness when he fails, and somebody he loves dies. You can argue that it's misdirected self-hatred, anger at his own inability to be the hero those people trusted him to be - Krillin died screaming “Goku!” you might recall. The removal from other people Goku grew up enduring feeds into his sense of responsibility for the community that grew around him as an adult. He knows how important he is, and it hurts when he comes up short.

And I think that, understanding Gogeta to be primarily led by Goku but still notably impacted by Vegeta, that intense drive towards retribution the fusion displays takes on more meaning. Vegito exemplifies Vegeta’s better impulses, which are brought out in full force by Goku’s influence - Gogeta exemplifies Goku’s ugliest inner desires, with the leash he usually keeps them on loosened by Vegeta’s influence.

Because Vegeta was knocking down 100+ sentient creatures per day as soon as he could walk. He spent most of his adult life as a pampered slave, he murdered one of his oldest companions without a second thought, his introductory panel shows him munching on a severed limb, ffs. Vegeta has been through a lot, and I'm the last person to downplay that, but he hasn’t been going through it emotionally involved. He's used to this. He had to be. If he wasn't, his whole psyche would've collapsed by age twelve tops.

But Goku? Goku had to do all of that with his feelings turned on! And he chooses to remain steadfastly good and give second chances no matter how bad the situation, and that’s a healthy enough way of dealing with all this horror. But a side effect of being guided by that choice is the knowledge that he could be worse, he could be crueler. He’s a lot like Gohan, in that sense.

And Vegeta used his dying breaths to beg Goku to abandon that long-abiding impulse to show mercy. Goku might believe in forgiveness, and he might’ve let Vegeta go because of that belief, but Vegeta is a stubborn little bastard. He thinks that it’s holding him back, allowing people to slip through the cracks; to get hurt. And we’ve established that these two are both capable of misdirecting self-anger at others, though Vegeta does it much more often than Goku.

So when Goku’s mind is merged with Vegeta’s, and he’s forced to look back on his decisions to allow horrible people to live not with pride, but with regret and disgust, it manifests as Gogeta. A walking overcorrection, the sentient reconciliation of these two belief systems. Who doesn’t forgive and doesn’t forget, self-assured and bitter and terrifying, like Goku was for the first twenty seconds after he went Super Saiyan. Like he always told himself he wouldn’t be.

[tossawary]

One of the more amusing narrative constructions in "Merlin" to me is how explicitly magic is tied to medicine from the very beginning of the show, with the healer Gaius as Merlin's mentor in both medicine and (secretly) in magic.

The third episode deals with a magically created plague in Camelot (which frankly seems like it should have killed WAY more people than they show dying, if it was in the water and as deadly as they suggest) and from the beginning, Merlin is like, "I can use magic to fix this. Let me use magic to help. I can save all of these people's lives." And Gaius stops him because he fears Uther will find out somehow. (You can also suppose that magic usually requires greater training than Merlin has, and fighting/curing a malevolent plague would burn most sorcerers out very quickly, and Gaius has no real concept yet of just how badly Merlin's gifts break the curve.)

Later in the episode, Merlin ignores Gaius in order to secretly cure Gwen's father. This quickly becomes a disaster because Arthur notices this quick recovery and finds the physical charm used, Gwen is blamed, and Uther decides to go straight to an execution about it because he sucks. But Merlin was RIGHT that he could cure the plague! Apparently with relatively little effort on his part! (Possibly because he's a freak of nature among sorcerers, admittedly!) It is a magical plague, potentially more of a curse than a virus, presumably working on different rules, but still!

It really underlines that all of these people are dying JUST because of Uther and Nimueh's conflict. Firstly because Nimueh is trying to get her revenge against Uther in the worst way possible, a plague, and secondly because Uther won't let anyone use magic to fight back.

In the next episode (4), it's all about Arthur getting a (magic?) flower to cure the (magic?) poison that Merlin drank. Episode 6, which I haven't rewatched yet, features another magical healer, come to take revenge against Uther for the death of his healer parents. In many of these cases, it's magical remedy versus magic cause, but it seems not unreasonable to assume that magic could still be very useful when dealing with non-magical ailments.

In fantasy worlds, I personally tend towards the idea that magic would just be another form of technology, and in many cases would be integrated with all other human technology in society. (Cooking! Humans LOVE cooking! Not starving is the #1 societal concern throughout much of history! Magic, if practical, would be used for a LOT of food-related stuff.) Obviously, there are fantasy worlds where magic is new in the world or sourced from evil demons or whatever, or there may be some anti-magic ideology for another reason, so people in those worlds wouldn't use magic casually. Magic, its origins and its cost, is different in every fantasy world, of course!

But in pre-Purge Camelot here, it very much seems that magic was a practical skill that would have been useful during daily life, even just to boil water or have a light in the dark. Maybe the gifts are relatively rare and the training is difficult for most people, but it seems like most people who work in medicine would want to have as much knowledge about magic as possible, even if they themselves can't really do any spells, and do not become druids or priestesses or anything like that. There seem to be a significant amount of magical plants and animals here, which would be crucial to the work.

So, uh, it looks like Uther's Purge would have primarily targeted anyone with medical knowledge. The equivalent of this society's doctors, nurses, and pharmacists. Healers, midwives, alchemists, and anyone else who refused to give up a useful tool that could save lives. Also anyone who made their living selling protective charms or magical herbs or any small thing that could have helped during a plague. Uther's Purge presumably wiped out Camelot's ENTIRE existing medical infrastructure.

Camelot has SEWERS somehow. And why wouldn't magic have been used in the construction and maintenance of a sewer system? If magic is a practical tool, it would have absolutely been used in waste disposal* and water filtration.

*EDIT: Yes, I know that the shown sewers aren't used for waste, obviously. I phrased this poorly. These sewers ARE directly connected to drinking water in the show, however, and the human waste that is generated by a city (which is a lot) getting into this system somehow would be a serious concern. SEPARATELY, I do think magic would have uses in regards to waste disposal. I don't think that these specific sewers are for waste, just that magic could be a tool for their cleanliness.

(Mulling over the potential headcanon that the only reason Nimueh's plague wasn't worse is because Camelot still has hidden layers of various magical protections holding over, even 20 years later. No one has been recasting the old Circles of Protections on the castle lately because very smart CEO Uther Pendragon has also killed most of the custodial and IT departments. "It's fine," he says, "there is no measurable difference," when Camelot is teetering on the edge of catastrophic failure several times a season.)

Like, uh, no wonder Uther can't get a single huzzah even when he announces a festival. It's the anniversary of this shitty king killing nearly all the doctors and outlawing Camelot's equivalent of vaccines and antibiotics. I'd hate his guts. Infant mortality probably skyrocketed. Do you think that people who live near the borders of Camelot regularly sneak one kingdom over to visit the nearest healer? I do. I'm imagining that some noblewoman in Camelot gets pregnant and then immediately goes to stay with her sister for a little while in the neighboring kingdom, because that king over there didn't kill all of the damn midwives. Fucking hell.