#so i think all his efforts went to waste in a way

[scalene-4]

for somebody that didn’t really use a cellphone until age 12 and didn’t own an iphone until senior year of high school, i’ve certainly made up for lost time. unless i make a conscious effort to face reality on its own terms for the first 10min of being alive on a given day, i usually roll over and grab this stupid thing to look at what other people are up to on instagram or scroll twitter and bear witness to the terminal polarization of society itself play out in real time.

i have to admit, if it were anyone other than elon musk (a nasty petulant man child of a person who seems to have obsessively dedicated his energy and platform to making life miserable for people like myself after his famous pop star ex left him for a trans woman) who had done it, i would genuinely think that buying twitter and changing its name to “X” was a hilarious and ascended move. like anything else elon does, it comes off as the bloated and out of touch result of never being told “no” in your life.

having unfiltered access to social media fundamentally altered me as a person in a really weird and kafka-esque manner. before senior year i was shy and watched the social dynamics of people in my class play out from the sidelines, disappearing into worlds of my own creation with my siblings and close friends once the school bell rang. i was a quiet kid and felt like nobody liked me or saw me, so why would i want to engage socially with the greater Point Loma High School Bubble once i wasn’t physically forced to? of course, these feelings were largely cope as like any other human being i just wanted to feel part of it all and i hadn’t yet realized that channeling this feeling of alienation into art was my greatest superpower. i saw the feeling as a personal failing of sorts, empirical evidence that i didn’t belong because something in me was broken and fundamentally unlikeable. secretly, i wanted really badly to be seen as popular and regarded by my peers, something i probably have never fully reckoned with as my adult life has largely been defined by the pursuit of becoming a famous musician. the roots of that go further back though and that will be a post on here for another time — at this point i’m an angsty 17-year-old completely cut off from the various social dealings of my classmates once school is out and i’m home with my guitar or a pen and paper or a lump of clay.

that all changed once i got an iphone 4S in the fall of my senior year. i immediately downloaded instagram and twitter and snapchat, wasting no breath in making up for lost time. i found that many of my classmates were quick to follow me back and engage with me on those sites, and i quickly became addicted to twitter in particular. the refreshing of the interface and pace of conversation and the way all of our adolescent drama played out for all to see in real time was basically kerosene for synapses yet to be fried on various psychoactive substances. i started making new friends at school from twitter, popular and attractive friends. i didn’t notice it at the time, but my previously regimented and passionate pursuit of excellence in songwriting and my instrument began to fade into the background as i was going to more parties and snapchatting girls and generally becoming a bit more full of myself with each passing day.

i like to joke that if i’d found tumblr at that age and had used soundcloud for discovery instead of just posting half baked acoustic demos to impress my classmates, i probably would have realized i was trans a lot earlier than i did. i tell myself that things play out the way they’re supposed to.

as time went on and the people from my phone began to see who i was in real life, i think whatever charm i was somehow able to conjure initially faded as i grew ever more confident in behaving like the exact kind of person i hated. i got too drunk at every party, i acted snide towards friends of mine i deemed to somehow be lower than me on my imaginary social ladder, i checked twitter every 45 seconds and i treated anybody foolish enough to date me like a disposable accessory. and the thing is, i wasn’t even really popular by any means. i think people kind of just put up with me because i was around.

i can’t blame my phone for this shift because it was simply the catalyst for igniting teenage insecurity into an unstoppable inferno of cringe behavior and self-centeredness. the nature of a tool depends entirely on the hands making use of it, and unfortunately those hands happened to also belong to a tool. thankfully about a week into college i fell in with a wonderful group of friends who immediately put me in my place and to this day we’re all still pretty close. they saw the lonely girl behind the toolish exterior and something about her was worth loving, even if she said dumb shit sometimes.

like i said just now, i don’t blame technology in principle for amplifying the worst parts of human psychology and behavior. i think those traits are things we need to reckon with in an existential sense, and we’ll always be inventing new things that enable our worst selves. however, i think right now in particular that dynamic is functioning at its most sinister in terms of our greater society.

we have just elected a convicted felon slash rapist slash racist slash wannabe dictator, someone who by any objective account had a messy and disastrous first attempt at the presidency and has wasted no time in round 2 sowing fear and hatred and platforming bigotry. so many people agree this man and his underlings should be taken down, but thanks to social media being the forum for these conversations most if not all attempts at collectivizing and strategizing seem to devolve into a mushy goo. no one can agree on who’s leftist enough or what constitutes bulletproof moral standing — my own community can’t even agree on who’s trans enough. no one wants to say it but i feel like all of this is largely due to the way these platforms incentivize negative engagement, and shrink our scope by addicting us to instant gratification. it’s a far quicker serotonin boost to dunk on some teenager with therian lesbian (it/she) in bio than to dismantle oppressive institutions over time collectively. we’re all hooked on feeling like we’re right and more importantly, like someone else is wrong.

i love the one meme where the left is arguing about whether or not a dog is allowed to play basketball or not, while a dog runs around the court dunking on all of them.

rich people will always have access to healthcare and abortion and be free to express their sexuality however they’d like (just look at how grindr activity spikes at any given RNC event), their decadent lifestyle directly subsidized by us peasants and our phone addictions. i think it is absolutely fucking insane that so many of us regularly acknowledge and joke about the fact that we’re being watched and our activities online are recorded and farmed and sold to advertisers. our going back and forth on x dot com about which pronouns are real actively and materially makes money for these people. our attention spans are so short that they can just keep introducing new events to milk our stupidity for capital and widen the gap as the world around us literally burns to death.

i think the whole luigi thing was a psyop sometimes.

think about it: wouldn’t it be in the ruling class’ best interest to knock off a mid tier ceo in a time of growing social unrest and awareness of the evils of that class? tiktok made it impossible to ignore the genocide israel has been committing on palestine for the better half of a century. even if we don’t always use them responsibly, we have open forums from which to commiserate and collectively realize that life doesn’t have to be this unfair. if i were a billionaire oligarch and could afford to do any insidious thing i wanted, my billionaire oligarch friends and i would absolutely sacrifice a lower tier one of our own in a staged event to placate the masses. when brian thompson was executed like a dog in the street we all pretended that it was this massive instant of social awakening and class consciousness, but really what happened is it gave us all means to sit on our laurels and pat ourselves on the back because Someone Else Had Done It For Us. notice there wasn’t a copycat killer! nothing happened! there was a highly publicized chase (the evidence every step of the way looking extremely convenient and staged) and then it turned out they found a guy and he was hot, and once he was imprisoned that was kind of the end of it. CEOs continue to leech off of us and destroy the planet with no fear of retribution, while the rest of us go online and tell ourselves good job.

tools are what we make of them. i think in this crucial time we’re experiencing, this rapid fall to fascism that is ALREADY TAKING PLACE, we either need to learn how to use the tools we have responsibly and intentionally, or perhaps make use of new or different ones. i feel every day like true class consciousness and organized uprising is within our grasp, yet we keep shooting ourselves in the foot while they laugh. i hope with all of my heart that the next brian thompson (would be awesome if it was elon) faces justice at the hands of the people, truly. no frills or discourse or fancam edits, just cold lead karma and an awkward gmod ragdoll pose on the ground.

regardless, it’s about to keep getting uglier and while i reserve no love for these disgusting rich pigs i’m trying to have a greater sense of patience and empathy for everyone else and even for myself. no one’s looking out for us anymore and it’s clear they never were; now that us faggots and trannies have lost our value as a photo op the democrats aren’t coming to save us. i have faith in and love for the people around me and hold a firm belief that we will have each others’ back once the chips are down.

i also wonder how much of my data has been sold in the time it took to type all this.

[iztea]

but heroes often fail

[menagerofmischief]

M4X

summary: after max wins his 4th title in vegas, you congratulate him in a special way in his driver's room

tags: pwp, kinda sub!max, semi public sex, blowjob, deep throating, I went a bit wild on use of "champion"

wc: 1.4k

a/n: do I have an exam tomorrow? yes! am I in the middle of writing a lando fic? also yes! but ever since the race ended I keep thinking about this so I had to write it.

You waited patiently, bounding on the balls of your feet as you gathered outside the RedBull garage alongside the employees, feeling like both your nerves and excitement were choking you up.

Your cheeks hurt from how wide you were smiling when Max pulled the car up in front of the “champion” banner, tears brimming up in the corners of your eyes as you watched him get out of the car.

A quick pose for the picture and then he was pulling off his helmet and balaclava, eyes searching across the many faces in the crowd until they finally met yours. And then he was running, a smile on his face as he reached you, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up to spin you around in joy, both of you laughing through choked sobs.

“You did it!” You said, your voice cracking. Max put you down, your feet now flat against the ground and you looked up at him, looping your arms around his neck as he leaned down to kiss you.

It was a desperate, passionate, raw and purely primal kind of kiss. The kind Max rarely allowed himself in public, but this was a special occasion. Open mouthed, his tongue stroking against your own, licking into your mouth desperately.

Finally the two of you pulled away, the loud cheers coming from the workers of RedBull filling your ears as everyone celebrated the win.

You part your lips, a breath coming out as your eyes meet with his and your lips twitch upwards into a smile. “Congratulations, champion.” You say, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Go celebrate!”

Max nodded, leaning in for another kiss, shorter this time, and then going down to greet the rest of the team and celebrate with them before heading to the cool down car.

Once all the formal celebrations and interviews were down, and everyone gave their congratulations, Max went to search for you.

A brief talk with one of the mechanics let him know you were waiting for him in his driver's room and he wasted no time in making his way over there.

He twisted the door, stepping into the room and his eyes immediately scanning the small space until they landed on you, sitting on top of his massage table with legs dangling down, wearing one of by now very spottable shirts in the RedBull garage, with his name. M4X.

"Do you like the shirt?" You ask with a laugh, pushing your chest out a bit to show him the logo.

He hums, making his way across the room and to you, one of his hands grabbing your chin and lifting up your head to kiss you. "Love it," he replies, lips brushing against your own with each word he speaks.

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back a bit, enough to give you space to jump down from the massage table. You circle around him, running your fingers along his shoulders and back.

“You looked so good today,” you purr in his ear, fingers grasping onto the zipper of his racing suit as you slowly start pulling it down. “A 4 time world champion. My world champion.”

Max groans at the words coming from your mouth and you take the moment to lean forward and press open mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck, licking against the spots you know are the most sensitive for him.

“Fuck, schatje.” He says, his voice coming out more as a broken whisper than what he intended.

You move your hands and start pushing down his race suit until it pools around his ankles and with just a second of effort he steps out of it, looking at you with wide eyes and pouty lips, almost as if begging for anything you want to give him, as long as it’s something.

“Go on and sit,” you tell him, gesturing towards one of the chairs in the room. For a second he’s completely still and you think maybe he hasn’t heard you but then he bolts towards the chair, practically tripping over his own two feet as he moves to sit down.

You pull down your pants and step out of them, the slightly colder Vegas air making goosebumps raise across the skin of your legs. You leave the shirt on, a pair of navy blue panties barely peeking out. 

Max takes in a deep breath as you sink down onto your knees in front of him. “Wait!” He says, and you still instantly, you’re about to ask what’s wrong when he gets up to grab his discarded racing suit and pulls you up just enough to slip the fabric under your knees before moving back into the chair. 

“Thank you, baby.” You smile at him, leaning forward and pressing kisses along the skin of his thigh, the muscles flexing due to him tensing up from your actions. “Now, I think my champion deserves a reward, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!” Max says, his voice overly excited but you can’t blame him. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want.” You say, palming him over his boxers before sinking your fingers under the waistband. He lifts his hips in an effort to help you pull his boxers down and once you have them off you waste no time wrapping your hands around his already hard cock.

You slide your fingers over the slit, collecting the bits of precum that has already started leaking and using it as lube as you twist your hands down his dick. Max hisses, feeling pleasure overwhelm his senses as you lean forward, pressing a kiss onto the tip of his cock before opening your mouth and gently sucking on it.

Max’s moans are nearly pornographic, his cheeks flushed and lips open as moans and pleas slip past. You push your head further down, gliding your tongue along his length and pressing it just a bit against the vein running along the underside of his cock.

“You feel so good, schatje.” He says, his voice cracking. His hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulls it into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of your face.

He pushed your head down, not too rough, forcing you to take him deeper into your mouth until the tip is hitting the back of your throat and your nose is rubbing against his neatly trimmed base.

You hollow your cheeks around him, giving him a long suck before pulling your hair halfway up and then dropping it down again, gagging a little from the pressure at the back of your throat. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel Max’s thighs tensing and slightly shaking as he approaches the edge of his orgasm, the grip of his fingers in your hair tightening. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He moans out, hips lifting off the chair as he thrusts his dick into your mouth, chasing the warmth around his dick. “So good, schatje, so good." Gonna make me cum.”

Encouraged by his words you speed up your movements, bobbing your head along his dick faster until you feel him twitch inside of you, and then filling your mouth with his hot cum. You pull off his slowly softening cock, letting it slip past your lips, and swallow.

You smile at him as you eye the mess on his cock and then teasingly lean back down to lick him clean. “You did so good baby,” you tell him, pressing your lips against his briefly as you go to stand up.

Max stands up, one of his knees buckling slightly, he leans down and grabs his boxers and pulls them up. “I didn’t get the podium today but this was so much better.” He says, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You laugh in response, pressing your lips against the palm of his hand. “Come on, champ, get dressed.” You say, the tone of your voice teasing. “We’re hitting the clubs tonight.”

“Or maybe I’ll be hitting your cervix tonight.”

A laugh slips past your lips, your tongue darting out to lick them. “Maybe after a few drinks and some dancing.”

[glossykissies]

clark and his gf who’s all sad because her friends keep ditching her and he’s trying to make her feel better.

love you so much on both blogs!

i like this as bsf!clark who’s in love with you so he hangs out with you and all your girl friends and is basically apart of your group — just so he can be near to you.

you’d planned a girls night, and clark was fine with that because… well, he had stuff to do around the barn anyway. you’d been excitedly rambling about it all week — buying facemasks, ordering pizza and pulling out the best girly romcom dvds to ensure a perfect night… until they all cancelled.

you were a sweet, sensitive soul who didn’t take well to disappointment, so clark’s heart sank when the phone rang, your best friend picking up only to be met with your snivels.

“look, hey, don’t cry — i’ll come over, okay?” he coo’s, his natural instinct being to coddle you and just hope it didn’t come off as patronising. you usually seemed to like it.

“what— what about the barn? ‘said you were busy with it tonight—”

“ah, the barn can wait.” he blows it off. you can’t see him but you know he waved his hand as he said it as if to convince you even more of its unimportance. “my old man’ll understand. he thinks you’re a total angel. infact i think he’d be more mad at me if i didn’t go to see you.”

you sniff, twiddling pathetically with the phones curly wire. “well… if you’re sure…”

“completely sure. i’ll be over there as fast as i can.”

clark was a little too excited, having to convince himself not to use his super speed.

he didn’t expect you to be so upset however, ending up beside you on the couch with a hand on your back as you cried. he knew it would be rude to ask if your emotions had anything to do with your menstruation cycle, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking of it — but he wondered if that had a part to play.

“i just feel like i always put in effort with people but there’s always something more important.” you rant, swiping beneath your eyes in frustration. clark shuffles closer, tentatively placing a hand on your back.

“mhm?” he urges you on in a gentle tone, hoping to ease you into a more relaxed mood.

“i was excited.” you pout, turning to face him — seeming to be at the end of your meltdown. he presses his lips together with a sympathetic smile.

“yeah, i figured. i mean, look at all this effort you went through setting this up.” clark validates you, lifting a hand to gesture to the way you’d decorated the living room with snacks and movie options, blankets strewn across the couch creating a comfortable atmosphere. “i suppose we’ll have to enjoy it just the two of us.” he grins, mindful of his tone — not wanting to seem like he wanted to take advantage of this situation, even if he secretly did.

“you’ll even do facemasks with me?” you let a smile slip, peering up at him through wet eyelashes. he grimaces like he’s pretending to think about it as you giggle, now being the one to shuffle closer to him.

“you gonna put cucumbers on my eyes?”

“oh yes, the full spa experience.” you tease, and clark can’t help but reach up and brush the final tear off your cheek with a fond smile. you lean happily into his hand, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i’m lookin’ forward to it.”

clark effortlessly takes your mind off things, a natural at distracting you with dumb dad jokes, debating over pizza toppings and lastly making silly observations about the rom-com you’d landed on.

you’re sleepy — clark had noticed you always got sleepy after eating a big meal, and after tearing through copious amounts of pizza you’d allowed yourself to lay on his chest, tired eyes glued to the screen as he strokes your back, afraid to even breathe wrong incase you come to your senses and crawl off him.

you couldn’t help it, he was just so big and warm — it would be a waste for him to take up all that space and for you not to use it. you figured you were close enough to cuddle anyway, thigh cocked up in a half straddle on his lap, sleepily giggling at a point he made.

“i just don’t get why the main love interest is being played by a forty year old.” he shrugs and you chortle harder against him.

“y’so warm.” you muse out of nowhere, drunk on tiredness. it had to be nearing 2am at this point; and you’d totally let your guard down. you feel his heart skip a beat against your ear.

“uh— really? oh, well… thanks. i think?”

“s’a good thing clarkie.” you shift until you’re looking up at him, faces inches away, body to body. clark licks his lips, brows furrowed slightly as tries (and fails) not to glance at your mouth. “thank you for hanging out with me.”

“y—eah.” he rasps, voice breaking at the low volume. he clears his throat, and you take an extra second longer to look at him before dropping your head back down, body getting heavier over the minutes that pass as you slowly succumb to sleep. clark stays awake, unable to sleep a wink, too consumed by the feeling of you on top of him.

[ludwigplayingthetrombone]

Post war/coma comic about Gai struggling with his recovery

Since tumblr hates long form comics, I have to split this into 2 bc its 36 images. This is the first part, part 2 i'll either do as a reblog or a separate post right after this, stay tuned! Links to support me in pinned post <3

tw: s*icidal thoughts, injury, a little blood

Bisuke: Gai's Back!

Gai: GRAAH!

Kks: Im home Gai: Welcome back Kks: [wheels rolling] Hey,

Kks: Ga-!? Gai: Im fine. The tile is cool on my face. Kks: Wanna go lay down in bed? Gai: I am so /sick/ of lying down. Kks: Ok. What do you want for supper?

Gai: You're not going to comment? Kks: I already know what happened. You overdid it again. I should be able to keep up with chores, kakashi. Kks: You can. Just don' bull through it all in one go. Do you want to end up in the hospital again? Gai: Please don't. Kks: I know sitting still is hard for you, and "too much" is in your DNA, but you have to take this slow so you don't exacerbate your injuries, Gai. You went from hyper-aware to pretending your body limits dont exist. Gai: Like you haven't done the same.

Gai: You've proved your point. Kks: It's not about that. And you've dragged me to bed and out of bed repeatedly when I needed it. You were burning alive from the inside. Tsunade told you your immune system is out of whack. You need to take it easy. /I/ know you're capable, but are you trying to prove to /yourself/ you are? Gai: You want me to admit my embarrassment? Kks: If something serioud happens, You'll be even more embarrassed then

Gai: How could you possibly know how I FEEL?! How could you EVER KNOW HOW I FEEL?! Kks: I DON'T! But I've /been/ the one ouking and sobbing on your bathroom floor because I couldn't take living anymore! And I don't want that for YOU!

Kks: I'm sorry, Gai. Gai: I'm sorry

Kks: I can't stand knowing you're in pain, and I can't get you help. If there was a way, I'd do anything. Gai: You do so much to help me already.... And I yelled at you Kks: I've screamed at you so much, that was pretty tame. I wish I was like you with things like this. Not great with what to say...... But I can listen.

Gai: I hate feeling so weak. I'm tired all the time, in constant pain, I can't even walk-..... I can tell tenten and the boys worry despite my efforts to appear positive. Kks: They're just not sure how to react. They know you hate being babied, but don't want to push you into hurting yourself. You hate being told you can't do something. They love you. You get stronger everyday, everyone is cheering you on.

Gai: I know it's irrational, but... I feel like you gave up the Hokage position to take care of me. Kks: Haa!? I'm grateful if anything. I'd be retired too if I could. That'd be amazing. I'm dreading just helping Tsunade but as long as you're by my side, I'll be fine. We're still equals, rivals, friends, partners

Gai: Even if I can't- Kks: /Always/ wil be, dickhead. Gai: You worry about me hurting myself? Kks: I know you think about it

Kks: We're the same in that regard Gai: I would never act on this, please believe me, these thoughts are rare........... Kks: It's ok, Gai. Gai: Sometimes I think i should have just died. I feel so out of place on the streets I used to feel so at home at. I never asked to live. I didn't plan to. I just don't know how to-...

Kks: I understand that. Though, dying didn't feel any better. Gai: I know I didn't fully pass like you did. I didn't see papa. Just for a moment, I wish I could have seen him.

Kks: As much as I'm sure he wants to see you again, It's too soon. Dai'd slap the shit out of you for wanting to waste your youth just to see him. Gai: [chuckle] probably. Kks: I have those thoughts less and less now, but they're still there. "why am I the one who survives?" "Burden" "Gai will come to his senses eventually"

Gai: FALSE!! None of my grief is with you! I love living here with you! My love for you only burns hotter each day! You're so lovely inside and out! Kks: Maa What did I do to deserve such praise from teh mouth of the hottest man in Konoha?? Gai: YOU STILL THINK I'M HOT?! Kks: YOU-! [CACKLE]

Kks: Your bad taste is the only reason I had a chance before someone snatched you up. Gai: The worst. Kks: Thought we'd irritate eachother, but it's been pretty smooth. Even though you still get played by the dogs. Gai: You really wanna throw those stones?

Gai: They play you just as easily. don't lie. Kks: My point is, whatever you need from me, you have it. No questions asked. Even if you yell and scream, i can take it. You held me together when I was unraveling, and I'll never forget it. Didn't trust anyone else to see me like that. Broken

Gai: I never saw you as that. Kks: I'll never see you as that

[comicaurora]

You mentioned in a previous ask about Arcane that wanting to do something better can be a great motivator, but recently I've seen a lot of discussion about fanworks created out of "spite" like Spiderman Lotus or that Transformers fan film. Do you think these come from different feelings, leading to their end result, or that the motivation just needs to be handled carefully?

Ah, I see the confusion. When you have ideas for what a story could do, and then the story goes in a different direction and bypasses what you thought it would do, that can be an incredibly useful motivator for using that unused inspiration for telling your own story. Taking someone else's completed artwork and saying "move over, idiot, I'll show you how it's done" is a recipe for hubristic self-immolation.

Setting out to "fix" someone's work has to be approached very carefully. Artistic criticism is a complicated skill, but it isn't treated that way. Especially in the age of the internet, several wildly different things have been conflated under "criticism", and I think that's why spite-motivated "fixes" almost always end up tripping on their shoelaces and falling flat.

Art critique - "fixing" someone's work - is about figuring out how to make the art the most effective version of itself. Determine what it's going for, and make suggestions for how the artist could improve the execution of that goal. Clarify a confusing moment, change the score a little to be more emotionally impactful, break up the pacing with moments to breathe, tighten up the pacing to maintain the frantic vibes.

However, the broad perception of what art critique is has been bundled together with several other forms of criticism, including snarky reviews (a judgment of quality rendered after a work is completed and aimed at prospective audiences so they don't end up wasting their money), general knee-jerk mockery (it is easy and fun to score points off of other people's sincerity via a little casual bullying), critical analysis (taking apart how a story works to learn from it, a useful approach for other artists trying to improve their own skills) and, of course, fanfiction.

Ahh, fanfiction! If you don't like a story, you can just take the characters, setting, premise, worlbuilding, and the general shape of the plot - ignoring the fact that at this point you've borrowed about 80% of the work that went into building the original story already - and then you can just make the characters do what you wanted instead. If you think Spider-Man would be better if everyone was miserable and grieving a dead buddy the whole time, you can do that! Two hours of misery for everyone!

This approach is ostensibly trying to accomplish what art critique does - to make a better version of the story. But in practice, it's almost never interested in interrogating what the story was actually going for. In fact, it's actively scornful of what the story was going for. It doesn't take it apart to see what did work, it just says "I didn't like that and I could do better" and produces something trying not to be like the original it disliked.

I kind of think of it like this. If you ate a meal and you were like "there's not enough salt in this," you would not produce a better meal by focusing exclusively on loading it down with all the salt you could find, even if you were starting with all the same ingredients. Do you understand how they were put together to begin with? How the meat was brined, how the vegetables were cooked, what seasonings went where? Do you think all it needed to make it work was salt?

So you get fanworks that do indeed focus on the part that the fanartist thought was missing. You get Spider-Man Is A Sad Jerk For Two Hours. It accomplished what the fanartist wanted, but it fails in its true goal of being Like The Original But Better, because it never actually made the effort to understand what made the original tick. Why do people like Spider-Man in his other movies? Well, there's lots of reasons that work for different audiences - he's funny, he's good-hearted, he's graceful and well-choreographed, his fight scenes are fluid and exciting, his dynamic with the people of New York is lively and comedic, he's hapless and hurting but he always tries his best, he gets knocked down but he always gets back up-- there are many reasons to like these stories. But if all you can focus on is what you wanted them to add, you'll have a lot of trouble parsing out what functional elements you'll need to carry over into your fanfiction to not lose the core of what made it actually mostly work.

If all you focus on is accentuating the bits you wanted them to do without recognizing the parts that were working fine, you end up with a heaping plate of salt.

✨ as the ask states, this post is very specifically about spite-motivated "I can do it better than the writers" fanworks and not fanfiction in general ✨

[mattslolita]

Imagine Bambi thinking she’s only good for sex so when she’s on her period she distances herself from Chris and he’s like lowkey hurt🥲

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧

chris felt uneasy with how many hours that passed without having talked to you — even when you guys weren't together, you'd still make an effort to always be texting or calling each other no matter what.

but the entire day, you hadn't called or spoken to him, which worried chris alot — he assumed maybe he had done something to where you decided to not speak to him for the entire day, but he couldn't figure out any reason why you would be upset with him.

instead of waiting any longer for a call or text from you, chris decided to take matters into his own hands and hop in his car, immediately driving to your apartment. he shot you a quick text to let you know he was pulling up and five minutes before, you unlocked the door for him and went back in the solitude of your bedroom.

chris is quick to walk inside, closing and locking the front door behind him as he rushes to your bedroom — when he gets closer, small sniffles and sobs are spilling from your lips, causing his eyebrows to furrow. he pushed the bedroom door open, taking immediate notice to the closed blinds and multitude of tissues that were discarded on your bedside desk. you were curled in a tight ball, clutching your stomach as your body wracked with sobs.

chris wastes no time in climbing into the bed from the other side, so that he could see your face — it was twisted in agony, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and clouding your bambi eyes. his heart feels heavy at the sight of seeing you in pain.

"sweetheart?" he says softly, eyebrows furrowed as he tucks a few braids behind your ear to see your face more clearly. "s'wrong?"

a small cry leaves your lips, as you attempt to shield yourself with your arm covering you — chris frowns at this, the bed dipping beside you as he gently sits down. he carefully lifts you up, putting all of your body weight onto his own body. he doesn't speak for a while, only listening to your soft cries whilst running his hands through your braids and rubbing your back comfortingly.

"please, tell me what's wrong," chris whispers to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "y'know i won't judge you, bambi."

"hurts so bad," you sniffle, shaking your head as you clutch onto his shirt for support, "you don't wanna be with me..."

"what?" chris asks, looking down at you, removing hair out of your eyes. your blearly expression stares back at him. "why would you ever say that?"

"well..." you sniffled, reaching to grab a new tissue. chris notices and gets the tissue for you, holding it out to you, "guys don't wanna be girls when they're menstruating. they can't have sex with us, and they think we're icky."

chris couldn't believe his ears — you'd been ignoring him all day because you had gotten your period and you thought he didn't want to be near you because you couldn't have sex? it hurt him to a certain degree to think that you would ever feel like he wouldn't want anything to do with you because of a natural part of life — but he knew you must've thought that way for a reason, so he lets out a sigh instead.

"hey kid, look at me," chris tells you softly, lifting your chin so that you were facing him, "i would never drop you because of something you can't control. whoever made you feel shitty because of it, i swear to fuck i'd kick their ass. i don't care if we can't have sex — i want to be around you all the time, 'kay? i swear."

"you promise?" you asked him, sniffling again as you cuddle up closer to him.

"i promise you," chris tells you, pressing light kisses against your forehead, "now what do you need? i can order food and get some pads and shit from cvs."

[skiiyoomin]

yk ur sending txt horny memes post 😊😊😊 I think u should turn them into drabbles 😊😊😊 have a great day 😊

ღThe aftermath of sending them horny memes

ʚCont: SMUT CONTENT, swearing, reader has female parts (in yeonjun and soobins part!!), cunnilingus, face sitting, blowjob

⤑Back to navigation ⤑The SMAU, Part 2

a/n your mind, its beautiful, i love you. p.s im gonna divide them in 2 posts so its not too long! Part 2 with Taehyun and Hueningkai will come tomorrow!

Yeonjun

His rough hands on your hips and warm tongue intertwining with yours had you going lightheaded with pleasure. A deep groan left his lips from the way your fingers tugged his hair and shot a painful yet pleasurable shudder down his spine.

"Fuck I missed you so much" He moaned between kisses, the feeling making you sigh out in bliss.

"Me too. You were on my mind all day" A possessive surge ran through his body as he slammed his lips back to yours. "Yeah? What was on your mind?"

"How good you make me feel" You giggle, your words slightly slurred. "Though about your tongue all over me, fucking me so good" Your filthy words went straight to his growing erection, making him growl and flip you over so you were on your back.

He didn't waste a second in slipping your clothes off, the fabric feeling far too hot on your heated body. A deep guttural groan resonanted from his throat at the sight of the wet spot in your panties. His lips trailed up your inner thighs until he reached your clothed cunt. It didn´t stop him from pressing his tongue flat against the wet stain, making you yelp and squirm underneath him.

The disruptive fabric was off before you could even begin to process it and your senses were overwhelmed with the hunger Yeonjun ate you out with. His tongue was relentless on your inner lips and the tip of his nose brushing against your clit, eliciting sweet moans from you.

The squelching and slurping from his tongue sounded so filthy yet so arousing to your ears that it had you pushing his head impossibly closer to your sex.

With his tongue moving in and out of your tight hole while his fingers pressed on your hard nub, the knot that was building up in your stomach was quick to snap. Your hips jerked upwards as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue.

If you thought you were going to get a break, you were wrong. His mouth latched onto yours once more, giving you a taste of your sweet essence. "I´m not done with you" He murmured between sloppy kisses as he began to lower his sweatpants. Despite still being sensitive from your previous orgasm, arousal pooled in your cunt immediately.

Soobin

Soobin was convinced this was what even felt like. Your plush thighs were on either side of his head while he stuck his tongue out to press it between your soaking slit. Your hands were tugging his hair, causing a stinging sensation in his scalp that felt so good. And with the way you were rocking your hips, using him to stimulate your pretty cunt, he couldn´t be a happier man.

"Soobin, ooo- shit. Mmmg- doing so good"

Your praise, between those beautiful moans, made his cock twitch. And as painfully hard as he was right now, his sole focus was on you. On licking and sucking your clit like a starved man deprived from your sweetness. He felt like one with how desperately he used his tongue to pull noises out of you.

Despite the aching in jaw he was sure would be sore for a few days, or the breathlessness he felt from inhaling your scent like it´s the only thing he needed in his lungs, he didn´t stop. He couldn´t stop. Not when you were so close.

"Mmm baby oh god m´ gonna cum"

You whine, your voice raising in pitch. He could feel it, the way your plush walls squeezed his tongue as he thrusted it up into you. He could feel how your thighs trembled from the effort you were making in holding yourself straight and not literally suffocate him, not like he´d mind.

His hand that was resting on your hip slid down to press the pad of his thumb on your clit, rubbing fast circles on it. With the vibrations of his moans, he quickly tipped you over the edge. Your body shuddered and shook accompanied by your loud whiny moans.

There was silence for a moment after you moved away from his face, which was soaking wet with your slick. He smiled innocently up at you.

"Round 2?"

"Fuck yeah"

Beomgyu

Technically, he brought this upon himself. Was he going to admit it? Absolutely not. He had way too much pride for that.

Currently, he was on his computer, clicking away on the keyboard while his eyes darted around the game on the screen. But...he wasn´t doing very well because his attention was truly elsewhere.

You were crouched under the desk, your hands on his thighs while your glossy lips wrapped around his cock. How could he concentrate on the game when your head was bobbing up and down his rock hard boner? But he was never going to admit that to you. Not when you had doubted him before and he very cockily shot your doubts down. He would never hear the end of it if he admitted defeat.

He bit down a groan that was threating to spill when your tongue slid around a particularly prominent vein on the underside of his cock. He cursed himself when his hips thrusted into your mouth out of pure instinct. You must definitely know by now how wrapped he is around your finger.

With the way his breathing was picking up and his stomach was clenching, once, twice. You got him where you wanted. The bright red letters of "YOU LOST" popped up on the screen, but Beomgyu wasn´t paying any attention. He placed his hand on the back of your head and forced his cock deeper down your throat. His hips grazed your nose as he picked his speed up, groans and dirty words making you clench your thighs together.

He pulled back when he felt his cock twitch, signaling his impending orgasm. You pushed his hands away to jerk his dick off yourself and lead the spurts of cum into your awaiting open mouth.

"Shiit baby, fuck you´re so good"

You licked the remnants off his tip, swallowing everything greedily. The sight was enough to get his cock hard again. He lifted you off the ground and sat you down on his lap.

"I think you deserve a prize for taking my cock so deep down your throat huh?"

[whorefordean]

wear the hat || d.w

i read exactly one cowboy romance so enjoy (fake)cowboy!dean and the cowboy hat rule

wc: 1.9k

cw: raw dogging, semi public sex, use of petname (sugar), the cowboy hat rule

taglist: @the-last-ry

mdni 18+

you can’t help yourself. dean looks so goofy in the outfit, and you can’t refrain from teasing him about it. on this hunt, for whatever reason, dean thought it’d be best if he poses as a cowboy. 

“to get more information from the locals. they’ll never talk if i look like a city boy, sweetheart,” dean says with a simple shrug. there’s a smile playing on his face, and you cann’t help but to roll your eyes. 

“dean, you’re from kansas and you wear flannels every day. nobody thinks you’re a city boy. the hat is most definitely overkill,” you tell him as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“i’m not taking it off,” dean huffs, matching your pose. you glare at him momentarily. he doesn’t look bad. in fact, he looks hot as fuck, and maybe, that’s why you need him to chill out on the disguise. 

you toss your hands up in defeat and follow him into the bar. the two of you split up rather quickly. you’re working your charm on the drunken men for any information you could pry out of them about the missing people while dean made his way to a group of women to do the same. 

almost an hour later, you finally manage to get the information you need, and you’re off to find dean. it’s nearing eleven pm at this point and you are ready to go. that is, until you see dean sitting at the bar with a girl who is entirely too close for your comfort. 

you and dean aren’t an item, per se, but the two of you have been a little more than friendly on more than one drunken occasion. 

you tap on dean’s shoulder lightly in an effort to get his attention. nothing. the girl he’s talking to is shooting you glares every chance she gets. you roll your eyes and decide that there was only one way to get his attention. 

so you snatch the cowboy hat off his head and slip it onto yours. dean whips around to face you. you’re expecting him to snatch it right back, but instead, dean just smirks, seemingly forgetting all about the blonde he was talking to a minute beforehand. 

“i’m ready to go,” you huff, adjusting the hat on your head. your hands finally rest on your waist, hip popping out. dean doesn’t say anything. just kept staring and grinning. 

“dean, seriously? what?” you puff, annoyed at his behavior. 

“you know the cowboy hat rule?” dean muses, leaning back to get a good look at you. his gaze rakes over you, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“the what?” you ask evenly. dean’s grin grows wider, and you are half tempted to slap it off of him. 

“the cowboy hat rule, sugar. wear the hat—” dean trails off. he leans forward until his hand rests against your waist, and his mouth is brushing your ear. 

“—ride the cowboy.” your eyes widen as he finishes the phrase. he pulls away just enough to watch your expression change from shock to compliance. he smiles proudly, knowing that you're more than willing to obey the rules. 

no words leave your mouth as you nod, allowing dean to drag you through the mess of people in the crowded bar. the cool summer air bathes both of you as dean pulls you through the exit door and ushers you to the impala. 

his rough hands in yours had your mind racing with thoughts of what they'd feel like skimming your body. in the three times that you and dean have slept together, both of you were too wasted to remember much about it the next morning. you'd wake up with those delicious bruises on your thighs or hips and hate yourself for not being able to remember what the hell went down the night before. however, you aren't ballsy enough to ask him to fuck you when you’re sober, so you settle for forgotten nights. 

your senses snap back to reality when you hear dean clear this throat. that shit eating grin is back on his face when he realizes that you'd been staring at his hand. 

"what is it, sugar? got a thing for hands or just mine?" dean teases relentlessly. you roll your eyes at him, shoving his shoulder lightly. he catches your wrist before spinning you around until you're bent over the hood of the impala. 

"dean," you gasp, bracing yourself against the black metal. dean laughs behind you and leans down until his chest is flush against your back. his lips brush against your shoulder, and you breathe out a sigh, dropping your head against the cool metal when dean starts to lift the hem of your dress up. 

"tell me what you want," dean says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss against your jaw. you have never been more grateful to be parked at the back of the lot. 

"you. need you," you whimper, reaching behind you to grasp at any inch of dean you could reach. 

"mm, 'm right here, sugar," dean says playfully as he hums against your skin. you groan, shaking your head and letting your hand slip down to dean's wrist. you grab his hand and lower it to your aching core. 

"need you here, dean," you say breathily when dean starts toying with your panties. you can hear him inhale sharply behind you, and you arch your back slightly. 

"fuck, sugar," dean groans. without warning, dean rips your underwear down your legs, helping you lift one leg at a time until the fabric is completely off your body. the cool air makes contact with your exposed cunt, causing you to hiss in pleasure. the cold doesn't last long because dean is shifting onto the ground behind you. his hands grip at your thighs, nudging them further open before he dips his tongue into your waiting pussy. 

you mewl as dean laps at you like a man starved. he hums something against your cunt, but you're too lost in the pleasure to listen. that is, until he slaps your ass. hard. you wince, lifting your head to look back at him. 

"answer me when i'm talking to you. being nice enough to eat this pretty little pussy," dean growls, but he doesn't mean it. he'd gladly get on his knees for you, and he'd stay there forever if you'd allow it. 

"what?" you whine, eyes rolling as dean sucks your clit into his mouth. 

"thought you were supposed to be ridin' me?" dean hums again, clearer this time. he doesn't give you time to answer before slipping a finger into you. you cry out when he adds another almost immediately after. 

"yes! yes, i will," you ramble, dropping your head to rest against the car again. your release is so close, and you clench around dean's fingers, his tongue still lapping away. 

before you can cum, dean withdraws his fingers and pulls away completely. you jerk your head around to meet his gaze, eyes wide with need. 

"no! please!" you beg pathetically, desperate for release. dean grips your chin lightly and pulls you back until he can kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. you moan into his mouth before he finally pulls away. 

"come on," dean orders, and you nod compliantly as he pulls you up from the hood of the impala. dean slips into the back seat first, pulling you in behind him. you barely touch the leather seats before dean is tugging you into his lap.

his hardened cock strains against his jeans, and you can’t stop from rolling your hips over his clothed bulge. you tug at his shirt impatiently. dean doesn’t object, tossing the fabric off his body and into the front seat.

his hands grip your hips as he leans in to kiss you again. he guides your hips, the two of you groaning at the friction. your arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders. 

“fuck,” dean grunts again. he taps your ass lightly, so you pull away with a huff. your pout quickly dissolves when dean lifts you up just enough to undo the button of his jeans, allowing his cock to spring free. 

“oh my god,” you mumble as you stare at his dick. dean smirks before pulling back onto his lap. dean settles your cunt over his cock, but he doesn’t push himself inside of you. not yet. instead, he opts for getting his cock wet with your slick first. 

your eyes roll as you slide your pussy against his hardened dick. you grind your teeth when the head of dean’s cock slips against your clit repeatedly. 

“please,” you pant. dean hums, watching as your movements get more erratic. 

“dean, please. let me ride your cock,” you beg again. your eyebrows are knitted together with your eyes clenched shut. 

“go ahead, sugar. take it,” dean grunts before settling into you completely. you inhale sharply when he grips your ass, pushing you even further onto himself. 

you brace your hands against his shoulder, dropping your head to rest against one of them. dean gives you a second to adjust before he grabs your hips, urging you to move. 

so you do. 

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans and mewls in as you ride dean. you couldn’t remember a time you felt so fucking full. dean’s dick was fucking perfect, hitting every spot that made your  vision blur with ecstasy. 

you lift your hips repeatedly before settling on grinding against him. you writhe in delight as dean drops his head back against the seat, hands gripping at the sides of your thighs as you continue to bounce and grind against him. you lower yourself to kiss against his neck before burying your face in his shoulder. 

“right there,” you whisper repeatedly, nipping at dean’s neck as your hips start to stutter. dean grips your hair in one hand, tugging your head back until your neck is on full display for him. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you flush against his chest. dean groans as he adjusts the two of you until he has the mobility to drill his hips into yours, cousin you to cry out in pleasure. he doesn’t relent as you finally come around his cock. 

deans sucks a deep bruise into your neck when he finally comes, muttering curses under his breath when his hips finally settle. the only sound in the car now is the two of you panting against each other. you lift your hips, whining as dean’s cum drips down your thighs. 

you look up at dean, but he’s distracted by the sight. his cheeks are reddened, and his eyes are hazy as he watches his cum drip out of your cunt. 

“dean–” 

“fuck, sugar. gonna have to let you steal that fucking hat more often if it means i get to watch you take my cock like that. you look so fucking pretty like this, sugar,” dean grunts, swiping his thumb through the mess on your thighs. he swipes his thumb up further, pressing against your clit before finally bringing his thumb up to your mouth. without speaking, dean nudges your lips open, making you taste the two of you. 

“goddamn it, sugar. can’t wait to use that pretty mouth next time.”

[cbartonscoffee]

I think I've never been more aware of just how many people only get their info of the batfam through fanfic. I finally started reading Red Robin (2009) and I can not believe how many things are blown out of proportion. Particularly about Dick and Damian.

First of all, Dick does try to put limits and he does get fed up with Damian's ways sometimes. Out of the three first interactions of them in the comic, at least in two he tells him to shut up. And one of those is when Damian starts to brag about being Robin and Tim being useless, he tells him to shut up twice.

Another thing about that moment, is that they treat it like Dick completely dismisses Tim and treats him as unimportant. He doesn't. He takes him seriously, he tells him he needs him, he tells him he views his as an equal, as someone capable. And he also tells him he's concerned about him and that he needs to start processing Bruce's death. Could that have been a little harsh? Yes, but he needed to do it without making Tim think there was room for him to be convinced about his theory because let's be honest, Tim would've taken anything less than complete refusal and tried to change his mind. And had he been wrong neither of them could have taken it.

Secondly, Dick is always left to shoulder the blame of kicking Tim out and of never reaching out. That's bull. And I need to make that clear. Tim was in a delicate point, he tells us this himself multiple times, but the decision to leave was completely made out of his own free will. Another thing he did was put space between him and the people on Gotham. We see only one time in which Dick tries to call him. Tim picks up and tells him he doesn't want to talk. This tells us that Dick respecting Tim's wish of space included almost no (or even no) contact, and Dick calling was not something Tim appreciated or encouraged.

Now. Going into the second year of the run, when he's back in Gotham, there's a few things to talk about and I'm still in the aftermath of Damian and Tim's fight.

I feel it's important to say that even if they are all family, more often than not they're doing their own thing. Like, Babs and Steph are in the Batcave while Dick and Damian are in Wayne Tower, Cass is said to potentially be in Hong Kong and we haven't even heard Jason be name-dropped except for the fact that he went on a rampage at some point.

So, Dick is immediately called away in League business. So he isn't there. Damian is behaving fairly civil besides being a brat, so no one wastes too much effort in correcting what he says. We need to think about the fact that this is a kid whose world was turned upside down multiple times in a short period of time, who has a need to be accepted, and who hasn't yet found his place. All this is to say, that if it's difficult to get him to eat breakfast there's no way they're controlling his every move and that's understandable.

So Dick is away, Damian is still trying to adapt, Alfred has his hands full and everyone else is doing something else.

The whole thing starts because Tim is being kind of cryptic about what he's doing with his hit list and Damian feels left out and goes looking for more. He finds his name in a hidden double side of the hit list marking him as a threat. He understandably feels hurt and angry, because he's a kid, and he's trying, and his predecessor who at this point doesn't even try with him anymore views him as something bad.

So in classic Damian fashion, he falls back on his upbringing and doesn't deal with the situation as one should, talking about it. Instead he cuts team line, hurting before being hurt. It could've been worse, we see in the panel that Tim doesn't have that much of a hard time getting safely to the ground. The problem is that he snaps and starts a full-blown fight he knows Damian won't back out off. (I'm pleased to add that after cutting his line Damian doesn't start anything else)

So they are fighting, Tim has the clear advantage and he knows this, we know this. And that's how Dick finds them. Having just returned from a JL mission, in the place where the Waynes were murdered, with Tim having overpowered Damian.

They go back to the cave and Damian shares his findings, and Dick understands. And Tim tells him he (Dick) knows why he (Tim) did it. Dick agrees, and tells him he should have tried to make it harder to find. Tim says he hadn't thought Damian would try or even care. Dick tells him Damian wants to be accepted.

All in all, so far the only thing this comic has proven to me is that there's a reason comics are the bomb and that fanon has gotten out of hand. I get making things out to be worse for the sake of a story, but everything surrounding these events is basically used as the foundation for Damian and Tim's relationship as well as Dick and Tim's and I don't think I've once read a fanfic where these events are portrayed correctly or even following the real motivations of the characters. This is a disservice to all of them and only serves to amplify the hate towards a character that doesn't deserve it. There's a lot of Damian hate going around. And it sucks. Mostly because people use his actions against Tim to justify it and honestly? I don't think you should be allowed to use that if you haven't read RR and understood what was going on.

[raven-cincaide]

Get To Know Your Wife

Summary: You can’t fight your arranged marriage with Megumi Fushiguro. But you’ll do everything you can to ensure it doesn’t become one of those loveless, boring marriages on paper. Even if that means you have to be the biggest pain in his ass, you could be.  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x (future husband,arranged marriage) Megumi Fushiguro Sweetober prompt 8: Farmers Market  WC 1.3K Warnings: Suggestive (dirty jokes and light humiliation/being a pain in the ass/dick jokes) cursing, fluff

“This is a pointless waste of time.” 

“ Hey, you take that back!” you spun around on your heel to face the brooding, pouting, cross-armed Megumi Fushiguro, who merely raised an eyebrow at your outburst and disrespectful tone. As you came closer, one hand on your hip and the second pointed an extended index finger in his face the tip of your nail was just inches away from his nose, and he merely scoffed.

You stepped closer, your nail just barely graced his nose.

Megumi swatted your hand away from his face as though it were a fly. “I said this is pointless,” he repeated slowly, as though you lacked some marbles or were a very dense child unable to keep up with the obvious adult talk. “ We will be married regardless of our thoughts or feeling; all this is just a waste.”

He made an open palm motion towards the farmers market all around you, the lovely-dovey couples sharing autumn treats, the families playing market games, high scholars messing about at the pumpkin carving contests and just passers-by enjoying the farm fresh veggies, hand-crafted items and stories from travelling merchants. 

It was a place where tradition met modernity, the new met the old, and there were indeed activities to fit both your tastes. Typical topics to talk about, childhood memories to share, heck even just as simple as learning about each other's favourite and hated fall treats could be something to talk about. 

Anything that wasn’t marriage or clan-related. 

Or at least, that had been your plan for the day. A feeble attempt at connection. You even went through all the formal hoops to request a sliver of his time, all according to customs and expectations and ridiculous rules between your clans. However now that you finally made it to the farmers market, he had the audacity to call all your effort ‘pointless’. 

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you would have slapped that self righteous expression right of his condescending face. The piercing glare that was soon accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk. The way he drew his own conclusions from your actions  “I’ll take your silence as agreement, now then we’ll head back-” 

“ -I’m not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage.” you cut him off. Your arms moved to cross over your chest, your foot tapped away at the ground in a nervous tipp-tipp-tapp sound- a dead giveaway to your anxiety. 

Megumi raised an eyebrow at your statement. “You think a trip to a farmers market will somehow turn this into a love story? You’re more naive than I thought.” 

You hated how he looked down at you. How he thought he knew everything because he was the zenin with the greatest technique that could make him the strongest in the world. How the power so obviously had gone to that spikey head of his and turned it so empty he became a sea urchin “No, I am giving you the opportunity to learn to treat me right before the marriage ceremony takes place” 

“ Or what?” 

“Or I will be the biggest nuisance to you, turning this marriage into a living hell” You threatened. When he didn’t relent, you smiled almost too sweetly, taking a deep breath. “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Instantly he was on you, his hand covering your mouth and the obscenities it spewed. 

“ What the hell?” Megumi growled,his face an awkward shade of red as he heard several passers by repeat your sentence. You weren’t done yet. Using the old, stick out your tongue and lick, trick, you felt him yank his hand away from your lips in disgust. 

Then you graced the passers by with another well timed, embarrassing comment: “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick and doesn’t know how to use–!” 

His hand was back over your mouth, blush unmistakable as he peered at you through narrowed eyes. “ Will you shut up!” Megumi growled as he began to pull you away from the centre of the marketplace. “You’re humiliating yourself!”

“Mphhmmm mmm phm” his hand muffled your words and insults that you tried to scream right out,  insults which turned into laughter as you dug your heels into the ground, making him stumble and struggle to drag you away. A sight that definitely attracted attention much to your delight and his humiliation 

“Fucking hell, shut up and move will you?” Megumi snapped, yanking you particularly hard the same second as you raised your leg,which made you lose your balance and hit his back, sending him flying forward. Megumi caught himself last second, and by extension you caught yourself by crashing into his back. “Ouph you little- Don’t you dare!”

You didn’t realize why he got snappy, until your eyes landed on some of his clansmen and a few familiar faces. You took another deep breath readying to scream your most humiliating insult yet. Should you do another dick jab? Maybe the next one should question his choices? Or his inability to find a lover unless his clan bribed someone and-

“Okay fine!” Megumi snapped over his shoulder before you could finish formulating your thought. “Fine.” He sounded defeated as he turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “Where do you wanna go first?” 

You were tempted to send him to hell, to humiliate him in front of his precious friends and clansmen. But then you reasoned your ammunition against him would bleed dry even before the day was over. So you bit your tongue and plastered a huge smile on your face as your eyes landed onto one of the jewelry stalls a distance away, “We start over there” You nodded in the stalls direction and began walking there. “Oh and by the way you’re paying today. Your punishment for being ungrateful.” 

Megumi shot you another dark look as he fell into step beside you. “Whatever” he muttered with a huff. His hands were in his pockets but even without seeing them you could tell they shook in anger. An unmistakable frustration at being outsmarted by a girl. 

“Oh, and try to smile, will you?” you knew you were toying with him, but you had to know the limit to your power.

“Tsk” 

Okay, no smiles you concluded just as your eyes ran over the market patrons and landed on a familiar tall white-haired man you were certain carried the title of your soon to be’s adoptive father.“ Megumi has–” 

“ Will you shut up already with the dick jokes?!” Megumi snapped his voice loud enough to make the white-haired man turn around, and his lips split open into a huge grin. You swore the sight of it, and the subsequent ‘My son’ made Megumi hate you just a tiny bit more. “See what you did?” he mouthed pulling you in another direction as the man made a beeline for you, leaving you to wonder whether you should take mercy on your soon-to-be and sneak away before Satoru Gojo met you, or if you should dig your feet in again just for the sheer amusement of it all. 

After all, if Megumi had taken the time to get to know his soon-to-be wife, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament. So he had only himself to blame for this situation, right?

Author note: I'm dying beneath uni studies, work and my upcoming trip, but I still wanted to update something more this week. Hope this was worth the wait!

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft @escapistoftherealworld, @ssetsuka

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[reixtsu]

Characters seeking you out during random times

pt 1?

Character: Wanderer

Wanderer

-> Archons, why would you even think that he would seek YOU out, out of all people?! There is no reason why he would... right?

-> Well despite him being so against the feeling, he couldn't help himself but feel the desire to be near you. *sigh* How irritating.

-> Everyday he would try to avoid you, finding refuge in the forest and talking to the aranara. His logic was that if he was away from you long enough, he would stop desiring to be near you.

-> Damn how that made his feelings worse. As The days went by, all he could think about was you. Your hands, your way of caring for him, your little jokes and unfavorable attitude. How dare his nonexistent heart long for you, a mere mortal

-> No matter, he thought. He was a puppet. He knew he was able to handle avoiding you.

-> What he forgot, however, was how much you knew about him.

-> So to his dismay, you found him one day while climbing a tree.

After a while of following Wanderer through the woods, you finally were able to corner him and demand an explanation on why he disappeared suddenly. Your furrowed eyebrows, your tone, it was all annoying to him. All of the unnecessary attachment you hold for him was insufferable, something he could barely tolerate. So, he simply crossed his arms and glared at you with his usual cold stare.

"It's not your responsibility to look after me. I am perfectly able to take care of myself," Wanderer said bluntly, wasting no time to turn around and walk away. You huffed, but stood there for a moment, wondering if you did something wrong.

In Wanderer's eyes, yes, you did do something wrong. You made him too attached to you to the point where he would make meals for you once and a while, accompany you in your journeys, and even 'comfort' you in your times of need. You were too dangerous. He had to stay away from you.

However, you being you, you wouldn't let him get away that easily.

Everyday you made an effort to find Wanderer, make him his favorite foods, leave him little notes and gifts, anything that might attract his attention and get him to talk to you. After a good few weeks, your efforts on seeing him finally paid off and he knocked on your door in the middle of the night.

It was a rainy night, too cold for anyone to go outside for enjoyment. Three light taps were heard on your door as you slowly opened your eyes, your eyelids begging to shut. With a small groan, you left your bed and made your way to the door, opening it to reveal the one and only, Wanderer.

He just stood there, water streaming down his hat and his shoes drenched with water. He looked like a wet kitty who came to a house for some food. Wanderer stood there in silence for a moment before stepping inside and instantly drying himself off using the power of anemo. Convenient.

You smiled at him, confused as to why he was acting so strangely.

Wanderer knew he couldn't last any longer, with his heartbeat deafening his ears and his cheeks excluding a deadly heat, he coughed into his hands and averted his eyes rather quickly.

"I... Want...You," Shit, that came out wrong. Wanderer cursed to himself, his cheeks only heating out more out of pure embarrassment as he waited for your reply.

Silence.

A paused moment of awkward silence that seemed to make the room stuffy.

He begged the archons for you to say something instead of looking at him as if he was crazy. Okay, maybe he was, but still! He quickly glanced at you, then pulled his hat down, avoiding eye contact.

That is when you laughed. It was a nice light hearted laugh. A tune that always made Wanderer's nonexistent heart soften with a certain gentless. The way you smiled and clutched your stomach did annoy him a little though.

"What do you mean 'you want me', hm, Wanderer?" You asked teasingly, smirking as you reached your hand out to gently lift his hat up to see his eyes.

He instantly frowned, his blushing intensifying as he started to lose his 'breath'. "I didn't mean that! I meant to say that I apologize for avoiding you and that I want.. your... hugs." He said the last part in a mumble grumble.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his cuteness as you started to hug him, much to Wanderer's dismay. "Aw! You can be so cute sometimes!"

Wanderer tensed up at the close proximity of you both. He sighed, annoyed with himself that he couldn't be away from you for too long. With a single hand, he placed his hand on the small of your back and gently patted it.

It was a soft pat, and you gladly accepted it. Wanderer wasn't one for giving affection, so when he does show it you know that something is up. Giving him a small peck on his cheek, you grabbed his hands and let him to your bed.

He knew that you were his cherished weakness, and he vowed to never leave your side for too long. He loved you, after all.

[skyahri]

Hate |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Kakashi Hatake, Shikamaru Nara, Sasuke Uchiha

Summary: Hate is a strong word, but it's also a very fragile one.

Warnings: Brief smut, kissing mentions of p and v. Some angst, but all comfort. Mentions of blood, violence, and death.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Kakashi Hatake

You hated how full of himself he was. He was always talking down to people, to his teammates and so-called friends. He goes out of his way to show people up no matter how inappropriate the situation may be.

He hated that you always stuck up for people he considered weak. He hated how much time and energy you put into helping others instead of focusing on your own training. He hated that you had so much potential, yet seemed to waste it at every opportunity.

As time went on and you were forced into each other's inner circles, your occasional arguments became a constant bicker. It got even worse when you were assigned to his ANBU team. You questioned his every move and fought every decision he made.

In return, he always gave you the least desirable night shifts. He'd make you write all the reports, saying something about needing to learn to respect your elders (he's only a few months older than you).

Once you were put in charge of your own team, things quieted down. Not because either of you had mellowed out, but because you didn't cross paths as often anymore.

Because of how rarely you saw him, you always made sure to make your brief encounters worth it. You had practically written a list of insults to throw his way. He returned the same energy with out hesitation.

Eventually, after his genin team had gone their separate ways and you had finally retired from ANBU, you had a seemingly infinite amount of time to rekindle your rivalry with him.

He always seemed to be heading in the same direction as you were. It didn't matter if you were on your way to the Hokage's office, the shops, or meeting up with someone- he was always there.

You tried to fight with him like the good old days, but it was different now that you were grown adults. Maybe the ungodly amount of trauma combined with the wedge distance had created in your odd relationship had finally put an end to your petty war.

Thinking back, maybe this is what it had been all along, and your stupid kid brain was too proud to admit what was really going on.

Your arguing had turned into kissing the moment he stepped through your apartment door. Things moved quickly, expert hands doing away with endless layers of Jonin uniforms in a rushed attempt to feel more of each other.

It felt right. Like the decades of tension had finally come to a head and you were being forced to deal with it in the most animalistic way possible.

"I hate you."

Your mumbling between desperate kisses. He doesn't acknowledge you immediately, opting to instead lift you by your ass so your legs could wrap around him. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his clothed election right against your womanhood.

"I hate you, too."

Neither of you acknowledges the elephant in the room, that the word you're looking for isn't actually hate. But that's beyond your cloudy minds right now.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru has never really bothered with social pleasantries or subjected himself to cater to what people like and dislike. In fact, he often chastised people for caring what others think.

He always commented about what you wore, how well groomed you were, and the overall effort you put into your appearance each day.

You hated listening to it, which is why you always did your best to avoid him.

It wasn't even about you specifically. You hated hearing how rudely he'd shut down Ino when she would ramble on about anything. You hated when he complained about how loud Naruto and Kiba were despite knowing that they're just excitable people. You hated hearing the damn near sexist remarks he'd make about how stupid people were for giving any shots about how they looked.

It was annoying. It didn't seem to phase anyone else anymore, but that almost made it worse.

You were at your breaking point. Just one comment away from losing your composure and you prayed to God you'd be able to refrain from saying anything too harsh.

But alas, Kakashi had assigned you to yet another mission with him- the sixth one just this month.

At least he waited until you were at the Inn before he started up with you. You honestly don't know why he let you shower first if it was going to be such an issue.

"Finally. I thought you'd be in there forever."

"What the Hell is your problem with me?"

He paused in his tracks. He wasn't expecting you to say anything to his usual grumbling, and especially didn't expect it to be so hostile.

"You always take forever in the bathroom."

"It was twenty minutes. You'll live."

"It wouldn't be that long if you didn't bother with all the extra shit you use."

"Why is it such a problem that I care about what I look like? I don't ever involve you in it and yet you're always talking about it."

He rolled his eyes, about to blow off whatever you were saying, but you started up again before he could.

"All you ever do is bitch and whine and moan about dumb shit that doesn't concern you. I like to look nice. I like wearing clothes that compliment my figure and putting time into the health of my hair and skin. It's not the end of the world, so shut the fuck up about it already."

You walked past him and lay in one of the twin beds, tired from the journey and pissed about your teammate's usual poor behavior.

He didn't say anything. He continued with what he was going to do before the argument and carried on like nothing had happened.

He kept any conversations strictly professional for the duration of the mission, something you were ecstatic about.

It wasn't until a few days after you returned home that you heard from him. He showed up at your apartment unprompted, looking irritated and slightly flustered.

"After talking with my team, it may have come to my attention that I might be kind of an ass."

You invited him in, curious as to what he had to say. He admitted that he had never been called out on it. Most people don't take him too seriously and he may have gotten a bit too comfortable voicing every thought that crossed his mind.

Although he had mostly soothed any nerves you had, you still decided he owed you.

You dragged him into your room, sat him at your vanity, and laughed when he groaned. You pulled out all the stops for him. You took him through your entire routine start to finish and when you were done, you asked him hiw it felt.

He hated that it felt nice. He hated that he suddenly realized how dry his skin usually was and how clean he suddenly felt. He would never fully admit that to you, though.

Him showing up at your apartment the next day, conveniently around the time you usually started these things, was all the confirmation you needed that he no longer deemed it a waste of time.

Sasuke Uchiha

He hated going to the Hokage's office, not because he was still in the thick of earning his freedom after the war, but because he hated Kakashi’s assistant.

You annoy him. He hates that you so confidently push his buttons. He hates that you're just a civilian, but you've been given so much authority over him. It was an unfit existence for the last Uchiha.

You enjoyed messing with him. He would grumble when given his assignment and you made sure to mock him with a playful pout. You'd check in with the ANBU watching over him to make sure he was behaving. You always used that word- behaving. As if he were a child.

Unfortunately for Sasuke, Kakashi isn't in the village right now, meaning he's stuck taking orders from you. He swears Kakashi picked you to oversee him intentionally, knowing how much it would bother him.

He's sitting next to you, helping you go through seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He wasn't sure if this was better than all the D-rank missions he'd been assigned lately, but he begrudgingly accepted the change of pace.

He glances at you through his peripherals. The sun is just going down, the orange light illuminating your soft features. Your usual bratty expression was replaced with a more peaceful one.

This was most likely just as much a break for you as it was for him. He wasn't oblivious to the way you had to reel Kakashi in every day, damn near having to tie him to his chair to get anything done.

"You can go home. I'll finish up here and we can resume tomorrow."

He didn't argue, thankful for relief from the horrifically tedious task. As he was leaving the building, he suddenly got this feeling in his gut that he should stay.

Of course, not wanting to do more paperwork than he was required to, he ignored the feeling and carried on.

He should've stayed. Just an hour after he left, while you were packing up for the night, the tower was raided by rogue nin.

The alarm sounded in the village, immediately calling all available shinobi. Bee, the ANBU assigned to him, gave him permission to lend a hand, and off they went to the tower.

He teleported himself to Kakashi’s office, knowing you would most likely be in there or at least somewhere near. What he wasn't expecting, however, was you standing over a body, kunai in hand and blood splattered across your body.

"Y/N?"

You didn't move, couldn't move. He reached forward, tugged the blade out of your shaky grip, and let it fall to the floor. You let him, not really in the mood to fight any more than you had to right now.

"Is he dead?"

Your question caught him off guard.

"I've never killed anyone before."

Ah. Civilian. Right. Sure, you belonged to a Shinobu village and even worked under the Kage, but that was vastly different than being on the front lines.

He thought for a second. Was he in any sort of position to be responsible for you at the moment? Should he hand you off to one of the other nin and return home?

"Cover your eyes."

It took a minute for his words to register in your hazy mind, but once they did you obeyed. If there was one thing you knew would benefit you, it would be allowing him to take the lead for now.

He put his hand between your shoulder blades and guided you through the hallways, down the stairs, and away from the tower completely. He glanced around, but couldn't find Bee, so he opted to take you back to his apartment. It would cause a lot less trouble if he was where he was supposed to be after all.

At home, he sat you down in the tub and turned on the water. He left you there, letting all the blood loosen from your skin. He returned a moment later, setting a stack of clothes down on the counter and grabbing a rag from the cabinet.

Neither of you spoke as he gently scrubbed your face. When he was done, he got a little bit of shampoo and worked all the red out of your hair.

You were slowly coming out of your daze. It was nice being brought out by something kind and comforting. It was almost enough to distract you from the night's events. Almost.

When he was done, he handed you the cloth, telling you to finish up and see him when you're done. You nodded, standing up and undressing when the door closed. You noticed how clean the water ran, most likely due to how thoroughly the Uchiha had taken care of you.

When you stepped out of the tub, you noticed the clothes on the counter. Upon closer inspection, they were similar to the ones he was wearing now- a t-shirt and sweats.

You joined him in the adjacent bedroom where he waited patiently. He all but forced you into his bed, shutting down all of your protests. When he went to leave the room, you quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt to stop him.

"Please stay."

He didn't fight you. He walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down, leaning against the headboard and staring blanky in front of him.

You were thankful for the comfort of simply not being alone. Not after tonight, when so much had happened and the trauma was still fresh in your mind.

He tried telling himself that this was not a personal act, but instead one that would aid his village. But who was he kidding? He was realizing you weren't all that terrible and he had just allowed his angst brain to manipulate him into thinking so.

[queenuchiha89]

hello! love u! would you pretty please consider writing itachi violently non conning his younger sister after an argument when they're home alone but teen sasuke returned early from his mission with team 7? sasuke loves his big sis but he doesn't really help her, incredibly liking the sight of his sibs together.

*** NSFW ***

*** 18+ MINORS DNI! ***

*** TW. DARK CONTENT ***

⚠️WARNING ⚠️ this story contains noncon, foul language, incest, voyeurism, and other themes that may not be suitable for some audience. Viewer discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Itachi and his little sister Y/N had been at each other's throats all day long. Their parents were gone, Sasuke was off on an assignment with team 7 and every time Itachi and Y/N were alone, they always seemed to fight. "I'm so sick of you acting like you're better than everyone else in the family Itachi! You really look down on me and Sasuke!" She yelled at him as he turned to walk off towards his room in an effort to end the argument before I went too far. She watched him as he walked off, her arms folded, cheeks red in anger and frustration. Why he couldn't just... Be nice to her?! "You're just like Father..." She mumbled under her breath, but with his hearing and skill, of course itachi heard her. He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning his attention back towards his little sister at the opposite end of the hall. "What did you say Y/N..?" Itachi asked, his voice low and flat with a different kind of angered tone she had never before heard come from her older brother.

The color began to drain from Y/N's face as he swiftly began to walk towards her, and she had no time to attempt to block herself from any actions he may have took on her. He was far too fast, and she knew it. He grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around, and pinning her body to wall. All his weight was against her as she struggled helplessly to escape his grasp. "If you think I'm like father, then I will show you just how cruel Father really is!" He said viciously, his rage boiling over as her words echoed in her head. He spun her around, grabbing her by her hair and dragging her into his bedroom kicking and pleading for him to let her go. "Itachi stop! Let me go!" She screamed but to no avail. No one was around to hear her.

Itachi yanked Y/N up by her hair, and threw her on to his bed, wasting no time climbing on top of her. He pinned her arms down to the bed, and watched with a smirk as she kicked and flailed trying to get him off of her. "Itachi please!! Stop!" She cried out realizing that this was not a good situation to be in. She was in serious danger. Tears began to stream down her face, as all hope of her escaping his clutches left her. He was far too strong for her to over power, and all she could think to do was plead her case. "Itachi I'm sorry! Please, I didn't mean it!" She cried, and whimpered under him, powerless to stop his vicious assault. "Too late for apologies princess. You're going to take your medicine!" He growled as he gripped her throat in his hand, squeezing and watching her eyes widen in fear as she felt her airway closing in his grip. She gasped and choked as she struggled to break free of his grip, this only excited Itachi more.

While all this was going on in the Uchiha family household, Sasuke had returned from his mission earlier than expected, and was about open the front door and announce his arrival. However, as he entered, he stopped before calling out hearing strange sounds coming from upstairs, and what sounded like the voices of his elder siblings. Curious as to what could be going on, and getting an ominous feeling that something was definitely wrong, he slowly made his way up the stairs. He walked down the hallway, inching ever closer to Itachi's room- the origin of the sounds- and when he looked inside he was frozen in shock by what he saw. There was his older brother Itachi, pinning his big sister beneath him, fingers round her throat and her face turning a bright red color. "I-itachi? Y/N???" He whispered to himself, a strange fear creeping up this spine.

Itachi reached down between them, and fumbled with his pants as he removed his thick cock from his pants. Y/N wriggled harder as she saw her older brother's sizeable cock spring free from his pants and slap against her inner thigh. "You're going to take every last inch of my cock, and you're going to like it!" He threatened, as he held her still, and positioned himself against her open. "Are you- are you enjoying this??" Itachi said feeling how wet her pussy was in the moment. "You twisted little bitch..." He grunted as he pushed his cock deep inside her tight cunt. She cried out in pain as itachi stretched out her tight walls, feeling him rip her as he did. Sasuke watched in horror as Itachi raped their sister, watching his big sister's face contort in pain as he forced his cock inside her. It was awful... But he still couldn't look away, and as Itachi began to fuck into their sister, he felt a twinge of something else begin to rise up from within him.

Y/N took every inch of her big brother's cock, her body shivering in pain, and then in an unwilling pleasure as he continued his vicious assault. Itachi could feel her walls gripping around his cock, and knew she was about to cum against her will. "That's it. Don't fight it, just let this happen. Doesn't your big brother feel so good fucking you?" Itachi teased making her feel ashamed. With a gasp, and a small cry that sounded more akin to a cry of grief than pleasure, her walls gripped around his cock, and she came for him, shame filling her being as she did. "That's it, cum for me. Fuck little sis, I'm going to fill up that tight little pussy." Itachi growled as his thrusts became more erratic. With one final thrust, Itachi grabbed his little sister's hips and held her still as he shot his hot potent Uchiha cum deep inside her fertile womb.

From the hallway, Sasuke watched. Helpless, but achingly hard inside those shorts of his. He watched as his big sister was forced to cum all over Itachi's cock, and pumped full of his seed. Without warning, Sasuke's cock twitched, and he gasped steadying himself by grabbing the door frame as he came in his pants. The sight of his older brother viciously taking his big sis was far more than he could handle. Itachi caught his breath before giving his little sis a kiss on the forehead, and putting his cock away. "Maybe next time you'll learn to quit while you're ahead..." Itachi said cruelly as he reached for the towel on his bedroom floor. "Go clean yourself up princess..." He said before turning towards the cracked door. "You too Sasuke..."

A.N: spelling errors, and other such typos will be corrected when I am able. In the meantime, have fun and enjoy responsibly! 🥰

[0310s]

take a picture, it'll last longer! (leehan) ᯓ★ 

members: leehan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

wc: 1.2k

summary: a photobooth, too many options to choose from, and a naughty lover (spoiler: it’s not you).

a/n: once again... thank you to @dollvrse for implanting this idea in my head... you literally have the best ideas. i went utterly insane imagining this scenario, so i had to churn out this fic for the sake of my mental health. enjoy!

 𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

“Leehan, Leehan, a photobooth!” you gasp and nudge your boyfriend of one month. The singular photobooth is tucked in a cozy corner of the street, right beside a homey cafe. A peek under the curtain shows it’s unoccupied—lucky! “Hurry up, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” You tug at Leehan with your intertwined hands without waiting for a response; your lovely partner seems happy to be dragged along, either way. 

Sliding the curtain open, you quickly usher Leehan into the photobooth. As expected, the interior is compact, just enough for a pair to squeeze in and take photos. It’s honestly been quite some time since you’ve entered a phootbooth; you’ve never had a particular interest in these sorts of gimmicks. But now, you have something to commemorate and you want to be reminded of through photographic means—so here you are. 

Still, this is no time to peruse the photobooth interior. The last time you visited one, all you needed to do was to take your pictures and the machine would churn out everything else for you. Now, there are a plethora of options to choose from—too many, in fact, that you end up feeling momentarily paralyzed. “Okay, what are we feeling today? Two poses? Four poses? Eight poses? And there are… uhh… ten layouts we can choose from? There are way too many options... I’m getting confused!”

“We can probably just go with the regular four-photo strip.” Leehan’s voice is low and melodious as he answers you. “And pick the ocean design. The fish look cute there.” You nod and go with it, not wanting to waste any more time on deciding. As you pull out your wallet to feed the machine a couple of bills, Leehan beats you to it and fishes the photobooth some of his own money. Before you can even protest, Leehan sends you a little smile. “My treat.” How could you ever be mad at him with that smile of his?

You’re cut off from your daydreaming about how wonderful everything about Leehan is when the screen sounds, indicating you should get into position. “Okay, first pose!” You come up with many poses, but none of them seem right. Leehan proves to be unhelpful because all he’s doing is gazing at you with a fond smile on his face. “Leehan, maybe stop looking at me and help me out?” 

“I can’t help it. You’re just too beautiful,” Leehan tells you, “my eyes go wherever you are.” At this, your face burns with embarrassment. You’re about to tell Leehan to stop joking around when the photobooth shutter goes off with a loud sound.

At this, both of you turn to the screen, watching as the timer ticks down for the second photo. “Leehan, you just ruined our first photo!” you complain, but your boyfriend remains smiling. “Listen, buddy, this is a collaborative effort. Let’s think of a pose for the second photo. Come on, please?”

Leehan laughs to himself at how cute you are for taking this so seriously. “Okay, fine, fine,” he finally gives in to your pleading. “Come here.” Bringing you closer, he wraps an arm around you. His hand on your waist is a warm brand against your skin, and you ignore the shiver that goes through you. But when he tightens his hold, you instinctively giggle. 

“Leehan, not this pose, I’m ticklish there.” You try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he just pulls you in closer until his body is pressed right against yours. He’s facing straight at the camera, but you can see the corner of his lips curling up. You suddenly have an foreboding feeling that he’s up to no good—then he gives your waist another squeeze, right where you’re most ticklish.

“Ahh!” You squeal, thrashing in his grip. Leehan, devil that he is, laughs at your plight and starts to purposely tickle your sides to get a reaction out of you. He’s too strong—you’re subjected to practically the worst (and most evil!!!) tickle attack you’ve ever experienced in your life. As you wriggle around in an attempt to escape, the shutter goes off once again: two shots gone down the drain, two more to go. “Kim Leehan, if you don’t stop teasing me-” you begin to warn him, but you lose all train of thought when you notice the position you’ve ended up in.

Leehan’s got both arms wrapped around your waist. You can literally count the number of lashes your boyfriend’s got—it’s unfair how he’s got these pretty, long doll lashes that ghost his cheekbones every time he has his eyes shut. You’re so close that you can feel his breath on your lips as he looks down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Your eyes trail down his gorgeous doe eyes, to the slope of his straight nose, to his plush, kissable lips—wait, what?

Your thoughts are all but interrupted as Leehan leans in and steals your breath with a tender kiss. One hand shifts from your waist to your cheek, gently cradling your face in his palm. His other hand remains on your waist, drawing you nearer, and you practically melt into his strong arms. Trailing your hands over his back, you sigh into the kiss as your pliant lips move against his. You’re so absorbed in the kiss that you don’t hear the camera go off another time. You feel so safe in his arms, and kissing him makes you feel lightheaded with happiness—happiness that you’re this close to him, someone you care dearly for, and that you’re able to share this intimate moment with him.

When you finally pull apart, you’re panting for air. Leehan is staring at you with a similarly dazed expression, eyes glazed over. You’re looking into each other’s eyes for a quiet moment, sharing equally shy glances. Leehan’s got that expression where he’s suppressing a wide grin, his dimples peeking out. That’s when the final shutter goes off, and you’re snapped out of your stupor—then you suddenly realize what you actually came here for. “Leehan, the pictures!”

“Oh. Right.” Leehan looks positively unapologetic. “I forgot." You clearly both did. A whirring sound comes from the machine, and you both turn around to see the finished prints drop out. When you step over and hold up the photo strips, you gasp with shame. 

“Oh my god!” The first photo is you fuming at Leehan while he looks at you longingly. The second photo is a blur of arms, but you can distinguish both your bright smiles as you flail around—yours out of ticklishness, and Leehan’s out of pleasure at your misfortune. 

The third photo is one that makes your cheeks flush a fiery red. Leehan and you are wrapped up in a kiss—nothing R-Rated, but still utterly humiliating to have been captured in a phootbooth no less. You look down to the fourth and last one, and here, you’re both gazing at each other with bashful smiles on your faces. The most embarrassing thing about it all is how because of the design Leehan's chosen, it looks like you're making out in a sea of poor marine creatures who most likely did not consent to watching a private show.

As cute as this is, you probably can’t display this in your room. “Jesus, these are ruined. We should take them again,” you exhale, already regretting the amount of money you’re spending on some silly, unimportant photos. But Leehan stops you, taking the photo strips from you and surveying them carefully. 

“What do you mean? I think they came out great.” Leehan pauses, considering his next words, carefully monitoring your reaction. Then what he says next stuns you: “... We look like we’re in love.”

Your heart clenches at this. It’s true—you and Leehan look like you’re in your own little world. “We do,” you concede. “Okay. Let’s keep this.”

[merbear25]

Mihawk, Zoro, Smoker x pregnant reader?

Hello, hello! Thank you for sending your request. This was really sweet to think about! And with such good choices?? I hope you enjoy what I've written for you. 💜💜

CW: fluff, fem!reader, headcanons/scenario

With a pregnant reader (Mihawk, Zoro, Smoker)

Mihawk

When you first told him you were pregnant, he got up from his seat to wrap you in a loving embrace. He placed light kisses on your forehead and told you how much he was going to help you through the process and he did just that; making sure you were comfortable at all times, he’d give you the utmost care, practically catering to you. The further you got in your pregnancy, the more protective he was of you, which meant you were nagged here and there if you weren’t taking proper care of yourself.

He’d encourage the both of you to go to early parenting classes and would buy you books relating to early child development, of which he’d end up reading more than you. Whenever your feet were swollen, he’d offer you a massage and run a bath for you to ensure you were comfortable. When it came to cravings, he wasn’t going to deny all of them, but he wasn’t going to let you run wild with them either. You’d roll your eyes at him here and there, but seeing him care so deeply about you and the baby truly warmed your heart.

Decorating the baby’s room was something he’d want to plan together. He’d end up doing a lot of the building aspect, while you were painting the walls. Looking over at him and watching him focus on putting the crib together only made you more excited to bring your child into the world.

The two of you would spend each night curled up in each other’s arms, relaxing to the gentle hums coming from the other. Such tender moments were never taken for granted, letting the both of you appreciate every part of this process.

Zoro

His expression went blank upon hearing the news. For a moment he just blinked at you and even asked if he’d heard you correctly. When you confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, his poker face shifted into one of pride—pride in the fact that you created this together, out of love. He was always the protective type, and that wasn’t going to waver any time soon, especially with a baby on the way. There were times you felt a bit suffocated, leading you to sitting him down to reassure him everything was going to be fine and not to worry too much.

To help ease his growing fears, you suggested taking some parenting and birthing classes. During the classes, he put in a lot of effort. Even if it took him a while to grasp everything, he was genuinely trying—that was all you could ask for, really. Whenever you had cravings, you knew how to get him to cave…most of the time. You both chose your battles when it came to the beast that was your intense cravings, but when it got too out of control, he gave in to keep the peace.

When it came to decorating the baby’s room, you would need to be the one responsible for making some sort of plan or else you could very easily waste time redoing it. You put him in charge of building the crib and putting together some of the other furniture, being sure to leave the instructions in his line of vision. He got sidetracked here and there because his thoughts kept wandering to you. He liked watching you paint the walls and hang the curtains.

You both were already exhausted, making you wonder just how much harder it was going to be when the baby finally arrived. Crashing down on the couch, you enjoyed lazily slumping over each other and taking your much earned naps.

Smoker

Hearing the news he was going to be a father made him short circuit. He’d never really considered becoming a father, but that wasn’t to say he never wanted to be. That angelic smile on your face and the pure joy radiating out of you, eagerly awaiting his response, how could he not be thrilled? He was never the best when it came to expressing himself, so he simply hugged you tightly and told you that was wonderful news. Some ways that he did show his affection was through his protectiveness. He just wanted to ensure nothing could hurt you or the baby, but there were times he took it a bit far.

Noticing how seriously he was taking this was great. However, you thought that he should lighten the load stress was putting on his shoulders. You came to him with the suggestion of going to parenting classes and when he told you he’d already looked into it, you couldn’t help but be touched by his initiative. The classes helped his stress reduce a bit, getting him to realize through preparation that everything would be fine.

He came to you fairly early in your pregnancy to start planning the baby’s room. There were already some nice ideas he’d considered and of course, he wanted to share them with you. Despite being a rather intimidating man, it was moments like these when his true nature shined through. Putting himself in charge of building all the furniture, you gladly took the lighter jobs. You snuck a few glances at him, wanting to admire the man who’d be fathering your child.

You didn’t really feel like you had much time to rest with how eager he was to get everything ready. That being said, he didn’t bother you when you were tired. He’d much rather you rested than tucker yourself out unnecessarily. When you took your naps, he came to place a kiss on your temple before continuing his work.