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cashmoneyyysstuff · 4 months

Note

I never really made a request before so that's my first time wish u like it

So I was thinking about some fluff drunk y/n acting all stupid and flirty to bakugo who doesn't like drinking around her because he knows that they both won't have someone to send them home if they got drunk

[Secretly caring]

*Whispering* he also gets a bit touchy if she let's him

*friends to lovers thing*

Wish my explanation was good enough and can't wait for the next chapter of FBRC <3

OUUU this is such a cute idea ! i’m so happy, this is my first request as well so we both have a milestone LMAOOO ! i tried to honour your request as best i could ! <3 (OU and AAAAA im glad you like FBRC ! i hope you’ll keep reading !)

bakugou katsuki considers himself a mature, mostly rational person.

despite what others, media outlets and even his own damn friends might say, katsuki thinks he’s really not that bad.

sure, he’s flipped off a camera man, cursed out another one…and another one—but who doesn’t have a bad day once in a while ?

he’s changed since he was a kid, he doesn’t get set off as easy anymore most days. he’s learned to be more patient, a little more levelheaded. that’s at least something his shitty friends will tell you.

he’s changed from when he was a kid, he’s grown now. he’s a man.

but right now katsuki feels like smashing your head in with a brick.

"kah-su-kiiiiiiiii... m'sleeppyy" you whine, leaning against his shoulder.

katsuki doesn't regret a lot, but he sure as hell regrets accepting to go out for drinks with you. again. you had said something about 'celebrating getting a day off after a while'.

"never should've accepted goin' out with yer ass." he laments grumpily. despite the fact he says this every single time he goes out to drink with you, he never seems to learn his lesson. he never seems to want to learn his lesson.

truth is, katsuki has grown a lot since his UA days but one thing he hasn't outgrown is his giant rampant crush on you. it's embarrassing how tightly you've got him wrapped around your finger, how easily you can get him to do whatever you want as long as you just asked him to.

he complains and grumbles about it but he'll never, ever, say no to you.

which is how he always, always, ends up in this predicament.

katsuki snaps out of his thoughts when he hears you sniffle.

"y-ya don't like.." you sniffle again " ya don't like hangin' out wif me ?"

fuck.

immediatly it's like a switch had been flipped. he moves his arm so he can wrap it around you and have you lean against his chest. you always got emotional when you were a little too drunk, that usually meant it was time to go.

"no—no, s'not that. i—" he sucks in a breath, cheeks heating up despite the fact he knows there's barely any chance you'll remember this. usually he'd remind you of your embarrassing drunk moments as revenge for making him take you home and taking care of your ass because you were too drunk to, but he'll refrain from mentioning this part.

"i do like hangin' out with you, dummy. quit talkin' stupid." he shushes you softly, unconsciously rubbing your arm comfortingly.

"b-but you said, you regretted goin' out wit me" you pout. fuck, you're cute. katsuki has to fight off the urge to lean down and kiss it away.

"i say a lot of stuff i don't always mean, sweets. you know that." he replies " 'f i didn't wanna hang out with ya, i wouldn't."

you hum pensively, leaning against his shoulder as you think. you smell like something sweet, he can't quite track down what it is, but it's making him dizzy. you've always had the ability to make him lose focus. you're so close and you smell so good and katsuki feels like he's drunk.

"mmyeah...guess that's true" you hiccup. you raise your hand up to trace his jaw line with your finger and he refuses to look at you but he can hear the cheeky little smile in your voice "you like hanging out with me, right ? that's why you always say yes when i ask !

he scoffs "i only say yes 'cuz i know you'd just end up goin' out anyway, you'd get yourself in trouble." he's stiff as a fucking board, he feels like if he moves a little too much he'll say something he shouldn't.

"no i wouldn't" you argue, then you reach your whole hand up to squeeze his cheeks "but even if i did, i know you'd come to save me, mr. dynamight" you giggle

he's so sick of you. katsuki's been in plenty of situations where he was this close to death, but he's certain you're gonna be the death of him.

"time for bed" he grumbles. he lifts you by your shoulders slightly until you can properly stand on your feet "m'getting you home, yer too drunk to be up right now" he asserts, chuckling when you pout at him when he flicks your forehead

"you're not the boss o' me ! 'm completely—oops" you trip forward but katsuki catches you with ease, he's always there to.

you look up at him innocently and he looks down at you with one eyebrow raised "you were sayin' ?" he sassed.

you roll your eyes at him and push off him slightly to stand more comfortably, you stick your tongue out at him. " i said—i'm fine..but if you wanna take me home that badly, i guess i'll allow it" you shrug. katsuki squints then shakes his head, smiling to himself. you catch him and giggle, he can't cover up his chuckle fast enough. you must look stupid to the other people in the bar just sitting there giggling at each other, he realizes. then he remembers he could honestly not give enough of a shit about what these other drunk losers thought, the only drunk loser he cared about was right here in his arms.

right where you belonged.

you're out like a light by the time katsuki's brought you back to your apartment, but he doesn't mind, he'd expected it anyway. he carries you like a sack of potatoes to your floor. he's glad he'd managed to grab your keys before you fell asleep, having to wrestle the keys from you and risk you getting cranky at him doesn't sound all that nice right now.

he helps you take off your shoes and he's extremely grateful you're just lucid enough to change by yourself. he helps you clean up and brush your teeth, then carries you to bed even though he knows damn well you could walk just fine. not before getting you to down a glass of water.

you're annoying when you're drunk and sleepy, you're whiny and everything is too much work for you. katsuki grumbles right along with you, calling you a pain in the ass, then promptly taking it back when he sees you tearing up again. he grumbles and complains but he knows he wouldn't let anyone else do it for him. not only because he's sure whoever it is wouldn't even be able to do this half as well as he does, but also because despite his better judgement, despite the fact you piss him off to no bounds, you're his to take care of. and he'd be damned if he let anyone else take care of what's his.

so you whine, and he complains, but he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

you insist on wanting him to stay with you and he knows he probably shouldn't. he likes you too much to just casually stay here with you, he knows he won't be able to sleep and he's just going to keep staring at your lashes fluttering as you dream. but you pout at him and plead him so sweetly, he really can't say no to you.

he likes you too much.

he steals one of your hoodies and a pair of sweatpants (he technically isn't stealing—since they're both his to begin with) and climbs into bed with you. you immediatly latch onto him, nuzzling into his shoulder before thanking him.

"for what ?" he mutters sleepily, slowly wrapping his arms around you.

"for.." you interrupt yourself with a yawn, he chuckles "for always takin' care of me..you're the best."

if you were more sober, he'd simply answer with a cocky "tell me something i don't know." but you're not and katsuki's already too far gone, so he squeezes your waist in appreciation then responds " i'm always gonna take care of you."

he's suprised by how soft and sappy he sounds but you suprise him even more when you lean up slightly to press a feather light kiss to the underside of his jaw and whisper a sweet little "love you."

he lays there for a good long while without response, you don't mind because you chose that exact moment to fall asleep. he lays there and he's sure he won't be able to fall asleep now. fuck you for knocking out and leaving him like this, he thinks. he's trying not to give himself false hope, maybe you meant it platonically. he keeps trying and he keeps thinking all night but he's still impossibly giddy.

he was contemplating not telling you anything about last night, but he can't help himself. he's nervous—god, he's so fucking nervous when you wake up while he's getting comfy in your kitchen like it was his, making breakfast. you look groggy and sleepy and hungover, but to him, you still look adorable.

when you're awake enough, munching away at the breakfast he's made, he tells you about last night and his heart slams against his chest when he mentions what you had told him.

though, when he sees how you choke on a piece of your toast, and how flustered you look, like a deer in headlights, his heart beats hard against his ribcage for a completely different reason.

the next time you go out for drinks, it's to celebrate the start of your relationship.

AAA first request done ! hope you liked this anon <3 if you guys have any request pleassseee lemme know !

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 11 months

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Being a maid in the house of kokushibo and yoriichi and serve them nicely. (yk what i meant 18+. Also female bodied reader)

Personal maid <3

GOD THIS PICTURE LMFAOOO also I'm using human kokushibo (michikatsu) for this if they have a maid to themselves

Part two: Here!!!

Warnings: Fem!reader, reader is a maid, human kokushibo (michikatsu), hard dom michikatsu, pleasure dom yoriichi, cum, humiliation kink(?), spanking, rough fucking, choking, mention of 3some

Michikatsu

Michikatsu, who takes joy in having you, the Tsugikuni twins personal maid to satisfy his needs after a long day of being a samurai.

Michikatsu who approached you directly on what to expect, being his and his brothers personal maid, even if their father informed you already. He's not as affectionate, but he makes sure to get to know you and what you're comfortable so you and him can do things smoothly without trouble.

Michikatsu who trained your throat so you know how to suck his cock right when he gets home from a hard day. When he comes out the shower and sits in front of you, man spreading, you already know what to do.

Michikatsu feels the most relived after cumming from oral. Your lips wrapped around his tip and sucking it, bobbing your head and your hand jerking him off is rhythm. "That's it" he groans letting his head fall back and grabbing a fist full of your hair "I'm going to cum, make sure to swallow it all. Don't let a single drop leak out to get me dirty after I use showerd, " he said and pushes your head down to take more of his cock.

Michikatsu, who gave you rules on what to do for him. One of them is not wear panties under your kimono, that way it makes easier for him to fuck you when he gets home. Whenever he walks by you around the house, he'll grab your ass to check, but if he grabs your ass and he feels you've got panties on, he'll punish you afterward.

Michikatsu, who bends you over lap, lifting your kimono to expose your ass and spanks you, making you count out loud. "I'm sorry master! I'm sorry, " you whine, hugging his musclar thigh, feeling the stings from each of his spanks. "Are you really? This is the 5th time you've disobeyed me." he said, moving your panties to the side and chuckles, "but you like being a brat just so I can punish you. Just look at this mess" he said as his fingers played with your leaking pussy. He wasnt wrong though, you did like it, almost love even.

Michikatsu who fucks you rough to relief him of stress. He fuck you in missionary to have the most control and having his hand always makes it up to your throat, squeezing it. "Is this too tight?" He'll always ask while fucking you hard, making his skin clap agiants your and all you could do is shake your head, holding onto his wrist while you let out breaking moans. "Too dumb on my cock to answer with words mm. But I like that face. I can't help but think you're always this excited for me to fuck you like a stupid whore"

Michikatsu, who's good with his pull out game. Just when he's about to cum hell pull out, cumming on your pussy, in your mouth or if he's in a good mood and you've cum on his cock like your told too then he'll cum inside you.

Michikatsu's aftercare is always a "thank you" or a "good job." He's not the best with comforting words, but he always asks if you're ok physically and mentally after sex. If you say you're fine to head to the bath by yourself after a rough fucking session he will carry you to the bath and he makes sure you've gotten to your room safely.

Yoriichi

Yoriichi is calm. More clam than his twin, but you underestimated his sex drive just because of how calm he is. After coming back home from God, he knows where he'll always come back, wanting to have you all to himself, even if it ment bumping heads with his twin with needing you more.

Yoriichi, who isn't afraid to play with you in public and eats your pussy for his own pleasure. He has you up against the wall. His head between your legs, licking and sucking on your clit with his fingers deep inside you. "M-master yoriichi, please," you whispered as your hand griped onto his hair. "A samurai could turn around this corner any minute- f-fuck" you cover your mouth to surpress your moans. He only moans in response on your clit while stroking his hard cock.

Yoriichi who likes to over stimulate your clit by trying to make you cum as many times as he can. When is he done making you cum from his tounge he'll rub his tip on your clit. "So pretty. You're leaking so much for me..." he said, slipping his tip between your wet folds, catching your slick, and pushing onto his tip inside your hole, in and completely out.

Yoriichi, who can't help but smile when you beg for him. "I'm sorry, I've been making you cum so much you've had nothing to clench on. Here you go" he whispers in your ear and moans once he's slides inside you slowly. "You're so tight. Don't hide your pretty moans from me. Let me hear you when you cum for me."

Yoriichi likes to fuck you in missionary but its different from how michikatsu would do. He always makes sure to put a pillow underneath your lower body to penetrate you deeper than normal and make it more pleasurable for you. "M-master, please~ oh gosh. I'm suppose to be taking care of you here" you moan out, yoriichi slamming into you roughly and him leaning forward to suck on your nipples "you're doing more then enough to help me, haa soo good for me. Seeing you like this and your pussy squeezing me from how good it feels is enough for me."

Yoriichi who likes to press his hand down gently on your abdomen gently when you let him know you're close. "Squirt for me. I know you can do it, you're such a good girl" he said and kisses your jawline "your getting so wet for me" his free hand starts to rub at your clit "ill fill you up just how you like it if you squirt on my cock"

Yoriichi is very wholesome with the aftercare to you. After a bath, he gives you a massage in your room, making sure you're not tensed or hurt anywhere. Sometimes, yoriichi will sleep in your room since he does like the comfort you give him

Bonus

During a samurai meeting, the Tsugikuni twins would often sit in the far back request their personal maid to sit between them after you've brought them tea. Their father found it foolish how clingy they've become to you but always brushed it off.

Yoriichi is the frist to make a move by grabbing your thigh and slowly grabbing the inner part of your thigh. You keep your head straight along with the twist yet your body heating up once you feel Yoriichi fingers brush on your pussy and then michikatsu starting to grab at your ass.

Yoriichi gets his fingers to start rubbing your clit in circles through your panties making you bite down on your lip to not make a sound while the meeting is going on. You wiggle slightly making michikatsu chuckle lowly while he moves his hand from your ass.

Michikatsu puts two fingers in his mouth to lubricant them without anyone noticing and leans closer to your ear "don't a sound" he said parting your thighs open more to slide his fingers in making you gasp and quickly covering your mouth. "Shhh, not so loud now. We don't want to be found out" yoriichi whispered and moaned in your ear "I can feel your clit throbbing for us already" he said as his other hand cups your boob and playing with your hard nipple through your kimono with his fingers.

Michikatsu smirks and finger fucks you faster, hearing the sounds of your wet pussy and watches you cover your mouth desperately to hide your moans. "Be of service to us and stroke our cock" he said and your hands reach over, exposing your cocks and beginning to jerk them off.

Yoriichi's head falls onto your shoulder as he felt your warm hard wrapped around his cock and rubs your clit faster. Michikatsu bites your ear softly "fuck you're being so good" his voices became raspy trying to stay quiet himself. "If you cum for us you'll get two cocks stuffed I'm you as a reward. How dose that sound, y/n?"

"I-id love that," you whispered back. "I'll be a good girl, don't worry~"

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #yoriichi smut #yoriichi x reader #kokushibo x reader #kokushibo smut #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu smut #kny michikatsu

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incorrectbatfam · 4 months

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Types of obnoxious batfam stans

Written by an obnoxious batfam stan

Not really a rant but something I've noticed over the years interacting in different spaces and I've decided to make your problem now.

Please note that I'm not saying there's any "right" way to be a fan because we all suck by virtue of being comic nerds, but there are certain kinds of batfamily fans that stick out to be in particular.

Anywho, here are 12 kinds of annoying batfam stans that you've probably run into and you better get a laugh out of it *points gun to your head*.

1) The Newbies Who Never Heard of Google

There's no shame in being new to something. It's a phase that we're all guaranteed to go through, whether we're 11 or 101. However, in this day and age, so many things can be easily googled that you don't need to shout every question you have into the VVorld VVide VVoid. If you need comic recs or a reading list, google it. If you wanna know a character's origin story, google it. If you need to know the color of Batman's underpants in a particular issue in 1965... well that's probably too specific for Google but Reddit will definitely have an answer.

2) The Middle School Authors

Before the 13-year-olds get up in my notes, I'm not saying everyone that age writes like this. Middle school is a state of mind. These fanfic writers usually stand out in a few ways.

They're oftentimes first-person POV or reader-insert. Give Y/N a break, she's tired.

The grammar is stunningly atrocious. I get if you're inexperienced or if you're writing in a second language, but we are in the prime era of autocorrect. If you need help, it's right there. Also, fuck c*nsoring b*d w*rds and fuck "unalive."

The characters do things that are out-of-character because the author is projecting their own personality. Bruce Wayne is a lot of things but he does not listen to the fucking Mountain Goats.

There's a lack of experience or research when it comes to certain topics. That's not how physics works. He can't walk that injury off. And that's definitely NOT how you do the horizontal hokey pokey.

3) The Neckbeards

Unfortunately, these basement-dwelling mouth-breathers tainted the image of what a comic fan is, though that's been changing recently. Still, we've all seen them. They gatekeep via pop quizzes, 'cause obviously you're not a real fan unless you know what page 10 of Batman #138 smells like. They give unsolicited commentary on people's cosplays, nitpicking the guys and being gross toward women. And heaven forbid the comics add a little diversity.

4) The Moviegoers

Nothing inherently wrong with getting into the fandom via the movies, nor is there anything wrong with sticking to that. I just feel like we're two different species of Galapagos finches, you know?

5) The Christopher Nolans

Separate from casual fans of the Nolan movies. I'm calling them the Christopher Nolans because these people have a tendency to reach for the grimdarkest thing possible. It's like they cannot fathom Batman having any other emotions besides punching and gargoyle brooding.

6) The Canon Purists

Wanna share a fun headcanon? NO, because Stephanie Brown never used cherry lip balm in the comics so therefore that must be the absolute truth. These people are a stickler for comic accuracy to the point where it's like... why bother interacting with the fandom in the first place? The worst part is when they're adamant on following a single continuity and refuse to consider anything else. This is comics we're talking about. Everything either has been or will be canon at some point.

7) The Fanon Worshippers

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the people who base their entire perception of the characters on something either they pulled out of their ass or that their mutual with 16 followers came up with, despite evidence directly contradicting it. I love WFA, but I feel like that's partially responsible for further perpetuating certain popular myths. Also, these fans tend to focus solely on the batfam/their ships. It's one thing to have some people in the foreground vs. background, but put some respect to Bart Allen's name you goddamn cheesecakes.

8) The Golden Age Dads

These guys aren't really obnoxious. I actually find it kind of cute how they think Jason Todd is still dead.

9) The Chronically Online

I have a rule of thumb when it comes to discourse: if it's not something I'd hear about at a bar, it's not worth my mental energy. Some people haven't gotten the memo, though.

These are either the well-intentioned but misinformed teenagers or grown-ass adults beefing with children because they don't have a life. They have takes that are oversimplified, rage-inducing, TikTok algorithm attention-grabbers that no one cares about in real life.

Don't get me wrong, we've got a bunch of issues in comics and fandom that are worth discussing. However, there comes a point where you're splitting hairs and need to go the fuck outside. I'm not gonna link the post 'cause I don't wanna call them and their 7 notes out, but the other week I saw someone saying Stephcass was a racist ship because something something colonialism parallel. You gotta be Elastigirl to have that kind of reach.

10) The Corporate Simps

I love comics. I appreciate the writers and artists. However, you will find my carcass in a ditch before you catch me licking the boots of DC/Warner Bros. Basically, these fans, fewer as they are, can't seem to fathom that their favorite franchise can (and does) put out some steaming motherfucking garbage.

11) The Hot Cosplayers

Not actually annoyed, I'm just a little jealous. Stop being hotter than me, please and thank you.

12) The One With A Punchline For Everything

Wait–

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savannahsdeath · 7 months

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heyy! this is my first time asking a request but can you do more mafia ellie? i love her sm omg 🤭

MAFIA!ELLIE X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! mentions of ellie not having time for reader;(( finger sucking? cum eating just smut and ellie ending up shoving her fingers in your mouth because .

writers note: inspired by @seattlesellie 's fic though hers about abby 🤭(read it here) .. i found it days ago and just couldnt get this out of my head goshhh and finding it again was so hard !!

: ̗̀➛ "yeah, good fuckin' job." ellie mumbled in a raspy whisper.

you could see her arm muscles tense as her grip on her phone tightened. you bit your lip and threw your head back, leaning it on her shoulder.

it wasn't supposed to be like that. not at all.

: ̗̀➛ she told you she has a day off - well, she's her own boss, so she could have one any day, but her job is hard to take a break of. there's always some problems or complications. or unexpected calls, like this one. of course, she apologised a hundred times before picking it off (not really, she just murmured a half-assed 'sorry, babe'), but it didn't make it any less annoying.

: ̗̀➛ so you ended up pressed against her chest with legs spread wide open, making room for her right hand, which, much to your surprise, didn't slid out of you.

"ellie—" you let out a desperate mewl, feeling her fingers slow down as her focus shifted to the person on the phone.

she shushed you, planting a loving kiss on your neck, which only added fuel to your neediness.

"i know." she whispered, curling her fingers inside of you to prove her point. she straightened up as if whoever she was talking with could see her previous posture. "uhh, yeah... could you repeat?"

her every move would force a sound out of the back of your throat, every touch of her lips on your neck whenever she wasn't the one speaking left dark marks on your skin. you held onto her hand, digging your nails into her forearm what didn't bother her at all. being silent wasn't easy, it took lots of self-control which disappeared in ellie's presence.

: ̗̀➛ it was even harder when the "good fuckin' job" turned out to be something more like "fucked job". that's when you finally earned her focus. her fingers found the perfect way to calm her down, take some anger out and let her listen to your beautiful moans. you really tried to be quiet, but all you could do is purse your lips, what only muffled all the little whimpers.

"look, if you don't figure it out till tomorrow, you're fucking dead." she hissed, her frustration spreading through her whole body - from head to toes.

you felt the electricity cumulating in her fingers, you felt how mad she was. oh, yes, you felt that.

"i—" you whined, tugging on her arm to get even more of the attention.

"hushh..." she clicked her tongue, turning back to her phone. "i'm not kidding. your wife's gonna get your head as a christmas gift, if i'll feel generous."

every single word that escaped her mouth caused another gasp from you, because you didn't really listen to how harsh her statement was, you just enjoyed her raspy voice which was perfectly sychronised with her fingers. when she spoke slowly, her movement would also slow down, and, oh, how much you wanted to beg her to hang up.

"i don't care— no, shush, shut up." she hissed, but you felt better at the thought of you not being the only one who has to stay quiet now. "i have no idea how you'll do it, but you will, or i swear to god i—" her slim digits digged into you as she kissed your cheek, mumbling a tired; "fuckin' idiots" close to your ear while pulling away.

the man on the phone must start to get nervous, as his pathetic voice was now audible even for you. he kept apologizing and rambling nonsense, though ellie wasn't really interested in his excuses. plus, she had other things to do.

she used the little break as much as she could, pumping her fingers in and out of you and even slightly withdrawing her phone from her ear so she could listen to the sticky, dirty noises. nuzzling her face in your neck, she let out a long hum, either satisfied at the sound or to make the poor man think she cares. maybe both.

eventually, she continued her conversation. not forgetting about a disappointed, dramatic sigh first, of course. "any last wish?" she asked with an obvious smirk.

his voice raised even more, now not only apologizing but begging her for forgiveness. ellie never hurt any of her 'workers', unless they were traitors, so the fact that he took her seriously seemed unusual and, at some point, hilarious.

: ̗̀➛ you were so close, finally, after minutes of this torture - of your satisfaction disappearing for a few seconds just to come back... just to leave again, making your neediness take over. you bit your lip and looked at ellie, plopping your head on the crook of her neck. she felt how fastly and roughly you exhaled against her collarbone, grinning in amusement. you shifted, pressing your back even harder to her chest so you could feel it raising and falling as she breathes. your eyelids fell, making you get lost in a dark maze of every possible sense but sight.

"ellielliellie!" you whined, her name rang out in the dense, cold air.

your voice could be definitely heard on the other side of the phone, though the man didn't even stop his panicked rambling, what probably meant he was too busy to notice it.

she tsked as your throbbing walls clenched around her, her soaked fingers dripping on her palm. the ache which was persistently located somewhere deep in your body, maybe in the core of your bones, and didn't want to let go of you finally subsided. your hands almost unconsciously rested against your sides and as you opened your eyes you could see little moon shapes left on her forearm, where your nails digged into her.

it took you by complete surprise, not giving you time to react - though you wouldn't do anything anyway - before your pornographic moan got cut off with her digits sliding inside of your mouth. your saliva pooled down as your teeth grazed her flesh; salty and,, callous. her palm rested against your chin, forcing you to keep it raised.

"el—luhh" you tried to mumble but it came out as nothing like your girlfriend's name. it was slobbery, unclear and— disgusting.

she turned back to her phone, making you only able to guess what her expression was but she was, without a doubt, smirking. your tongue flopped flat beneath / against her fingers, earning a hum from ellie. as your pouty lips closed around her, her digits moved in deeper, causing you to gag for a second.

"c'mon, you'll live." she rolled her eyes, and you weren't sure which one of you is she talking to now - you, or the man who thinks he fights for his life, when in reality his 'threat' doesn't even listen to him?

your view range was violated by her grip, but you could see how unbothered she was through the corner of your eye. you could feel it - feel that her thighs don't tremble and clench, or that her breath is steady and deep, unlike yours.

as she shoved her fingers almost knuckles deep in your mouth, she spread them as if to gesture scissors and you swore you can read her mind, so you twirled your tongue around them, cleaning them up. your own juices got replaced with just as messy saliva, which small droplets cumulated in the corner of your lips. you couldn't help but suck on her digits, and the action itself made your eyes watery.

"you'll stay silent now, 'kay?" she spoke up in a mocking tone, and you couldn't tell who is she talking to again - no matter which one of you it was, you knew she wasn't asking and you hoped that the man realizes it too.

still, you nodded, making her whole hand follow your movements, what almost felt like she's the one controlling your body's reaction.

"of course you will." she cooed in a serious voice, though there was a different undertone - laced with taunting sweetnes.

✧˖°

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transmascissues · 6 months

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some thoughts about top surgery recovery, as of 3 days post-op:

when they say using your chest muscles sucks afterward, i never realized exactly how much was going to be be limited. coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, laughing — all of it is terrifying right now. even talking for too long starts to put that kind of stress on my chest, and my voice isn’t as strong as it usually is. it takes me forever to fully empty my bladder when i’m on the toilet because i’m totally relying on gravity to do all the work (and shitting was effectively impossible without a stool softener even though i haven’t taken the pain meds they said i would need them for)…and don’t even get me started on figuring out how to wipe (hint: back to front while sitting, using my dominant hand to push my non-dominant hand far back enough). using the computer is also harder — i was planning on playing lots of baldur’s gate after, but for the first couple days i could only really go for a few minutes before using my arms that way got too tiring. having a mastectomy pillow has been an absolute godsend when i’m using my phone because i can prop my arms up on it and not really have to use any muscles at all to hold them up.

the biggest piece of not being able to use my chest muscles right now, which i’m writing separately because it’s been such a huge thing for me, is that i cannot sit up or back by myself at fucking all. like, if i sit on the couch and lean back a bit to sit against the cushion, it hurts to pull myself back up to fully straight — and if i’m leaning back any more than that, i just can’t do it at all and i’m stuck there unless my boyfriend puts their hands behind me and pushes my dead weight back up. i totally get why some people sleep in a recliner now because i’m completely at the mercy of having someone there to help move me around once i’m at any sort of angle. sitting back is mostly the same as far as what i can do, and arguably hurts worse to attempt at all, but my ability to do it seems to be coming back faster than my ability to sit up. if you’ve never had your mobility limited to that extent before, prepare yourself: the first time you’re stuck somewhere and the person who normally helps you doesn’t answer immediately can be really fucking scary (i learned that the hard way).

the anesthesiologist warned me that i might have a sore throat after surgery from being intubated, but i was not prepared for what “sore throat” ended up meaning for me. you know that feeling of swallowing something that’s too big and you can still feel it in your throat even after it’s down? it’s like that times 20, and further down in my throat. the worst pain i’ve felt in the last three days wasn’t from the surgery itself, it was from trying to swallow pancakes when my throat was at it’s worst. today is the first day it’s even started to fade, and even now, it hurts just to swallow my own spit. i don’t know about you, but that’s not what comes to mind when someone tells me “you might have a sore throat”.

on that note, the incisions themselves have really been the least painful part in general, probably because the nerves there aren’t reconnected yet. the vast majority of my pain and discomfort at this point has been from the drains and bandages — the drain sites getting sore or just randomly starting to sting, waking up feeling suffocated by the ace bandages, etc. it’s not because anything is wrong with them — the drains weren’t placed wrong and the bandages aren’t too tight, they’re just a huge pain in the ass to deal with 24/7. i can’t express how much i’m looking forward to getting the drains out and being able to take binder breaks because it’ll make things so much more comfortable.

my incisions are connected in the middle because my chest tissue was all really close together, and the part where the incisions connect is really the only part where i’ve felt any pain so far. i suspect it’s because the swelling on either side is making that part of the incision push together and press against itself, and then the binder pushes on it even more. it’s not a severe pain at all, but i do sometimes lift the center of the bandage off my chest for a second to give that spot a bit of a break.

i’ve already started getting some of the weird sensations associated with nerves reconnecting, and it definitely is wild. so far, it’s been mostly tingly feelings, sometimes like chills and sometimes more like a limb falling asleep. (weird observation: taking a shit makes my ribs tingle? i’ve got no good explanation for that one.) i’ve gotten a zap on one side and some buzzing feelings too. it’s pretty mild right now, probably because it’s so early on.

i’ve also gotten what i would describe as phantom boob feelings, especially on the first night. specifically, when i close my eyes, sometimes i’ll feel like someone is touching or jiggling the boobs i don’t have anymore. definitely not a super pleasant experience, but i think being out of it from the anesthesia still really helped me not be too upset by the worst of it. i’ve gotten a couple little phantom nipple touches too, but those were just split second blips of sensation that were far less bothersome in comparison.

i never realized that the classic post-op hunch is caused more by the binder than by the body itself, but we had to take all of my bandages off the night after my surgery to send pictures of something to my surgeon, and i was shocked by how much straighter i could sit with everything off. i was definitely still hunched, but it was more like a natural slouch and less like i looked like i was using an invisible walker. with the binder on, it’s super uncomfortable for me to try to stand straight at all because it feels like the ace bandage doesn’t come with my body and just drags everything down, and i’m always holding my mastectomy pillow or my hands to my chest while i walk around to stop it from feeling like gravity is going make the bandage tear my chest open.

every so often, when things are getting especially painful or uncomfortable or just generally difficult, i do start to wonder if i made the right choice. not because i regret getting rid of those things — not by a long shot — but because it’s a fucking hard process to go through. this is probably the hardest thing for me to admit, but the rational part of my mind knows it’s natural to feel that way once in a while. all of this is temporary and the relief from dysphoria will be permanent, but right now? this is my entire world and it doesn’t feel particularly temporary and i do have moments of “why do i have to go through all this when other people get to just have the right body from the start? why couldn’t i just live with what i had? why can’t i just be living my normal life right now?” no matter how sure you are of your choice, no matter how proud you are of being trans, this shit is hard and it’s okay to feel that.

i’m going to put the pictures of my chest one day post-op under the cut, because i think it’s pretty rare to see pictures from that soon after the surgery. they’re not gorey at all — the actual incisions are totally covered by steri strips and everything around them is clean — but still, if you don’t want to see relatively fresh surgery results, don’t look under the cut.

for all the discomfort and pain and limitations and other weirdness of recovery, every time i look at these pictures it reminds me of exactly why i’m doing all of this, and i’m so glad i kept fighting for this for so long. some people might never understand why someone would choose to go through this whole process, but i know it’ll be worth it in the end.

here’s my chest one day post-op! i think it looks super good and my surgeon said it looks like it’s healing perfectly (as much as it can be healing at one day). for reference, my chest was a DDD/F before surgery. i know this isn’t how my chest will look in the end, but i’m already thrilled with how things are turning out! i’ve truly never been more confident in my choice of surgeon — like, come on! look at that! she did so good!

#top surgery adventures #<- gonna start putting all the posts about my top surgery in that tag #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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parkjayssi · 4 months

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✦ PAC : ONCE UPON A FAIRYTALE

which romance trope do you and your fs belong to?

like & rb if resonates i'm a beginner in tarot so please take everything with a grain of salt it is a general reading so only take what resonates

WARNING: a bit of nsfw in pile 1, nothing too explicit

🔥 | pile one!

THE TROPE : ENEMIES-TO-LOVERS / RIVALS

if you got this pile, goddamn, i shall say the sexual tension is high af. this trope isn't necessarily how you'll feel about your fs but it is for the small percentage of people out there. as for the others, it is merely small rivalry, not anything major. or maybe you both meet through or during some kind of competition. even a school test, yes.

you both are so bound by your duties/work and have a want to do the best. this is exactly the trait that will bring you both together. there will be ups and downs due to either/both of you being stubborn and sticking to your own plans. communication is definitely necessary and so is understanding. high possibility that you two might also break up because of this huge ego problem that either of you might have in order to rekindle.

as for the bond between you two, let's just say you both are willing to devour each other. i'm not kidding. interpreting the shufflemancy messages really said "i want you, but i can't admit that because i have a huge ego." like they want you so bad, it's not funny (and so do you). even during the small squabbles lies this high need of just riling each other to see if you both end on the bed or not-

SONGS CHANNELLED FOR THE TROPE:

🌟 | pile two!

THE TROPE : SOULMATES

whole. some. that's it. this is something the majority of this pile would be with their fs. for some of you, twin flames too. but this pile is beautiful because you would feel that your fs/ you is/are a shooting star, fulfilling the wish to be loved, genuinely.

it feels like everything was planned from the start and you both wouldn't regret it. either of you might have been going through a whole ass storm in life before an umbrella magically appears. this storm is meant to be a trial to build a strong foundation together in order to face it head on.

as for the bond, it's really sweet and warm. it's like those indie romance movies where just a glance between the leads would send a warm tingle in your body. you both are so supportive of each other and make sure to take care of each other. it feels like spending time near the fire on a cold evening. my favourite pile <333

SONGS CHANNELED FOR THE TROPE :

💓 | pile three!

THE TROPE : BLIND DATE / LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

a new beginning, and a perfect one at that hmm? that's the perfect trope for you and fs, pile 3. getting over an ex probably seems a major theme here, or just getting over something and starting something new and exciting. it screams "right person at the right moment"

the best part is right off the bat, sparks fly high and it feels more than a crush even if you've known the person for a single day/date. not to mention, the majority of your fs's are charming, their personality makes you dive down a deep hole, damn. but being rational is necessary and taking everything slow seems to be the best option, otherwise the hole might suck either of you to darkness.

as for the bond, you both might be a bit secretive but it's honestly better this way. you both are willing to listen to each other's opinion and make sure to encourage each other. can't really pick much up since both of you like to keep your private life a secret. but nonetheless, you both are adorable <3

SONGS CHANNELED FOR THE TROPE:

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kagamesayu · 28 days

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shidou ryusei x bimbo!reader

c/w . implied female reader, implied smut, fluff, shidou ryusei is crazy for you wc: 1 k a/n . shidou ryusei my beloved. literally obsessed with his crazy ass ugh <3 reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

pt 1, pt 2

imagine...

shidou who loves every bit of you. your short pink skirt that shows off your panties every time you jump around, your too tight shirts that show off your body and the way you make him feel like the smartest person in the world.

like - no baby, pikachu is not a real animal.

you bounce off each others energies so well, your dynamic is literally popular jock x popular cheerleader. he'd be at games and look for you in the stands, pointing and blowing kisses in your direction. and you'd return them in fervor, shaking your 'ryu-baby you can do it!!!' sign that was decorated with pink glitter and cut-out hearts.

he once flashed his tits to you while sticking his tongue out. you'd almost returned the favour but your friend stopped you. truly lucky for everyone, cause if you had done that ryusei would , firstly, destroy every camera in that stadium and then give everyone concussions because nobody but him could look at your bahonkers.

shidou who adores how your hands look in his. your acrylic nails that leave a delicious sting whenever they touch him beautifully contrast his own dull short nails that you manicured yourself.

"babe you need to look after your nails! at the very least let me paint a base coat!" you'd pout at him, fluttering your pretty eyelashes at him while holding his hands close to your chest.

usually when you went out together he'd hold you by the waist, but every time you get new acrylics he'd hold you by your hands. he loves playing with your nails, feeling the new textures you'd gotten.

he'll let you paint his nails too, makes you promise to get your painted the colour of his tip.

shidou who tells everyone about his beautiful partner. at this point, everybody in the world knew you were together, with how obnoxious he was about your relationship. in every interview he's able to bring you up. doesn't matter if no one asked him, he'll talk about you.

and he almost always gives them a little too much info.

"what i think of the other team? think they all suck. saw one of them lookin' at m' doll and i was gonna knock 'im out! i mean - i get it. they're fuckin' hot but they're mine."

"o-ok, well-"

"ya'll know about us right? i'm taken by her," he shows a polaroid picture of you he put on the back of his phone. "and she's mine. she's so cute too, almost sued dog treat companies cause she thought they were made from actual dogs."

"yes, let's move on-"

"and look - she painted my nails. painted them the colour of m' eyes."

"alright that's cute-"

"she painted hers the colour of my tip-"

"ANYWAYS."

shidou who loves doing makeup with you. yes he only has to do eyeliner, but he loves distracting talking to you while you get yourself ready to go out.

he absolutely adores helping you put on lip gloss. he has you seat on his lap, a hand holding your jaw while the other holds the applicator. he definitely steals a few kisses first though. wets your lips he says and you just nod along, too dumb to realise that the lip gloss does that for you.

that doesn't mean he doesn't kiss you after applying the gloss though. after making you smack your lips together he dives in like he's going for a goal, sucking and biting your bottom lip. you'd get so angry cause you'll have to clean your makeup up, but he doesn't care too much. he'll just sit there, pink smeared over his lips as you fret over your appearance.

he also loves when you help him draw on his eyeliner. he'll have his chin pressed on your fantastic titties, one of your hands on the back of his head as the other held the liner.

when this happens his eyes always seem to take in your features. the wrinkle of your eyebrows or the way your mouth is slightly open, he loves looking at you.

shidou who has to be pulled back by you every time he gets into a fight. it could be for any reason. they were looking at him funny, they were looking at you periodt, they were getting too close, anything and everything gets him riled up. especially if it involves you. his special little doll he loves so much.

he's got to protect what is his after all.

you'd hold him from behind both hands on his chest as you try to pull him away. "baby they're not worth your time!"

"those fuckers called ya dumb doll! ain't no fuckin' way i'd let that slide!" only he was allowed to call you that. he's growling, dangerous smirk on his face as the veins on his arms and neck stand up. this, you think, is when he's the most sexy.

the only way to stop him is to direct his anger into a different place.

you step closer, pressing your plush breasts against his back, the hand on his chest sliding up to his neck as the other moved to hold his shoulder.

"mm...but baby it's getting really hot here, and i really really want you." you stand on your tippy toes, pouted lips pressing against his ear as you whisper into his it.

his anger almost fully vanishes, gone with the guys who 'insulted' you. now his anger changes to something else, something more...dangerous.

to you, that is. cause you won't be walking for the next few days.

shidou who after tussles with people, lets you nurse him back to health. loves when you play doctor cause he get's all of your attention to himself.

doesn't matter if it's a bruise or if its his cut up knuckles, you tend to all his injuries with loving care. of course, you don't really know what your'e doing but it's the thought that counts! and he won't stop you when you use cute kuromi plasters on his wounds.

yes they are glittery, and pink and cutesy. yes everyone at training talks about how lovesick he looks when he stares at his fingers. but does he care? no.

#x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #x bimbo!reader #bllk imagines #✧. bllk

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direquail · 6 months

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You know the point of "protecting the children" dogwhistles, right? It's a reference to the idea that all queer people are child abusers. Super common belief among homophobes and transphobes, including (sometimes especially) gay ones.

It's also not just "a dogwhistle". When pressed to explain what exactly they want to protect children from, it's a ready-made emotional appeal to something that has broad social support. Most people, even if they don't like being around kids, are also not pro-child abuse. That's why conservatives go out of their way to invent (even if it's completely fictional) "reasons" why acceptance of gay and trans people amounts to child abuse. It helps them create an emotional connection with their target audience, and can be leveraged into logically ridiculous arguments like "well, if you don't agree with my platform, you must be pro child abuse, because I'm on the side of The Children".

"Protecting the children" is also super appealing to parents in particular, not because all parents are secretly authoritarians, but because it's super common to have a child and realize "Oh shit, I brought this person who can't defend themselves into the world and the world kind of sucks", and to feel horribly, horribly inadequate in the face of that.

I get very tired of people who mock, scorn, and ridicule people for falling for these rhetorical traps, or being snared by something that seems common-sense but disguises something ugly underneath. They are traps. That is what they're meant to be. That is why there are gay people who fall for anti-queer rhetoric, and get pulled into exclusionist or violently reactionary circles. We all have things we are vulnerable to, whether that is a history of being abused or a deep fear that we cannot protect our own children, who we brought into the world and are responsible for the protection of. And we gain nothing by mocking the latter.

I'm sure it makes some people feel great to say "well if you were really who you claim to be, you wouldn't fall for this shit", but frankly, that's a stupid-ass take. It misses entirely that these messages are carefully crafted by the people who hate us! They workshop these statements! They spend months or years trying to find the right message and when they find it they use the hell out of it, because it works. Because they are listening to the public conversations people are having online, and it doesn't take any level of basic agreement to be capable of regurgitating the party line word-for-word.

I am so sick of people who look at a deeply-embedded struggle over social and political ideals and think that this fight won't demand our whole brains and hearts and souls and yeah, we might fuck up because we care deeply and sometimes, people with bad intentions prey on that. On our grief and our fear and our rage.

And I'm frankly a lot more nervous around people who refuse to be aware of that, especially when they loudly mock the people who are willing to acknowledge their own fallibility and explore how they got ensnared in something. People are not moral machines, they are people.

#that post was pure moral purity police and it was so aggravating #the WHOLE point of that post was to shame every single person who saw it for being fallible and the net effect will not be to make us bette #it will be to make us less willing to interrogate ourselves and whether we're on the right track

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writing-for-marvel · 1 year

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Don’t Get Sad, Get Even

Boyfriend’s Roommate!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finding out your boyfriend is cheating on you, you decide to get back at him by sleeping with the one person he was always insecure about throughout your relationship, his roommate.

Prompt: For making me believe that you could be faithful to me - Rihanna, Take a Bow

Warnings: strictly 18+, cheating & revenge sex, use of toys (dildo & vibrator), masturbation, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: this is my entry for my darling friend @flordeamatista’s Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You can’t deny that the sight of your boyfriend stumbling upstairs, lips locked with some young, college chick, fumbling to unhook her bra, makes your heart drop below your stomach.

You knew, even from the outset of your relationship, that Bryce wasn’t going to be the guy you walked down an aisle and pledged ‘I do’ to, but he had, at least initially, been attentive and put in the effort to make you feel beautiful. Your chest aches at the thought that it only took a couple drinks and a pretty girl seductively sucking on a straw, for him to break the four month long commitment you made to each other.

That he didn’t have the decency to break up with you before not so subtly sliping away from a party he himself dragged you to, to fuck some stranger a mere wall away from where he left you minutes earlier with the promise to fix you both a drink.

With your head held high, despite the slight sting behind your eyes and a lump forming in your throat, you stand and stalk out of the house, tuning out the disparaging whispers of his friends as you leave.

Fuck him for not being able to recognise your worth, and fuck settling for his unsatisfying, vanilla, one minute performances he was no doubt be subjecting that luckless college girl to right now.

If he’s going to fuck whoever he wanted, you’re going do the same. And you’ll start with the person Bryce was the most insecure about during your relationship - his roommate.

* * *

Ari enters his shared apartment and notices the sound of the shower running, which is odd considering he distinctly remembered his roommate telling him he’d have the place to himself this Saturday night.

Knowing Bryce could in fact be dumb enough to forget to turn the water off before heading out, Ari begrudgingly goes to do it for him, only to realise that it isn’t Bryce’s shower that’s running.

Surely he couldn’t have been stupid enough to do it himself? Cursing the insanely high water bill they were sure to get this month, Ari rushes to turn the shower off in his own private bathroom.

Once he storms in and his brain has time to realise what he’s actually witnessing, he’s already harder than a rock.

“Hey Ari.” You say so casually, almost devilishly, even though you’re completely naked and masturbating in his bathroom. You’ve left the door to the small shower open, giving Ari a perfect view of you riding a dildo stuck to the floor, steamy water flowing down your back and dripping onto the tiled floor from your ass. And by the faint buzzing sound reverberating off the tiled walls, he’s also fairly certain you’re using a vibrator. The thought makes him even more painfully hard.

“Ugh Sunshine, you do know this is my shower, don’t you?” Your heart flutters at his nickname for you. You suspect he only playfully called you that because of how it upset Bryce each time the moniker left his lips, but it still manages to slip out when it’s just the two of you and he’s found you in this downright pornographic scene.

“Yeah, I know. It's just… I saw Bryce cheating on me tonight and I thought fuck it, I always thought you were really hot.” Ari takes a prudent step closer to the shower, swearing under his breath as he watches the thick dildo disappearing into your pussy with each twerk of your hips. “I wanted to see if you could fuck me better than he can.”

“You think there’s even a contest?” Ari asks rhetorically as he adjusts himself in his shorts, desperate for any type of friction to ease his painful throbbing need. “I’ve heard how unsatisfied he’s left you through these very walls.”

“Guess you’ll just have to prove it to me then.” This time Ari wastes no time in accepting your challenge. Turning off the running water, his large hands pick you up from the shower floor and squeeze your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist.

He kisses you with urgency and need, swiping his tongue into your mouth as if his life depends upon it, but the ardent kiss is over far too quickly as in three long strides Ari’s already at the foot of his bed, laying you down and pulling his shirt over his head.

You’re practically drooling watching him undress, his broad shoulders, strong arms and toned abs could fool anyone into thinking he was a god carved from stone. And when he finally strips himself of his shorts and underwear, you actually salivate at the sight of his deliciously large dick already hard and ready for you.

“Fuck, you’re so much bigger than Bryce.” Your brain is practically malfunctioning at the view of the naked, burly man in front of you and these words are all you can think to say.

“This is what you’ve been missing out on, Sunshine.” Ari comments with a smirk.

He kisses you again, with the same intensity as before, but now he takes his time to explore your mouth, his hands desperate to feel every inch of you, every beautiful swell and dip, every exquisite curve he gets to claim for the night.

“Turn around for me, I wanna see that ass.” You do as he commands, face and chest to his bed, arching your back with your ass in the air, giving him prime view of exactly what he wants. You grab your vibrator, switch it on your preferred setting and hold it at the angle you’ve come to know with experience gives you the most pleasure, humming in satisfaction when you find just the right spot. “Fuck, you’re so sexy when you use that toy.”

You feel him teasingly drag the head of his dick through your folds, coating himself in your arousal, which in turn makes you wetter.

“Shit, that’s a pretty pussy. So wet for me. You’ve been thinking about fucking me for a while, haven’t you?”

You breathlessly admit you have during the beat where he pauses and lines himself up with your entrance. A chorus of moans echoes through the room as he pushes into you for the first time. He fills you up agonisingly slowly, but his bruising grip on your hips prevents you from pushing back into him. The burn of your walls stretching to accommodate him dissipates once he’s fully sheathed within you and all you can think about is how completely and utterly full you feel.

“Holy shit, you’re so tight.” Ari gives himself a moment to savour the sensation of how your soft walls grip him and seemingly pull him further into you before he begins to move, quickening his pace with every new thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Fill me up so deep, Ari.” The combination of the vibrator continuously stimulating your clit and the feel of Ari’s every inch driving in and out of you already has your toes curling.

“Say my name again baby, let the neighbours know who’s fucking you so good.” You do as he requests, chanting his name with every plunge of his cock.

His bed creaks with each rocking movement, the sound of the headboard thumping into the wall rhythmically fills the room along with your moaning and the salacious sound of skin slapping skin.

“Shit, right there, Ari. Don’t fucking stop!” You think perhaps there should be a part of you that’s embarrassed at how quickly you’re finding your release, but with how neglected and needy Bryce has left you, you’re utterly desperate to feel that pent up tension snap like a rubber band.

“That’s it, pretty girl, cum for me, wanna feel you squeezing my cock.” Ari can feel how close you are, your velvety walls fluttering around him, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. With one strong thrust, your long awaited release washes through you like a wave. Every cell in your body floods with pleasure, blinding your vision and losing control of all motor function, causing you to let go of the vibrator.

As if Ari can sense the future, he’s ready when you go slack, taking the toy from your limp hand and maintaining the perfect pressure on your clit, never breaking rhythm with his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you’re desperately mewling for him to stop and tugging at his sheets to escape the tsunami of overwhelming pleasure.

“Best pussy I’ve ever felt. I bet Bryce doesn’t fuck you this good.” Ari says as he lazily pulls out of you, wiping stray, sweaty strands of hair from his eyes as he lays beside you on his bed, gently tapping his thighs as his indication he wants you to get on top.

“Not even close.” You say breathlessly with a smirk, a little insecure about how your legs wobble as you straddle him, though Ari doesn’t seem fazed by it. In fact, he looks overjoyed watching you look down at him, a hint of endearment swirling in his lust blown pupils you hadn’t been expecting to notice.

Ari lets out a rumbling moan as you sink down onto him, his hands instinctively finding your hips as he helps you through the motions of grinding down on his dick.

“Work it pretty girl, yeah, just like that. Use me, use this fat cock, it’s all yours.” Once you have worked up a rhythm Ari removes his hands from your sides, appreciating the sight of your pussy swallowing his shaft whole, before his itching fingers caress your breasts, rolling your nipples into stiffened peaks. “You’re so beautiful riding me like this. Look at these tits, they’re fucking perfect.”

“Oh God, I’m close, Ari.”

“Me too, Sunshine.” You barely hear Ari’s words as his strong arms engulf you, flipping you into his mattress. His heavy body presses you even further into the memory foam which is permanently infused with his intoxicating musky scent, trapping you so you have no choice but to take everything he’s giving you.

His long hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from making adoring eye contact. Did his eyes always soften when they gazed at you? Or are you only noticing it now that you are so much closer than you have ever been before?

You loved the angel he hit inside you while you were riding him, but it’s nothing compared to the mesmerising drag of his cock in this position, his hips rolling fervently into yours as his hands interlock with yours above your head and his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your neck.

The sex feels much more intimate than you were expecting when you essentially broke into his apartment to provocatively display yourself, wishing he’d be interested enough in an easy lay to give you one climax for the night. You’re not complaining though, you always did had a soft spot for Ari, and Bryce was rightfully jealous of the effortless connection you share.

“Oh fuck, Ari! Please, you're gonna make me cum!” You cry, his pistoning movements becoming more erratic as he chases both of your highs, his pelvis grinding against your clit repeatedly with each thrust.

“Cum with me, pretty girl.” Ari growls into your ear, your admission only spurring him on. The coil in the pit of your stomach winding tighter with each stroke of his tip against the spongy spot inside you that makes your legs shake uncontrollably and blinding stars burn behind your eyes. The same spot Bryce was never able to find, yet Ari sought out so easily.

Euphoria takes over you for the second time with a strained cry of his name, ecstasy shivers down your spine and out to the endings of every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud of pure bliss as Ari captures your moans in an ardent kiss.

Your soft walls squeeze him deliciously and contrast to the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back. It’s enough to push him over the edge with you.

“Holy shit, I’m cumming!” Ari announces before a deep, husky grunt rumbles from his chest. The muscles in his abdomen tense as he spills his large load deep inside you with a drawn out groan.

When Ari finally pulls out, he takes a moment to appreciate the sight of your mixed releases dripping from your core, before he dashes into his bathroom to fetch a warm, damp cloth to clean you up. You flinch at the sensation, your body oversensitive after the two mind blowing orgasms he pulled from you, but your heart soars at the thought in his gesture.

Once he’s done, Ari’s sweaty form lays down beside you, pulling you into him, gently kissing down your neck and over your shoulder. A shiver runs down your spine at how much tenderness each small kiss is filled with.

“You know, I’ve kinda had a thing for you ever since Bryce introduced us, but I’ve never been that guy who makes a move on someone else’s girl.” You flip over so you’re looking at him, his eyes search yours for a sign that he is more than a convenient one night stand and this meant more than just getting revenge on his dickhead roommate.

“Well, I’m no longer Bryce’s girl…” You point out, which is met with a smile.

“No, you’re mine now.”

* * *

Before going another round, one where Ari vows to finally taste you, you suggest grabbing some bottled water to keep hydrated. You’ll need to replenish your fluids if he plans on having his way with you the entire night and into the morning.

When you open the bedroom door, you see a familiar figure lounging on the couch.

“Oh, hey Bryce.” You say nonchalantly, feigning ignorance that you knew he lived here, though it is a welcome surprise to see him home so early from the party where he would have heard every sinful detail of your genuine climax with Ari minutes before, something he had never experienced in your four months together.

He simply stares at you, mouth agape and eyes wide in disbelief as you casually walk over to the kitchen au naturel. You make sure to sway your hips seductively as you return to Ari’s bedroom, giving him a view of exactly what he’s missing out on.

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theemissuniverse · 7 months

Text

KUNG LAO INTROS X ANTIHERO!READER MK 11

SUMMARY : MK 11 intros with Shang Tsung’s daughter. Flirting with Kung Lao

A/N : I’ve had this in my drafts for 3 weeks and I need to post it bc my drafts are clogging up so this is ass

WARNINGS : slightly suggestive

MASTERLIST

(Y/N) VS (Y/N)

#1 (Y/N) : Are you also fond of the man with the hat?

#2 (Y/N) : Who? Erron Black?

#1 (Y/N) : Definitely not who I was talking about

#2 (Y/N) : Kung Lao is worthy of us

#1 (Y/N) : That has yet to be proven

#2 (Y/N) : Then you are not worthy of him

#1 (Y/N) : Do I really date Kung Lao in the other timeline?

#2 (Y/N) : Date? You’re married to him

#1 (Y/N) : Oh boy…

KUNG LAO VS KUNG LAO

#2 KUNG LAO : You like (Y/N)?

#1 KUNG LAO : You don’t?

#2 KUNG LAO : She’s scary

#2 KUNG LAO : In my timeline, Liu Kang ends up with (Y/N)

#1 KUNG LAO : That won’t happen this time

#2 KUNG LAO : So you say..

#1 KUNG LAO : I already called dibs!

#2 KUNG LAO : You’re not the man of her dreams

#1 KUNG LAO : You know we’re the same person right?

KUNG LAO VS (Y/N)

KUNG LAO : Double date with Liu Kang and Kitana?

(Y/N) : You could not handle a woman like me

KUNG LAO : I think it is you that cannot handle a man like me

KUNG LAO : So, you’re really Shang Tsung’s daughter?

(Y/N) : Unfortunately, yes

KUNG LAO : Let me put you out of your misery

KUNG LAO : Why can’t you admit you like me?

(Y/N) : A sorcerer has no feelings

KUNG LAO : Who are you? Noob Saibot?

KUNG LAO : What are you doing here, (Y/N)?

(Y/N) : I came to suck the soul out of you

KUNG LAO : I always knew you wanted to do it

(Y/N) : Your body would make for an excellent experiment

KUNG LAO : So, you like my body?

(Y/N) : Ugh. Never mind, you

KUNG LAO : Liu Kang says that you’re interested in me

(Y/N) : I will burn him to the ground

KUNG LAO : Don’t be mad just because your secrets out

KUNG LAO : You’re with the good guys, remember?

(Y/N) : I choose my own destiny

KUNG LAO : This is not the mistake you want to make

(Y/N) : I prefer you to Liu Kang

KUNG LAO : An incredible choice

(Y/N) : I hate excessively humble people

KUNG LAO : You always look so stressed out

(Y/N) : I am ruler of the Netherrealm. I am

KUNG LAO : Let’s relive some stress than

KUNG LAO : So what was all that talk about not being able to handle you?

(Y/N) : Ugh. Just because you are good does not mean I like you

KUNG LAO : So why did we go for ten rounds then?

KUNG LAO : Why on Earth are you entertaining Johnny’s advances?

(Y/N) : Because I know that makes you mad

KUNG LAO : Oh, you’re good

KUNG LAO : You know we get married in another timeline?

(Y/N) : What about it?

KUNG LAO : How bout we speed up the process and I put a ring on that finger now?

LIU KANG VS (Y/N)

(Y/N) : You told Kung Lao that I was interested in him?

LIU KANG : Did I lie?

(Y/N) : I do not want him to know that

LIU KANG : I also see the good in you as Kung Lao sees

(Y/N) : I am not good, Liu Kang

LIU KANG : Your actions prove otherwise

LIU KANG VS KUNG LAO

LIU KANG : I did not know your type would be, (Y/N)

KUNG LAO : You’re telling me

LIU KANG : I guess there’s a first for everything

KUNG LAO : (Y/N), does not believe I like her

LIU KANG : She’s the daughter of Shang Tsung. She’s skeptical of everything

KUNG LAO : Yeah, true

LIU KANG : I am not childish like you

KUNG LAO : Good. So you won’t sing the song?

LIU KANG : *sings* (Y/N) and Kung Lao sitting in the tree

JOHNNY CAGE VS (Y/N)

JOHNNY CAGE : Let’s say you and me take a little spin

(Y/N) : You are not my type, Cage

JOHNNY CAGE : So, I gotta own a bladed hat for you to give me a chance?

JOHNNY CAGE VS KUNG LAO

JOHNNY CAGE : Fifty bucks says that I can get (Y/N)

KUNG LAO : You really want to go broke?

JOHNNY CAGE : I - you - Oh you know what -

KUNG LAO : Stop flirting with (Y/N), Johnny

JOHNNY CAGE : Aw, jealous?

KUNG LAO : No. It’s just annoying

NOOB SAIBOT VS (Y/N)

NOOB SAIBOT : The darkness yearns for your touch

(Y/N) : I am not interested

NOOB SAIBOT : Kung Lao is not worthy of you

NOOB SAIBOT VS KUNG LAO

NOOB SAIBOT : You are not worthy of (Y/N)

KUNG LAO : And you are?

NOOB SAIBOT : Precisely

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 11 #mk #mk11 #mk 11 #mk kung lao #kung lao #kung lao x reader #liu kang #kitana #johnny cage #noob saibot #mk intros #mk11 x reader #mk x reader #erron black

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suzukiblu · 1 month

Text

Ko-fi thank-you WIP excerpt behind the cut, as promised, friends; 7k of kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit. (and non-chrono link for anyone on the app.)

Tana Moon follows Leech over to the group, looking a little wary herself. Tim sizes her up in his peripheral vision, pretending not to notice her approach. He’s “just” found out who his soulmate is, so he can sell the illusion of only paying attention to Superboy right now. It’s not an unusual reaction.

It’s a pretty typical one, actually. The fact that Superboy decided to immediately show him off to everyone he knows is actually the less usual option, in fact. Not unheard of either, of course, but still. A lot of newly-discovered soulmates tend to just forget about the outside world for a few hours. Or days, even. A few missing person cases that Tim’s been involved in solving turned out to be cases of “I met my soulmate and we just eloped/ran away/went on a road trip/holed up in a hotel room without telling anyone”.

Tim had thought it was ridiculous at the time, if obviously preferable to ending up with either a dead body or a traumatized victim, but Tim is currently in the process of planning an ethically-necessary kidnapping less than twenty-four hours after first cracking into Superboy’s file, so he supposes soulmates just bring out most people’s less pragmatic sides.

Though he personally thinks carefully-planned ethical kidnappings are an improvement on spontaneous weekends in Vegas, pragmatically-speaking. But whatever.

“He showed you?” Tana Moon says, glancing Tim over suspiciously. Superboy’s face reddens this time and he tugs at the slash in his own suit.

“He, uh, saw mine first,” he says. “Kinda got into it with a dude downtown and Tim here was in the area, and like, he recognized it, obviously.”

“It’s fairly noticeable as a mark,” Tim supplies helpfully, figuring he should be being supportive of his soulmate here, and also be shutting Rex Leech up as efficiently as possible. “And Superboy came over to check on me after the fight, so it was hard to miss.”

“Sure it was,” Leech says, his face souring. “So then you won’t mind showin’ yours to–”

“Shut up, Dad!” Roxy hisses, kicking him viciously hard in the ankle. Leech yelps in pain. Roxy is immediately his favorite, Tim decides. By far Roxy is his favorite. The dog’s kind of cute and Dubbilex seems decent, but definitely Roxy is his favorite.

Her dad definitely fucking sucks, though.

And as for Tana Moon . . .

“You’re a tourist?” Tana says, just barely frowning down at Tim. She’s taller than him. She’s also taller than Superboy, because she’s a grown-ass woman and why, exactly, is a reporter even here right now? How is that necessary or reasonable?

. . . admittedly she’s also taller than Leech and he’s a middle-aged man, but that’s not the point here. If Tim has to “no comment” this situation and figure out how to get either his parents or Bruce to kill a story, he absolutely will. He isn’t even slightly gonna hesitate there. He is gonna the opposite of hesitate, in fact.

“Yes,” he lies, which might not endear him to Moon, given she’s a native, but is better than confessing to having premeditated designs on kidnapping a teen idol superhero. Especially to a reporter.

Even if it is legally salvage.

“I’m just in town for the day,” he continues. “I needed to get away for a little while, you know how it is.”

“Sure,” Moon says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Who doesn’t.”

“He’s from Gotham. And he helped the civilians get out of the area while I was fighting that guy downtown!” Superboy says eagerly, which is . . . odd, actually, and throws Tim off a bit. That seems like a weird thing for Superboy to be eager about, considering. Like . . . just very weird.

“Well, that’s a Gotham thing, probably,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish Civilian Smile (#7). “We’re used to rogue attacks with area of effect concerns involved, so we get pretty good at clearing a street.”

“You did awesome,” Superboy says, grinning excitedly at him. That is . . . still weird, yeah. Tim really doesn’t get it.

Well, maybe Superboy’s just relieved to have a soulmate who knows how to stay out of the line of fire and what to do in a crisis, given how often crisises probably come up in his life. That would make sense, considering.

“It was nothing, just a little light crowd control,” Tim tries, assuming that’s what a normal civilian would say. Probably, right? Almost definitely. “Nobody even needed any urgent medical attention. And you used your TTK really strategically and contained the guy too, that was much more impressive to pull off in a mess like that.”

Yeah, that was normal civilian talk, he thinks, pleased with himself for managing it.

Superboy turns pink, then grins again. Dubbilex . . . tilts his head.

Normal. Normal. Normal civilian. That’s what Tim is. A civilian! Who’s normal! Very, very normal!

Normal.

He smiles Normal Civilian Smile #4 and pats Krypto’s head again. Krypto makes an enthusiastic attempt at licking his fingers off.

Ew.

“‘Light crowd control’,” Moon echoes. That’s what Tim said, yeah, so he’s not sure why she’s repeating it. Well–reporter, again, so It’s probably a trap.

It’s almost definitely a trap, actually.

Really definitely it’s a trap.

“Sorry to just show up like this, hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he says to Roxy and Dubbilex with a smile, politely pretending not to be ignoring Moon. He is definitely ignoring Moon, though. Again: reporter. She may not be a Lois Lane or even a Vicki Vale, but he’s still not giving her any information he can avoid giving her. And he’ll just ignore Leech while he’s at it, too.

“I invited you, man!” Superboy says with a laugh, shaking his head. “We’re gonna hit the beach for a while, go hang out. Just swung by to grab Tim a swimsuit I can lend him.”

“You came to Hawaii to ‘get away’ and didn’t pack a swimsuit?” Moon says skeptically.

“Yup,” Tim replies with the most placidly innocent expression he’s ever worn in his life. Nothing. He is giving her nothing. Let all her reporter instincts strike against mirrored glass and high-security privacy windows and come to naught.

Moon stares at him in silence, clearly waiting for him to fill it. Tim doesn’t fall for the incredibly obvious bait and just keeps the placidly innocent expression on.

She frowns.

“C’mon, man,” Superboy says cheerfully, apparently–and fortunately–oblivious to their stand-off. He grabs Tim’s arm and drags him towards the front porch. Tim seriously doubts its structural stability, from the look of it, but tactile telekinesis is hard to argue with.

The steps manage not to collapse–possibly also because of tactile telekinesis, Tim can’t help suspecting–and Superboy pulls him straight into the house, which is . . . not particularly well taken care of, no surprise. The furniture looks like it all came from a thrift store, and not a nice thrift store.

Admittedly Tim’s upbringing might be showing here, but also the corners need swept and there’s random boxes of assorted Superboy merch everywhere, most of which looks like cheap junk, and a huge stack of mail and four empty pizza boxes on the coffee table and overflowing trash cans with random junk scattered around, and it’s just . . . it doesn’t look taken care of, no. Which is something Tim would expect from a teenager or two, and maybe Dubbilex doesn’t know how chore wheels work or whatever, but fucking Rex Leech should at least be capable of getting out the broom once a week.

Assuming there is one, anyway. Tim isn’t particularly optimistic on that one, honestly.

Superboy’s room is even messier than the living room, covered in dirty clothes and abandoned comics and crumpled-up papers, but Tim’s bedroom looks like a bomb went off in it so he’s not gonna judge. Anyway, that’s Superboy’s personal space, not a common area. He can keep it however he likes, Tim figures.

Somebody should really sweep that living room, though. And throw out those old pizza boxes, too.

Tim isn’t judging, just–well, no, he is very much judging, actually. Specifically what he’s judging is Rex Leech, noted asshole sleazeball manager with predatory business tactics.

Fuck that guy, seriously.

“You want trunks or a speedo?” Superboy asks as he lets go of his arm to fly over to the cluttered dresser. Tim turns seventeen different shades of red and nearly disassociates.

“Trunks,” he says quickly. “Please.”

“Gotcha, man,” Superboy says easily, and then all the dresser drawers yank out at once and dump out crumpled piles of . . . mostly swimsuits and super-suits, it looks like, yeah. Like, basically nothing else but swimsuits and super-suits and a couple of cheesy-looking Hawaiian shirts.

Well, that might be one lonely, lonely pair of cutoffs sticking out from underneath the swimsuits. But otherwise, that’s pretty much it, yeah.

Fuck, that’s depressing, Tim thinks.

Superboy comes back over with an armful of swimsuits, just about all of which have the S-shield either printed or stitched on them. Tim wonders why the guy even has this many swimsuits, especially considering he barely has any other clothes at all. At least not as far as he can see, anyway.

He also wonders if he’s gonna die if he wears Superboy’s clothes. Is that a thing that might happen? Because it really might happen, yeah.

Also wearing something with an S-shield on it feels like just a little too much to handle right now, so Tim’s hoping for a basic black option to be buried somewhere in that pile. Given Superboy’s apparent fashion sense, it seems unlikely, but hope springs eternal.

“Take a look, see what’s good,” Superboy says, dumping the entire armful of swimsuits on Tim. Tim’s just grateful he remembered to stick to just the trunks, at this point.

“So you spend a lot of time on the beach, huh?” he says wryly.

“C’mon, man, it’s Hawaii,” Superboy says with a sheepish grin. “And I mean, I look good in anything but wet leather is just not a comfortable fit, you know?”

“I guess it wouldn’t be, no,” Tim says, giving him Civilian Smile #4 again. Superboy’s ears redden a little again, and then he leans back and zips back across the room to shove all his drawers back shut. Tim lays out the pile of swimsuits on the bed, since it’s right there anyway, and then immediately feels embarrassed to be this close to Superboy’s bed. Which is stupid, even if they aren’t platonics. They’ve just met; it’s not like anything’s gonna happen.

. . . even if Superboy is a notorious flirt and totally shameless and–

Tim is just not gonna pursue that line of thought right now, he decides. Just for his own sanity and all.

He accidentally knocks some paper off the bed as he’s laying out the suits to get a look at them, and reflexively leans down to pick it up. The room’s a mess, yeah, but it’s Superboy’s mess. It’s still rude to just drop shit wherever.

The paper isn’t as crumpled as some of the others, and Tim sees a glimpse of color as he picks it up. His inner detective reflexively wonders what it is, and . . .

Tim uncrumples the paper a little, and blinks down at it in surprise. It’s a little kid’s drawing, it looks like. A sunny beach rendered in bright colored pencil and simple, awkward shapes all painstakingly but clumsily colored in and–

Superboy’s suddenly right back next to him snatching the paper from him and immediately hiding it behind his back, looking absolutely mortified. Tim’s confused, for a moment. What’s he embarrassed about? It’s obviously not anything he’d have drawn himself. It’s probably just something a fan or a neighbor’s kid gave him, or . . .

Tim pauses. Then he recontextualizes just how much of the crumpled-up paper is lying around Superboy’s room and wonders, very briefly, if a bunch of STEM majors with delusions of grandeur would’ve bothered programming their custom-designed “Superman” with anything resembling art skills.

So . . . maybe that is something Superboy drew himself. If Cadmus didn’t program him with the muscle memory or knowledge of how to draw . . . well, then he probably would draw like a little kid, wouldn’t he.

And given Superboy’s cocky, braggart personality and defensive ego and how all that paper is all crumpled up as if in frustration . . .

“Gift from a fan?” Tim “assumes” with Smiling Civilian Face #4, pretending to be oblivious.

“Uh–yeah!” Superboy blurts quickly as he jumps on the provided excuse, though he keeps the paper behind his back. “Yeah, just–you know, just some kid gave it to me at a signing, whatever. Uh, bathroom’s through there, if you wanna get changed. Or like, whatever.”

“Thanks,” Tim says, and resists the itching urge to peek at a few more of those crumpled-up papers. It’s just a lot of paper, especially if Superboy’s upset with the results.

He wonders why the guy draws so much, if he’s that frustrated and embarrassed by it. Maybe it’s a rebellion thing, since it’s something Cadmus didn’t want him to know how to do. Tim would definitely understand that logic, if he were in Superboy’s situation. Or maybe he’s just bothered not to know how and trying to teach himself to make up for the perceived failing.

Or maybe he just likes it, Tim supposes. That’s an option too.

Probably a less likely one, though, given that it’s Superboy. Not to be an asshole or anything, just it’s a lot easier picturing the guy assuming he should be able to do something and getting fixated on trying to pull it off than just, like . . . liking to draw. Also, judging by all that balled-up paper, it doesn’t seem like there’s much there for him to “like”, either.

Tim takes the plainest set of trunks with a drawstring waist, which are black and dark blue but still have an S-shield iron-on patch sewn onto their waistband, for whatever reason, and ducks into the bathroom with them. He realizes belatedly that said S-shield is probably going to rest right up against his soulmark, then feels like an idiot for feeling flustered by that idea and just sets his bag against the wall and starts getting undressed.

He’s definitely wearing one of the spare shirts in his go-bag for this, he decides as he stuffs his clothes into his bag. Just–definitely, yeah.

The trunks fit once he cinches the drawstring enough, but the S-shield definitely does rest right against his soulmark. Tim has never actually considered the sight of the S-shield to be, like . . . relevant or interesting outside of work, but he’s realizing that he sure does feel differently about it now that he knows his soulmate’s one of the people wearing it.

Which is a little ironic, really, considering Superboy wears the S-shield as a branding thing or whatever and lets Leech slap it on whatever cheap shitty merch he can think of. Like, he’s probably the least respectful S-wearer there is.

Tim pulls on a plain clean T-shirt and a short-sleeve button-down to go over it, figuring that’s beach-friendly enough. He should’ve packed sunglasses, probably, but he was a little distracted by his kidnapping plans and didn’t think to.

Seriously. He didn’t think to bring sunglasses to Hawaii.

This whole situation definitely has him off his game, yeah.

Soulmate thing, he guesses.

Tim eyes himself in the bathroom mirror, mentally decides he’s being an idiot to worry about how he looks right now, and then grabs his bag and heads back out into the bedroom. Superboy’s changed into low-waisted S-shield-themed trunks of his own and flip-flops and nothing else, which does in fact give Tim an embarrassingly good and embarrassingly distracting view of their soulmark. It’s not quite distracting enough for him to miss the fact that the amount of crumpled papers strewn around the room has noticeably decreased, though. And there’s definitely more of them sticking out from under the bed and dresser and in the back of the closet than there previously were.

Which is kinda cute, honestly, but Tim should probably not say that. Like, ever.

“Thanks for waiting,” he says, smiling Normal Civilian Smile #4 at Superboy as he hitches his bag up a little higher on his shoulder. “And for the loan.”

Superboy stares blankly at him for half a second, then seems to startle a little and puffs himself up.

“Uh–sure, yeah!” he says quickly. “No problem, man. Anytime.”

“‘Anytime’ seems pretty open, as an offer,” Tim jokes, because normal civilians make that kind of joke, and Superboy turns red.

“Oh, uh–you know what I mean!” he sputters awkwardly, holding his hands up, which seems kind of a lot as a reaction, and then somehow manages to nearly knock over his dresser without even touching it. Well–that'd be the TTK, Tim guesses.

It wasn't even that much of a joke. Like, lame suburban dad joke territory, that's all.

“I do, yeah,” he says with a wry smile. Superboy finds a way to turn even redder and shoves his dresser back into a corner. That also seems like kind of a lot as a reaction, but Tim doesn't comment. Just seems, well . . . awkward? Unnecessary? “Are we good to go, then?”

“Um, yeah, yeah,” Superboy says, clearing his throat and then zipping out into the hall. Tim wonders if he always flies indoors this much. “All good, dude! Let's head out.”

“Sure,” Tim says, keeping the smile on. Superboy is still red, but floats along down the hall. Tim follows. Okay. They’re almost definitely not platonic, but Superboy clearly isn’t any more sure what to do with that than Tim is, so . . . small favors, he guesses. Like–that they’re at least roughly on the same page there, he means.

Unless he’s just reading into things because of weird personal biases he didn’t even know he had, and Superboy is completely straight and just kind of socially awkward around civilians, and Tim’s just being socially pressured by the background radiation of living in a society that over-values romantic soulmates in comparison to platonic ones and sometimes disavows platonic soulmates altogether.

He supposes technically they could be familial, rare as that is. It’s not like he really knows how he’d feel about having a brother. Dick’s the closest thing to one he’s ever had, and that’s just . . . not actually the same thing, obviously, even if sometimes he wishes . . .

Anyway. It doesn’t matter. He’s pretty sure having a brother wouldn’t in any way involve this level of embarrassment and unexpected hormones and just general sexuality-questioning over every little thing. Like, that seems very much not like what having a brother would be like.

So–maybe he isn’t straight, or maybe Superboy’s not actually a boy, or maybe both of those things are true, or maybe he’s just really, really bad at having a soulmate.

Entirely possible, under the circumstances. Tim’s not really all that good at getting close to people. If he got a little confused about how to handle having a soulmate, well . . . that wouldn’t really be a surprise, would it.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to have to figure out how to come out to his dad or Dana or the goddamn Batman.

One or the other, probably.

. . . statistically speaking, the likelier explanation probably is not wanting to come out to the goddamn Batman.

“Wanna fly someplace or just chill on the beach out front?” Superboy asks as he floats backwards into the living room. Krypto runs up and jumps on Tim excitedly, his tail wagging so hard his whole little body’s wagging with it. He’s a weird-looking little mutt, but he’s really friendly, apparently. “Krypto, oh my god, get off him.”

“I don't mind,” Tim says, leaning down to give Krypto a polite little pat on the head. Krypto barks happily and wags his tail so hard he knocks himself over.

Yeah, weird dog in general, Tim thinks. But again, really friendly.

“We can go wherever,” he says. “You're the local, you know the best places to get a little time alone to hang out, right?”

“‘Alone’?” Superboy repeats, his ears reddening again as he somehow manages to trip in mid-air and hits his head on the doorframe. Tim can probably safely write off the idea of “platonic” at this point, but is still a little bit wary of his personal bias interfering. Though . . . “Uh–yeah! Totally! Yeah! We can do that!”

Yeah, Superboy really isn’t selling the “platonic” idea here either.

Does Tim have a boyfriend now? Is this how boyfriends happen?

. . . well, or a girlfriend, maybe. He still hasn’t ruled out the “maybe Superboy’s just trans” option. That seems like a thing that might confuse his sexuality a little, if nothing else.

This is definitely not anything like any previous girlfriend-getting he’s experienced, though. Like, not even a little bit. He’s not complaining, exactly, because admittedly it’s actually a little bit easier going into a new relationship with a plan and a cover established, even if the plan is admittedly still in flux and the relationship’s “romantic" vs "platonic” status is still unclear. It’s still something he can approach like a case, which is much more straightforward than just floundering around trying to figure out how normal people work.

And Superboy’s about as far from a “normal person” as it gets, so really, this is a pretty ideal set-up on Tim’s end.

Hopefully Superboy feels similarly, though he also, like . . . is lacking some pretty important information there, so . . . yeah, that might be an issue. Bruce would definitely not have appreciated Robin telling Superboy he was his soulmate, though, and who knows how Superboy would’ve even taken that. Going in as a civilian is going pretty smoothly, though, so Tim’s pretty sure it was the right choice.

Hopefully it was, anyway.

“Cool,” Tim says, keeping up the placid harmless civilian face and thoughts and Totally-Not-A-Vigilante vibes. Superboy does a very bad job of pretending he didn’t just bump into the doorframe and ducks back outside, putting on a cocky grin of his own as he does. It occurs to Tim, briefly, that maybe Superboy has his own catalog of performative expressions. None of his friends really seem to, but Superboy is in the community too, so . . . well, it’d make sense, right?

Also he does sell his likeness via a sleazy manager’s sleazy business deals, so yeah. It does kind of make sense.

Huh. That’s . . . a thought, he guesses.

Not a thought he’d really had yet.

Just . . . something they might have in common, Tim guesses.

Though so is being in the community to begin with, obviously. And they're physiologically about the same age and have similar coloring, though Superboy is–well, not actually mixed with East Asian, because Krypton did not have an actual place called “Asia”, but he does have subtle hints of that look, same as Superman. Easy to mistake for just being white, but recognizable if you know what you're looking for. Superboy would be at least half-white given Westfield's DNA, Tim guesses, but . . .

Yeah, no, he doesn't even know how to begin to figure out the nuances of racial identity on a dead planet he knows next to nothing about, much less any potential experience parallels there might be for a second-generation half-alien immigrant with effectively zero access to their own culture, but maybe he could–

Right, okay, he needs to focus here. There's some fascinating stuff there that he can theorize about and investigate later, once he's kidnapped Superboy properly. The kidnapping is the current priority, though. Like, it is very much the current priority.

Tim follows Superboy back out onto the porch. Everyone else is still out there, which is fine in regards to Roxy and Dubbilex and not fine in regards to Leech and . . . well, jury's out on Moon, maybe.

Also the dog. He doesn't really know about the dog. Though said dog does run after him and jump up for attention wagging his scruffy little tail hard enough to wag his whole little body, which is sort of cute.

Or as cute as a wet dishrag can get, anyway.

Tim’s trying not to judge Krypto for that, since obviously he didn't ask to be born as the living embodiment of a wet dishrag, and anyway he's a really friendly dog, so judging by appearances seems like a dick move. Even if Tim kind of wants to iron him, to be honest. Steam-clean, maybe.

At least take him to a decent groomer, if nothing else.

“Down, you little shit, Jesus!” Kon says, scowling down at Krypto and trying to shoo him away. Krypto growls at him, which seems weird, then goes back to fawning all over Tim. Tim leans down and pats his head, figuring it might calm him down.

“It’s okay,” he says. “He is cute.”

“Whatever,” Superboy grumbles, folding his arms and inexplicably glowering at his dog.

“You gonna go swim, or just hang out?” Roxy asks curiously as she comes over to them again.

“Oh, we’re–” Superboy starts, but Moon cuts him off.

“Want some company?” Moon inquires, pleasant and suspicious all at once. Superboy looks–conflicted, momentarily, and then awkward.

“Um, well–Tim’s only in town for today, so . . . next time?” he hedges. Tim resists the urge to eye Moon. Can I just spontaneously insert myself in your first day with your brand-new soulmate? is incredibly rude, as a suggestion. And incredibly fucking disrespectful to boot. Like, what entitled-ass kind of thing is that to ask, exactly?

How old is she again? Twenty? Twenty-one? He should look that up later. Well–no, she’d graduated college and started her career by the time Superman had died, which was a good eight or nine months ago now, so unless she skipped a grade or two in there, she’s gotta be closer to twenty-four, if not twenty-five or twenty-six.

That’s . . . a thought, considering there is definitely news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. Like, Tim very definitely saw news footage of Superboy kissing her in Metropolis. And she was very definitely kissing him too.

In retrospect, that seems like something someone should’ve, like . . . done something about? Or at least addressed? And is definitely further proof of how fucking useless and slimy Rex Leech is. Sure, let the five-minute-old clone make out with a twentysomething reporter and hang out with her at home; all publicity is good publicity, so it’s fine, right? Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?

Tim is going to absolutely decimate that bastard’s credit the first chance he gets. Leech probably already has terrible credit, mind, but he’ll make it worse. He’ll find a way.

. . . though he’ll wait until he’s sure Roxy is eighteen and financially independent, he doesn’t actually know if she is or not. Roxy seems nice, she doesn’t deserve that particular fallout.

“It’d be nice to get to know each other later, I’m sure,” Tim says before Moon can say anything, smiling Gala Smile #1 at her, which is a targeted psychological attack and not actually very moral to be trotting out this quick, probably.

He has no regrets, for the record. Absolutely none.

Moon narrows her eyes suspiciously. Tim blithely strokes Krypto’s ears, Gala Smile #1 flawless and unphased.

“I’m sure,” she “agrees” frostily. Superboy remains apparently oblivious to the tension and grins brightly at both of them.

“Cool!” he says. Oh, sweet summer child who has clearly never socialized with sharks, Tim thinks resignedly, petting Krypto again. Has Leech taught him literally nothing about conversational warfare, for fuck’s sake? At least living with your sleaze of a manager should be good for that, dammit!

Then again, Leech is probably not actually competent enough to teach Superboy anything actually useful, so maybe that’s for the best.

If nothing else, Superman could’ve taught him a bit of “bless your heart”, but apparently that’s not a thing either.

Tim has a brief moment of dread that maybe underneath his personal list of performative expressions, Superboy might just be a straightforward and honest person, which is a concerning thought. He doesn’t even know how to talk to a straightforward and honest person at this point, after this long as Batman’s emotional support sidekick. How do you form a lasting relationship with someone who isn’t habitually using at least three layers of double-talk and constantly locked in on all your microexpressions, anyway?

That’s going to be a weird experience, yeah.

“Ready to go?” Superboy asks Tim, grinning brighter at him. Tim feels momentarily overwhelmed and just sort of . . . has to collect himself about that, a little.

Or a lot.

“Lead the way,” he says, smiling at him. He’s flustered enough to forget to use an appropriately-planned smile, which is embarrassing, but Superboy just grins even brighter–which should not be physically possible, but apparently is–and reaches out to scoop him up into his arms and into the air again as Krypto lets out an offended bark. It’s totally overkill and not even slightly necessary.

Tim isn’t complaining, just–well–

It’s really flustering.

“Air Superboy up, up, and away!” Superboy says cheerfully as they float up over the others’ heads. His face is way too close to Tim’s face.

Tim is gonna need a bit longer to collect himself this time, he’s pretty sure.

“Do I get an in-flight meal?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Superboy laughs, which is even worse than his grin, and then takes off across the beachfront with him. It’s another bridal carry, which is quietly mortifying but could be worse, probably. Maybe.

Somehow.

Superboy flies them straight across the beach and then straight out over the water, skimming them along just above the waves. Tim makes a briefly startled noise, reflexively tightening his grip on the strap of his bag.

“This isn’t waterproof,” he says just as reflexively, and Superboy laughs again.

“I’m not gonna drop you, dude,” he says. Tim actually more assumed Superboy was intending to either dive-bomb them both into the water or just dump him in on purpose, because that seems like Superboy’s sense of humor, but maybe that was an unfair assumption.

He really is not prepared for how it feels to be held in close against Superboy’s bare chest and arms like this, even if he’s still wearing a shirt himself. The idea of possibly doing that while they’re both wet seems a lot worse.

Yeah. Definitely worse.

Tim should’ve worn long sleeves. And maybe a wetsuit. And maybe a few layers on top of that.

Jesus.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he says, barely resisting the urge to loop his arms around Superboy’s neck as the other hangs a right and swoops them back around towards shore. Flying over the water like this is a pretty cool experience, admittedly, now that he’s not worried about Superboy dumping him in the water.

Well. Less worried, anyway.

Camera next time, Tim promises himself, glancing back over Superboy’s shoulder towards the shining horizon. The sun reflects off the waves bright and beautiful, and the sky is a smooth and perfect blue dotted with sparse but billowing clouds, and everything smells like salt and sea and leather, which is probably Superboy, even without the jacket on anymore.

Definitely camera next time.

“Definitely holding you to that, actually,” he says, and Superboy laughs again and brings them down in the surf just past the tideline with a splash. Neither the splash or the water goes high enough to soak Tim's bag, so he figures it could've been worse.

Assuming Superboy isn't planning to toss him or anything before he can put his bag down somewhere safe, anyway.

They both settle down into the surf and onto their feet, and Tim becomes very aware of how close together they’re standing and also how very, very shirtless Superboy is, and in fact the only thing between their soulmarks is the very thin layer of cotton of Tim’s own shirt, and if he leaned in just a little bit . . .

Jesus, Tim thinks faintly, and forces himself to take a step back before he can make it weird.

He smiles Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 just to make sure he doesn’t look like a creep or anything, and Superboy grins excitedly at him. Tim allows himself all of two seconds to be overwhelmed by that gorgeous expression and their physical closeness and the reflection of the light in Superboy’s eyes, as bright and perfectly blue as both the sky and water, and then reasserts standard operating procedures and keeps Generically Pleasant Civilian Smile #2 locked in place on his face.

“The water’s really warm,” he observes, glancing down at it. “Is that normal?”

It’s probably not an impending supervillain thing, he tells himself.

Maybe global warming or something, though.

“I mean, feels normal to me?” Superboy says with a shrug. Tim considers mentioning the average ocean temperature, comparatively speaking, or at least the average temperature of the water off the docks in Gotham. Admittedly, Gotham waters barely count as “water”, legally speaking, but that’s not the point.

“It’s pretty out here,” he says instead, and Superboy grins at him and leans in. He’s pretty sure it’s more an instinctive thing than a deliberate one, just from the way Superboy does it, but that doesn’t exactly make it less flattering.

Or flustering.

“I mean, it’s Hawaii, man!” Superboy says, grinning wider before kicking at the surf. “‘Course it’s gonna be pretty!”

Actually you specifically are possibly the prettiest damn thing that I have ever seen, Tim thinks, but isn’t stupid enough to actually let out of his mouth. Superboy, unfortunately, continues to be all warm and grinning and lit up by the island sun. Tim did not come prepared enough for this.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I’d be the guy who came to Hawaii and got a monsoon,” Tim says wryly, and Superboy laughs brightly.

Tim really did not come prepared enough for this. Like, not at all. Not even slightly.

“Guess you’d just have to come back, then,” Superboy says, grinning wider again and kicking at the surf again as he floats back up out of it. It’s–weird, a little, looking up at him like this.

Well, not weird, just . . . yeah.

Something like that.

“Guess so,” Tim agrees, feeling embarrassingly flustered. Superboy’s friends can probably still see them from the porch, distant though it is, but part of him is still just considering very weird and dumb ideas like maybe tugging Superboy back down to earth and into the surf and just . . . confirming the little sexuality crisis he’s been having since breaking into the other’s file and seeing their soulmark in it, maybe.

Just, you know, ruling things out. Making deductions. Going through the process of elimination.

Kissing him, maybe.

He could very, very much kiss Superboy right now. They’re on a gorgeous beach in the surf and under the sun and Superboy is floating in front of him and grinning as happy and excited as could be and Tim’s stomach is fluttering in a stupid and also-embarrassing way, and . . .

He could kiss him. That’s all.

“I mean, it’s a nice place to visit, right?” Superboy says casually, linking his hands together behind his back.

“The tourism industry seems to think so,” Tim says wryly, and wonders what the “normal civilian who didn’t come here specifically looking for his soulmate to kidnap/salvage him to begin with” thing to say is here. He has absolutely no idea, because he actually has absolutely no idea how normal civilians react to superheroes. Robin is . . . not exactly an urban myth, necessarily, but definitely not a publicly-recognized superhero. He’s a vigilante that’s just barely allowed to operate outside the law, and not one with any kind of publicity or celebrity involved.

eSuperboy, on the other hand, is not only a superhero, but a professional superhero. He’s selling his likeness and doing events and has signed a stupid predatory contract with a sleaze of a manager that technically shouldn’t even be legal, given Superboy isn’t even considered a legal person by the government. Apparently no one has ever realized that, though, or at least no one’s ever let Superboy realize that.

Tim really doesn’t love that that’s a thing, to put it mildly.

Actually, he just fucking hates it.

Superboy laughs, and looks very, very pretty doing it. Tim continues to wonder what a normal civilian would do here, and for lack of a better idea falls back on small talk.

God, his best plan right now is small talk. What is his life, even?

No wonder he’s gonna have to take six months to kidnap Superboy, ugh.

“So, uh–this seems like a weird question to be bringing up this late in the conversation, but what’s your name?” he asks, because it’s occurred to him that he actually has no idea what Superboy goes by when he’s off-duty. He knows he doesn’t have a secret identity, of course, but there’s no way his friends just call him “Superboy”. Well–maybe his slimy asshole manager does, but otherwise. “I mean, if that’s okay to ask. Marks or not, I understand if you don’t feel like we’re there yet, given the whole superhero thing and all.”

Robin knows Superboy doesn’t have a secret identity, after all, but Tim Drake is a normal civilian and shouldn’t act like he knows too much about any superhero in general, so–

“Naw, it’s fine, I don’t even have one,” Superboy says, for some reason just beaming at him, which is . . . weird, Tim thinks, but nowhere near as weird as that answer is.

“You don’t . . . have one?” he repeats slowly, and Superboy shrugs easily. “Like–not at all?”

“Yeah, everybody pretty much just calls me 'Kid' or 'SB', when it's not Superboy,” Superboy says. “Oh, and Knockout calls me 'Pup' when she's around but like, that's really just a 'her' thing. So, you know, you can call me whatever.”

Tim stares blankly at him for a long, long moment, speed-runs all five stages of grief, and also discovers a couple of new and unexpected ones.

Alright. Well, he officially regrets literally nothing about this impending kidnapping.

“Oh, okay,” he says. “Um–sorry, I guess I just assumed you’d have a more . . . civilian-ish name too, I guess?”

“I’m a clone, man,” Superboy says, looking amused. “The only other name I’ve got is ‘Experiment Thirteen’, which is definitely not something I answer to."

Tim discovers a few more stages of grief that hit with all the subtlety of a spiked baseball bat and makes himself nod as much like a normal person as he can.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d go for that one if I were you either,” he says. “Kind of a mouthful, if nothing else.”

Superboy laughs, then grins at him again. He is actually doing so, so much of that, Tim’s realizing. Tim was really not prepared for how much of that he’s been doing, in fact. He just did not come prepared for any of that at all. He’s got some nebulous kidnapping plans, but everything else here–from the supervillain attack to Superboy’s ripped suit and exposed soulmark–has been a crime of opportunity.

He probably should’ve done more research. Actually, he definitely should’ve done more research. He kind of just panicked and bought a ticket and flew right over, and just because Dick didn’t stop him doesn’t mean it was a good idea. He just–he should’ve done more research. Planned more. Not shown up without something concrete.

Admittedly Superboy doesn’t hate him yet or anything, but this was just . . . yeah, this was not his brightest idea at all. Not even slightly.

Why didn’t he do more research?

“You really can just call me whatever you wanna, don’t worry about it,” Superboy says with an easy shrug as he settles back down into the surf, which, unfortunately, puts him back into kissing range and is therefore incredibly distracting.

Dammit, Tim thinks, trying to beat his stupid teenage hormones into order.

“Whatever I wanna?” he repeats.

“Except for Experiment Thirteen,” Superboy says with another grin. Tim politely pretends not to notice the slight tightening of the corners of his mouth as he says the word “experiment”.

“Uh, okay,” he says, clearing his throat. He guesses Superboy doesn’t really care what his name is, then, but being told to just call him whatever he wants to is . . . well, a weird feeling, maybe. “What do you do when you just want to be a civilian for a while, though?”

“I don’t,” Superboy says.

“. . . don’t . . . what?” Tim asks slowly, not sure if he should be dreading the answer or not, but–

“Be a civilian,” Superboy says.

Tim’s running out of new stages of grief, he’s pretty sure.

“Ah,” he says.

Superboy–for a second, Tim thinks he looks self-conscious, but then he’s grinning again before he can be sure, and . . .

“Why would I?” Superboy says, puffing up proudly. “I’m Superboy, man! Nothing else I’d rather be.”

Given how limited Superboy’s options for anything “else” he could be probably are . . . well, Tim’s not sure what to think of that statement.

He doesn’t think it’s anything good, though.

Yeah, no, he thinks as he looks at Superboy’s too-bright grin and thinks about how he just said "nothing" and not "no one". Definitely not anything good.

Who wouldn’t pick being “Superboy” over being “Experiment Thirteen”, after all?

And what else would Superboy even know how to pick, if he thought those were his only options?

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #wip: kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit

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