☁️ mainly bnha - but some criminal minds and haikyuu thoughts have been brewing
☁️ fluff, angst, evenutally smut...
☁️ writers tag: #cielito writes
rules:
☁️minors dni because shit on here is not for you
☁️ immediate block for any hate, racism, homophobia, sexism, ableism, transphobia, facism - don't even try me
☁️ my asks are always open! please send me recs, inspo, anything you wanna see me try to write [the more specific the better!]
ok buuut sugar daddy!clark x sugar baby!reader, who loves to spoil her and mindlessly gives her his credit card. he's so sweet that she decides to “spoil” him in return...
you have caused a mayhem in my mind amor..bc i can't stop thinking ab them.....hope ur happy.....................(ily.)
tags: smut, older!clark, sugar baby!reader, unspecified age gap, remote sex play, sex toys (1k + wc)
—
your friends never understood your taste in men.
older, rougher, sweeter. you wanted someone who would take care of you. someone who would never leave if what you had left to offer didn't serve their own needs. maybe it was a commentary on whatever paternal love you lacked in adolescence. but your taste in men was just that, a need for a sturdy & constant presence.
when clark kent came into your life, he didn't hold back. years of superhero work aged him years beyond his actual age — though that was more of a metaphor — he was weary & restless for someone he could entirely spoil with decades worth of idle income from his external revenue streams. money that was turned down by ma & pa who only ever needed their son to visit during the holidays. so when he had the opportunity to spoil you, he didn't want to spook you away with too much too fast.
you very quickly learned that your boyfriend heard everything. all the things you could never really afford on your own paycheck, clark would buy with no arguments. and often, without your knowledge — for example, the overtly expensive body wash you briefly mentioned in passing at sephora. salt & stone's santal and vetiver. the entire collection, with the lotion, deodorant & mist, all sat by your kitchen countertop, with a receipt neatly tucked beneath if you wished to exchange the scents.
it was never a performative gesture either. he wouldn't mention any of those 'presents' he'd gotten for you. the day you addressed it was when he surprised you with a brand new honda s2000, custom-coated in metallic burgundy.
"this is, way way wayyy much, clark."
he could only look at you in adoration as you thrust the keys back against his chest. a clear refusal to his far-too generous gift, "i…can't accept this."
"yes, you can." clark's palm dwarfs yours, pressing it against his chest, where you could feel the thrum of his heart beat. steady and unnerved at the apparent purchase. "didn't you say the engine was messed up? and you were stranded until i could come get you." his free hand come up to rest on your cheeks. "what if that happens and i can't get to you in time? i can't have that."
"but clark," you try, words cut short with a gentle press of his thumb against your lower lip.
"let me do this for you. take care of everything else so you don't ever have to worry about things you shouldn't have to. okay?" his voice, resolute, left no room for doubt in your mind that this man wanted nothing more than to spoil you rotten & keep you safe.
what you didn't realise, was that your eventual relentment had come with a sleek, heavy, metallic black card. with no credit limit, to be used at your discretion. every whim of yours was satiated by clark's unwavering generosity.
you wanted to return the favour, naturally. not that clark asked anything of you, he wouldn't have entertained your offer anyway. but this time, this time you might've thought of something that would work.
clark lifts the dainty, velvety red box seated on his desk, adorned with a gold ribbon. a note sits beside it, with your endearing scrawl in blue ink.
i found us a middle ground. xx
the sparkly mesh pools beside the paperwork on his study as he undoes the covering, popping the hefty box open. inside — sat a small, printed card. a QR code.
puzzled, clark follows the instructions on his device. slumping into his seat as he's prompted to install an application. despite his weariness, he trusts you. before him is a screen — a simple user interface of adjustment settings. his brows furrow further as he scrolls down to a map, the gps icon indicating a quaint little bar downtown. a place you mentioned you were headed to meet a few friends.
on the other side of town, you feel your phone buzz, no doubt from a very perplexed clark.
"hi baby!" you chirp, covering your ears to retreat to a more quieter area of the space.
clark sighs softly, the sound of your voice soothing the aches of his day away, "hi sweetheart. i just got home. having fun?"
you hum, rocking at the balls of your feet, "depends. did you download the app yet?"
he pauses, "yeah. i'm not sure what it's for, though."
"put me on speaker," you instruct simply, clark obliges, waiting for your next steps, "you see the controls and settings? it should be labelled under modes."
"i see it," his voice is distant, you can picture how he'd have probably been squinting at his phone, phone held far. "uh. says outdoor mode, rhythm pulse, and … confetti…mode? did you buy a mood light?"
clark doesn't warn you when he clicks on the most intense setting just to start. you let out a choked, high-pitched gasp, hand snapping over your mouth to cover it. "j-jesus baby…warn….ahh…warn me…"
"what's going on," clark stiffens over the speaker, concerned, "are you okay?"
"i-i am, baby. but fuck — you clicked the most…ngh…"
he frowns when your words taper off, breathy, softer moans bleeding through his speakers. "i'm coming to get you. now."
"no!" you squeak, standing up straighter, though your thighs quiver steadily at the hard pulse of the vibrator presently wedged deep in your cunt. "the app…the app is for a remote sex toy." you whisper, bated.
clark goes silent on the other end, for so long that you had to check if he hung up.
"…it's in you now." he says, quietly to himself, drawing back to swipe down the screen, where there'd been a custom setting for him to control, or set the pulse for you.
"m-mhm.." you relax as the sensations slow, presumably from him now tinkering on the application. "jus' thought…y'know…when we're you're busy…you can still take care of me."
he huffs out a laugh as he drags his hand down his face, "jeez…where do you come up with this stuff?"
you grin to yourself, biting on your lower lip as he explores the different pulsing features. "mmmn…figured you wouldn't…turn down a present like…ah — this…"
"i gotta say…i'm not sure if i'm loving the idea of you getting stimulated with…well…without me…" he admits, the twitch of his cock in his sweats betraying his words. begrudgingly, he raises the vibration, only to hear your breathy whimpers in time.
"it's what i want…" you begin, slipping into the bathroom of the bar, "plus…mmmn…when i come home, i'll be wet and ready f'you…"
clark groans loudly, you don't hear anything after that, except the sound of wind, "you can't be saying stuff like that and expect me to sit still."
"you say that but you're doing such….a good…job…" you manage, thighs quivering as the vibrations pulse harder in you. trying to summon all the willpower to not rub at your clit. "fuck. want you here. so bad."
"where are you." he cuts, and you hear a familiar thump of music.
"um…bathroom? where are you —"
the door to the handicapped stall slams open, and you squeak. clark presses a finger on his lip to shush you, with the lock clicking loudly. he raises his phone, with a lop-sided grin on his face.
"let's see what other options there are on this, hmm?"
For all its faults Tumblr has truly ruined all other social media for me because my friends all have Instagram and are all trying to get me on Instagram more but every time I open Instagram there are like fifteen things screaming for my attention and when I get over myself long enough to start scrolling it's like. Where is my chronological dash. Where is the following-only option. Who are these people. Why are there so many videos. Everyone is screaming at me. And then before I know it I'm thirty minutes into scrolling and I haven't seen a single thing that I actually care about. At least on Tumblr when I see stuff I don't care about I know someone I follow has found a new interest.
one of the funniest conversations I ever had with my ex was when they were still getting used to Celsius and asked me "what's 20 degrees?" and instead of converting it, I said "it's the highest your dad will ever let you set the thermostat and when you say you're cold he tells you to put on another sweater, we're not made of money" and they went "oh, 68"
the fact that this reference was that fucking precise was something they went on to tell people about for years.
Shrek 2, while a cinematic masterpiece, is also an interesting look at queerness and comp het.
Fiona is married so it's time to reunite with her parents. But instead of marrying a prince, she's married to an ogre. Not just that, but she's also an ogre. (Yes everyone knew she would sometimes be an ogre but that was when she was a child, she didn't know she would be an ogre for the rest of her life, and besides once she met the right prince she would stop being an ogre. She was supposed to stop being an ogre.)
But okay they're both ogres. We can still ask about when they'll have children because even if they're ogres they can still have kids, right? That's what married princes and princesses do so naturally that's what everyone does. Even if ogres might not be great parents (I've heard that ogres eat their young, is that something you people do?) it's still something that should be discussed.
And okay you can stay in Fiona's childhood bedroom filled with all the reminders that hey, everyone thought she was just a princess and princesses marry princes. Her toys left out from the last time she played with them. The prince slays the ogre. The princess offers a token of gratitude for slaying the ogre. Fiona wrote Mrs. Fiona Charming a million times in her diary because what else was she supposed to grow up to be?
And Harold you have to fix this, your country can't be ruled by ogres. You were unfit to rule when you were a frog but I changed you, I made you better, I made you a prince. You know how this works. Think of your daughter's safety.
Shrek goes to the Fairy Godmother and oh honey, ogres don't live happily ever after. It's just not done. It hasn't happened in all of fairy tale history. You have to change the both of you to be happy. You have to present as a prince and a princess. It will be better. You'll fit in better that way. You'll be accepted that way.
i get why people don't believe in marriage as a social construct but legally it is the best and easiest way to say "this is who i trust to take care of me when i can't take care of myself" and i'm so glad gay people fought for that right bc when shit gets scary at least i know im in good hands
thank you ao3 for being an archive and not an algorithm. thank you for letting me like things without consequences, thank you for being free with no ads, thank you for having lawyers to defend our freedom of speech. thank you tag wranglers. thank you to all authors and thank you ao3
dark comedy au where dick is suicidal and depressed after jason’s death to the point where he eventually decides to just put out an ad so he can hire a merc to assassinate him, fully open on the ad that this is dick grayson hiring to kill dick grayson, except tim finds the ad before anybody else takes it and figures out it’s dick’s suicide attempt, and as much as this is a clear cry for help that tim does intend to address at some point—he’s kinda got his hands full trying to make sure an equally grief-stricken bruce makes it to the end of the week without sticking a gun in his mouth. so, like a responsible teenager, tim decides to not put too much on his own plate, and he temporarily delegates by putting out his own ad looking for a highly trained criminal for hire to protect somebody from being assassinated. he keeps the identity of the potential victim anonymous until after hiring somebody, because he doesn’t want dick to notice the ad and realise somebody’s trying to stop his attempt for fear he abandons the idea and does something even worse. both dick and tim are using bruce’s card to fund their ventures.
meanwhile, fresh outta the league and looking to make some quick freelance cash on the side while he builds up his crime lord business, a slightly confused jason has somehow managed to pick up both contracts, and now has to put his whole revenge plan on hold because he’s stuck trying to figure out if he even wants dick dead or not, because after meeting with his severely broken-inside client as the red hood-former league of assassins member for hire, it becomes very clear that things within the batfamily are not as he thought they were after he’d ‘left’.
and to make things entirely more difficult, he has to figure this out while trying to regularly fake both assassination attempts on dick’s life, and protection of dick from said attempts on his life; and he has to do all of this while not tipping off either tim or dick as to what he’s doing because if either of them realise that jason isn’t just straightforward doing his job then they’ll just hire somebody else and then the situation will be out of jason’s hands, which jason does not want because he’s still on the fence about whether or not he wants his family dead.
there’s one singular occasion where jason decides to ask for advice from his most current family, except when he calls damian back at the league all damian says is ‘just let me put a hit out on drake, even it all out.’ and jason has to hang up on him.
conversations overheard through the batkid com lines pt 75 (masterpost here)
*foil cracking, chewing noises*
Jason: -no, because B didn't take me in specifically because he wanted me to be Robin. that came after. pass me the sauce, Day. thanks.
Tim: i thought you met him when he was Batman though?
Jason: yeah i met him when he was Batman, but he didn't take me home because he wanted a new Robin, he took me in because i was homeless, i stole his tires, called him a fucktart to his face, and then kneecapped him with a tire-iron.
Dick, observationally: i'm pretty sure he took you in as some sort of version of self harm.
Tim: *snort*
Jason, muffled: mm- 'okes on him though, cause i turned out to be a complete introvert.
Dick: yeah i don't think he expected the violent street kid to love homework so much.
Damian: so how did the transition to being Robin happen? he allowed Grayson to join him to get closure after his parents' death, correct? what led him to allow you to take up the mantle?
*slurping through a straw*
Jason: well, i think his intentions were good when he first decided to take me in, because i asked if i'd be the next Robin and he told me i wasn't being adopted just so he could have a partner, and Robin was out of the question. i was just happy to live in a mansion, so i let it be.
Dick: you let it be? he told me you basically forced him to let you have the mask.
Jason: *laughs* well he would, wouldn't he? he's too embarrassed about how petty he was being.
Tim: what was petty about it?
Jason: *snort* ok, but Dick you can't be an ass about it- it was like a decade ago.
Dick, with anticipatory annoyance: why-? *pause* oh shut up.
Jason: um, *slight snicker* yeah, so, admittedly he did just give me the mantle to slightly piss you off a bit,
Dick, instantly: I FUCKING KNEW IT- OH MY GOD.
*smacking sound, harsh footsteps*
Damian: oh, now he's pacing.
Dick: ALL THESE FUCKIN' YEARS OF 'IT WASN'T PERSONAL, DICK, IT HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH UPSETTING YOU, DICK, IT WAS JASON THAT WANTED IT, DICK-'
Jason: *wheezing* ok- OK but in his defence, i did also want it a lot-!
Dick: YOU SAID YOU'D LET IT GO!
Jason: w- yeah, i did, and then i met you.
*silence*
Dick, abruptly quiet: i was not that bad.
Jason, indignant: YOU- YOU-
Tim, absently: it's like dinner and a show,
Damian: i know right?
Jason: -YOU MET ME FOR THE FIRST TIME, LOOKED ME UP AND DOWN LIKE I WAS ONE OF THE FUCKING PEDOPHILES ON TO CATCH A PREDATOR,
Dick: I WAS NOT- *breaks into a wheeze*
Jason: -PROCEEDED TO TELL BRUCE WITHOUT EVEN ACKNOWLEDGING ME, 'at least when you took me in the people of Gotham could understand it, i was adorable; what the fuck is this thing?'
Dick: *silent wheezing*
Tim: fuck off, were you actually that mean?
Dick: *gasping* i-
Jason: YES HE WAS. anybody in my position would have met that little prick and instantly decided to steal his old job, i refuse to take criticism on the matter!
Damian: and Father went along with that?
Jason: mm- not at first. but then he and B got into an argument where Dick stole Bruce's work laptop because 'he wasn't using it, so it was up for grabs' and i think B just wanted to get back at him by stealing something of his instead.
Dick: -completely unproportionate response, by the way.
Jason: no, but neither was seeing Bruce's calvin klein underwear modelling campaign and instantly creating the Discowing suit to 'show him what it felt like when your family member acts like an attention seeking whore', so you're both as bad as each other.
Tim: *aghast* IS THAT ACTUALLY WHY YOU DID THAT?!?
Dick: i- *breaks into wheezes again*
Damian: you know, considering everybody claims being Robin is so 'magical', the story of its origins and pathway through life sure is covered in a lot of spiteful bullshit.
Jason: yeah, well, that's just the family business at this point, isn't it? now pass me that burrito, if Dick wont finish it then i fucking will.
proud victim of the tumblr accent. it's fading out of public consciousness as the tik tok accent takes precedence; a linguistic evolution that makes the tumblr accent 85% funnier to unsuspecting civilians. it's like releasing a disease on a non-inoculated population. coughing baby versus hydrogen bomb.
hi, fun fact! Trap the mouse doesn’t have a birthday because he was THE FIRST BEANIE BABY. Before Beanie Babies had birthdays, there was Trap the Mouse.
Basically, he is too ancient for birthdays. Older than dirt, this one.
