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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months

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DCxDP: Immunity system

Danny gets confused for Tim Drake when he stop for gas in Gotham on his way to visit Dan. His clone had set up shop- a literary comic book shop- in Metropolis.

Danny was going for the weekend to help him run the red dot sale and also spend time with his Clone turned older brother.

Dan after being released from his prison and getting a Core Cleanse in the FarFrozen ectoplasm iced pools, had mellowed out greatly.

It turns out Dan had gone mad after suffering a dip in contaminated ectoplasm. He called it "Pit Madness" and Clockwork assured him it was a real medical condition

Much like getting bitten by a rabies-infected animal, Dan's condition was not his fault despite turning him violent.

After the Big Reveal with his parents - who took the news surprisingly well- Team Phantom introduced Elle and Dan to them.

The two clones had been quickly made official Fentons and now Danny had an older brother and a young sister.

Elle lived at home with Danny and his parents, but Jazz and Dan moved out after high school graduation. Danny was thinking of moving in with Dan to go to college.

He wasn't sure, but he still had a whole year to decide.

Danny found a gas station within his GPS map and stopped at the closest one. There weren't a lot of people around, so he assumed that was a slow day.

He was not aware the locals avoided the area due to the danger of feuding gangs. He was also unaware that while pumping the gas, a Scarecrow goon was watching him.

That goon knew his boss had been getting a bit bored with his experiments, and he knew it wouldn't be long before his boss turned on his employees to relieve his boredom.

He was just starting to sweat, thinking he would be the new genuine pig until Tim Drake himself rolled out of a beat up car in the bad part of town.

He practically gift-wrapped himself for Scarecrow! The goon grins, creeping up behind the distracted young man.

One of the employees' inside the gas station had clocked Tim Drake too and had been staring at him - how could he not when Tim was a Bi icon?- and sees the moment the goon covers the boy's mouth with a clotch and yank him into a van that speeds away.

For a moment, the employee only gawked after the speeding vehicle, too shook to do anything as it disappears around a corner.

He scrambles for his phone to call 911. He prays that his slow reaction does not cost Drake's life.

(His call's transcript pings on Oracle's program designed to pick up the civilian names of the Bats if ever used in the emergency hotlines)

Sadly it is hours before the Bats have even an idea of where Tim (actually Danny) was taken to.

Danny wakes up in a warehouse, strapped to a table. He only had a brief moment of thinking his worst fear was coming true ,his parents, were going to rip him apart molecular by molecular, despite it being two years since they learn.

Thankfully a man dressed in a ridiculous Halloween costume steps into the light and he knows it's not his parents.

"Lovely expression Mr. Drake. Let's see how lovely that fear truly is," the man says in a raspy voice, holding up a needle. He stabs Danny with it and the boy blanches as the hot liquid enters his blood stream.

A minute goes by.

Two.

Three.

"Ugh was that supposed to do something?" He questioned, moving around his restraints to check his chances of escape without outing himself as Phantom.

The camera pointing at him limits his options.

The man dressed as Scarecrow lets out a gleeful cackle. He doesn't answer Danny, instead turning to the door- from where Danny can lift his head, it looks like he's in a basement of some kind- and shouts, "Bring me experiment six two six!"

A bulky man comes in carrying a tray of tubes. Danny watches as Scarecrow carefully selects a tube and pours it into another needle. "Lets see how you handle this"

The answer is Danny handles it very well. In fact he takes all seven tubes without a single reaction. Honestly it's the needle that's a real bother.

Scarecrow is both impressed and slightly insulted by the end of it. "How did a simpleton chloroform work on you but not my brilliant science!?"

Danny squints at him. "I would call this many things but never science, let alone brilliant, you fruitloop."

He gets knocked out again for his cheek with a new chloroform rag.

He wakes to the same made leaning over him again, but this time, there is also a clown in purple. Danny can only stare as the clown cackles.

"I think you're losing your special touch if Tim Drake is immune to your Fear Gas." The clown says, and Danny wonders if a costume convention exists in town.

Danny is happy to see that besides being knocked out and tied him down they haven't really done anything to him. "Who are you supposed to be?"

The clown face spams before a wide, mad grin breaks across his face. If Danny were to look of the definition of madness in a dictionary he knows this guy would be the example for it.

"I'm just a simple chum who wants to see the world laugh," The clown tells him, holding a squirt flower in Danny's face. "Let's see that smile!"

Danny squeaks as the liquid splashes in his face, some going up his nose. He coughs while the two men stare intensely at him.

After a moment Danny gets himself under control. "Ugh what was that? Is smell nasty"

The clown face freezes, rage bleeding into his eyes as the scarecrow one scoffs "seem you are also losing your touch, chum"

"No no no. Our little friend just needs a higher dosage! I'll have him laughing in no time!"

He doesn't. After a gas tank full of that nasty-smelling stuff is forced onto his face, and five different needles stabbed into his arm the clown is forced to admit Danny is immune.

They still call him "Mr. Drake" even though Danny tells them between needles that's not his name.

After hours of attempting to get a reaction out of him- both by clown and scarecrow- , Danny is knocked out again by the little rag.

When he comes two three people stand over him. The two from before, though clown now looks murderous and scarecrow politely interested, and a women in green with leaves splat across her outfit.

So Danny got kidnapped by a Scarecrow, a clown, and a nymph? Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

The gas mask is forced back onto his face and another Danny struggles he can do nothing as he is forced to breath in a new gas.

The woman watches his reaction with a keen eye before nodding "He should be pretty far gone now"

Scarecrow shakes his head. "There isn't a single reaction. He isn't affected by your pheromones."

The woman scoffs, leaning over Danny and fluttering her eyelashes "You're going to kill dear old dad for me"

Danny glares at her. "Like hell, I will."

His voice is muffled by the mask but they hear him and the woman actually looks shocked "He might need a higher dosage "

"By all means, give it a try. Neither Joker or I saw a difference in Mr.Drake even after adjusting his intake."

"How is that possible?"

"Maybe because you all suck!"

The clown slams his hands on the table. "I am one of the best chemists in the world, brat!"

"And the ugliest!"

Danny doesn't see the knife until it's pressed repeatedly into his left leg. He screams around his mask as the Clown spits and swears at him.

The other two only watch, neither seemingly bothered by the man stabbing a teenager.

Then the knife is plunged into his stomach, and he screams as the world almost whites out in agony.

Danny, blinks the white hot pain, and is just barely thinking of going ghost when the door bursts open and a group of people wearing more costumes pour in.

A man dressed as a Bat flings the clown away with an outraged cry. Danny can't see where the clown lands, but he hears fighting all around him.

A boy in a hood and mask appears in his line of sight. There is a worried frown on his face as he quickly picks at the locks keeping Danny down "Do not worry, Drake, we are here."

Danny finally gives in to the pain, running to blissful darkness as a man in a red helmet lifts him off the bed and makes a run for the door.

The kid provided cover for them.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Immunity system au #Danny is confused as Tim #Then stumped all the villians with his immunity #he was there for three days #the bats think hes tim #where is the real tim? no one knows #TW: slight torture

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vixstarria · 4 months

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A night at the inn (part 1)

A night of relaxation at the inn. Inspired by a cursed screenshot of Astarion looking loopy, drunk and high.

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, tbc in part 2

Comfort, fluff, humour, banter, goes from very silly to very horny

Bits that are definitely not canon that were written solely for my (and hopefully your) amusement.

TW: It’s all very much in jest, but maybe give this one a skip if you’re struggling with any kind of substance addiction.

Approximately 2,000 words

“Don't be ridiculous, these silly druidic herbs have absolutely no effect on me, vampires have a natural immunity. Pass me the pipe again, I’ll prove it,” Astarion giggled uncontrollably.

“Just hold on to it, friend, I don’t think anyone else will benefit from it,” replied Halsin.

You, Astarion, Halsin, Karlach and Shadowheart were gathered in one of the inn’s rooms.

Gale and Wyll were off doing whatever people who didn’t like having fun did. Possibly playing chess or reciting poetry to each other. And Lae’zel had had one look at your gathering before chk’ing, saying that someone competent needed to keep a cool head, and stalking off.

You and Astarion were sitting crosswise on one of the beds, you nestled between his legs, your back against his chest. Shadowheart lounged on the opposite bed, with Karlach and Halsin settling on the floor between the beds.

A scattering of glasses and opened bottles surrounded you, and a light haze hung in the air. Tadpoles, vampire lords, demons and gods could all wait until tomorrow. Tonight, for all you cared, all was well in your world.

Earlier, Halsin had laid out an assortment of herbs, most of which you couldn’t name, and busied himself with mixing them in varying proportions and stuffing them into several smoking implements. Karlach had declined, saying there was no point and that she would stick to grog. You and Shadowheart partook in Halsin's ‘herbalist mastery' together with the druid. And now, to everyone's disbelief and amusement, so did Astarion.

“What in the hells is in this?!” Astarion tittered, leaning back against the wall, his eyes shut and an idiotic smile on his face. You couldn’t look at him, lest it set off yet another chain reaction of giggling.

“Part of it is moonflower, which mostly serves as an amplifier,” Halsin answered, cautiously.

“And? What else?” You wondered whether whatever it was might help Astarion with his nightmares. The scent of the herb was vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.

“Wait! I want to guess.” Shadowheart leaned over to whisper to Halsin. He shook his head at her suggestions. Once he whispered back to her with the correct answer she collapsed on the bed with a guffaw. “Oh gods... So it is official.”

“Halsin...” Astarion croaked. “Halsin, I will stab you... What did you give me?!”

“I had a hunch, but it was intended as a joke – I didn’t really think it would do anything.” Halsin almost sounded apologetic.

“Well, spill the beans, what is he smoking that’s so damned funny?! Vampire dust? Cow dung? Some kind of goblin foot fungus?” Karlach was also growing impatient.

Halsin shook his head, laughing.

“It’s catnip,” Shadowheart managed, still doubled over. “He’s losing his mind on catnip!”

Once Astarion regained his ability to speak coherently, you couldn’t get him to shut up.

Astarion hardly ever took lead in group conversations. He tended to stay on the outskirts of discussions, albeit always ready with a quip or observation. You wondered if his newfound loquaciousness was a glimpse of what he might have been like some 200 years ago.

It helped that Karlach was bombarding him with questions about vampirism, which he was ordinarily reserved about.

“So what happens if you consume normal food? Can you drink?” she asked.

“Well... Kind of..? Although I think the tadpole has had some additional influence. I can drink liquids without becoming ill, as long as it’s not too much. They tend to taste vile or like nothing at all, or not have any effect on me. Coffee smells amazing but tastes like dirt, for example. But potions work, somehow,” he rambled. “Solids are a complete disaster though”. He refused to elaborate.

“And the wine?” she persisted.

“Red wine is palatable,” he said, swirling some in a glass that he held in his hand. “But if you want better than ‘palatable’ you really need something of good quality.”

“You’re just a snob,” you interjected.

“That may be so, but this is about having something called standards, darling, I’ll teach you about them someday”, he said with a kiss to your temple, as you elbowed him. “But there are ways of going around poor wine.”

Astarion took your hand in his, pressing his lips against it.

“May I?”

Once he had your approval, he carefully punctured the tip of your ring finger with a fang. You idly mused about how completely unfazed you had become by having your skin pierced, as he dripped some of your blood into his wine.

“Now stir.” He licked the drops of wine from your finger once you were done, and had a sip from his glass. “Like adding honey to tea... Now it’s delectable.”

“Freaks,” said Karlach, lovingly.

The conversation moved to him debating wines from various regions with Shadowheart, a subject they were both perhaps unsurprisingly well-versed in.

“How kind of Lady Shar to leave you such detailed knowledge of something that truly matters, when wiping out so many other memories,” he observed.

Eventually, the topic changed to Karlach’s years in the Hells, and what it had been like to set just about everything she touched ablaze until Dammon’s recent assistance.

“Could you do me a favour and hold my hand in yours for a moment?” said Astarion, leaning towards and holding out a hand to Karlach.

“I haven’t done this in so long this still makes me nervous, you know,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “Sorry if I lose my cool and burn you.”

“I’m sure I’ve had worse,” he replied humourlessly. “...That should do it,” he said after a short while. “Gods, you really do run like a furnace.” You wondered where this was going.

“Now could everyone look away? I’m about to do something disgustingly sentimental.”

Immediately, four pairs of eyes including your own were locked on him.

“Voyeuristic pricks...” he sighed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He ran the back of his fingers delicately down your cheek before cupping it in his hand. It was warm, almost hot, as you nuzzled into it.

“Well isn’t that cute,” Shadowheart remarked into her glass of wine.

Astarion wasn’t always cold to the touch, not exactly. He became warmer after drinking blood. His body was heated by sunshine on sunny days, just like anything else. And after spending some time under blankets with you he felt almost cozy to snuggle against. But he’s never radiated heat the way the hand against your cheek did now.

“It doesn’t feel like you,” you mustered, looking into his eyes. He gave you a wistful smile.

“...If there is any other bodypart you’d like me to warm up for Tav’s benefit, do fuck off before you even ask,” said Karlach, breaking the brief silence that had descended onto the room, and the tender moment was gone, overtaken by yet another uproar of laughter.

Things quieted down as the evening wore on.

“I wonder what Lae’zel is doing,” said Shadowheart, who had been silently gazing off into space and occasionally blowing smoke rings for the past while. “Probably something infuriating.”

“You should go tell her how utterly unimpressed you are with her,” goaded Astarion.

“I should... I will,” she said, suddenly getting up, determination writ on her face, exiting the room with a surprisingly steady step.

Karlach sighed.

“I better go look after her and make sure they don’t need to be taken apart. ...Or that no one else does, if they don’t.” She followed Shadowheart.

“Nature calls,” said Halsin, also getting up. “And I don’t think anyone’s fed Scratch and the owlbear cub.”

It was just you and Astarion, who had been grazing your neck with his fangs with increasing impatience.

“Do it,” you said as soon as the door shut behind Halsin. Instantly, you felt an icy chill in your neck and released a small moan as he bit down, drawing your blood, his hands roaming your body.

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for hours,” he breathed hoarsely, once he had his fill. Having a miniscule amount of your blood in his wine and then being unable to sate himself more thoroughly would have been the ultimate tease for him. He really did not think that through, per usual.

You could have offered him your wrist at some point, your companions had witnessed that on numerous occasions. But you knew you both wanted something more intimate. And private.

You sank onto the bed with Astarion on top of you, as he continued to lick at the puncture wounds, to get them to stop bleeding.

“Think Halsin’s coming back?” you murmured.

“Of course he is. Haven’t you seen how he’s been looking at us?” He wedged his hips between your legs as he continued to suck and lick at your neck, more slowly now.

"Oh, has he been looking at us in some particular way?” you feigned ignorance. Astarion raised his head briefly to shoot you a look that said ‘oh please’.

“Do you want him..?” He rolled his hips deliciously into yours as he asked that.

“Stop teasing,” you whispered. You knew he wasn’t going to let you do anything with the erection you felt pressed against you.

“Never. Do you want him?” He gave you a mischievous look.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Sorry darling, I’ll try to do a better job at explaining.” He raised himself back up, his face hovering just above yours. “Do you want to feel his hot, hard cock pumping in and out of you, while I watch?” He studied your reaction closely. “Oh you would like that, wouldn’t you..?”

“Astarion-” It wasn’t easy to make you blush, but somehow he always found a way when he wanted to.

“Shh love, I already know everything you’re going to say.” Astarion raised his voice in pitch (resulting in something that definitely DID NOT sound anything like you) and returned to your neck, planting a kiss further down with each sentence: “’I love you, Astarion. I only want you, Astarion. I don’t think you’re ready for this, Astarion. You’re going to regret this, Astarion.’”

“How about, ‘you’re intoxicated, Astarion’?”

“Barely,” he scoffed. “It’s worn off.” He tugged at your blouse’s lacing with his teeth.

“Or maybe it’s ‘no, I don’t want that, Astarion’,” you lied.

He chuckled at those words and came back up to whisper in your ear.

“My love... You’re forgetting I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal. Every time your breath hitches and your heart speeds up – I know. Any time blood suddenly rushes somewhere in your body – I know...”

“That is an entirely unfair advantage,” you protested.

“Yes, having a lover that anticipates your every need and reads you like a book is so, so tragically unfair, your poor, poor thing...”

“And also it’s not what you said, it’s how you said it!” you continued.

“Porridge,” Astarion whispered in his most seductive voice, grinding against you. “The philosophy and theory of divination, volume four. A bulging coin purse. Gale’s purple pajamas. ...Nope, nothing.” Astarion smirked, and continued in a more normal voice, stilling. “Now let’s try... You dripping wet and begging us both for mercy before the night is over.” He grinned wryly as you let out an involuntary whimper. “I thought so...”

“You’ve told me yourself, you don’t want to share me with anyone,” you persisted.

“It’s your heart I can’t bear to share. And he’s a wood elf,” Astarion said dismissively. “He may as well be a walking penis, who would get emotionally involved with that?”

“You did not just call our honourable companion, the esteemed archdruid of the Emerald Grove a walking penis!” you hissed, choking on laughter, covering his mouth with your hand.

“A giant phallus on legs,” Astarion mumbled stubbornly against your palm, licking it.

You heard footsteps approaching the door.

“Do you really want this?” you whispered, angling Astarion’s face to make him look you in the eyes, and releasing his mouth. “Be serious for a second.”

“I want this,” he said, holding your gaze. “I really want this. As long as you do too.”

The door opened, and you both turned your heads to regard the tall, broad figure that paused in the entryway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Is it company or privacy you desire?”

~~~~~

Part 2

More of my chaos gremlins

AO3

#astarion #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #karlach #halsin #shadowheart #astarion smut #halsin smut

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razzle-n-dazzle · 2 months

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- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

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vampiric-tempt · 6 months

Text

When Kenshi, Jonnhy, Kung Lao and Reader (female or GN, if you don't like writing a female reader) go after Shang Tsung and arrive at the Tarkatan camp, while the three men are fighting against the soldiers and Tarkatans, the reader is chasing Shang Tsung when her attention is diverted by a soldier hurting a child (orphan or with parents also infected). The reader, instead of continuing his pursuit, decides to save the child, calming him down (perhaps in a very maternal way?), picking him up without fear (may or may not know about the infection, and have immunity?) and return to the camp. And then the attraction of Baraka would begin.

request by @multiverse-fandoms-2001

❝ [kind, even to monsters] ❞

✦ oneshot : baraka x fem!reader

(♡) synopsis: During the event of trying to capture Shang Tsung, your pursuit was halted as a child infected with tarkat was seen being harmed. You stopped everything to help him and someone had witnessed your kind actions. . . but why help people like them?

a/n: Hiii lovely! I enjoyed writing this, but I'm a bit worried it was not what you asked for. I hope you like it and please, tell me if I did anything wrong. Thank you and I appreciate the request!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ "Y/n! Go after Shang Tsung, we can handle this here!" Kenshi yelled from across the field.

You nodded and quickly chased after the creature you were sure Shang Tsung had shifted into. You tried your best swerving past as many as you could. Many of them trying to attack from all sides. It was troublesome to say the least, but just as you were about to snag a hand around Shang's arm, a small child-like scream could be heard.

Your feet dug into the ground as your head shot in the direction of the scream. One of Shang's soldiers had a sword held up to one of the child creatures. You hissed and made a dash toward the two, your body crashing into the child just as he swung his blade down.

A guttural scream leaves your throat, the sword cutting open a large gash into your calf.

The soldier glared at you as you tried to crawl away from him with the child in your arms. The kid had no idea who you were, but couldn't help but cling to your body as your arms shielded him. "It's okay," You whispered. "It's okay, everything is going to be alright." Your hand caressed the little boy's head in an attempt to comfort him.

Your breathe hitched, arms tightening around the boy as you watched the soldier raise his blade above his head, ready to swing down on you.

You heard the boy crying into your shoulder and all you could do was whisper comforting words as you prepared for the swing. However, it never came. Another one of those creatures had came just in time to stab the soldier dead.

Unable to be sure whether he would attack you next, you refrained from putting down your guard.

"I will do you no harm." He says.

You squinted your eyes at him until the footsteps of your teammates came rushing forward from behind.

"He's right, we made an agreement." Kenshi says, but pauses as he notices your bleeding leg. "Y/n! What happened?!"

You groan a little, the little boy still huddled in your arms. "I'm sorry, I let Shang Tsung escape... I just couldn't-"

Baraka steps forward, his eyes holding a look of confusion. "She had saved one of our own." He says.

Kenshi and the others all look down to see the young tarkatan in your arms.

You revealed the boy with a small smile. "I couldn't just let a child get hurt...you understand right?"

Kenshi nods, slowly wrapping a fabric around your leg. "It's okay, we can still track him down. You should be more careful though."

The young tarkatan had left your arms, running toward Baraka. Baraka knelt down and made sure the boy was unharmed.

"You are unharmed?" He asks the kid. The young tarkatan nods and then turns slightly to see you being tended by Kenshi. "That woman...why did she help me, we're monsters aren't we?" The boy casts a forlorn look to the ground. Baraka frowns and pats the boy's head.

"I do not know. She is. . .an odd one"

The boy's eyes flicker to you once again before leaving to his own parents. Baraka watches him leave and then turns back to the earthrealmers and after conversing with them, he had agreed to lead them to Shang Tsung's laboratory in hopes of aiding their mission.

And ever since that event, you couldn't help but notice how Baraka would stare at you. Especially during your walk to Shang Tsung's laboratory. Even after that, during the incident of being captured and thrown into a cell. He seemed to hover over you. You noticed how he would strike down opponents who would steer too close to you and give you a nod of acknowledgement every time.

Now, as you walked through the forest of souls, Baraka let you lean on his body to support your leg with Kung Lao and Johnny aiding Kenshi.

Baraka didn't spare you any glances this time. His gaze only forward. You so badly wanted to speak to him, your eyes glued to your feet as you limped. You pursed your lips and finally mustered up the courage to speak to the tarkatan. "I should thank you." You say softly.

"For what." His raspy voice reaches your ears, yet as rough a it sounded, he bore no malice in it.

You smile a little. " You saved me from one of Shang's soldiers back there. And not only that... I've noticed you've been protecting me. Is there a reason why?"

Baraka let's out a low growl. "You are a strange woman. Never once have I seen someone risk their lives to save us."

"You mean tarkatans?" You quirk a brow.

"Yes."

You hum. "I don't see why not. It's not like you guys chose to be infected. It's not right to disregard your lives because of it, plus, I couldn't let a child die. Whether that child is of a different species, infected, or just different . . . a child is a child."

Baraka's eyes finally meet yours and you suddenly felt embarrassed by his gaze. "A strange woman indeed, but admirable." He notes. "I did what I did because I felt drawn to your presence. I had never seen what you did before happen."

A warm wave rushed to your face. You didn't know why, but something about Baraka started to draw you to him too. "I see." You say.

It was then, after everything, you would be heading back home with your friends along with two new allies, Syzoth and Ashrah.

Your eyes lingered on the tarkatan as he turned to head back to his colony and your feet began to move on it's own, rushing after the man.

"Baraka wait!" Your hand grips onto his wrist. His red orbs turn to look into your own, waiting for you to speak.

"I," You hesitate for a moment. "It was nice getting to meet you, perhaps one day, we could meet again... under different circumstances."

He nods. "Yes, I agree."

"And," You end up grabbing both of his hands this time, holding them in your own. There was a notable difference in the size of your hands and you felt embarrassed once again. "I would like to get to know you more the next time we meet. . . in a more meaningful matter."

If Baraka could look just as embarrassed as you, he would, but his face had remained unmoved.

"I would love that." He says, thumbs brushing over your hands. Even his ears looked slightly more upwards, somewhat like a happy cat. "I will be awaiting your visit, y/n."

You smile and bow, leaving to catch up with the others.

Johnny's eyes flash between you and Baraka's departing figure, a disturbed look on his face. "Don't tell me that you and-"

"Shut it Cage." You hiss.

He raises his hands up in defense. "Okay crazy lady, whatever floats your boat."

╰┈➤ masterlist

#mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #mk x reader #baraka x reader #Baraka mk1 #female reader

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nox140497 · 3 months

Text

A Midnight Crisis

Prompt: No

Request: No

Summery: Colby has a panic attack late one night.

Prompt Number: None

Pairings: Colby Brock x Female Reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

_______________________________

Colby shut his laptop with more force than intended and rubbed his tired eyes. It was past 2am, and he was no closer to finishing the script for his next video.

Glancing around the dimly lit editing room, stacks of notes and camera equipment stared back at him, each item representing hours of work ahead. The never-ending to-do list seemed to stretch into infinity as pressure and perfectionism gnawed away at his sanity.

A tapping at the door pulled Colby from his spiraling thoughts. "Sweetheart, come to bed," said his girlfriend Y/N softly. "You've been at it for hours."

Colby nodded wearily and followed her downstairs. As they curled up under the blankets, Y/N gently stroked his damp hair. "What's keeping you up?" she asked softly.

Colby took a shaky breath. "I just feel so behind. If I don't post at least twice a week, the algorithm will bury me. And the comments..." His voice cracked. "People are always criticising - the lighting, my jokes, who I film with, everything. I try so hard, but it's never enough."

Y/N pulled him closer. "You work like three men already. No one achieves perfection, at least of all in a few hours each time."

Colby knew she was right, but the churning anxiety refused to subside. What if his viewers lost interest? Sponsors pulled funding? It had happened to bigger creators - he wasn't immune.

"I'll never sleep at this rate," he sighed. Reluctantly climbing out of bed, Colby headed back to his prison of screens and cables. Y/N followed, concern etched on her face.

Back in the office, Colby began rewriting his script frantically, deleting and retyping sentences over and over as familiar panic started clawing its way up his throat. What if he picked the wrong topic? Messed up the comedic timing? He typed so fast his hands began to cramp.

A stabbing pain in his chest made Colby gasp for air. Black spots danced before his eyes as the walls closed in, trapping him under the crushing expectation to perform.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around him from behind. "Colby, you need to breathe," urged Y/N calmly. She took his trembling hand and placed it on her chest. "In and out, slowly. I've got you."

Colby fought to match her even breaths as crushing anxiety morphed into racking sobs. "I'm losing control," he cried into Y/N's shoulder. "What if I can't do this anymore?"

"Shh, it's okay," soothed Y/N gently. "Come, let's get some air."

Walking unsteadily through the silent house, Colby slowly began to regain control of his breathing in the cool night. Y/N never let go of his hand, grounding him through the lingering panic.

On the back porch, they sat close together, watching the stars. An uneasy silence stretched between them as Colby gathered the courage to speak.

"I'm scared this will break me," he admitted shakily. "I pour everything into videos only to be constantly worried if it's decent enough. It's not making me happy anymore - it's destroying me." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N gently wiped it away and took his face in her hands. "You are so much more than the metrics or comments say. I see how talented and kind you are every day. This channel was supposed to be fun, so please don't let it ruin your health or us."

Her earnest eyes conveyed nothing but compassion. All the resentful feelings Colby harbored towards himself began to melt away under Y/N's unconditional love and support.

As the first light of dawn broke over the trees, Colby finally felt some of the crushing weight lift. Exhausted but calmer, he leaned into Y/N's shoulder, grateful beyond words that she saw his true worth, not defined by meaningless views or numbers on a screen. This was only the beginning of getting his life back on track, but with her by his side, Colby believed things could get better.

A week had passed since Colby's panic attack, and he was beginning to feel more like himself again. Taking time completely away from YouTube at Y/N's suggestion had brought unexpected relief.

Without daily stresses to focus on, Colby rediscovered long-lost interests like photography and gardening. He spent afternoons going for hikes with Y/N, marvelling at nature's beauty through fresh eyes. Their home filled with snapshot memories from each outing, captured joyfully on film.

With structure and rest, Colby's anxiety gradually released its grip. For the first time in months he slept well, free from dreams about botched collabs or unkind comments. Y/N watched him awaken each day looking more energised, reminding her gently of the importance to maintain this lifestyle.

One sunny afternoon found Colby immersed in tending roses along the fence border. As he trimmed away wilted blooms, flashes of memories surfaced - cramming scripts at 3am, editing well into dawn, forgetting to eat or take breaks. Exhausted, sore hands moved on auto-pilot to create a never-ending stream of content.

His downward spiral had been gradual yet forceful, spurred on by perfectionism and fear of slipping in the algorithm. But Y/N's care dragged Colby kicking and screaming from that dark routine, revealing how lonely the path of overwork had become. A cold shudder passed over him at the realisation of how close he came to burning out completely.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Colby's gaze fell upon Y/N watching tenderly from the porch. Her bright smile warmed his soul, reminding him that life held more meaningful things than views or trends. Carrying the gardening tools inside, Colby collapsed on the couch beside her with a happy sigh.

"Feeling better?" she asked, handing him a cool drink. Colby nodded gratefully. "I'm amazed at the difference a week makes. Things seem clearer now."

He stretched comfortably, thoughts drifting back over stressful nights locked away working endlessly to please abstract metrics, while neglecting real connection. That loneliness had almost swallowed him whole.

"Thank you for pulling me back from the edge," Colby told Y/N earnestly, taking her hands. "I lost sight of what really matters, but you've given me a new perspective."

Y/N leaned in for a lingering kiss. "I'm just glad to have you here, happy and healthy. Promise me you won't let it get that bad again?" Smiling, Colby promised to always communicate how he felt from now on, never bottle things up until breaking point.

That evening, the couple discussed potential strategies for Colby to maintain wellbeing going forward. Setting stricter schedules with enforced breaks, delegating tasks, limiting social media use - simple changes aimed at sustainably managing pressure and burnout prevention.

Colby knew regaining control would take diligent effort. But with Y/N by his side, nothing felt impossible anymore. Her patience and reassurance instilled a calm confidence in his ability to return renewed, without sacrificing mental wellness. The following week, Colby finally felt ready to resume video making.

Armed with new perspective and healthier habits, Colby crafted a short update video explaining his break to concerned viewers. Speaking candidly about mental health awareness and balance, he saw more supportive comments roll in than ever before. The positive reinforcement served to cement Colby's resolution to prioritise fulfillment through diverse passions instead of basing self-worth on one metric's fluctuations alone.

Weeks turned to months of sustainable creativity. True to his word, Colby kept communication lines open with Y/N, never hesitating to discuss feelings or setbacks. With her encouragement he joined local photography groups and took on freelance opportunities to spread creative wings beyond YouTube alone.

Most importantly, Colby learned to be kind to himself through both triumphs and failures. Looking back on a time when anxiety nearly took control of his life, he was profoundly grateful for Y/N's unconditional love and support. It was this care that gave him strength to overcome adversity and regain balance, emerging healthier and happier than ever before.

#sam and colby #xplr #colby x reader #colby brock #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock x reader

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areyoudoingthis · 6 months

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god I truly love the red suit (because it's hot obviously and i am not immune), but also because of the glimpse it gives us into stede and where he's at halfway through s2 (thee season of change and growth).

he's been wearing the same shabby, stained white shirt all season so far because he left everything he owned behind, and he hasn't complained once about ed throwing all his favorite clothes overboard, because nothing was more important than finding ed and finally being able to tell him how he felt about him, and I'm so proud of stede for that bit of growth. the white shirt is symbolic of that growth, of his willingness to put ed and the crew first, of him not needing all his physical belongings anymore because he has people to care about now, he doesn't need things.

but he likes them, and the way his whole face lights up when he sees the red suit and he stops to put it on in the middle of a raid (and almost gets stabbed for it) is so stede. he's grown but he still loves his fancy clothes, he loves bright colors and frills and buttons and gold thread. growing doesn't mean he has to stop loving those things, and that's such an important thing for the show to say, especially given where stede is in his journey of self discovery this season. he's still allowing himself to enjoy those things in spite of the undercurrent of fear of not being good enough and self hatred that thrums under the surface since the opening of episode 1 (and eventually leads him to kill a man and get progressively more butch in his outfit choices as the season progresses). i LOVE that he gets to have that, that he gets to feel hot and pose in front of the mirror and strut around all day (and that he gets to be a righteous bitch when the crew destroys the suit).

it's such a realistic representation of someone on a journey of self discovery, of someone who's figuring out what he's worth and why he's loveable and what he likes and will allow himself to like and how he will allow himself to present in front of others. and he gives it away because he loves his little piratical family and wants to keep them happy, but he still got to enjoy that, and he still looked great in just the red shirt with a low neckline and black lace all over it (and he got a "you wear fine things well" for it!!!!!!! ed saw and he understood what it meant to stede and stede got to hear that!!!!!! I'm kissing the show on the lips).

i still feel some type of way about the teal shirt and the leather pants and everything they say about his state of mind throughout episodes 6-8, and i feel fifty more things about him finally being able to have his romantic fantasy come true and know that he's loved in the color that represents repression and being forced to perform a type of masculinity that's been destructive for him his whole life (as I've said before). I think it was insanely symbolic and important for him to be able to wear that particular outfit at that particular time and stay in it for the entire finale.

but. BUT. i can't wait to see what becomes of Stede's gender expression when he has time to rebuild his wardrobe, when he's not running around trying to keep everyone safe or prove he has worth, when he starts to realize and embrace that he doesn't have to be a certain kind of man for people to respect him and for ed to love him. i can't wait to see the choices he makes when he's finally free to choose. I think s3 might kill me yall

#all the talk about positivity got me vomiting my love for the show and my blorbos again #ofmd #stede bonnet #ofmd meta #alex watches ofmd #I LOVE SHOW!!!!!!!

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sapphicsigh · 6 months

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I don't want a 3rd szn without Izzy. I just don't. Call me dramatic or whatever, but I'm so genuinely heartbroken by his death. I feel so betrayed. Izzy was the heart of the show, and now he's gone.

The aftermath of his death felt rushed, he wasn't buried at sea (like what the fuck, a lifelong pirate like Izzy would've wanted to be buried at sea) and the crew was just happy to get back on the revenge and set sail without their unicorn? Everyone just gets a happily ever without Izzy? Izzy died a painful death shot by a pompous asshole and for what? Some metaphor about the end of the golden age of piracy? Piss off. Closure for Ed? That could've been achieved a number of other ways. Izzy couldn't get any assurances that HE was loved? Even on his fucking deathbed? The man who protected the crew with life and limb? It doesn't feel right, and it never will. Izzy deserved so much better, and so did Con.

And worst of all, perhaps, is that Djenkins was planning on killing him all along. The whole time, while we were falling in love with the little angry man, rooting for him and rejoicing when he wore makeup in front of the crew and was vulnerable with them...he was a dead man walking.*

*I've seen ppl make rlly good points about how death was treated throughout the show and I wanted to add that context here. If I can find whose post I'm thinking of, I'll tag them

**Edit: Izzy's death was an incredible shock. EVERYONE ELSE IN THE SHOW survived their near death experiences!!! Stede got choked near to death, stabbed (twice!), and survived all of that unscathed. Ed got his head smashed in by a FUCKING CANNONBALL, pumbled by the crew and made it out with barely a scrape. Even Calico Jack could've (apparently) escaped death after being shot with a goddamn cannonball. The Swede was poisoned but was already immune to it. Wow! We (at least I felt this way), as an audience, believed that there wouldn't be any character deaths due to the overwhelming evidence we'd been given thus far. So after alllll the in show evidence that the laws of medicine or physics don't apply to ANY of the pirates, why suddenly apply it when it comes to Izzy? Hmmm??? It makes no fucking sense. It's cruel and unusual punishment. They really killed off the queer disabled elder??? Jesus christ. Did not a single person in the writer's room have a qualm about it? The optics alone are bad. But more importantly, killing off the queer disabled elder is inherently political, whether djenkins thought of it that way or not (& i dont think he did). The mere existence of queer people is inherently political in a society (the US), which wishes for our eradication. So killing off a beloved queer disabled elder, on a show which seemed to promise us queer joy and a happy ending, IS POLITICAL. it's a slap in the face and a punch through the fucking gut.

It feels doubly awful because we, as an audience, were given something we've never had before, an unapologetically queer show. One that didn't soften or censor itself for straight viewers. It was created with such love, at least it felt like, for us. So to be given that gift, and to feel recognized and seen and appreciated, only to have it snatched away...

I can only speak for myself, of course, but it's genuinely heartbreaking. I'm so utterly disappointed. I wish so badly that Con got more time with Izzy. I think Izzy means a lot to him, and he means a lot to us, too.

❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹I love you, Izzy, and I always will. Rest in peace, my little meow meow, you were and are so loved.❤️‍🩹🦄❤️‍🩹

#ofmd #our flag means death #today on tumblr #ofmd s2 #queer #lgbtq #lesbian #omfd s2 spoilers #izzy #izzy hands #israel hands #con o'neill #ofmd s2 spoilers

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thats-very-like-a-whale · 5 months

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OK very big content warning: a lot of discussion of Nazis and the Holocaust.

I think one of the reasons people have such a hard time understanding that they're being antisemitic is that they've dehumanized the concept of antisemitism so much that they think it can only be done by, like, Nazis.

It's much much easier to believe that as long as they're not literally Nazis, then they're not being antisemitic. Sure, there's rising antisemitism these days. Sure, there's people calling to “gas the Jews”. Sure, there's people stabbing Jews in their homes and spray-painting swastikas on their doors. But those are Nazis. I only tear down posters of kidnapped children, and complain about the massive “Jewish influence” on the media, and call for the dissolution of the Israel because of my hatred for “Zionists”. I'm not a Nazi, so I'm not an antisemite.

And I think this is largely because it's very easy to dehumanize Nazis. By making them out to be non-human, you can easily disconnect yourself from them. The Nazis were monsters, but I'm a person with a moral compass so I couldn't possibly be similar to them. So I can't possibly be an antisemite.

Dan Pagis was an Israeli poet and survivor of the Belzec concentration camp. In his poem “Witness” (“עדות”), Pagis wrote:

לא לא: הם בהחלט / היו בני אדם: מדים, מגפים. / איך להסביר: הם נבראו בצלם. / אני הייתי צל. / לי היה בורא אחר / והוא בחסדו לא השאיר בי מה שימות / ... / עשן אל עשן כל יכול / שאין לו גוף ודמות

My translation:

No, no: they definitely were human beings. Uniforms, boots. How can I explain: they were created b’tzelem*. I was a shadow. I had a different creator. And he, in his kindness, didn't leave anything in me to die... smoke unto omnipotent smoke that has no body or form.

(*In the Tanakh, when Hashem creates the first man and the first woman, it says that they are created “b’tzelem Elohim” (“בצלם אלוהים”). The best translation for this is probably “in God’s image”.)

The people wearing the boots and the uniforms were people. The people who tattooed numbers on our arms and made us dig our own mass graves and threw us into the gas chambers and the ovens were people. The Nazis, who murdered six million Jewish people, including most of my extended family, in camps and in mass graves, were human beings. Modern Nazis, who march with swastikas and chant for the genocide of the Jewish people, are human beings. And antisemites ARE HUMAN BEINGS, as much as you'd like to believe that they aren't. As much as you'd like to believe you could never become like them, because you're human and they aren't.

So no, you are not immune to antisemitism. People just like you can be and are antisemites. It is your duty to understand that, and fight that, and watch your fucking actions.

Am Yisrael Chai. 🇮🇱❤️

#jumblr #israel #war #israel palestine conflict #ישראבלר #antisemitism #antisemitism tw #shoah #jewish history #holocaust #zionism #judaism

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cocopop-04 · 8 days

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yk i find it so weird when a ppl go on about how Tim didn't kill anyone on the brucequest in canon. i mean its not acknowledged or anything but.... :

the League of Assassin people who died in the explosions, obviously (u can even see the people in the explosions here)

2. less acknowledged but as far as i can see, he killed 3??? members of the Council of Spiders. Funnel, Tangle and Sac all are injured during the fight.

(she is an assassin that uses poisons to kill - they would probably be lethal, though she may have a built up immunity to them)

(both stabbed and punched by an enhanced individual. definitely survivable, though)

(electrocuted, and how other injuries from the fight - it is survivable, considering that he is enhanced)

All by themselves, you can argue that these wounds are survivable and that Tim didn't kill them, but in the last panel, all three of the injured members are not there.

The only reason that these Council of Spiders members survived was because Goliath stopped them from being squashed by the rubble, and yet the three injured ones now not only have their previous, possibly lethal injuries, but are also buried underneath a building.

So, probably dead.

(And yes, ik that Funnel does appear in Bruce Wayne: The Road Home - Red Robin. but they all should be dead)

— Red Robin #8 - Council of Spiders

#comic panels #comic page #red robin #tim drake #batman #dc comics #dc #dcu #batfamily #dc robin #league of assassins #cocopop's posts

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bugs1nmybrain · 3 months

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Backdoor - Shigaraki x fem reader (Anal sex)

Notes: some people may remember anal being in my "do not request" list, but I've become more open-minded lately. I have a complicated relationship with anal so I was hoping to write a fic that was realistic and not hard ramming up the ass sex with no lube. I am projecting with this fic so bad

Warnings: Anal, 18+ (minors don't interact), fem-reader, reader experiences pain, Shigaraki is considerate and is actually somewhat scared of hurting the reader, soft Tomura and I won't apologize for making him a sweetheart, praise!!!, clitoral fingering, white-haired Shigaraki (s5ish), reader is immune to Tomura's quirk, no condom but they use hella lube, after sex pillow talk

Word Count: 3001

MINORS DON'T INTERACT

When it came to anal, you felt at a loss. Would you love to appease this little fantasy of his? Sure. But it wasn't an easy task and it wasn't your fault that your ass wasn't designed for any visitors.

It made you feel bad because you wanted to meet Tomura's needs. You'd catch him late at night watching some pretty crazy porn while you were sleeping. Some of it involved anal. Not always, but frequent enough to make you feel like you weren't enough for him.

You were actually the one who brought it up first. Tomura had made anal jokes here and there, but he seemed to catch the drift that you didn't want to. He understood that it would hurt, but he was convinced that you were drilling most of that anxiety in your head. Not that he'd admit it to most people, but he had experimented with anal himself on a rare occasion. He surprisingly discovered that taking it up the ass was pleasurable for him. He just needed to lather himself with spit and he was good (do not use spit, don't be like Shigaraki).

So why didn't you like it? Well, put simply. Ow. It fucking hurt. You knew because you had tried it with your sex toys and every time you put yourself through agonizing pain that wasn't like any other feeling. You panicked when that pain would stab you instantly, and you'd immediately take it out. It made you feel insecure and undesirable.

When you brought it up to Tomura, the instant giddy look on his face told you upfront that he had been waiting for this moment like a kid on Christmas Eve. A part of you felt squeamish about his instant agreeable response, and another part of you simply melted away at his cute smile.

"If..if we did it. Would you stop? If it hurt?" you asked while spacing out.

"Yeah, of course. But, like, it's gonna probably hurt at first. Gotta push through it," he slied at you.

Tomura noticed your brows furrow in fear and almost felt guilt. You're the one who proposed this idea, though. You didn't have to bring this up, but you did. He was a little confused but nonetheless excited. Your pussy was incredible and nothing could ever take the place of that gushy warm wetness. However, he wanted to try another side of the cake. Spice things up.

"Hey, hey," he said cooed with a soft, raspy voice. "I'll be easy on you, alright? Nothing crazy. Think of this as testing the waters."

"I-uhm, okay," you nodded shyly. Tomura stepped closer and rubbed his thumb on your cheek in attempts to comfort you.

"Ya sure?"

"I am. I trust you, Tomura."

That's a bold statement, he thought.

"Hehehee, okayyy. Sooo, now? Are we doing this now?" Tomura perked up with a beam in his eyes. You could already see that his crotch looked a little bigger through his pants, though constricted by how tight his jeans were.

"Yea,, uhm. I actually got something that I thought would help."

"You mean lube?"

"Yea. I know some guys think it ruins the fun but-"

"Are you assuming that I'm like "other guys?" Your misandry is showing, y/n," he jokes with a chuckle.

"No! I just know it probably ruins how tight it feels."

"I wouldn't know, but "probably" not. I don't need you cutting the circulation off to my dick, anyway."

You laughed at his witty remarks, which in turn eased the tension you felt about what you were going to do with him. As you both sat on the bed, laughing at each other, Tomura took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb in your palm.

"I'll take good care of you, okay? You don't have to be scared."

Instinctively, you relax into his embrace, resting your head on his chest while he held you snug. "So damn emotional," he thought cockily, though Tomura absolutely adored it when you needed his affection like this. He knew better that the invitation you gave him to your ass was probably an attempt to secure your bond with him. Perhaps you thought he'd love you more if you did this. Not exactly true, but he certainly wasn't complaining. He has wanted this since he met you. He'd keep these fluffy thoughts of his to himself, at least until it was over and done with.

Tomura kissed your temple first, then started teasing his way to your neck. He gave you love bites on your neck and shoulders, making you yelp out a tiny "ow!" His teeth were as sharp as knives sometimes, but he tried his best to not be so rough.

Soft sex wasn't something Tomura was above. He liked making love, too, and just enjoying being in love with you. He was indeed rough, though. Needy may be an accurate way of saying it. Sex would start out slow and affectionate, but usually end up very fast and deep. He'd pound your pussy as if he was taking something out on you, maybe he was. Lucky for you his rough treatment made you tremble and cum hard underneath him, and you felt best when he finished inside and pulled you into a tight cuddle with him for the rest of the night. You just hoped he wouldn't be so aggressive tonight.

As Tomura continued to give your neck wet kisses, he trailed his fingers up the sides of your shirt, eagerly tugging it off.

"Hehe, boobies."

He could be such a fucking kid sometimes.

"Shut up."

"What did you say to me?" He says, gripping your jaw gently to face him. "Repeat that?"

You blushed so deeply and giggled, making him cock a smirk. He bit his lip as he stared at your tits that rested in your bra, having no remorse for his gaze. "Take this off."

Obliging to his request, you hear a heavy "mmm" sound from Tomura's throat. When your tits bounced out of your cup bra, Shigaraki felt his dick strain. He didn't think much, and reached out to touch you shamelessly.

"Tomura!"

"I gotta get you wet," he muttered sensually. "God knows we could use all the help we can get in the lube department."

He squeezed, sucked, and pinched at you with hunger. Soon after, your pants were torn to shreds by his quirk (while you were immune to his quirk, your clothes weren't), mostly because Tomura was getting irritated by how hard they were to get off of you. Once you were pantsless, he could see by the drench of your panties that you were hungry for him.

He reached inside of your underwear, searching for that little lady he loved to mess around with. Years on a game controller did him favors when it came to you. He found your clit easily and gave her gentle strokes. He could feel how swollen and soaked you were without even taking off your panties, and he became hungrier as you whimpered in pleasure.

"You like that, baby?" he asked in a half-genuine, half-conceded tone.

"Mmhmm," you nod vigorously with your eyes shut.

Tomura's fingers circled around your clit, building faster and faster as he went on. He could feel you beginning to contract your hips and relax as you lay back. You were close, and he was going to make you cum good. It's what you deserve for treating him with such a lovely present tonight.

You felt your clit begin to spasm, and waves of pleasure flooded your body. You let out a moan of gratitude and became wetter when you reached your orgasm. "Awhh Tomura-awhh~"

"Yeahh..that's a good girl. Cum all over my fingers."

"MNnnmm!"

Tomura kept swirling his fingers gently as you continued to ride out your orgasm, and as you came down from your high, he whipped your slickness downward.

"hmm-!" you shook, almost forgetting what the initial goal was. You froze as still as you could while he rubbed your pussy juice on your ass.

"Where's the lube you bought?"

"In my bag," you replied. Shigaraki quickly grabbed it and zipped back onto the bed with lightning speed. He set the lube beside you and continued rubbing your fluids on your ass. His fingers rested before your hole, pressing against it slowly.

"Tomura.."

"I'm going to loosen you up a little before I go in, okay? I'm not the smallest."

"Uh-huh."

"You'll be regretting that when it's up your ass."

You giggled and tried to relax the best you could. Tomura continued to talk," Actually, turn around."

"Okay," you complied, turning so that your ass was toward him. He pulled your panties down, revealing your perfect, full figure to him. He swore he was going to blow his load right there if he didn't reel himself in. His fingers returned, rubbing wet circles onto you. He finally decided to push them in, easing in with caution.

"Ah!"

Your exclamation probably startled Tomura more than what was happening to you. He removed his fingers quickly and decided to rub your ass to soothe you.

"You have to relax. If you tense up like that it's going to hurt like a bitch. Here, I'll get the lube, alright?"

He reached for the bottle and flicked the cap off. Taking a generous squirt of it on his fingers, he rubbed the cold substance into your hole. "Mm..." you whimpered in discomfort, though the lube was making it easier.

"Is it cold?" Tomura asks.

"Yea."

"Sorry. We're gonna have to use a lot of it, though."

"I know."

"Turn this way."

"Hm?"

"You know how people lay when they're getting a colonoscopy?"

"Uhhh..? Maybe?" you guess, not expecting such a bizarre question.

Tomura's hands guide you to lie on your side, with his fingers returning shortly after. From this angle, it felt more tolerable, though uncomfortable even so. His fingers moved in and out, fingering inside as he tried to stretch you to accommodate his impending penis.

"You have no idea how hard my cock is, y/n," he flirts, causing your body to respond with unintentional tension. "Don't stiffen up now. You're getting there."

You tried breathing throughout the sensation of his fingers, and you weren't quite sure if you were in pain or not. Tomura spoke as if he could read your mind.

"Does this hurt?"

"I don't know. I think it's okay."

"Well, you've been taking them for a bit, now. I think you're adjusting," Tomura reaches for the lube and lathers your, ass up more with it fingering the lube inside and making sure there's plenty up front for when he goes in.

"I think-or-I, uh.."Tomura clammed up, somewhat nervous himself. "Are you ready?"

He rubbed your lower back, listening for your reply. He kissed your neck affectionately while he waited for your answer, making you giggle for him.

"Yea. We can..we can do it."

"Good girl," he praised.

You smiled at him, watching him pull down his pants. His cock sprung out, looking painfully hard and oozing pre already. You didn't realize how sizeable he actually was. Was it really going to fit in you? Would it go in at all?

Tomura came in for a spoon, wrapping his arms around you for a moment while he pet your hair.

"I love you," he says adoringly.

"Eheh...really?"

"The fuck you mean, really?" He teases. "Of course I do. You're my favorite girl..and...I'm very happy to do this with you."

"I am too. I love you so much, Tomura."

"hehe she loves me..." he blushes jokingly. "I'm going to start, okay?"

"Mhm," you assure.

Tomura's cock rubs on your asscheek, startling you by it's texture. He guides it to your entrance and rubs it around you. As if it dawned upon him, he quickly grabs more lube and rubs some on his cock, and a bit more onto you, too.

"Jesus that's cold!" he quietly hissed. His cock was thoroughly coated with lube, and he focused back at your ass. His tip stopped at your hole, "I'm pushing in, kay?"

You only nodded. Tomura's cockhead felt big against your hole, much bigger than when he's going for your pussy. Your heart was throbbing, so you grabbed for Tomura's free arm and held him like a comfort item. He started pushing in.

At first you thought you weren't feeling much, but then he sunk further and an instant shock of pain surged in your insides.

"OW OW!" you exclaimed in pain.

"Fuck! Sorry!" He pulled out quick. He looked at your face, worried he was going to make you cry or hate him. Fuck, he'd hate if he hurt you more than he expected.

"It's, it's okay. Just..try again," you huff.

"Alright," he lined himself back up with more lube. "Breathe, baby."

You did as suggested, breathing as well as possible as he pushed his cock in, deeper and deeper. He was being slow, and honestly, the slower he went the more it hurt.

"Just go, please," you trembled.

Tomura didn't register what you said right and thought you were telling him to go. "Baby,-"

"Tomura, keep going, please," you begged, trying to fight away tears from the pain.

"Okay." He did as you asked of him, thrusting in and out as smoothly as he could. He was slow but moved consistently without pausing. As you seemed to become more used to him, he was finally processing the immense pleasure he was receiving from this.

"Awh~," he began sighing. "Fuck, your ass is so tight."

"Eheh...I imagine..." you said in discomfort, fumbling with his hand for comfort. He held your hand in his snuggly, and unconsciously his pace grew faster. He paused only for a moment to put more lube down, making sure to be quick when he remembered it hurt worse when he would stop inside.

"Nnnfff...fuck y/n.." he sighed into your neck, pushing in and out. "Does...fuck...does it hurt?"

"It's not so bad.." you hummed, admittedly feeling some pleasure in what you assumed was your internal clitoral system, even if it was outshined by the discomfort.

"Good..good girl...mMmmfff," his eyes rolled back (not that you could see) and his mouth hung agape as his thrusts got faster.

"Eas--easier, Tomu-"

"I know, baby. Fuck...sorry...UhMmm..~" He held you close and buried his face into your hair while he tried to keep his pace at bay. You smelled nice, and the sensations of your scent, your soft skin, and the feeling of your ass were driving him up the wall. You felt fucking incredible.

"Mmm.." you let out a small moan. He couldn't tell if you were faking it for his sake, but you still sounded hot and it was making him leak in your ass. "Awh~."

He wasn't going to last, he thought. You perked your ass up more to him, and he moved in you at a sensual rhythm in response. He grabbed your tits as he huffed his hot breath on your neck, making yearning, groaning noises. The lube provided enough help for him to move in your ass without having to stop a lot, but naturally, you were still tight. You were squeezing his dick, surely cutting off that circulation he was talking about earlier.

"Tomura.."

Fuck. There he goes. He fucked you faster when his orgasm overtook him, and he savored your ass every second as he came thick inside of you. "Fuckin-God.."

You could feel it oozing inside. Tomura wriggled himself in you until every drop of his cum was out, and he finished by pulling out of your ass. You felt instantly relieved by the lack of his cock, and turned around to see him smiling at you with his shit-eating grin. He kissed your forehead and hummed in a happy tone, his fingers reaching to stroke your hair.

"Good girl, well done, hehe.," he grinned at you with a cheeky smile. "Are you okay?"

You nod, tired beyond belief.

"Do you hurt?"

"It hurts less now that it's out," you remark.

His face scrunches up a little, assuming that you had no enjoyment from what you two did together. What did he expect? It wasn't like you had a prostate like he did, so there wasn't much you could get from it. Fuck! He should've at least played with your clit, he thought.

"Tomura?" you question, noticing his disturbed face. "What's the matter?"

"You didn't like it, did you?" he assumed.

You paused, but confessed, "It was uncomfortable. I did feel a little pressure somewhere that felt sorta good, but it was hard to get through."

"I'm sorry. You, uh. You just felt great, ya know? It's like your entire body was meant for me. From your quirk to your pussy to..there, too."

You lit up with laughter and a relief shot through Tomura. "I am meant for you. I'm all yours, Tomura. That's why I wanted to do this. I wanted to make you feel good."

"Well, thank you," he chuckled. "Do you need a shower? Or like, I don't know, another orgasm? My fingers don't have a refractory period, thankfully. I want to take care of you."

"Do you really?"

"Yea. You were so good to me tonight, you deserve to be spoiled," he smiled, tapping on your nose with the pad of his finger. You scrunched your nose cutely and and giggled at him, making his heart flutter.

"I just want cuddles."

"Really? That's all?"

"Yea," you grinned, kissing his jaw. "Pleeasse?"

"You can have as many cuddles as you need, my evil princess," he says, knowing full well how cringe that pet name sounded. "You'll have to clean up a bit, though. Unless you want cum in your ass all night."

"Yea, that's probably not good."

"Come wash up with me? Then we can cuddle, kay?"

"Ehehe, yes, Tomura. I love you."

"I love you more."

#shigaraki tomura x reader smut #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shiggy x reader #shigaraki x reader smut #shigaraki x fem reader #shigaraki x reader n/sfw #shigaraki tomura n/sfw

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Just to kiss me (part 1)

Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part 2, The Hunger Games masterlist

summary: You meet Finnick at a gala. He’s not what you expect.

warnings: none. Capitol!reader (this is not mindless hedonism, important to the plot), smoking (don't smoke kids, it's bad for you), reader is a year younger than Finnick, who is 21 here.

a/n: wanted to see how many times I could break u guys into little tiny pieces. Part 1 to this series <3

required reading:

Wc: 2.3k

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Depollute me, pretty baby,

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Under the chandeliers of the Great Hall, Finnick Odair is the sun.

Glittering as he waltzes between crowds of people; he is the centre of all attention. The flash of a smile there, a soft chuckle here, and it's enough to have the room hanging onto every word. He is honeysuckle and saccharine; stunning in his gilded suit; and it is all you can do to not stare.

You linger by the desserts table, in search of something edible. Piles of sickly sweet, oddly coloured food and yet none look like they wouldn't stab your throat on the way in. An ironic statement considering the company. Panem's most beautiful and wealthy all in one room; daggers behind their backs and expensive smiles. But you knew how it looked: the child of a senator refusing to make nice with the locals at her first gala. Half a dozen political players, actors, and the like had clawed over themselves to make a good impression with your mother - her vice-like grip around your arm. And every single one disappointed by the bumbling proctor she had thrown in her stead. You, dressed in a beautiful gown - the latest in Cinna's collection - mimicking human interaction. None had the decency to even pretend to be interested.

Growing tired of awkward, stumbling conversation, you had resorted to hiding; in the corner of the hall, with the half-eaten cakes, where the workers came to gossip. Conversation with twice as much substance than the rest of the room. That's when you see him.

Finnick arrives late - of course he does - at a lull in the night. From your vantage point, you see it all: elbows and whispers and manicured fingers dissecting his every move. When he shakes hands with a famous actress, the room erupts with: 'I wonder if they're dating? He's much too good for her…'. When he claps a hand on the back of a senator, good naturedly, they wonder: 'His ex? Have they made peace since the nasty breakup?'.

He was an enigma, and to say you weren't intrigued was wrong. You were not strong enough to resist the media frenzy surrounding Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th annual games: handsome with his cropped sandy hair, high cheekbones and boyish vigor, despite it all. 7 years ago, he had captured the nation with his beauty, and grace. 7 years ago, you had watched not much younger than him, queasy at the sight. Your disdain for the games had started with him, you had to admit begrudgingly: how could someone so beautiful be forced into doing such ugly things? At fourteen? And how could the nation watch in awe?

You are brought back into the room by a sharp elbow at the ribs. A friend of yours; expectantly folds her arms in front of you.

"You're staring." she says, with a toothy grin. "You said you were immune, and now you're staring…"

You roll your eyes at Vonnie, quick to stuff a prickly treat into your mouth. Quickly, you flash pink tongue at her. "He's so shiny it's practically blinding. Hard to ignore."

She tries not to laugh, reserved when a group of socialites walk past. As soon as they leave, she splutters, "They seem to be ignoring you quite easily…"

Yeah, no shit. The older girl taps her fingers on the table, nervously, like she had something to say. She's dressed in an explosion of fabric: pink and purple and patterned, with a dusting of gold. Her hair is similarly styled, haphazard but regal. On you, you know it would look a mess; but on her, she looks like the models on the cover of Panem Weekly - leggy and striking and beautiful. You sigh into more desserts. They melt almost immediately; a trace of sugar and daydreams on your tongue.

"....do you think your mother would introduce us?"

Your eyes grow wide. "No… no…Vonnie, I will not make a fool of myself in front of Finnick Odair-"

"...but she would introduce us? Right? Right?"

Opening your mouth in protest, she's too quick for you; hooking her arm into yours and leading (dragging) you into the crowd. She flashes her stunning smile every now and then, throwing polite greetings like grenades with complete accuracy. You're at your mother's feet in no time at all.

A tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. That's all she affords you before throwing you to the wolves. "-ah. Just the person I was looking for. Tell Minister Tragus about that outreach program you've been working on…"

An expectant beat passes, and then another. And another. Vonnie cuts in. "W-well we've been swamped in paperwork as of late trying to get it off the ground! But, Senator, your daughter has been absolutely amazing, never a day off, and poring over the legislature for a gap in the system. She reminds me of you, in that way," she looks at you warmly, and you squeeze her arm with thanks. "-oh, my name is Vonnie Dulaire, Professor-"

"Professor Dulaire's daughter. Or at least, one of them." your mother finishes dryly. She looks around seemingly preoccupied, looking for someone. Not 50m from where you all stand, she catches the eye of a man, who waves. "If you'll excuse me," She bows out, with a nod.

Hot on her heels, You and Vonnie follow. She stops momentarily, squinting accusingly at you. "You want something."

You stop to protest, but Vonnie interrupts. "Not want per se, but, uh, we were w-wondering if you had met Finnick… Mr Odair! And if you could… introduce us?" A quick nod behind her, and you try to back her up.

Her face is contorted, with a slight twitch at her eyebrow that tells you she's pissed, and you would get an earful when you got home. That smile again. The one she reserves for the cameras, that doesn't quite meet her eyes. She's tight-lipped and leads you towards the man that waved to her not long ago.

He's plump and jovial, with a handlebar mustache that curls up to the apples of his cheeks. Introducing himself as Finnick's manager, he stretches out a hand. You take it, and it's clammy with sweat. Vonnie is more outwardly enthusiastic, chattering about Finnick's most recent interview, and complimenting his style. She's good at making people feel at ease; conversation flowing like Panem’s finest ambrosia.

Your mother is curt when she steps away. She grabs your arm, squeezing cruelly. Imperceptibly, she breathes, "This is your chance to make a good impression. How many times must I tell you, this is a part of the job: you go the events, you suck up, you make appearances. Vonnie, the ditz, for God's sake is showing you up!" She pauses to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. From behind her flute, she continues.

"Everything I have done is for you. So you are not chained to a life with a husband you don't love and dithering children pawing at your skirt 24/7. Politics or no, you must play the game, my love-"

"I need some air." Your voice crackles. You don't look her in the eye as you walk away.

~~~

Away from the swirling lights, music and bustle, the night air is cool on your skin. You're on a balcony, tucked away from the gala, leaning over the edge with a small packed pipe in hand. It's the one thing about the ballgown you were grateful for; it's size made it easy to hide things in the tulle or the waistband. In your case, a beat up old pipe and lighter. You take a drag; and float on the moonlight that streams in.

20 minutes go by and you're still not ready to go back in.

The double doors open, to a man dressed in gold with his head in his hands. He slumps over the crowned railing and breathes in and out; erratic and shallow. Gentle sobs, barely audible. From this angle, he can't see you in the shadow by the balcony's side, but you can see him. Finnick Odair; in the gloom of the night. Not a god, not the sun. Just a man.

The realisation of who he is makes you jump, and your lighter falls with a clatter. The man looks around just as startled. You fall to your knees, patting around for your lighter in the dark. Finnick does the same, crouching at your feet to help you find it. Ah! There, by your pooling dress, a gaudy thing of gold and pearl. He hands it you, your fingers brush and… you're embarrassed. When he stands up, he motions for you to grab his arm; ever the gentleman.

Finnick gives you that smile; stunning and mischievous; but there's something about it that makes your heart sink. You'd know it from anywhere: the stony sheen of rehearsal, of strain - his body language completely different from a few seconds before. He stands straighter, with purpose, but it rings hollow. His eyes are still stinging from crying. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, you offer him a pull from your pipe. He cracks slightly, smile falling, and nods. He's shaking, you notice, as he brings his plump lips to the tip of the pipe, and takes a slow drag. Almost immediately, he doubles over coughing, a palm steady on the railing.

"D-don't… cough… laugh...coughcough…!".

"Is this your first time?" You can't help but giggle.

"No…. Y-yes." He's laughing too now. A genuine, belly-filled laugh.

"Look at what I do." You model a proper pull, breathing in with your chest, holding the smoke there and expelling. You tap at your breastbone. "You should feel it here. Now you try."

You hand it over, and he tries again. This time he only splutters. Not perfect, but better than last time. "You'll get the hang of it."

In the silence that follows, he does, taking careful drags as you pass the pipe around. It's nice to have some quiet after the overstimulation of the gala. You feel like a teenager again; sneaking out to smoke with Vonnie, but with less of the mindless chatter. When you finish, you expect him to leave. After all, it's what you'd do. Leave and refuse to acknowledge the 5 minutes of peace on the balcony. To draw a line between himself and the random girl he's met by chance.

But he doesn't. For some reason, he lingers, stealing a glance at you momentarily. Finally, he chews his lip and asks.

"Why are you out here?"

"Didn't realise you had a claim to this balcony. Have you marked your territory here or…?" You respond without missing a beat, purposefully staring down at the garden below.

"You know that's not what I meant. I haven't seen you before, and here you are-" He chuckles. "-on my balcony."

"How do you know?" You meet his eyes; firm, resolute.

"Hmm?"

"How do you know you haven't met me before? Maybe I bumped into you on the ballroom floor, or at the buffet?"

"I remember everyone at these things. It's always the same. Trust me, if we'd met, I would remember you."

"There's always a million people here…"

"And I remember them all." He breathes, a little wistfully. You didn't realise someone so young could even be wistful.

"That must suck. Every nosy reporter and suck-up? Every politician and creepy little shit-stirrer?" Oh. She's funny, he thinks. And not funny in the tight-lipped, fill-the-silence-with-small-talk way. Unabashedly, genuinely, funny.

"Yes. Every creepy little shit-stirrer." He repeats. Your words taste different in his tongue. Good different. "Thought I'd already met all the spoilt little rich girls, though."

You feign shock, and clutch the necklace at your chest. "You wound me, you really do."

Conversation is effortless with him, lazy in the haze of moonlight that wraps around you both. Shamefully, you didn't think he would be all that smart; too beautiful to have a use for sharp wit and humor. Perhaps the talk shows and television were rotting your brain; he was wonderfully perceptive and you almost struggled to keep up with his pace. Almost.

And so you talked. About anything and everything. What he had for breakfast, the newest music, the weather, the hidden intricacies of capitol life. All the while, tiptoeing around the reality of the situation: that he was the Finnick Odair, perhaps the most sought after man in all of Panem. That he came here to cry on a balcony - clearly, running away from something. To be fair to the man, you wouldn't think it; he was humble and gracious, laughing with a serf like you easily. Fleetingly, you forget yourself, only reminded when the willowy light cut his face just so; handsome, beautiful; and you were blinded by the sun.

You talk until your throat aches and your legs are sore. Behind you, the gala winds down. Again, Finnick seems reluctant to leave, to break the spell you are both under. A normal conversation. A weight off his shoulders; if only for a moment. A natural lull in conversation, and you're skittish, suddenly aware of the time.

"I should go." You say softly.

"I should too, suppose." He looks a little sad, resigned to a small smile.

"Good luck." You nod and walk towards the door. He stops you, clasping a hand in yours. You're looking at each other, and all you can feel is his palm in yours. It's a little rougher than expected, and warm, dwarfing yours. The feeling tethers you to him.

"Good luck." He nods, squeezing your hand. He is doe-eyed and gorgeous in the widowed light. Stepping closer, he opens the door. Finnick Odair lets go and clicks down the hallway, leaving you with a pain in your chest and that feeling on your palm. He flexes his hand as he walks away.

He doesn't look back.

#a little ooc but stick with me guys #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x capitol!reader #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #the hunger games fic #angst #slow burn #Spotify #thg #thg x reader #kat_writes😼

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watercolorfreckles · 3 months

Text

Winter's Kiss - Part 2

Sorry I'm rusty but I had a nice time working on this!

Part 1

Most people assumed that having ice powers meant Villain was immune to the cold. Surely being surrounded by her element only comforted and empowered her further.

What it really meant was that Villain had never truly been warm in her life. Always haunted by a biting chill that rooted in her bones and flooded her veins.

The summer months were easy enough for her to stay regulated in. Her body naturally fended off the scathing blaze of summer sun, meeting something close enough to equilibrium that she didn't have to shiver.

Winter was different. The scales dipped in one, unanimous direction. There was nothing to balance the overwhelming cold, steely and all-encompassing.

Thus, fighting on an icy rooftop, bitter wind stinging her cheeks, and frost clinging to her lashes, did not put her in a particularly amiable mood.

“Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?” she snapped at her nemesis, fighting off the urge to tremble as ice shot to life in her numbed palms.

Hero landed neatly in front of her, blushy nose and pink ears the only indicator that the weather affected him at all. His lips bloomed in a too-pleased smile. “Nope. The new suit has intelligent thermal-regulatory technology. In other words, I'm toasty as…uh…toast. Shouldn’t you?”

Villain’s gaze flicked over him. She could see, now, the steam radiating around him from his stupid heated costume.

Her skin ached for a taste of that kind of blanketing warmth.

A coat did her little good when the cold stemmed from the inside out. She hated him for it. Her glare was as sharp as the icicles in her hands.

Hero stepped closer and his smug smile faltered. He looked her over in turn. “Are you….cold?”

If she could glare any harder, her eyes would bleed.

“My entire existence is cold, I have never not been cold,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now let's wrap this up, Sunshine, so that I can go home and set the thermostat to 85° and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can take the edge off this- this corpse-numb, never-ending, godforsaken winter!”

Her bones felt only distantly attached to her body, dull and torpid as a rotting log.

She took a step toward him and her knees buckled beneath her. Hands caught her waist, lowering her to the ground.

Her breath caught up in lungs scraped raw, mind sweeping blank. All she could focus on was the delightfully warm palms against her sides.

“Villain?” Hero’s brow knitted in concern. Pulling one of his gloves off with his teeth, Hero touched a hand to Villain's cheek before wincing and shaking the icy sting from his bare fingers. “Sh*t, Villain, you're beyond freezing.”

Villain was barely listening. She reached for him as if magnetized, clutching at the heat emanating from his chest. Something pathetically close to a whimper slipped free at the barest fraction of relief, dropping her face against the blazing hollow of his neck.

Hero hissed against the no-doubt unbearable cold of her skin against his. She couldn’t bring herself to care, and he didn’t shove her away.

There was a pause.

“.....Let the record show that you’re the one cuddling me this time.”

Villain scowled. “Shut up.” Her fingers flexed against the smooth fabric of his suit. “This is- is just temporary, and then I’m going to stab you in the face.”

Fingers stroked her hair, brushing the accumulating snowflakes away. There was a click and shuffle as Hero shifted, wrapping her trembling form up in his cape.

“Stab me tomorrow. We’ll rain check.” Scooping her into his arms, Hero stood up.

“Hey-”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Hero’s stupid sunny smile was back, teasing and prettier than she cared to admit. “We’re nemeses with benefits, I don’t actually want you dead. Most of the time.”

Villain’s cheeks might have warmed if she could feel them. Her teeth chattered. “Sp- Speak for yourself, Sunshine. And don’t say nemeses with benefits. You’re em- embarrassing me.”

Hero’s feet lifted off of the ground and they were moving through the air. Villain glanced down at the world below them before shielding her face from the abusive wind with his cape.

He could drop her to shatter on the pavement. Fragile as ice.

They touched down minutes later, and Villain didn’t bother to pull the cape away from her face to check where they were. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, Hero wouldn’t put her down… She couldn’t imagine peeling herself away from the shallow reprieve of his body warmth.

Hero shifted Villain’s weight into one arm. Metal jangled, followed by the rustling of a doorknob. Pushing it open with his foot, she felt Hero cross the threshold.

Peeking through the threads of Hero’s cape, warm lamplight washed the room in a honey glow as he clicked on the light. He shut the door and locked it.

Her ears perked up at the familiar crackle of flames dancing nearby. She tugged the cape down just below her eyes, still blanketing her nose and cheeks.

Hero chuckled. “That got your attention.” He pulled a chair in front of the fireplace and sat down with her puddled in his lap. His free hand smoothed back her hair, staticky from his cape. “Better?”

The glorious heat rolled over them in waves, and Villain bared her pink fingers toward it, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm.”

Lips summer-hot and gentle pressed against her jaw. Warmth sparked low in her belly for an entirely new reason. Her breathing stuttered, turning her face toward his.

Hero took an icy hand in his, blowing warm breath against her knuckles.

The bone-deep ache began to thaw. Her eyes glued to his.

Her beautiful, insufferable,.. kind idiot.

She leaned in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

A haughty and fond smile lit up his face. “Kill me when winter ends.”

Eyes flitting down to his perfect mouth, Villain caught his searing lips with her own. They chased the chill away together.

Neither of them wanted winter to end.

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fatuismooches · 8 months

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Helloo Smooches!!

I had an idea about mixing in two ideas - childhood friend + fragile!reader with Pantalone (let's not let Dottore steal all the spotlight)

Basically, bc of living in poverty reader is very weak and Pantalone concludes you'll be dead any day soon. But despite everything Reader keeps pushing through and he's intrigued. Not only you somehow keep living, you're so nice and try to help others around you any way you can, including Pantalone. I think after becoming friends he advices you to care more about yourself, seeing your frail condition

At one point your condition becomes worse and you need medicine which is already expensive, but for you? You can only get it if you work 24/7, but you physically can't. However, miraculously, you get that medicine. After some time you learn that it was Pantalone who worked all day and night for you and reader can't thank him enough. You may learn he didn't eat for a few days and worked in ungodly conditions just to save you. Reader feels very guilty about all of this, but Pantalone reassures them that it's better than you dying. And it's so strange, even for Panta himself. Like, there are tons of kids who are in the same condition as you or even worse, then why he's so keen to save you?

The rest is history. You two become inseparable, helping each other get through life (no one of you mentions it, but Pantalone works harder and more than you, due to your illness).

When he becomes the Regrator, you're still together. But now he can properly take care of both of you, since you were damaged pretty badly by your childhood. But if Pantalone's immune system got very strong and he only really has bad eyesight, then you... It's not a pretty scene, but he can keep you in stable state thanks to all the expensive doctors, medicine and anything you need for your comfort. I also feel both of you get flashbacks and nightmares about past, so both of you are here to comfort each other

However, if you did die before seeing Regrator in all his glory... He's devastated. He makes sure your grave stays in top-notch condition. Pantalone is grateful for the time you were with him, when Reader became a little ray on sunshine in his dark life, but won't deny he wants you back. However, even endless wealth can't bring reader back. But at least now Pantalone knows for sure he won't lose anything close to him due to lack of mora ever again

-🥀, who went insane

DOTTORE STEALING THE SPOTLIGHT IS SOOO TRUE IM SO SORRY 😭😭💀 and UGHHH THIS IS FEEDING MY PANTALONE BRAINROT SO GOOD, 🥀 ANON ILY ❤️❤️❤️

Pantalone just not caring about you in the beginning is unfortunately true at first 😭 He is well aware that it is a dog-eat-dog world out there, especially in the environment where you two are. Everyone is out for themselves, no one will look out for each other lest they get stabbed in the back eventually. The young boy has seen more death and suffering than a child of his age should, and he thinks that soon, you will become one of them... but you don't. And despite your ailing condition you still find it in you to help others and the younger kids... he thinks you are simultaneously the strangest, kindest, and dumbest person he's ever met. How could you be so kind in a world like this? You've surely seen the same things he has... you should be putting yourself first, you're squandering what life and health you have left on random people!

He just doesn't understand... he doesn't seek to figure you out first, but you are the only kid his age around these parts, and you do always try to hang around him... so he relents. He becomes your friend. And he... comes to like you. To care for you. The boy has never felt that to someone else before. It makes him act different around you. To go to certain extents he would never dream of doing for anyone but himself. To get little trinkets for you, that really aren't worth anything at all, but he likes how they make you smile. To share bits of his meager rations with you, to which you always giggle and ask if you could feed him. It's strange, even stranger when he goes beyond that. Did your medicine deal a significant blow to his savings? Yes. Did he care? No. Seeing you smiling seemed to satisfy some hole in his chest that has been empty since birth. Pantalone can't help but want you to stay by his side. And you do too.

Ugh yes he would treat you higher than royalty like you deserve after how much you suffered with him for all of those years. I imagine he would be so overprotective and concerned for you, if you had even the most minor health scare he would be more worried than YOU. Regardless you bet he will fulfill every single wish you had since childhood, nothing is off the table, Pantalone WILL make it happy. Yup I imagine Pantalone sometimes has nightmares about losing everything he built his way up to and going back to the poor boy alone on the streets... and you have your own trauma from your condition so just :( lots of nighttime cuddles and soft back rubs

🥀 ANON YOU JUST HAD TO END IT WITH ANGST... To say he would be crushed is an understatement. Part of his motivation and reason to ascend to the top was to be able to give you the life you deserve - a comforting, peaceful, and rich one. But you were gone... he was so, so close to saving you. He still loves you so much. And although he has the Mora to never lose anything close to him again... will there really be anything like that for him ever again after he lost you?

#smooches talks #🥀 anon #fragile reader <3 #pantalone love notes <3 #i have been brainrotting over pantalone's real name lately 😭#GODDDD I WANT TO KNOW SO BAD #the amount of fluff id pull if I knew his real name #wooo i think i wrote alot but pantalone + childhood friend is truly something i adore

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