#but it’s the first comparison i thought of

[fernandopiastri28]

high for this ~ oscar piastri

Notes:

i am officially finished with holidays and back to school :/ so im going to be posting a lot less but i do have a few works just rotting in my drafts so i'll probably just be changing the names of characters and posting them. (not proof read so i apologise if there's any mistakes)

warnings: smut, weed, drug use, mdni

Oscar mindlessly lays sprawled out on his bed, his muscles aching from the gym earlier in the day. He tenderly rubs his hamstring, trying to nurse it back to not being too sore for his match tomorrow. 

He has some music playing as quietly as possible, a pulsing tune of some heavy rap. It’s not really to his taste, but he’s bored with his own playlists at the moment. His phone is near the foot of his outstretched left leg, while his right leg is tucked up towards his torso, his knee pointing high towards the ceiling. Both hands are hard at work around his right leg, his fingers pressing into the tough flesh.

He feels a buzz travel through his left foot as his nails dig into his skin. He makes a note to cut them. He hears the buzz too, this time over the sound of the music. He sits up awkwardly, wincing at the strain on his leg. Using his left hand, he picks up his phone and checks the two new messages he’s received. 

It’s Talia, unsurprisingly. She should be asleep, though, she promised him she’d start working on fixing her sleep schedule. He clicks the notifications, squinting to see the messages with the medical white lights flashing in his eyes in comparison to the darkened room.

tals🧡: you up?

tals🧡: do u wanna come over

Oscar shifts around in his bed so his back is pressed against a stack of pillows. He brings his hand away from his hamstring, ignoring the dull shoot of pain that runs up his leg once it loses his attention.  

They don’t do a lot of sneaking over to each other's houses, simply because they can see enough of one another during school days, so it isn’t anything essential. They get in all the kissing, cuddling, and make outs they want to during the day, so if she’s suggesting this, it means sex. 

Not necessarily just sex, anything within the umbrella of sexual activity. Oscar shifts his hips, trying to decide what he wants to do. They live pretty far from each other, meaning for him to sneak over, it's a 25-minute walk each way since he can’t just take the family car. It’s late—nearing midnight—and he’s sore. On the other hand, he’s horny.

And at Talia’s house, she doesn’t live with her parents. She lives with two of her close friends, skipped out on the college experience after her first year. Oscar didn’t get that luxury, much like his older sisters. Both of them lived at home for uni. But while she’s off now in France, he’s still a third year university student. Since her family won’t even be there, they don’t have to worry about being sneaky or quiet.

Oscar: Yeah. See you soon

He unplugs his phone and slips his feet into the pair of slides that are sitting at the foot of his bed. He opens his wardrobe, grazing his fingers over the line up of shirts that rest there. He grabs a graphic white t-shirt, wrestling it on. He cracks open his door, walking past his sister’s and the guest room, both vacant. His parents are on the level upstairs, so they can’t hear any disturbance he’s making. 

He settles for catching the bus instead, unwilling to walk up to an hour. He sits down in a row of empty seats, ducking his head down and popping an earbud in. There’s a scarce number of other people on the bus, two girls sitting close together, their heads spinning drunkenly. An old man, greying hair and a newspaper in his callused hands.

tals🧡: come thru window. sammy will bark otherwise.

Oscar replies with the hard thought out reply of a thumbs up before re-pocketing his phone, staring mindlessly out of the window at the dark surroundings that whip by. 

Oscar gets off at his stop 10 minutes later, and he’s the last person on the bus by that point. He approaches Talia’s house, not even bothering to go through the front door- Sammy would bark and wake the whole house up. He clicks open the gate, dragging it out only just enough to slip in. He walks across the side of the house, tapping on her bedroom window once he gets to it. He presses a hand to his pocket, making sure the pack of condoms he grabbed are still there.

The curtains swish open and Talia’s standing there, fiddling to get the window open. Once it's open, he feels a rush of cold air hitting him, accompanied by the smell of something almost like diesel. “Hey,” He grins as she leans down. 

She narrowly avoids the kiss he’s going for, giving him one on the corner of his mouth. “Sorry- god, it’s dark,” Her shadow rubs her eyes, reaching out a hand to help him in. 

Climbing in through the window isn’t a difficult task- just slightly uncomfortable. His crotch rubs against the window pane as he brings his second leg over into her room. Talia wraps her arms around his waist as soon as he’s inside. “Hi, Oscccc,” She looks up at him, her teeth gleaming white. 

Just as Oscar is about to reply, the petrol smell hits him even harder. He crinkles his nose, confused as to what it is. “Tals, what the hell have you been smoking in here?,” He laughs, his hands grabbing at her ass to get her to wrap her legs around his waist. His voice is thick with sarcasm, Talia is the furthest thing from a druggy possible.

“Weed,” She rubs her lips into his shoulder, mouthing at the fabric of her shirt. Her mouth is dry, barely wetting the cloth. Oscar’s eyebrows knit, tensing in confusion. “Got a joint, was bored,” She mumbles. 

He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. At the same time, it’s late- his mind is cloudy anyways. He looks past her, at her bed where there’s a metal tin and a joint laying on top of it. Explains the smell then. “Fuck Talia,” He lets out a deep breath, “Maddie and Amber can definitely smell it,” He groans.

Talia laughs, her voice thick and loopy. “Nah, they cleared out tonight so I could do this.” She pulls away from the embrace, tugging him after her by his shirt. She falls back against the bed, her eyes clearly red rimmed from the dim lighting over her bed. “Cmonnn Opie, wanna get stoned with you,”

It’s so strange to see her like this, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hot. It’s so unexpected, such a pleasant surprise from his usually wound up and rule following girlfriend. Oscar’s resistance weakens, the sight of her laying there- a goofy grin plastered across her voice is enough to make the strong man give in. 

He hovers over her on the bed, a knee on either side of her hips and a hand on either side of her head. “You’re insane,” His mouth meets red, puffy lips for a kiss. She’s hungry for it, bringing her hands up to his hair to tug him down. 

“More,” Talia begs, her voice breathy. Her pupils are huge and there's a spacey look in her eyes. Oscar teases her, shaking his head as he slightly resists kissing her any further than little pecks.

“I want a drag,” He whispers, reaching over her to where the blunt is precariously resting. He places it in between his lips, the bitter taste already seeping into his mouth. “Light it up,” He murmurs around the lump in his mouth. 

Her mouth and ears feel as if they’ve been packed with cotton, his voice is far away and just barely a noise. “You don’t know how to,” She giggles weakly, her fingers pinching the fabric of his shirt that hangs down onto her.

Oscar gets off of her, sitting against the head of her bed. His legs are spread, his body slumped down comfortably. “Teach me,” He pats the space in front of his lap, his eyes looking up through his lashes. Talia’s mind is foggy with weed, lust, and need. She’s willing to do anything. 

“Take this,” she pushes a plastic water bottle into one of his hands, already unscrewed and partially drunk. “You’re gonna cough a lot- the water will help with that,” she explains, leaning forward with her hands propped up on his quads, pushing the hem of his shorts higher up. 

She reaches over to where the bottle had been and her fingers feel numb as they wrap around the lighter. “You feel good?” She asks as he twists the joint around between his lips. He doesn’t quite know how to answer, it feels like a question for after he’s actually smoked it. He nods regardless, tensing his leg muscles under her hands.

“I’m gonna light it, okay?” Another question from her. Her voice is becoming harder to understand, the true effects of the weed settling into her. It’s bizarre to him, this whole situation. “And you just try to inhale as much as possible,” She waits for a nod of competency from him before continuing. “Don’t let it just rest in your throat- it’ll burn. If you can’t do a lot, just do it in small bits,” 

Oscar’s hand snakes behind her, resting on the small of her back. “Ready,” He mumbles awkwardly. She clicks down on the lighter and a flame flickers, wavering just below his nose. 

“Don’t stress it,” She can see how his eyebrows are still furrowed and his nails are digging into the fabric of her shirt. It’s almost euphoric at first, then it’s hell. Heat fills his mouth and he’s coughing and wheezing. He did exhale- probably too much. 

He feels Talia’s hands all over him, her coldness contrasting against the warmth throbbing through himself. She takes the spliff from his mouth, sucking down on it herself. Oscar watches her hazily, his bottom lip tucked under teeth. 

“How long have you been doin’ this?” The words feel as if they’re not coming from him. Jesus, surely he’s not baked already. He feels the heavy weight of the joint being pushed between his lips again, his question seemingly going unanswered. 

He takes it, breathing it in again. He doesn’t let it rest in his throat, he focuses on the inhale. He doesn’t cough as much this time, but he still guzzles down what’s left in the bottle. 

They spend a few minutes alternating the spliff, blowing air into eachothers faces. The room reeks of weed and it’s boiling hot. He wipes the back of his neck with his hand, a line of sweat gathering there. She twists the hem of his shirt between her index and thumb, pulling it up slightly. She doesn’t need to ask- he takes it off for her. 

“I started when I first moved here,” She finally answers his question from earlier, dragging a thumb down his cheek, rubbing the back of his jawline. “I think one of Mads’ friends gave her a bunch because she was moving- couldn’t take ‘em. Us three smoked them one night, it was fun,” She mumbles. It means she’s only been doing it for about 3 years now. 

He tilts his head, resting it against a pillow. She presses the pad of her thumb into his bottom lip that he’s unconsciously pouting out- asking for either another drag or a kiss. “Wanted to introduce you,” Her lips turn into a smirk, her eyes half-lidded.

“And why’s that?” He teases, his other hand moving down to her ass. Talia looks to the side behind him, a knowing look on her face. She pulls herself into his lap, effectively straddling him.

“I wanted to get high,” She states plainly, “and when I’m high- I’m horny. Wanted to be like that with you,” Her eyes are bright and her cheeky are rosy. Oscar kisses her cheek, experimenting with how his mouth is getting drier and more uncomfortable. Once he feels some moisture returning, he kisses further along her jaw. 

She has the spliff in her mouth which forces him away from her mouth. He focuses on her jaw and neck, suckling near her collarbone. She moans, tugging his hair and effectively his head back up. She places the joint in his mouth again and pulls on the pillow behind him. He tilts his head enough for her to move it out of the way, leaving him laying down almost completely flat. 

 He watches dazily as she pulls her top off, leaving her in a lacy white bra. He reaches out, his fingers barely feeling her flesh. He knows he’s touching her, she’s making noises to confirm it. “ More , more , fuck ,” She’s begging, her voice so desperate. Oscar wishes he wasn’t so fucking spacey right now so he could see how wanton she was over him. 

He tips his head forward, looking past where smoke is burning into his eyes. He’s apparently not just touching her bra, he’s touching her fully exposed breast. He hasn’t realised up until this point that he’s actually hard. 

“Can I shotgun you?” She asks, her fingers snaking over his nipples. He whimpers at the touch and his mouth drops open around the blunt. He knows he’s out of it, but he’s consciously thinking enough to know that shotgunning is either claiming the front seat in a car, or piercing a beer can and then drinking it as fast as possible.

He settles with the assumption it must be the second one. He lols his head to the side, searching for where the beer is. “Yeah,” He hums, his hand dropping down over the edge of the bed and his hand swinging with the intention of hitting a can that isn’t actually there.

Talia laughs, tugging on his bicep. “Shotgun- I puff smoke into your mouth,” She explains, her voice all raspy from being so dry. Oscar licks over his teeth, his mouth still painfully dry. His mind feels empty, the only resounding thought is just talia, talia, talia. There are a few other ideas, sex stuff, nothing coming close to being as important as making her happy.

She leans forward, plucking the joint from his mouth. He gets a breath of fresh air and begins to gasp for it- a telltale sign he’s had too much in one go. He hollows his cheeks, cleaning the taste of smoke out of his mouth with spit. It’s a useless attempt as it’s already well stained.

She slides two fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his bottom teeth. She lays down on him, her legs still hooked around his hips and a hand pressing to the headboard above him. Their chests are pressing together, her boobs heavy on him. He stares at them, shamelessly, his cock getting even harder to the point he’s beginning to actually feel it. 

“Can you suck my cock?” His voice is strangled and on the verge of incoherency because of her digits pressing into his tongue. She nods, kissing the tip of his nose. Her other hand is still holding onto the spliff, just sliding it against her wettened bottom lip. She finally sucks down on it, her lips twisting around it to keep the smoke in.

His mouth opens out of instinct, his eyes going bright just thinking about her mouth. The second their lips meet and he feels a slow release of smoke into his mouth, he feels like he’s dying. His eyes roll back and he grips a hand to the back of her head, pushing their mouths into each other’s harder.

He’s kissing her like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It’s disgustingly dirty, a combination of spit, teeth, tongues and far too much moaning. Being stoned apparently just makes him feel everything . His lips are on fire, his throat is on fire, his eyes are on fire, his dick is on fire. 

Their mouths pull apart, sticky from the remnants of lip gloss that Talia has on. He peppers her face with a few more kisses, desperate for the stinging burn. They look at each other for a few moments, a complete disconnect from the two of them and the rest of the world. 

“You still want it?” She’s semi sitting up now, her elbows resting on where his hips are poking out from his low sitting shorts. His mind goes blank at the question, unsure of what she could possibly asking.

“What?” He lets out a puff of air, his hand mindlessly travelling through her hair. She nudges low down on his abdomen with her nose, making a weird squeaking whine. 

“Suck you off,” She looks up at him, the green in her eyes barely just a thin ring around her blown up pupils. Oscar nods, shifting further down the bed. Her fingers hook into his waistband, an invitation. His eyes flicker shut, already wasted off the feeling of her hands tugging his shorts down. 

Cold air whacks into the tops of his thighs, the dark fluffs of hair standing up. Oscar doesn’t need to tell her what to do, it seems like every time she’s gotten baked before this has been spent with her preparing for this. 

Talia begins aimlessly mouthing at his crotch, licking and kissing over where the head is resting. Her mouth is wetter than his, seemingly soaked with saliva. He takes a drag from the blunt, his fingers retracting and stretching to scratch her head. She purrs at the motion, getting more eager around him. 

“Cmon princess,” Oscar murmurs, helping to slide his boxers down to mid thigh. He doesn’t wince or shiver when it meets the cold air as there’s barely any time for it to do so. The second he’s fully undressed, her warm mouth is engulfing his length. 

She bobs her head up and down, her lips tightening around his shaft and her cheeks hollowing for him. He’s pushing her head down without realising, the pressure is light but definitely suggestive. 

She doesn’t gag, just takes him further. He encourages her with a string of moans mindlessly escaping his mouth, mixed in with ‘ oh god, good girl’ and ‘that's perfect, princess, keep going’. He’ll smoke or eat edibles every weekend if this is how getting head feels like when he does.

Her nose presses into his crotch, her throat muscles working hard to accommodate the intrusion of him. He tries to touch her, help her get off while she’s giving him the blowjob he’s ever received but the way she’s lying with the rest of her body so far away, he settles for focusing the pleasure elsewhere.

He rubs his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. She whimpers and whines, her moans choking into noises that sound like she’s crying. Her face is reddened and her hair is sweaty, her fringe plastered down to her forehead with sweat.

“Close, I’m close,” He twists some of her hair around his index, his middle finger tapping into the top of her hair. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and tensed eyebrows. 

“In me,” She gags around his length. She doesn’t need to ask twice. He fucks his hips up into her mouth, forcing a moan and a gag from the back of her throat as he releases into her. 

He feels spent, his body aching worse than it did back at home. 

She pulls off slowly, her lips oiled with spit and cum. Her neck muscles flicker with tension as she swallows it down. That’s new. She’s strictly been a ‘spitter’ to this very moment. He wipes a drop of cum off her lip and kisses her deep. He tastes himself in her mouth but there's hardly any recognition for it. He doesn’t care enough to be disgusted about it, nothing about kissing her is disgusting.

“You’re perfect,” He slips his tongue into her mouth, tugging her up to be laying on top of him. “Wanna make you feel good,” He moves his head, kissing down her neck.

Talia lets out a noise of confirmation, “please,” she whines burying her fingers against his scalp. From the awkward angle he’s at, he slips her pants down past her ass, her underwear at the same time. 

He rubs a finger over her wet hole, teasing it. She lets out a stifled whimper, burying her face further into Oscar’s chest. He slides the finger in slowly, watching the bits of her face that he can see intently. She’s shying away, forcing her face away from his view.

“You’re all shy now?” He teases, massaging one of her breasts with his palm. She doesn’t reply, just keens on him, desperate for more. He pushes his finger fully in, sliding it in and out. “Look at me, pretty,” He kisses her forehead, nudging the spot with his nose. 

She reluctantly looks up before snuggling into his neck. It’s a drastic difference from how she was only minutes earlier. He pushes a second finger in, knowing her all too well that she’s needy for it. She groans, scraping her teeth down along his shoulder.

He groans, throwing his head back. He knows what he’s doing, not needing to even look. He pushes in and out, deeper and just as controlled. Her walls tighten around him, her wetness slicking down over his palm and around his wrist. His thumb joins in, rubbing along her clit. 

“Oz,” it comes out all jagged and breathy. “Fuck- need to,” She can’t finish her sentences at this point, pushed so close to the edge. He gives her a whisper of allowance, his breath hot against her ear. 

“Come for me,” He instructs her, his thumb applying more pressure as he feels a gush of wetness spill down his occupied hand. She’s gasping, panting for air when it happens. His body is still trying to regain full senses from the weed, barely noticing how deep her nails are digging into his sides, leaving red crescent moons into his skin.

Once she’s come down from her high, Talia rolls onto the space next to him on the bed. They watch each other, laying on their sides as they share the joint. They puff smoke at each other, laughing over absolutely nothing. 

“You’re staying tonight?” Whether it's a statement or a question is unsure, just how she intended. Oscar cranes his head to where he can see the sun is peeking out and beginning to set. 

“Yeah, I’ll stay right here,” He hums as the two of them both nod off to a hazy, stoned induced sleep.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x original character

[moodymisty]

Lorgar and his pregnant wife, please?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Was already making this, so I just expedited the process. Enjoy some Lorgar goodness.

Relationships: Lorgar/Fem!Reader

Warnings: One quick NSFW flashback, Tokophobia, Pregnancy, Lorgar being overwhelming and suffocating

Lorgar’s personal quarters are massive- as much of it is filled with his own personal librarium.

Perhaps another time it would’ve interested you enough to take a peek, but right now you sit swallowed by the massive bed, wrapped in thin, cool sheets. Anything that could be on those shelves is of little interest in comparison to what is currently running through your mind.

You still remember the medicae's word. He’d let you go with little fanfare after- apart from the formality he gave speaking to the Lady of the Word Bearers- and you’d returned to your quarters with little more than a few words to tell you that you were indeed, pregnant.

It’s been a little over two months more since you first were told that news, but you’re still just so, surprised. Given Lorgar's unnatural creation, his size and abilities, the thought of such a thing being possible hadn't even come to the table.

Though neither of you were thinking of it either, in the height of other things.

'My little goddess,'

You felt so full, cum leaked from you and onto the silken sheets. But he was far from finished with you, and continued until the stars in the sky gave way to the sun.

You remember that last time the both of you were together. Lorgar knew he was leaving in the morning and had spent almost the entire night with you, preparing for the future time apart.

As such when he leaves, you’ve been unable to contact Lorgar for more than a few minutes at a time. This was something you wanted to tell him in person as well, and so you’d held your tongue until the Fidelitas Lex finally came to port.

Your clothes still fit, though most now show a slightly visible bump; Noticeable to anyone who's seen you enough to catch the difference. Thankfully, that isn't too many.

At least the nausea had faded mostly. You remember when it had forced you to see that medicae, and enlightened you to this whole thing.

"Are you well, Lady Aurellian?"

You laughed him off, and cleared your throat. Your mouth tasted terrible, and the noise did little to change it.

"Just a little under the weather." He took your response at face value, but didn’t seem entirely convinced. You were eager to get this all finished with, and answer any more questions curtly in the way you thought was most applicable.

Once it was all finished you walked quickly from the massive room, and just barely managed to make it to the balcony before your breakfast made its unwelcome return. You stood hunched over the railing, skin feeling hot. You wiped your mouth and took a few deep breaths.

"Lady Aurellian!"

You suddenly turned to see two Word Bearers looking at you shocked. One was from the room you'd just been in; You assumed he followed you to escort you back to your quarters. They both expressed their gentle demands for you to see the medicae, and not eager to fight about it, you went along with little fuss.

But Lorgar is due to return of Colchis any minute now. You’ve already been told his flagship has moored in the planet’s orbit, and you’ll see him soon. Very soon; Enough so that your stomach feels like it's buzzing.

Many of the primarchs are returning to their home planets in preparation to visit Terra. Many if not all of the Primarchs will be there apparently, at least according to Lorgar.

He's always yabbed a bit too much about things you feel like you shouldn't be hearing, but he seems to enjoy whispering you secrets. Many times simply because he’s venting out his anger at the galaxy, or the people within it.

You hear the heavy wooden doors slowly open, and you see Lorgar in his casual garb in the doorway. He must've already removed his armor before returning to his quarters.

He seems somewhat disgruntled, until his face lights up at the sight of you sitting on the edge of his gigantic bed. He smiles wide and instantly comes to you, kneeling in front of you and cupping your face in his hands to kiss you. They feel warm and soft, and you can't help but forget everything you've been getting ready to say for just a moment.

“I’ve missed you even worse than when I last left you. I didn't know I even could.”

You lay your hand over his own for a moment before he pulls them away, laying one over his own chest for a moment as he speaks.

"But- I have so many wonderful things to show you, my love. And to give you! The places we've been, they had so many beautiful things; Not as wonderful as you of course-"

It went well, you assume. Lorgar always becomes talkative if it does. If things go poorly, he's often in an unmanageable mood for days, until something, or now you, manage to soothe him.

You swallow the knot in your throat and interrupt him.

"Lorgar?"

He freezes, and the smile on his face fades within a moment. He notices your troubled expression and his hands rest on your lap. "Is something wrong, my love?"

You nervously wring your hands.

"I have to confess that I, have been keeping something from you." His brow furrows, but you speak before he can. "Can I explain before you rake me across the coals?"

Lorgar is already looking a bit worried and upset, so you elect to speak quickly in the hopes that the hourglass that holds his emotions doesn't completely flip before you have the chance to quell him.

"I went to the medicae not long after you left," He visibly jerks and you quickly forget all of the other words you were going to say and spit out:

"I'm pregnant, Lorgar."

He freezes for a moment, as if trying to process what you’ve said and understand it. His lips shift before he finally finds words.

“You are? I-“

He uncharacteristically stutters for a moment, before finally his mind catches up with his feeling and his hands cup your jawline. You watch his face keenly before you see his face melt into joy and you can breath a sigh of relief.

“I thought I couldn’t be happier to finally be here with you again, but this? There isn’t a word in any language to describe how I feel.”

Lorgar has a way with words, you never cease to be wooed by it. He can make you go from furious to in love with him, and you don't even think he does it intentionally. You play with the loose fabric of his robes for a moment to keep your hands busy.

“I’m sorry for keeping it from you, I just wanted to tell you in person. It didn't seem like the type of news to tell you over a vox while you're in the middle of commanding your men.”

His hands drift downward, and hesitantly move to brush across the growing roundness of your belly.

“I could never be upset at you; Not after this. Not after what you’ve given me.” He smiles in the same way he does after writing something he's proud of, or talking of his religion.

"The child of a Primarch; I never even considered it would be possible..."

He also seems lost in thought for a moment, before he finally comes back to reality and plants his feet firmly on the ground again. He moves to hold your face in his hands once again and give you a kiss, his larger palms swallowing your jawline. His lips feel so soft and warm against your own, you almost forget about everything until he pulls away with a soft pop, and your lips are puffy and well kissed.

"This means we should leave for Terra as soon as possible; Before it be to much danger for you," He says, and your eyes widen.

"I'm coming with you to Terra? Aren't all of the primarchs going to be there?"

You've never been to Terra, never seen a primarch besides Lorgar. Judging by the way he speaks of them, Lorgar is more than enough for you. But he nods, sparking a bit of turmoil in your gut.

"Of course! I refuse to leave you for a second, and I wish to show all of the Imperium the news." Lorgar must see the nervousness on your face, and he kisses the tip of your nose.

"Don't worry, we'll have our time to ourselves as well. I won't parade you around the entire time." That's relieving, as you know that you can't say no to him about this without fearing the repercussions.

Suddenly the primarch begins to stand, peeling his hands away from you.

"I should tell my men to ready the Fidelitas Lex, that we need to depart as soon as possible." You quickly reach for his hand. "Can you wait a moment to do that? You just returned, I want a moment with you before you're off again."

Lorgar halts, looking down at you. His shoulders loosen, and he smiles. It's that same smile that lights up his tanned skin that you love. He kneels back down, his eyes holding that barely contained wonder that has you feeling so loved and suffocated.

"Of course."

#lorgar aurelian x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[vaspider]

I might be wrong, but iirc you’ve been involved in fandoms for a while, and I was wondering if you had any thoughts about the degradation of fannish spaces as a result of shows no longer releasing on an episode-per-week basis, and if you think that the fandoms surrounding Game Changer and Fantasy High function differently from most *because* those shows release once a week (or in the case of Game Changer, once every other week with behind-the-scenes on the alternate weeks). I’m not super involved in any fandoms, but of the ones I have been in, Game Changer and Fantasy High have been the most consistently interactive (for lack of a better term), in the sense that there’s week-by-week fanart, meta, memes, etc that correlate to the specific episodes. However, my first interactions with *any* fandoms were in 2019ish, so I don’t have a good sense of what pre-streaming fandoms were like and my point of comparison is pretty limited. I’m not sure if you’ve seen Fantasy High, but I know you’ve posted some Game Changer stuff, and you seem pretty knowledgeable about the evolution of fandom culture in general so I figured I might as well ask what your thoughts on it are :) (if you have other examples of shows that still release weekly that you think are relevant I’m also interested in hearing those—I just picked Game Changer and Fantasy High cause those are the ones I’m familiar with)

I'm not really involved in fannish spaces. I just like things.

[triviallytrue]

Watching something as iconic as NGE is kinda funny because every now and then something happens and you're like "oh! that guy! from tumblr!"

General thoughts:

Poor Shinji. Dude keeps getting put in situations.

The Ender's Game comparison keeps coming up for me - child soldiers utterly essential to the cause. The big difference is that they are just completely flubbing their psychological management in NGE - in Ender's Game they had eyes on the kids 24/7 and maintained in-depth psychological profiles on all of them, whereas in NGE they have loads of money and manpower focused on maintaining the EVAs but their equally-essential pilots are just... going to school. Shinji got punched and they didn't know!

And what is Misato's deal, anyway? She's in her 20s and has a crazy amount of authority (she just requisitioned all of Japan's power) and they're just kinda... letting her manage Shinji? It's not her job, but she's just doing it? She's his commanding officer but also his mom/sister, which is a really bad combo. Also I don't think I'm imagining the grooming undertones, those seem intentional.

The real motivator for someone like Shinji is (of course) his social connections - the two schoolkids and Rei, and then maybe to some degree Misato, and then even more distantly his father. Kids don't put themselves through severe distress just for the abstract concept of "saving the world," especially a world that has thus far been very unkind to them. To bring back the Ender's Game comparison, this feels like a very deliberate point that Graff and friends were aware of (the way they used Valentine as a strategic resource) but in NGE it seems to be mostly happenstance that Shinji made some human connections before completely shutting down.

Rei thus far is an interesting foil to Shinji. Normally I get kind of put off by scenes like the one where he walks in on her, but it gives you a lot of important information about both of them. Shinji, underneath all the abandonment issues and repression, is still a pretty normal kid - awkward, horny in that embarrassing adolescent way, deeply self-conscious. Rei is alien (or perhaps just very autistic). She just doesn't clock 90% of the tension at all. She pilots the EVA without complaint (though perhaps with equal psychological distress, just heavily repressed). She also gets along very well with his shitass dad, which is revealing in its own way.

I'm told there is another child, a red haired one, named Asuka(?), the thus-far only implied Second Child. Wonder why she isn't here yet?

I heard that it was some kind of twist that the EVAs were alive in some sense, but doesn't that naturally follow from the first couple episodes? Unit 01 moves to save Rei without a pilot and then goes berserk to kill the angel. Maybe there's more to the twist that I don't know yet.

What's up with the angels? Why are they here, what do they want, what are they exactly? Who cares. They are a plot device in purest form - they enable the rest of the show, but the show is not meaningfully "about" them. They didn't half-ass it though - the designs are absolutely phenomenal.

Oh, and there's some second project NERV is working on, a human transformation thing that got mentioned once and never again. That will probably be important eventually.

#i'm doing femmenietzsche's suggestion of watching 6 episode chunks as arcs #finished the first last night #nge #arc 1

[dfortrafalgar]

Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t?  You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew.  You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god.  You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old.  You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship.  You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors.  But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight.  Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats.  And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are.  You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time.  Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced.  Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being.  Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from.  Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving.  They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away.  Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt.  You loved your crew, you really did.  You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you.  Like you were unprepared.  Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit.  And you cried.  You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?”  It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you.  He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear.  He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him.  Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen.  It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin.  “Did someone say something to you?  Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm.  You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax.  “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people.  It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain.  His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly.  “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face.  Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.”  Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders.  “Being a part of a crew.  You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately.  “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’  That’s impossible.  We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly.  “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was.  You feebly nodded.  “Yeah.  That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible.  He was basically flush against you at this point.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek.  “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described.  His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words.  Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp.  ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent.  If anything, he tried to pull you in closer.  The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder.  But he still didn’t let up.  He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?”  He sounded completely oblivious.  “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore.  No more crying,” he demanded.  “Captain’s orders.”  His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips.  After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace.  You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected.  Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.  His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts.  Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back.  “Not yet,” he grumbled.  “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily.  Everyone’s different.  Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them.  Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.”  A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart.  “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.  The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved.  It was miraculous.  All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy oneshot

[violetasteracademic]

On Mate Behavior: Elriel (Part Two- Scent)

Another day of an SJM Instagram jump scare with more stories and no book accouncement (though I am HAPPILY celebrating indie bookstore day with you all!)- So it's another day to be on my Elriel shit. Will we still want posts like this once the announcement is out and we are done fighting for our lives? I feel like the announcement is coming soon so I need to sneak in all my thoughts!

In my previous analysis, I highlighted a moment that would have been perfect for Azriel to display some mate-like behavior towards Gwyn, and it was sorely lacking. You can catch up on that post here!

Today I would like to discuss another area lacking in mate behavior in the BC between Azriel and Gwyn, but present for... drumroll... Elriel. And that is scent.

Bringing back Nessian's bonus chapter to start the parallels, because I do think an additional bonus lends itself to the fairest basis for comparison (also if I used book examples from ToG to CC regarding romantic parings/mates and scent I'd be here for several hundred years):

Cassian is so lost in Nesta's scent that he had to stop himself from letting his eyes roll back into his head while breathing her in. This... sounds familiar:

Azriel's eyes also nearly rolled into the back of his head because of Elain's scent.

As previously mentioned, scent plays a huge role in mates/romantic pairings. I was chatting with my friend @faeprincesswarrior when I first started thinking about the scent thing, and she remembered that Rhys could smell Feyre's scent before they even met. He would wake up with her scent in his nose. Cassian and Azriel both can hardly control themselves when they take in the scents of Nesta and Elain.

Scent plays an important role in romantic pairings, and is honestly probably one of the things SJM lays on the thickest throughout the entirety of her multiverse and she has a tendency to drop it early on, often as an initial indicator. Yes, sometimes scenting is platonic, but Gwyn and Az don't even have that on page. There is simply no mention of scent in their portion of the chapter, but it is heavy in Elain's section.

*Crescent City 3 Spoiler* Even when Ithan is done with all his side quests and spends just a few moments with Perry, he's suddenly like mmm... strawberries and cinnamon. No other indicator of mate behavior there but MANY readers only needed that little nugget to be like- something's cooking here.

Again, in addition to Azriel's lack of response to directly recalling Gwyn's assault from his POV on page- something I would have liked to see to indicate feelings could be brewing there- there is also zero mention or indication that Azriel experiences Gwyn's scent at all. Even something small, like "a shift in her scent" at his arrival, or noticing a change in her scent from her flash of memory as well (as it happened between Nesta and Cassian.)

Azriel lost his mind over Elain's scent in their bonus chapter, just as Cassian lost his mind over Nesta's scent in theirs.

Azriel makes no mention of Gwyn's scent in the BC. It's as if to him, she doesn't even have one.

I want Azriel and Elain to be together because Azriel and Elain want to be together. They experience what romantic pairings experience together, and it is delicious.

I love Gwyn, which is why I think if she is going to have a romance in the future, she deserves more than a regifted necklace and a male who is drowning in the scent of another female's kitty and doesn't even notice what Gwyn smells like. This is really what we want for her?

Hoping for a book announcement soon. Do you guys like seeing Sarah post more? I have mixed feelings. Part of me thinks it is gearing up for an announcement which is exciting. Part of me also is tired of the jump scares and wants complete silence unless it is a book announcement. Judge me if you must!

#elriel #pro elriel #elain x azriel #elriel endgame

[tellmeallaboutit]

knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 2, In Which You Meet A Tall Dark Stranger 

Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Careful which mods you install for BG3. Did you read the terms and conditions carefully?

TAGS: meta romance, psychological horror, smut, the character is the player, Raphael is after you, you wanted him, you invited him to our world, he accepted your invitation

RATING: explicit

AO3

Chapter 2

The next day, during your lunch break, you made another attempt to persuade Raphael to take his clothes off. The clock struck noon; your private laptop was on the right side of your desk, while your work laptop was on the left, Teams open and your mouse ready to show signs of activity from time to time.

The sun was shining through the wide open window, children playing outside. Idyllic. Nothing sinister could be happening in broad daylight with those happy sounds in the background. The horror movies told you so. Except for Midsommar.

Well, screw Midsommar, then. This isn’t Sweden.

"All right, I'm going to set some ground rules here," you said to the loading screen. "I can be as creepy as I want to be to you, because you're just a bunch of pixels, but you can't do anything creepy to me, because I'm a human being. Got that? Good."

The sound of your voice made you feel braver.

As you heard the familiar sinister 'you-let-the-villain-win-bad-player' music in the background, you covered your eyes with your hands and peered through splayed fingers.

Then he appeared. Just as you had wished. Perfectly naked, with a stereotypical video game six-pack and just the right amount of body hair. The orange lighting made his skin glow, and his flaccid penis, like that of the game's generic male model, vanished from sight as he strode closer.

Your ears pricked up to listen to the scripted monologue you knew by heart, watching (waiting?) for any hiccups or new animations, the YouTube app on your phone playing the identical scene for comparison.

Everything happened exactly as it should, word for word, save for the speaker’s nudity.

All good. You breathed a sigh of relief and spread your fingers wider to admire Raphael a little better. 

Same as always. Handsome and charming and completely imaginary, which, now that you thought about it, was the biggest part of his charm. 

"Ta-ta... for now," Raphael's signature line echoed through the room.

"Bravo, Raphael," you praised the screen. "You've done nothing creepy. You have earned your title of Archdevil Supreme."

After waiting for a response that never came, you laughed off your silliness and shook your head. Your laptop was overheating, giving off a slight synthetic smell. Should have upgraded a long time ago. Just need to put enough money aside.

"OK, screenshots," you said. "I wanted to take some screenshots. Do you mind, Raphael? Can I have your consent? They’ll help recruit more followers for you, my liege."

Your phone vibrated. The FaceID gave you a preview of the Discord messages from Queen-of-the-Bored, one of the few Raphaelites you'd actually spoken to directly and felt like you kinda sorta knew.

queen-of-the-bored: ngl that was some really funny joke, we spent the whole night trying to recreate it :-D queen-of-the-bored: you sounded legit worried over that voice message tho haha you: it was legit. check the reddit thread queen-of-the-bored: which thread

Ok, let me google that for you. You typed in the same search words as yesterday, "Raphael naked mod April prank," clicked on the thread from yesterday, and skimmed through the comments.

“nah not joking there is this naked mod for teenage mutant ninja""

“all dongs appeared MASSIVE on April’s first”

Scrolling further, you realized that was not the correct Raphael - it's Raphael the Turtle, not Raphael the Devil. Why was there so much NSFW content about him? What did people see in turtles?

You quickly corrected your search to "Raphael BG3 naked mod April prank," but it didn’t bring back any relevant results. So, you changed it to "last twenty four hours" just to be thorough.

Didn’t help. Nothing. You were the only to be called a naughty little mouse. The special one.

queen-of-the-bored: which thread dude??? you: my bad it was the turtle queen-of-the-bored: ??? queen-of-the-bored: I am slowly getting worried about you haha

Next step? Contact the mod developer directly? What if they have no idea what you're talking about?

Then what? What were the alternative theories? You've been hacked and doxxed to madness for that one Twitter post that got people waving pitchforks at you? 

There you go, you were scared again. Daytime, sun shining and children playing outside, but there you were, alone in your flat, scared again.

You took a deep breath and looked at the screen. "All right, I understand, Mr Archdevil Supreme. No screenshots. I'll uninstall the mod and I apologise for my disrespectful behaviour."

You couldn't bear to see Raphael's face on the screen again so you hit ctrl alt delete instead of Escape and stared blankly at the Task Manager.

Next, you uninstalled the mod that had caused all this trouble. Then you went to Tumblr and removed the reblog of Raphael in a cat playsuit with the tag "my poor miau miau". Then you deleted your bookmarks on AO3. Your Twitter account was beyond repair, so you deleted it altogether.

None of these actions made you feel any better. You grabbed a quick cup of shrimp noodles, but eating it only made you feel worse. As you tasted the sodium on your tongue, you came to a realisation: what you needed was to go the fuck outside.

You had been stuck in your flat and home office since the start of the pandemic, chronically online. Online work, online colleagues, online friends, who was the last real person you saw, talked to and hugged?

Your mum, probably. 

Oh yes, no wonder you were going mad. You need to get out there and meet some real people. You opened Discord, quickly scrolled past the sketch of Tav giving Raphael head, and typed a message: you needed to touch grass.

queen-of-the-bored: well there is Comic-Con this weekend  you: this is NOT touching grass, this is burning it queen-of-the-bored: true you: besides not going alone queen-of-the-bored: maybe Raph will keep you company 😈 

What? Such a strange thing to say. Or was it? Who the hell was that behind the screen anyway? Apparently someone called Sammy from Ohio. Supposedly. Wasn’t she the one who recommended this mod?

She was.

Come on, you're just letting your paranoia get the best of you.

queen-of-the-bored: oh BTW I found THE hottest Raph smut  queen-of-the-bored: mind the tags it's so hot but soooooo fucked up queen-of-the-bored: just read it trust me thank me later

Who the hell were you, Sammy from Ohio, Korilla? You put the phone down and started pacing around your small flat. It was not much to pace around, only forty-two square meters. 

At least you rent a flat in a building with other people and not some house at the edge of the forest. Strangers live below you, above you and on either side of you. They don't know you and you don't know them... but they were there, just in case...

Just in case.

"You know what?" you said to your computer. "I need a break. I need to focus on my mental health. Self-care, Raphael. I'm not playing with you. For now".

The moment you finished speaking, your phone lit up again with another notification. This time it was an email. You made a mental note to start managing your notifications better.

Did you enjoy your Devil Dick © - Natural Red experience? We know you will be back for more 😈 Check out the new...

What the fuck? Oh no, no, click away and make a mental note to never order from Bad Dragon again with customer satisfaction emails like this. It's borderline harassment. You ordered from them ONCE, as a joke, just to see what ridges might feel like.

Not as good as the smut had promised you,

Private. Private stuff. Between you and your bed drawer. Between you and your browser. God, how much stuff you have in your browser history. You should have used incognito mode more often.

Would that have helped? 

"That was low, Raphael," you muttered. "Or is it Haarlep today?"

You glanced around your room before angling your computer screen towards the wall, then retrieved the Devil Dick © from its hideaway in your bedside drawer. Your fingers grazed over the silicon ridges as you swiftly stashed it away in a box beneath the bed.

"If you must know, it was too big for me. Flattered?"

Crawling out from under the dusty bed, you looked up and realized for the first time that anyone in the building could easily peep into the flat if they tried hard enough or cared enough to do so.

Enough is enough.

You need to hydrate, you need to eat some vegetables, you need to start jogging again and you definitely... you definitely need to go out and talk to some real people. Maybe it's time to get back on Bumble and try your luck again. Who knows, it might actually work this time.

He wouldn't like that.

Where did that thought just come from? He wouldn't like it, who the hell cares what some imaginary devil thinks.

Standing up straight, you pointed a finger at the screen in front of you.

"Raphael, just so we are clear, you and I: I really like you. I do PR for you every day for free. You don't have to scare me to get my attention. You should appreciate me and be nice to me. I'm the best agent you'll ever have.”

Having made your point, you put on your running shoes and AirPods. It brought back memories of all the times you had jogged through the nearby park. Afterwards you'd sit on the bench and eat an ice-cream, watching couples, happy and glowing, watching families with children, happy and stressed, watching people living their lives in a reality parallel to yours, and then you'd come home and go into a reality parallel to theirs.

The AirPods picked up right where they left off last time.

I want to hold you close, soft breasts, beating heart, as I whisper in your ear

I wanna fucking tear you apart

You removed the AirPods from your earlobes and exhaled. This wasn’t Raphael's fault. This is She Wants Revenge, you have listened to it a thousand times. You knew the lyrics, they hadn't changed. 

You can't even listen to music anymore. Pull yourself together. 

Get some vitamins from the pharmacy.

Touch some goddamn grass.

***

You stuck to your digital and physical diet until the weekend, and as a reward, nothing happened. No oddly timed emails, no strange messages, no random phone calls. Maybe it was your pitch talk or the vitamins you started taking, but either way, Raphael was on his best behavior, and so were you. 

No Tumblr, no AO3. Didn't even touch Steam. Got into a highbrow podcast about the Roman Empire.

You set a new personal record for days without 'self-indulgence', as Raphael would put it, although that wasn't really the intention. Something always seemed to interrupt - whether it was the loud hum of the fridge (which was always obnoxious) or the flickering light in the hallway (which had been broken for over a week). 

By Friday, you had finally finished the work projects you had been putting off for months. The job wasn't too bad, but it hadn't been any fun for years, if it ever had been. You did the bare minimum to get the paycheck and keep the job, and your employer kept the paycheck at the bare minimum to keep you. If there was anything else you could do, you would do something else.

Still, this was probably the most productive week you had in years. You scrubbed your flat from top to bottom twice and cleared your wardrobe of clothes that no longer fit.

You were proud of yourself.

Gradually your sense of security began to return. You tried not to dwell too much on the incident with the naughty little mouse; if you didn't think about it, it almost felt like it hadn't happened.

On Friday, you plucked up the courage to play BG3 again, wandered through Baldur's Gate, avoiding the House of Hope for the time being, had a few fights, played the graveyard scene with Astarion (daring, but a small part of you hoped it would make Raphael jealous enough to come out again), and shut it down. 

Nothing out of the ordinary.

You hadn't planned to go to Comic-Con. For one thing, it was on the other side of the city, in the business district of the convention centre, so it would take at least an hour to get there. Secondly, going alone just felt... weird.

It was not until Friday night that a little voice in your head started to whisper, "Why not? Maybe you'll meet some like-minded people”. Make some friends you can actually touch (not in a creepy way). 

It's a better chance than endlessly swiping on Bumble.

Maybe you'll meet...

Neil Newbon. If you can get past the hordes of fangirls. Andrew Wincott. No, Andrew Wincott wouldn't be there; you'd checked beforehand. To be honest, hearing his voice might have been too much for your psyche at that moment.

So you decided to go. You went, and it was as fun as you had imagined it would be - that is, hardly any. The convention hall was huge and crowded, rows and rows of stalls, crowds and crowds of people. Live panel discussions, cosplayers, flashing lights, bright colors, chatter, laughter, very loud, very lively.

Raphael wouldn't last a minute in that chaos.

"Hell is other people," you thought to yourself, quoting Sartre. If you ever met Raphael, you'd quote Sartre to him too. He must know that you read intelligent books and not just fanfiction. 

Some people might be comfortable going to events and eating alone in restaurants, but not you. It's even worse being the odd one out in a group of odd ones. How come all the others had someone to take along? Where did they find all those people in this godforsaken city?

You talked to a few people and a few people talked to you. Nothing really took off. Your mind was elsewhere, to be fair. You were looking for something in the crowd. 

Someone.

It was absurd, yes, but so was what happened this week with the mod. You had met a few Raphael cosplayers, three at least, but they were...

Well, of course they weren't him. But they did a great job with the clothes and the hair and the make-up, and one had really great prosthetic horns, and you touched them and admired them and praised that particular Raphael for all his hard work in creating them.

They were real people, not video game characters that had come to life, and neither were you. You looked down at your jeans, at your thighs, and thought you should start jogging again, and felt even less comfortable in your own skin. 

Then Neil Newbon came along and things quickly became too chaotic for you.

You decided to take a break and walked down the street until you came across a cosy café - none of that generic chain stuff, but something that tried hard to be authentic with pretty flowers in the windows.

Sitting alone at a table for two, you looked down at your phone and opened the Discord chat because you came here to talk to some real people.

In the main chat, there was a heated debate about whether devils are allowed to torture mortals into signing contracts. Both sides presented arguments based on lore, edition contradictions, past precedents and personal conviction. 

A man's voice interrupted you as you typed your own very elaborated opinion of hellish law. "Excuse me, may I?" he asked, his words slightly muffled by the AirPods.

"Sure," you replied with practiced friendliness, not even looking up. That was always your default answer. It's not like you can say no to this kind of request anyway. 

People ask and do a lot of things out of politeness. That was precisely why you took the AirPods out of your ears.

The moment you lifted your eyes to meet the man's, you learned the true meaning of the word 'jumpscare'. Your body jerked upwards, the table shook and the coffee cup tumbled - narrowly missing Raphael.

Raphael. 

Not a man who looked like Raphael, not a man who was dressed like him - Raphael. 

You weren't sure if you made any sound or uttered any words. You probably yelped.

What you did do for sure was gawk.

His skin tone identical; hair slicked back just right; eyes uncannily accurate in hue and shape - down to every wrinkle. A perfectly realistic rendering. Not the uncanny valley type, no, perfectly believable. This is exactly what he would look like if he were real and swapped his fantasy clothes for a business suit.

So this is what it feels like to go completely insane.

Very banal, actually. You are having a psychotic breakdown and no one is even looking at you, except for an imaginary devil.

"Oh my, my apologies," Raphael said as he quickly grabbed napkins to mop up the spreading lake of coffee on the table. "I did not mean to scare you."

Oh, but he did, very much. You could not breathe, your chest encased in an iron brace of fear. It's you who needs to apologise, and apologise fast, and apologise a lot, and beg for mercy. Especially for liking the Twitter art of him being spit-roasted between Yurgir and Haarlep. 

If you only knew... you would never have clicked on it... absolutely never... all those posts you wrote... 

"Raphael?" you managed to squeak out. “I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

This must be how a deer feels in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

He looked at you, very sincere confusion etched across his handsome face. "Excuse me?"

You drew in a shaky breath, your nostrils flaring as you tried to catch a whiff of cherries under the aroma of fresh coffee, not caring how absurd you appeared. Yes? No? Or was that strawberry jam on his croissant? Have your senses gone haywire? Your mind certainly has.

"You're... you're here to cosplay Raphael?" 

The thought tumbled out of your mouth before it had time to fully form in your head. It was the only explanation that made sense... It didn't, but it made more sense than all the others put together.

Raphael moved closer, pulled up a chair and asked, amused: "I beg your pardon, I'm here to do what to whom?"

The voice. The voice was the same. Andrew Wincott's voice. The man had simply stolen his voice. Or had the man stolen it from him? The movements, the mannerisms, the facial expressions. This man could not be Raphael because...

Well, because this man was real. As real as you were. 

"Raphael," you explained. "From the video game. Are you here to cosplay... to play... Raphael?"

The man gave you a look as if questioning your sanity, and rightfully so. You were also sweating bullets - could he see the damp patches under your hoodie? You pressed your arms against your sides; wouldn't want him noticing.

"I'm hardly an actor," Raphael replied with a polite smile, "although there was a time in my youth when I entertained such ambitions."

He chuckled lightly and took a leisurely sip of his coffee. 

"I'm here to enjoy my espresso, nothing more. I... have never been particularly fond of..." he added with the disdain of a typical middle-aged man, "... video games.”

You had no response for that because Raphael wouldn't be into video games either; that much was believable.

"My office is across the street," he said, pointing towards the office complex opposite you. "Precisely there."

The golden sign on the building across from you, Kirkland & Ellis, told you nothing, except that Raphael had an office job and an office space and a desk and all the things that the devil shouldn’t have because the devil invented them to torture the others.

Raphael was dressed like he had just stepped out of a board meeting. A three-piece slate gray tailored suit, white shirt peeking out from underneath, silk tie and matching pocket square. Of all the modern Raphael AUs, you preferred the Professor one, you voted for it, you had Sucharide’s fic bookmarked. The Professor was more, ugh...

Safe.

As for you, you were wearing a hoodie with your university on it. A clean hoodie, but a hoodie nonetheless. What the hell else would you be wearing to Comic Con? You didn't do your hair. Well, putting it in a ponytail is not doing your hair. Why did you not do your hair? 

"I know, I know, you must be wondering why anyone would toil on a weekend," Raphael continued. That was the last thing you were wondering. "Alas, no rest for the wicked."

"Wicked?" you echoed. You looked at the people in the cafe, sure they were staring at the both of you, but they weren't.

"Oh," he chuckled lightly, "it's just an expression – 'No rest for the wicked.' You've never heard it before?"

"Of course I have," you said, momentarily embarrassed. "Never mind...sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," Raphael raised his eyebrows. "In fact, I should be the one to apologise for startling you. May I offer you another cup of... ah, what was that... cappuccino? After twelve? Tsk-tsk, young lady".

Not a single modern man could ever manage to say the words "tsk-tsk, young lady" as charmingly. That was Raphael.

"No bother, I can get one myself," you said quickly, about to stand up. 

He raised his hand slightly and put it down to halt your movement, and for a second you thought he was going to touch you, and if he had, if you had felt the skin of his skin, he would have felt more real and you would have died on the spot from a bursting heart.

"I have no doubt about that. But may I treat you? It would be my absolute pleasure”.

Pleasure. The way he said the word was straight obscene. You couldn't handle the word 'pleasure' coming from a man who had been responsible for more than half your orgasms in the last few months.

So in your daze, you mumbled: "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Raphael stood up and walked over to the barista. She acknowledged him, so that's one point for him being real and you not hallucinating. Not only did she acknowledge him but she flashed him a goofy grin - clearly smitten.

Of course she is.

You have to take a picture of him. How do you take a picture of someone without their consent without being a total creep?

You don't. It's in the fucking definition; you can't. But you should. Maybe you'll open your camera roll and see someone completely different, and then you'll know it's time to call for mental health services.

Your phone was buzzing with messages, which you quickly swiped away and went straight to the camera. You took a picture of him from behind while he ordered you a coffee. The barista gave you a “fucking weirdo” look. 

Fuck you, you thought, you have no idea what I am going through right now. Then you switched to the camera roll and checked to see if the photo reflected what you saw.

A broad, fit back of a very attractive middle-aged man with lush brown hair, paying for coffee with cash.

You couldn't decide whether this made you feel better or worse.

When Raphael returned with your cup, you had something for him too. "This is the character I was talking about," you said, a screenshot of virtual Raphael ready on your screen.

Anyone who saw the screenshot would say, "Who motion-captured me?" 

Not Raphael. He barely glanced before shrugging and handing your phone back. "Hmm, I see some resemblance, I guess."

Resemblance? What fucking resemblance? There was no resemblance; he WAS Raphael! You were about to argue but he beat you to it: "Why? Were you hoping to meet this...Raphael?" 

His voice dropped an octave and he looked at you intently. He was flirting - openly, unashamedly.

"I...I was," you stammered out. "He's my favourite character."

Brilliant, brilliant line. Dear diary, today I wanted to meet Raphael, my favourite character from my favourite game. So much for quoting Sartre.

"Well now, I'm flattered," Raphael purred, causing you to wriggle uncomfortably in your seat. "I do bear some physical likeness."

That was a massive understatement. 

The man had a disarmingly charming smile. You tried to remember if Raphael had ever smiled like that in the game. It was mostly scowls and grins and smirks, but this kind of smile? You didn't think so. You caught a glimpse of yourself in his hazel eyes, and that was not Tav; that was you. Just you.

Not that you were unattractive or anything. Average. Maybe even a little pretty on a good day. You didn't like yourself very much. Then again, most people don't. That's how the beauty industry makes its money. 

You got your share of attention, some, nothing to brag about. Had two boyfriends, it didn't work out, you used to care, now you don't. Certainly never got any attention from men who looked like him.

Why should this man be interested in you, why? Ah, yes. Your soul. He probably wants your soul. Is it worth much at all? Is it worth coming all the way to Earth? You wanted to apologize to him for going through all this trouble just for you.

"So this event in the convention hall down the street..." he snapped his fingers as if trying to recall a forgotten name.

"Comic-Con 2024," you supplied. "It's huge in fandom culture. TV shows, video games, that sort of stuff.”

"Ah. Not my kind of entertainment - or my kind of audience, for that matter," Raphael said with a slightly raised eyebrow, eyeing the “Astarion approves” badge on your backpack.  "It does remind me of a deal I signed recently."

"Deal?" you asked in a weak voice. He nodded. "What deal? With who?"

"With who? No, I meant the Microsoft-Blizzard acquisition". 

Ah, that kind of deal. The words felt so reassuring, so real, the acquisition. Raphael would have no idea about these words. Raphael wouldn't say "Microsoft". You mean the real Raphael. What the hell is a 'real' Raphael again?

For the first time, you let go of a little tension. You took a first sip of your coffee and leaned back slightly in your chair. 

"Actually, I think these acquisitions are really harmful for the industry," you said. 

Why did you have to be so confrontational? You didn't have anything clever to say about such things, so you spoke the truth instead. Bad idea.

"How candid of you to say that. Well, I’ll be just as candid with you: I am indeed a villain." Raphael grinned. "I hope you can forgive me." 

There went your short-lived relaxation, which lasted less than a minute.  Raphael had just looked at you and said "I am a villain". Challenge him. Tell him it's him because, well, it's him. It can only be him. Tell him you know it's him, and then...

And then what?

"Everybody's got a job to do, I guess", you managed to utter the most generic phrase in existence.

"Isn't that so..." Raphael replied, pausing for a moment before finishing the sentence with your name.

You did not introduce yourself to him. You were sure of it. Absolutely sure. 

"How do you know my name?" you asked, half rising from your chair, raising your voice and quickly lowering it again. "I didn't tell you my name. How do you know it?"

Raphael gestured to your phone, which lay on the table screen between the two of you. Your work ID card was tucked away in its transparent case - something you hadn't needed for a while.

It had your first and last name on it.

"I saw it right before my eyes," he explained. "I thought it was a hint."

"It wasn't," you said.

"Oh, another faux pas on my part then," he said. "At this rate, I owe you something to make up for all my many transgressions. Perhaps dinner?"

You let out a nervous chuckle. One of your popular Tumblr posts had been an impassioned rant about how Raphael had promised a similar in-game offer but failed to deliver despite the many times you gave him the Crown.

"I seem to have absolutely terrified you, and that was not my intention. I insist on making it up to you. If you allow me, of course. I don't want to impose. Would you allow me to?"

He looked at you with the intensity of a man admiring a beautiful woman, his shoulders back and chin slightly up, trying to present himself from his best angle - something you've seen men do before, but rarely (if ever) to you. It was as if he could hang on every word that came out of your mouth, simply because he enjoyed watching your lips move. Raphael looked like he was in love, for Christ's sake.

Your cheeks grew warm. 

"Yes," you replied.

He kept silent for a bit, savouring your answer. 

"Splendid. Where might I collect you?"

It took you a moment to realise that he was asking for your address. Your personal address. Shouldn't he know it already, if he was Raphael? You replied as nonchalantly as possible:

"Why don't I give you my number and we can arrange to meet at the center?"

His expression darkened slightly; you've seen this look in the game before.

No, you shouldn't have said that. You wanted him to like you. 

Desperately.

"You don't trust me?" Raphael's voice dropped an octave or two, playful and just a little threatening.

You felt his breath on your face (cherries?) and the next second you stopped feeling your legs. The attraction that had been simmering inside you for months started boiling over.

Breathe. Pretend it's not Raphael. A man came up to you in a coffee shop and asked you if you trusted him in that kind of tone, leaning in like that. You know what the sensible thing to do would be - get up and walk away. And if it really was Raphael, get up and run away. 

You remained seated and stayed. 

"Just, ugh..." was all you managed to get out of the jumbled thoughts in your head; two coherent sentences so far into the conversation, and both of them made you sound like an absolute madwoman. 

Raphael laughed.

"Of course you don't trust me, that's only prudent, and you seem to be quite an intelligent young lady. But just so we are clear, you and I: you have nothing to fear from me. What is that number of yours?"

Quite an intelligent young lady, the words echoed in your mind and you remembered your naughty anonymous Tumblr confession: I would suck every last drop of cum out of him as long as he kept praising me.

God, everything you've read with him in the main role. Double penetration, double vaginal penetration, pet play... you weren't even into half of it. You hoped Raphael didn’t think you actually wanted him to do all of the things you read with you.

You just liked clicking on random links.

"Do you need something to write it down or...?" you asked hesitantly.

"I will remember," he said curtly. “I do not forget things easily”.

You realised that there was something far more frightening than anything that had happened before: that he wouldn't remember, that he would never call you, and that this conversation and this meeting would end there. 

So you carefully enunciated each number, then took a pen from your pocket and wrote it down on a napkin: it seemed romantic in the movies, but your handwriting and the coffee stain made it look like a secret message from the madhouse.

He grinned and tucked the napkin into the pocket of his suit.

He took the last sip of coffee and then took your hand in his. He touched you. His skin was warm and real and soft and everything you had ever imagined, his touch surprisingly tender. 

Your whole body responded to that tiny crumb of affection, viscerally. You hadn't realized how famished you were for a touch until that moment.

He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed them against yours. His lips were soft too, slightly damp from the coffee.

"I am looking forward to our rendezvous," Raphael murmured against your palm. "Ver much so."

Rendezvous.

In any other situation, a middle-aged man kissing your hand would be downright creepy. But this... this was a fever dream, an illusion, anything but reality. Because there was no way this madness could actually be happening to you.

Was it a bad thing? Was reality ever... this? So unpredictable? So exciting? 

You only snapped out of it when the door closed behind him, but you snapped out hard. You practically threw yourself at the next table, where a group of guys were sitting, their appearance screaming video games - backpacks and scruffy beards, Warhammer-emblazoned T-shirts. 

You grabbed one by the shoulder and hissed urgently: "Guys-guys-guys-guys." Your words came like rapid fire. "Tell me that guy doesn't look exactly like Raphael from Baldur's Gate? That one? On the street behind the window?" 

Damn, you sounded desperate.

"Ah, sorry, never played it," came the nonchalant reply before he turned back to his friends' conversation.

"Baldur's Gate," chimed in another, his face lighting up. "Amazing game. Looks like who?"

"Raphael," you said. "The devil."

The guy laughed, but didn't even look where you were pointing.

"Ah, the two-pump chump?"

You shot a quick glance at Raphael. His eyes met yours through the glass window, and they were cold now; his smile was gone. 

I didn't say that, you pleaded with him in your thoughts. That guy said that. That guy over there. I would never say that.

Your defence of his bed skills stretched from Reddit to Tumblr threads, you argued that Haarlep was slandering him, that Raphael was the best fuck there ever was and you personally vouched for that because you fucked him a thousand times in your head.

"Don't call him that, please," you whispered to the guy. He gave you a confused look when you pointed at Raphael again: "Look at him. The one staring at us. Does he look like him?

Is he real? Do you see him too?

"Ah yes," he admitted with a grin on his face, raising the cup of coffee to his lips, "he sort of does. Yes, he does! Well, I hope he doesn't...oh shit! FUCK!".

The guy's face contorted in pain as he clutched his mouth, jumping, cursing, tears streaming down his face. You could see the skin on his lips reddening and blistering.

"What the fuck?! It's fucking boiling! FUCK! "

The barista rushed over to him, spewing apologies as she tried to handle the situation. You took a step back and glanced at Raphael whose lips were moving subtly - two syllables that matched rhythmically: 'bye-bye' or maybe 'ciao-ciao'. 

It didn't have to be 'ta-ta'. He waved nonchalantly at you.

You waved back.

NEXT: Chapter 3, In Which Larian Introduces The Raphael Romance

#bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #raphael x player #raphael x tav #raphael x oc #raphael x you #meta fanfic #knock knock

[pit-and-the-pen]

Spring Meadow

I have not been able to get soft Lucien out of my head all morning so heres a super fluffy fic about our boy being absolutely in love with you.

Lucien X Spring court!reader

Lucien deserves the absolute world, boy has been through enough. 

Warnings: None

WC: 1.6k

Lucien never regretted his decision to come to the spring court. The cruelty of the Autumn court gave way to something sweeter. Autumn always reminded him of death. He saw it in the trees that constantly shed their leaves, in the terror of everyone in the court. Worst of all, he saw it in his brothers. Fear seemed to permeate the air wherever you went and his family wore it the most. Cloaked in gripping fear of their own father. When he arrived in spring, it was like he could breathe for the first time in his life. Flowers bloomed and birds sang cheerful songs. The lords and ladies of the court would smile at each other as they passed. Spring reminded him that he wanted to be alive. 

Of course, he also had you. He had never intended to fall in love. Heart still in tatters over Jesminda, love was the last thing on his mind. But there you were. One of the ladies of Tamlins court. He found you in the meadow he frequently hid away in. Weaving flowers into a makeshift crown, basking in the first few hours of sunlight as it crested the horizon. The willow wisps seemed to sing a special song just for you. 

He can still feel the shock run through him, blinking hard as if he might wake up from a dream. Lucien decided that if it was a dream, he would happily never wake up. You startled as he cleared his throat. Hands pausing your work as he introduced himself. He swore he felt his heart stop dead when you smiled at him, giving him your name. 

That’s when it all started. It wasn’t an all consuming fire but a slow ember that he nursed into something roaring. You were patient with him as he figured out how to let his guard down. A comforting shoulder when days got too heavy for him to get out of bed. Those were days you would curl up next to him, hands deftly braiding his hair or reading him one of your favorite books. Those were the days that Lucien knew he was falling in love with you. 

Today was one of those days. You managed to pull him out of bed and the two of you stood in the kitchen. Flour streaked across your face as you kneaded the dough ball in front of you. Giving it a small smack, you put it in the bowl next to you and draped a wet towel over it. 

“There, I have an hour before I can bake it.” You washed off your hands and walked over to where Lucien sat on a stool at the counter. You patted his thighs and he parted them enough for you to squeeze yourself between them. With care, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a peck on the cheek. “What would you like to do today, Lu?” He wanted nothing more than to just crawl back into bed. Hold you in his arms until his thoughts could do anything but swirl around angrily in his head. But you had told him you wanted to get out of the house today so he instead said. 

“What about a picnic in the meadow?” He suggested. He wished he could bottle that look in your eyes, pure wonder and excitement. 

“Absolutely. Once the bread is done I’ll make us sandwiches. Oh and I’ll cut up some of that fruit from last night.” You chirped. He gave you another tight squeeze as you started gathering all the things you needed to bring. Lucien sat and stared at you. His heart squeezing in the best way possible. He pushed himself off the stool and went to your side, helping you pull out the fruit sent from the summer court. You instructed him on how to peel and chop the chosen fruit. His rough chunks were almost laughable in comparison to the shapes you cut into the fruit. He never understood how you made the various patterns you were able to cut them into, deftly cutting hearts and flowers. He helped you string them onto wooden skewers and squeezed the lemon juice on them so they wouldn’t brown, a trick you had taught him the last time you went on a picnic. You wrapped them up in a small towel and he went to grab your wicker basket from your room. 

Even your room made him smile. Organized chaos as you called it. Flowers covered as many surfaces as they could. You had used your powers to make honeysuckle creep up the walls, covering the wall by the window and swirling up to the ceiling. The white blooms fill the room with their sweet scent. He used to complain about the pollen dropping over everything but he learned to appreciate it over time. He even went as far as cleaning it up on days you were too busy to do it yourself. You always thanked him by peppering his face with small kisses when he did. 

He quickly located the basket he had been sent to find. He also grabbed one of your favorite blankets and the book you had been slowly reading to him. Both of you could have easily finished it on your own by now but he loved listening to your voice as you read it out loud, your voice wrapping around the words brought the story to life. 

When he walked back into the kitchen, you were bent towards the oven, pushing in the bread pan. Standing back up, you adjusted the top to your flowy sundress and untied the now dirty apron from your waist. You smiled at him as he held up the basket like it was a trophy. He was rewarded by the peel of your laughter. He wanted to wrap himself in the sound so he did just that, practically sprinting across the kitchen to embrace you. Hugging you so tightly he lifted you off the ground. He was rewarded with another string of giggles and when he sat you back on your feet your cheeks had a glowing blush to them. You stretched up onto your tiptoes and kissed him passionately. 

He let out a surprised noise as your teeth found his lower lip. You smiled into the kiss as he swept you off your feet, placing you on the kitchen counter so he wouldn’t have to bend down. Your hands found their way to his hair and the two of you got lost in each other. Eventually, you both need to pull away for air. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath and he tried to ignore the way your tongue swept over your lips before he was tempted to forgo the picnic and drag you to bed for other reasons. 

He joined you, pulling himself up onto the counter. So close to you his thighs were pressed against yours. You picked up his hand and started drawing random patterns and swirls. The conversation flowed easily out of the two of you while you were waiting for the bread to finish baking. Its smell filled the room and made his stomach grumble. Luckily, before he could even think of making a joke about his stomach eating itself, the timer you had set dinged loudly. You grabbed a dish towel and pulled the perfect loaf from the oven. After letting it cool for a few minutes, you started assembling the sandwiches, cutting them into perfect triangles. Wrapping them in their own towel and adding them to the basket. You looked up at him, “All ready to go!” 

You all but pulled him to the meadow, a childlike sort of excitement as you babbled on about the newest gossip in the court. He didn’t really follow your words too much, too many names he didn’t recognize, but he held to every word you uttered. Savoring the sound of your voice. 

When you finally decided on a spot, he laid out the blanket on the dew covered grass. You sat crossed legged in the middle and started unpacking the basket. 

After the food was eaten, you laid down, arms holding your top half off the ground. Lucien placed his head on your thighs using you as his personal pillow and handed you the book before you could even reach for it. That action earned him a kiss to his forehead, your hair draping around him as you leaned down. You flipped to the page you had left off on the night before. 

Sitting out in this field, your free hand playing absentmindedly with his hair. Lucien knew that this was true happiness. Happiness that he had never felt before meeting you. Happiness he was terrified of losing but allowed himself to feel anyways. He would go to the ends of the earth to protect you and he knows you would do the same for him. His emotions suddenly welled up inside of his chest and he lifted his head off your lap. Your reading stopped as you went to ask him what was wrong, reading the tears in his eyes as something other than pure joy. He spoke before you could. 

“Can we stay like this forever.” He said, leaning closer into you. You kissed him, soft and gentle. 

“Of course my love.” You cuddled tighter to his side and pulled him into a deep kiss. He rolled you on top of him, and you pulled away to say, “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

#lucien vanserra #acomaf #acosf #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #lucien acotar #pro lucien #spring court #a court of thorns and roses #lucien fluff #lucien spell cleaver #fluff #this is so sweet #im squealing #soft lucien #lucien x oc

[rokomoi]

.•*between lovers*•.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

pairing: gunwook x reader.

synopsis: he stood still in the beach, reminiscing about the moments he had with you.

now playing: for lovers-lamp.

disclaimer: english isn’t my first language, apologies in advance for any grammatical mistakes and errors. no pronouns nor skin colour will be mentioned.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

love. the most beautiful emotion that we, human beings can feel once finding the right person, our future loved ones. But sometimes, it could be harmful. Almost what drugs do to you, you get the dopamine hit for a couple of hours, days and perhaps for a long time but then it fucks you up in the most horrendous ways.

“Angel?” I called out to you in a comforting tone. Your humming in response felt like honey dripping, sweet but too much of it could kill me. A chuckle left me as my eyes turned into crescent moons from how hard I was smiling from the expression on your face that I adored and loved kissing so much. I watched how your eyebrows came together in the front to form a frown and your lips pursing outwards and making a cute little scowl, after receiving a soft punch in the shoulder from you, I cleared my throat and my hand travelled on their own to catch your cold hand in mine, much smaller in comparison than mine and rising it up towards my lips and planting a small kiss on the pinks knuckles.

“Can you promise me something?” I murmured. A questioning hum erupted from me, my gaze softening and I tilted my head to the side a little as I observed how your head slowly moved up and down in a hesitant manner, I couldn't blame you since I had just interrupted your break day from school and invited myself over for a small ‘at-home date’ since it's been a hot minute since I've last seen you.

“If…anything goes wrong with us, promise me to always be by my side,” I whispered. I sucked in my lower lip and started to slowly nibble on it, as thoughts about the future started coming in and crashing down on me like a horrible tsunami. I blinked away the tears that started to moisten my eyes, I let my head drop and hang low as I stared at my lap since I didn't want you to see me crying because I've always made myself appear strong and in front of you and never emotional so I didn't give you anymore struggles in life.

“Gunwook…don’t cry” my ears picked on the shuffling noise of your clothes as you moved around to be closer to me, I inhaled a sharp breath in and your small hand squeezed my own tighter, a gesture you would always do whenever you saw me getting nervous. The tip of my nose started turning red and felt like it was burning, the same thing my eyes were currently doing as I let a tear drop down, then another and then another until my shoulders started to shake and vibrate. I felt your other hand grabbing a soft hold of my left cheek and forcing me to look up at you through blurry eyes, your finger working its best and over to wipe at the new warm tears falling.

“I promise you, I'm here and I'll always be here with you, my gunwook…”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

“Gunwook! You know I'm scared!” I laughed at your whining as you stood at least thirty feet away from the ocean I was currently swimming in with a bunch of others. I shook my head as I slowly swam all the way over to you and got out of the cold ocean and I hissed at the burning sunshine that was hitting me, I shook my head from side to side to get all the excess water from my black locks, sweeping them backwards with my hands to get them out of the way as my wet feet sank underneath the sand and some sticking onto my feet as I finally reached to where you were. Towering over you and blocking you from the crazy sunlight hitting your face which made your scowl even worse under that beige sunhat you had one. “I know, angel. But don't you think it's time you get over that fear slowly by…you know…swimming?” I said softly. Making sure to keep my voice soft and warm like I was convincing a child to go to the doctor, but instead, I was doing it out of love and since you've talked about wanting tovercome your fear of the ocean and learn how to swim since…the number of tsunamis happening this year is quite alarming, to say the least.

“I know but…” you trailed off. I hummed at you, arching one of my eyebrows at you as I stood beside you and swung an arm over your shoulder my other hand going to rest on my hip as we both looked over the waves crashing and people swimming underneath the umbrella. “I just don't…think I'm ready yet, Wookie” you whispered, I lowered my head to glance at you and only found you doing that bad habit of fiddling around with your clothes whenever you were scared, a small scoff escaped through my lips as I placed both of my hands firmly on your cheeks and turning you to face me and look up at me. “You can do it…do not absolutely feel pressured into doing something you're not uncomfortable with, got it angel?” I said in a stern voice. The left corner of my mouth curved up into a small victorious smirk as you nodded along to my words, I snickered to myself before bending my knees down to a certain height to be able to do the thing I loved the most which was me, crashing my lips onto yours in a kiss that was filled with love, passion and feelings, just like the movies and books I've always read and seen. Just as I pulled away and stared at your shiny eyes that held stars within them, a faint string of saliva connected both of us as I tried to regularise my breathing, my head snapped towards the ocean as I heard a blood-curling scream coming from the direction, I frowned as I couldn't see anything since people were all scrambling around and grabbing their belongings which made me even more confused as I held onto your hands and firmly grasping it until my knuckles turned white. Then it hit me…harder than ever as I saw waves, big waves and the water rising, a tsunami was happening. I gulped down the saliva built up as I turned to face you, trying to keep my nonchalant face on so I would not panicky you any further.

“Go back to the car, I'll get our belongings and no buts angel…I love you so much” I spat out quickly, chewing down on my lower lip nervously and crashing my lips onto yours since I didn't know if I was gonna make it out alive in time. I broke the kiss quickly and pushed by the shoulders to where the swarm of people was going and you looked at me, with tears filling up your already shiny eyes and your pink lips quivering and I knew what you were feeling and what was going on inside your head.

I should’ve gone with you to the car instead of being a ‘hero’ who doesn't save the day…

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

I watched the seagulls above me flap their wings away in the blue and clear sky. I fluttered my eyes shut as the waves crashed against each other creating a soft lullaby for me to listen to whilst reminiscing about the memories I had with you, whilst you were still here.

A singular tear formed and fell out of the corner of my eye, I sank deeper into the warm beach sand beneath me, I knew you were probably judging me from above as you watched me weep on an empty beach on a Friday afternoon.

“I still blame myself, angel…” I mumbled to myself. A deep sigh left my lips as I stared at the sky slowly darkening and changing from orange into a lavender colour. “If only I had known that…the tsunami would attack the other side first…I would be with you right now, in heaven” I spat out in a cracked voice, I raised my sandy hands to rub away at my eyes to try and wipe the tears that were threatening to spill. I exhaled through my mouth as I slowly raised myself up and picked up my belongings, not forgetting to pick up my favourite type of seashell and hold it between my two hands and making a wish that I truly wanted to come true and throwing it towards the ocean and I watched skipping away at the ocean before it completely sank. I giggled out of pity for myself as I dragged my feet across the sand as the sky darkened above me and leaving me completely alone with my thoughts in the darkness, the stars and most importantly you, my little angel, now in this world and the other world.

I wished another tsunami could happen that could kill me first and put me out of this misery, guilt and shame that has been weighing on my shoulders since two years ago…

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄ ･

#zb1 imagines #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 scenarios #zerobaseone #zb1 gunwook #park gunwook #gunwook imagines #gunwook x reader #gunwook fluff #zerobaseone gunwook #zb1 angst #zerobaseone angst

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 772: A jersey never seen before!!

Pag 1

1: Those two are accelerating like they're right before the sprint line!!

Ruaaaagh

Ooooogh

3: Just now it was the second stage “shironeri”

4: Are you surprised, San-na? Obviously, once we get before the finish line, I'll pull out the sixth stage

5: “Golden yellow”!!

Pag 2 / 3

Who will win the title of fastest!?

The black horse Kiji Kyuui!!

Sohoku's Team SS who's aiming to be Japan's number one!!

Or Hakone Academy's Doubashi!!

Pag 4

2: Woah.... what incredible speed! Those two competing for the lead

You're right

Huh!?

3: It's Hakogaku VS Sohoku, you know, those two have the exact same cards – it's exciting

Of course Sohoku's Kaburagi is fired up for his revenge

Incredible, it's the same as last year

4: Oi, they're still coming!!

Ah?

They're chasing!!

Huh

5: They're chasing!?

What incredible energy!!

The one running in the front is from Sohoku, but there's someone else behind....

That jersey....

Pag 5

1: It's a jersey I've never seen before!! Who's that!!

Pag 6

1: It's not Hakogaku, and it's not Kyufushi either

I've never seen them before, is it their first time participating this year!?

2: On his shoulder

3: it says “Gunma”

4: Yon

Gunma!?

5: Yon

Pag 7

1: Yon

3: He's coming up right behind me!!

4: But I won't let this guy go!!

I thought my part was over, but there's still work left to do!!

5: It's a simple thing

Pag 8

1: I just have to stop his legs from 30seconds to one minute!!

2: If I do that, then those two will have passed the sprint line!!

As long as the race is completely over!!

3: I'll make Issa have his revenge!!

4: This is the guy who that day

5: When we were practicing on Minegayama

6: Fell from the sky

Pag 9

1: On a mountain bike

2: The MTB two-times in a row champion!! Gunma Ryosei's Kiji Kyuui!!

Yon

Pag 10

1: And of course he's riding a road bike today!!

2: Road bikes are nice, you know

They're light, they react quickly, there's less loss of mechanical transmission

3: The thing that's most different from mountain bikes is that the road surface isn't uneven but flat

4: Alright, he's clinging to me!!

From now on it's a race! I'll gain time!! I'll stop him!!

5: And, you know, whenever you want

Freely

Pag 12

1: You can accelerate at your own timing!! Yon!!

Ugh!!

2: He got me!!

What was that just now!! He definitely turned his body like he was going right!!

3: I reacted thinking he was going to attack from the right

4: A “feint”!!

5: And from a slanted stance like that he moved straight forward?

6: The left side was narrow, there was nothing but the ditch cover

Pag 13

1: And this guy jumped forward no matter the situation!!

Dammit!!

Pag 14

1: Immediately after clinging to me from the back!!

2: When road bikes cyclists, after a solo run, approach someone from behind

3: they always take shelter from the wind behind them

4: To rest their legs!! At least for 10-30 seconds

5: That guy did it for less than 3 seconds!!

Higaruaaa

6: Dammit, so there's guys who can have their legs recover in just 3 seconds!?

Pag 15

2: This time I'll cling to him!!

Pag 16

1: Three seconds are enough, aren't they?

3: Mountain bike is a sport where you have to continuously produce high output of energy on your own

4: In comparison, in road race, where you can rest behind someone and use them to get ahead, you only need to put out power for a split seconds

5: Really

6: Road racing is full of excitement and learning! It's really....

Pag 17

1: Fun!! Yon!!

2: He accelerated in the curve!!

Pag 18

2: He's controlling the bike's frame tilting it just at the right angle to not let the pedals....

3: hitting the road!!

4: The “tires”!!

I heard that in MTB the control of the tires is essential!!

Is he applying that to road racing!? Dammit!!

5: But!!

6: I wasn't in the SS team for nothing!!

7: I can do something like that too

Pag 19

2: Ruwa-

3: The pedal hit the road!!

Pag 20

3: Ugh!!

Number 5 lost his balance!

He's losing speed

Ugh!! I'll make Issa have his revenge.....

4: I heard a loud noise, are you okay?

6: Huh

Pag 21

1: Stay safe

2: …. he worried about me.... and then left.... taking his time... so that's... Kiji Kyuui!!

4: Hahaha, San-na!!

Pag 22

1: This is the third stage!!

“Pale yellow”!!

2: You're fast..... aren't you strong?

Really, Orange

3: Honestly, when I first heard two of you were coming up, I was disappointed

“This year too, huh”, I thought

4: But turns out it's an equal one-on-one race!!

Pag 23

1: This is the best, Orange!!

You're the most serious guy!!

Let's do it!! A full throttle battle!!

2: I'll take you on!! But I told you earlier!! You don't know my “golden yellow”, you'll lose!!

3: There are 2km left until the finish line!!

#yowamushi pedal #yowapeda #yowamushi pedal translations #yowapeda manga #yowamushi pedal manga #yowamushi pedal spoilers #ride 772 #thank you @watanabe for giving us a beautiful chapter that was also easy to translate for me #so much kiji in this chapter........ and im such a simple girl.... i fall in love a little more with him every time i see him.... #prettiest boy in the whole manga im sorry not sorry #look at hiiiiiim #and he stops to worry about danchiku???? #(i just know danchiku fell a little bit in love too in that moment okay i think no one is immune to kiji's charm) #btw putting aside my love for kiji for a moment #im sorry for danchiku :') #his race against him lasted so little #its a bit sad #but now i cant wait to see kiji crashing kabu and doubashi's party lmao #bashi is so excited to have a one on one against issa and now kiji is going to ruin it lmao

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

Shitten Shenanigans AU – The Fall of Death

Lamb heaved deep shuddering breaths as they glared at the now diminished form of Nar- The One Who Waits. Their body throbbed with pain and their heart was pounding so hard they thought it might burst from their chest, but all of that paled in comparison to the sheer rage that thundered through their veins.

How DARE HE?!

HOW DARE HE AFTER ALL HE AND HIS SIBLINGS HAD PUT THEM THROUGH?!

WAS IT NOT ENOUGH THAT THEIR WHOLE SPECIES AND FAMILY HAD BEEN STOLEN FROM THEM THAT HE WOULD TAKE THEIR CHILD TOO?!

Lamb stalked towards The One Who Waits, their sword scraping against the floor, as he tried to sit up only for Lamb to stomp a harsh hoof in the middle of his chest, crushing him against the ground. He struggled against it weakly, glaring up at Lamb with bared teeth.

“You’ve supplanted me. A vessel no more, now a crowned deity, you damned lamb!” He hissed furiously. “Will you be a merciful coward or a vengeful false idol, you traitor?!”

Hefting the sword above their head, Lamb sneered down at their former divine patron. “For Asha, I would slay as many gods as I need too! Especially ones that betray me first.”

The anger suddenly drained from The One Who Waits’ face, leaving confused furrowed eyes, and he ceased struggling. “…What nonsense do you speak of?”

The sudden change of emotion stayed Lamb’s hand for a moment and for some reason, they answered. “You betrayed our deal first. You demanded the sacrifice of your most devoted follower, YOUR OWN CHILD! MY CHILD!”

Rage swiftly returned to The One Who Waits’ face and he snarled back, a sudden burst of energy as he shoved the hoof off his chest and reached for Lamb. “I’D NO SOONER SACRIFICE AYM AND BAAL THAN I WOULD ASHA, YOU FOOLISH LAMB! THEY ARE NOT MY FOLLOWERS, BUT MY STUDENTS! MY CHOSEN SONS AND CHILD! MINE!”

Lamb dropped the sword and dipped out of the way of the fallen deity’s grasp, flipping him over. “YOU CALL THEM YOUR MOST DEVOTED FOLLOWER! CONSTANTLY! ALL OF US DID!”

He managed to roll to his feet and dodged their own lunge. “I WAS SPEAKING OF YOU!”

The air seemed to still as the rage within Lamb’s snuffed itself out just as quickly as it had arisen when Narinder had first spoken of a sacrifice. “…What?”

Narinder snarled as he drew himself up, lacking the monstrous height he once had but still a good foot over Lamb. “You were my most devoted follower. It was your sacrifice I spoke of!” He paused for a moment as something akin to hurt intermingled with the rage. “You truly believed I would command such a thing upon my own? Even after I had given my word no harm should ever come to them under my protection.”

Lamb tilted their jaw up stubbornly, their anger growing anew yet at a much dimmer level. “You ordered the death of your own siblings. Why would it seem such a stretch?” They knew the answer as soon as they said it.

The hurt faded as rage covered it up again, the force of such causing Narinder to shake. “My siblings betrayed me and bound me! They committed genocide for fear of me! They deserved their fates as you well know!”

Lamb flexed their fingers. “…They were still your family once. Besides, why not simply say? Why call for your most devoted’s death when you knew that is what we called Asha?”

“I had thought you would have a modicum of intelligence to recognise it was not the child that I spoke of!”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t insist on dressing up your orders, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“Why would you think I commanded you to leave the child with the rat if I wished for their death!?”

“You command a lot of contradictory things! Sacrifice a follower, resurrect them! Oh here’s a ritual to brainwash your followers but if you tell them to not consume strange substances, they’ll work harder at the cost of falling sick when you brainwash them!” Lamb stalked towards Narinder and jabbed a finger into his chest. “’Take Asha to Ratau’s then bring them here to die!’ is not out of character for you!”

He grabbed their hand and moved it to the side, gripping it harshly. “I sent Asha to that useless rat so that they would not have to watch! To see you sacrificed in my name would have caused them harm for how much they love you! For however much they adored your visits, they cried at every death!”

Lamb snapped their teeth in his face. “And what would you have told them?! When I never appeared again? Would you have told them the honest truth, that you had me killed? Or would you have lied to them as well?!”

Narinder grabbed them by the shoulders and shook them roughly as if to somehow rattle sense into them. “THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN NO NEED FOR YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN BY MY SIDE!”

“THE HELLS DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!”

“RESURRECTION, YOU FOOLISH LAMB! LIFE GIVEN ANEW WITH THE PROMISE OF ETERNITY AS MY WITNESS! A VOW THAT YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN FREE TO RAISE ASHA OPENLY AND IN SAFETY UNDER MY WATCH!”

Silence reigned across the blazing field of the afterlife as the two stared at each other, their breaths intermingling as they panted. The Red Crown still discarded aside.

The pain started to creep in along the edges of Lamb’s vision. “…Swear to me it was me and not them.”

Narinder started to sway as the last vestiges of his own energy began to drain away, but even then pure honesty shone in his eyes. “It was always you, Lamb.” He seemed to be staying on his feet out of pure stubbornness and by the grip he still had on Lamb’s arms. “So what is to become of me now? Will you slay me like my siblings or are you a merciful coward?”

The crown finally returned to Lamb's head.

They reached out and grabbed him as he lost the fight against his injuries. Pulling him gently into their embrace, they slowly lowered to the ground and pressed a hand to his chest, summoning the indoctrination circle below him. They couldn’t help the way they tucked him closer to their body.

“If it makes me a coward to prevent my child’s sorrow at the loss of their father, then a coward I must be.”

Narinder sputtered a bitter chuckle as his eyes went hazy with pain and betrayal. “I will not forgive you.”

“Can you blame me for doing what I thought was to protect Asha?”

Silence again before something passed over Narinder's face and he closed his eyes.

"...No, vessel. I suppose I cannot."

With that, Narinder fell into the blackness of the teleportation, leaving Lamb alone in a field of damnation and the feeling of bitterness.

______

This.... was a lot less cracky than I thought it would be when I started. I was going do like a fade to black in the middle of the argument to the POV of one of the cultists who are watching what is essentially a marital spat between their leader and their god, but it didn't fit the vibe.

This Narinder never lies. He doesn't always tell the truth but he doesn't lie. Which is why Lamb took him at face value when he said he wanted to kill his most devoted and when he said everything here.

They're both too proud to have an actual conversation about this until they get locked in the confessional by the kids.

Narinder also feels a bit tame but, 1) he's currently in shock at the loss of godhood, 2) he just spent the past couple of years co-parenting with Lamb which bonded them closer than in canon and 3) its my au and I do what I want.

Asha is my shitten's name which fun fact means hope/wish/desire in Sanskrit (same origin as Narinder's name) and life/longevity in Arabic/ Swahili which I thought was cute.

#cotl #cult of the lamb #Shitten Shenanigans Au #Cotl Lamb #Colt Narinder #narilamb #or rather pre-narilamb #I still dont go here #that time Narinder asked for the death of his most devoted follower and Lamb heard Kill Bill Sirens #the au's. they plague me #might do Nari's intro to Asha #since im headcanoning that Nari named Asha #this is why communication is important people #especially with your co-parent

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Honeymoon

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Virginity Kink, Groping, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Animal Death, Slow Burn, Misogyny

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

The elevator in Shigaraki’s building was a fast one. Fast, but even. She could probably time down to the millisecond the pace that those floor numbers changed, they were so metronomic. The best that money could buy she was sure. Like clockwork, each floor number passed, ticking in her head more like a countdown. 

She was nervous about going to Shigaraki’s house today, if that wasn’t obvious. And truth be told, there were a lot of very legitimate reasons for her to be nervous about it. The fact that this was the first time she’d been at his place since their most recent night together. The fact that the company Christmas Party was just a few hours away and she really didn’t have enough time to be coming over here in the first place. The fact that going to his house always felt a bit like entering the lion’s den — she never knew just what was going to happen when she was there. 

Yes, these were all great reasons to be nervous, but to be honest, she wasn’t considering any of them. Her real reason was downright stupid in comparison. She was nervous because she was bringing Tomura Shigaraki a Christmas present.

And a stupid Christmas present at that.

It was a jacket. A stupid fucking jacket that she’d thought would be so great for him at the time. She assumed that he didn’t really own any nice jackets since all she’d ever seen him wear were hoodies. And she’d been so unable to get the image of him in red out of her head, that when she saw this stupidly expensive (but fantastic quality) red peacoat with the faux-fur collar at the department store, she knew she had to jump on it. 

But then two days shy of Christmas, he gave her a tour of Todai and just what had he been wearing? A fucking trench coat. Not the exact same thing, but pretty close enough.

She’d facetimed Spinner the second she got home in a panic over it.

“I think you’re in the clear. I’ve never seen anything like that in his closet.” he assured her.

“Ugh maybe there’s a reason for that though,” she agonized, “Like, maybe it’s not really his style after all…”

He shrugged, “I think it looks nice.”

“Really?” she pressed.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll like it.”

But she wasn’t going to take such blanket assurance lying down.

“I need you to be honest with me here, Spinner. If I’m making an idiot out of myself, I’d rather know now then on Christmas.”

Spinner sighed, looking through the camera at the jacket with more genuine scrutiny. She really wasn’t going to give up on this after all… 

“I don’t know, I think it looks fine. Maybe the fluffy part might be a bit much though?” Spinner finally relented.

“It’s removable!” she announced proudly, unclipping the first part to demonstrate this asset.

Spinner chuckled, “Well then you’re fine.”

“Are you sure? You don’t think red’s too gaudy for him?”

“He wears red shoes.”

“What about the material though? I know the really good peacoats are full wool, but I could only afford the blend. It’s still a good blend though, so it should be okay, right?”

Spinner didn’t say anything, immediately adding fuel to the flames of her worries. She turned the screen back to her so she could see that hesitant expression of his head on.

“What? What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s just,” he sighed and then offered her a sympathetic smile, “I think you’re thinking too much into this.”

“What? No way! This is the first thing I’ve ever gotten him,” she insisted, “It needs to be great!”

“Look, I just don’t want you to get your hopes up or anything.”

She cocked her head at him. He continued.

“Like, don’t think you’re setting a precedent here. Because he probably hasn’t gotten you anything,” he mumbled then, “Two of us have been friends for years, and he still only buys me shit when when he wants something.”

“Oh…”

Was that all his reservations were, for real? She almost laughed a little, relief finally settling throughout her.

“Well yeah. I assumed he wouldn’t.”

Spinner gave her a dumbfounded look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I know he doesn’t really think of stuff like that. I just wanted to get him something because… Well, I just wanted to. I saw this and thought he might like it,” self-consciousness started to flood her body once again, “...Do you think he’ll like it?”

Spinner smiled, happy she knew what she was getting into. Happy that Shigaraki had someone like her in his life now. Just happy for his friends.

“Yeah. I think he will.”

The elevator dinged, snapping her out of her thoughts. She made her way out of the elevator, down the hall to the single flat on this floor.

Continue on AO3

#TOMURA SHIRAGAKI #TOMURA SHIGARAKI X READER #TOMURA SHIGARAKI X OC #SHIGARAKI #TOMURA SHIGARAKI #BNHA SHIGARAKI #MHA SHIGARKI #SHIGARAKI FANFIC #READER INSERT #LONG FIC #SMUT #SHIGARAKI SMUT #TW DUBCON #QUIRKLESS AU #SPICE WRITES #MHA #BNHA #MHA SMUT #BNHA SMUT #PLAY NICE FIC

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Power ranking BG3 ladies based on how much I'd personally like to marry them

All main and supporting women: Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Karlach Minthara, Jaheira, Isobel, Aylin, Mizora, Orin

Plus my background babes: Florrick, Talli, Alfira, Lakrissa, Araj, Nocturne, Skoona, Adrielle, Z'rell, Roah, Nine-Fingers, and special guest star Philomeen

*Isobel and Aylin deserve to be regarded as individuals occasionally, so yes I'm wrecking that home (Alfira and Lakrissa too)

*essentially, top 10 is "women I would like to marry" and 11-21 and is "women I would not like to marry"

Quartermaster Talli. Granted she has an unfair advantage due to looking and vibing as a fusion of my IRL girlfriend and the butch lesbian who installed my new garage door 3 years ago whom I'm still mildly obsessed with. But anyway, we'd have a really great life together. We'd be able to communicate, we'd be compatible in the bedroom, we have similar values. Wife material, Grade A - the gold standard comparison for everyone else on the list.

Isobel. We'd have our tiffs (we can both be a little catty and sensitive), but overall we'd be a pretty stable match. We'd put in the work to make it last. I feel like being a cleric counts as a "job" so I appreciate that.

Nocturne. My #1 "I can fix her" pick because I think I actually can. I appreciate a hard worker, so Nocturne having distinguished herself in her uh workplace enough to become an officer is very respectable to me. We could go to therapy together. Not a perfect match, but I think we could make it work.

Lakrissa. Would be an easy second place if she didn't read so young. She's a little immature (a little over-dedicated, a little too self-sacrificing) and so she'd have to do some growing up, but I think we could make it work.

Florrick. Even though she's my #1 beloved and by FAR the sexiest person in the entire game and I would do anything to [redacted], we'd be like two brick walls getting married. We're too similar. But sheer affection and lust propel her to the top 5 anyway, even though we'd probably be married 10 sexless years before one of us finally snapped and filed for divorce.

Skoona. Assuming she drops the whole self-deprecating thing (can't stand that). She has a job, she's sensitive, she's romantic, she's humble, and she's hot. I don't think we'd knock each others' socks off, but we'd be a nice match.

Lae'zel. Extremely 22 years old and that's an issue for me. I'm also too sensitive to make it through her tough outer shell to get to the soft waifu meat inside. However, she does have amazing wife material to uncover, so I think if I could be her second wife, we'd be golden.

Adrielle. We'd have our problems as two neurotic faux-normies, but we're neurotic in different ways, so maybe we'd complete each other? She's very conscientious and thoughtful, though, which are the most important wife traits for me. With commitment and therapy, we'd make it work, but it wouldn't be the smoothest ride.

Jaheira. I don't really want to be a step parent to young kids, so that pulls her down the list a bit, but there's no way I couldn't have her in the top 10. We'd get along great; we have the same sense of humor; we're both not clingy. A good match, but not really the wife for me.

Minthara. I want her so bad but she'd eat me alive and not in the sexy way. I would let her walk all over me for 2-3 years though, assuming she didn't dump me first. Impossible to rank below the top 10, but objectively not the wife for me.

Shadowheart. Like Lae'zel, there's a lot to get through before you get to the wife material deep inside. I would also need to be her second wife. Also, I'm not doing that cottagecore shit and I cannot have that many animals in my house.

Araj. I know I called her bad in bed 2 different ways in two other posts but that's not a problem, she's so sexy and interesting to me that I know I would fall super hard for her. I too love science? We have something in common. I feel like she'd bring out a lot in me, not necessarily good things, but to be loved is to be changed? I would probably come to my senses before really risking it all though.

Alfira. I love her so much but I am no Lakrissa, I could not handle both supporting her while she pursues her artistic goals AND having to top every time. We'd be that miserable couple that lets it drag on forever because nothing is *wrong* even though nothing is *right* and wind up hating each other.

Nine-Fingers. She'd stress me out too much. Running the streets, making enemies... what if a shake-down goes wrong? Admittedly I'm tempted to live out my mafia wife fantasies with her, but realistically, I think I'd have too many nervous breakdowns to make it worth it.

Karlach. The divorce would be so epic that I almost wanted to rank her higher, but I just know deep down that we would trigger/frustrate the fuck out of each other and completely implode long before making it to the courthouse and/or altar.

Aylin. I routinely get over-stimulated by my cats brushing against my leg when I'm trying to multi-task working and listening to music, so there is no universe in which I could tolerate being married to Aylin. She's too exuberant and touchy. I would be scream-crying WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME every time she simply asked me how my day was in her usual volume. An absolute disaster, she'd smother me despite her best intentions.

Z'rell. She can have place #17 to match the 17 husbands which I would not be okay with. I'm not jealous, but I'm not THAT not jealous. She's also just really harsh and I'm a crier, so we probably would not be able to have a conversation, let alone a relationship.

Roah Moonglow. Like Nine-Fingers, but I feel like the Zhent is like, a second-rate criminal organization and so it'd be like being a second-rate mafia wife. All the stress, fewer fist-sized emerald necklaces.

Mizora. On top of everything else, she's also a corporate LAWYER... yuck

Philomeen. I would go on 1 date with Philomeen, let her start a blowup fight with me outside of [regional burrito chain], let her neg me into fucking anyway, go no contact, and let her booty call me 2 years later at 3AM like nothing happened, but I would not even slightly consider dating her, let alone marrying her.

Orin. Ignoring the whole serial killer thing that's neither here nor there, the problem is the combo of overbearing family (my #1 dealbreaker of all time) and lack of communication skills (my #2 dealbreaker of all time). Like I'd be constantly trying to get her to go no contact with Serevok and she'd never listen and she'd always be talking in fucking Dr Seuss riddles and disappearing and pissing me off.

[foxaftershocks]

I don’t know if you write smut and this is my first time ever requesting it so I’m a bit shy about it but if you do could you maybe write a sequel to “A Chance Encounter” where Lars gets the ‘reward’ they were talking about lol.

Don't be shy about it. Smut is fun! I hope you enjoy what I wrote.

The walk home felt as if it went on for about a thousand years. You were so aware of his hands on you, brushing over the bare skin of your hand, resting on your hip, fingers tangling with yours. His gaze was heavy when they rested on you. Luxuriating in the feeling of his unhidden desire, you slowed your pace, wondering if the anticipation would only make the whole thing sweeter.

He took the keys from you, opening the door to your apartment. The door shut and the electricity that had been building reached a crescendo. He reached for you, bruised knuckles brushing the apple of your cheek. You didn’t even have to think twice, reaching up, fingers curling around the back of his neck.

“Are you sure you want your reward now, ghost boy?” you asked.

“I’ve earned it,” he replied, dipping his head towards you.

Clearly he was still heated, that first kiss full of fire. He wanted you, that much was clear. He pulled you closer, no build up, kissing you so deeply he stole your breath. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair, blond curls there for you to tug on.

He lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist. His hands on your body was always addictive, making your thoughts spiral. You loved when you were above him, leaning down to kiss him, used to being so much shorter in comparison.

Anticipation had been curling in your stomach the entire way home, the fierce look in his eye making heat melt through your veins. From the moment he’d thrown that punch, defending your honour, you’d wanted to get your hands on him and reward him for all you were worth.

He stumbled towards the couch, lips trailing down your neck. The little noise you made in the back of your throat only seemed to spur him on. He growled into your skin as he sat. Your knees fell either side of his hips, straddling his lap, feeling him beginning to harden beneath you.

Grinding down, his throaty groan was music to your ears. His hands slid up, pushing past the hem of your shirt, seeking out warm skin with calloused fingertips. Your lips were on his, tongues brushing together, exploring his mouth deeper as your hips rocked against him. He dragged his hands up, along your spine, taking moment after moment to make you shiver.

Your fingers tugged on his hair. Teeth nipped at your lower lip. Kissing Lars was one of the joys of your life. He always did it with enthusiasm and a thoroughness that came from his need to be perfect. Where he had been unsure at the beginning of your relationship, his confidence had grown when it came to making you melt.

Sliding your hands down, you were slow as you unbuttoned his shirt, tie loosened and flung to the side. Chasing each newly exposed bit of skin with your lips, he lent back, letting you map his skin with your lips. Tongue darting out, you tasted his skin, the salt and the warmth addictive. His fingers were tracing patterns on the skin of your back and his eyes were at half mast.

You pushed the shirt from his shoulders, his skin soft against your palms. Touching him felt like a privilege. You lent forward again, teeth closing around his earlobe, tugging on it. He groaned, soft in your ear, hands pressing into your spine to bring you closer. Your lips trailed down his neck again, finding where his pulse pounded against your kisses.

“Fuck, love,” tumbled from his lips.

You could feel his length pressing against you. You rocked against it, chasing friction for the throbbing between your legs. Pleasure was pooling and you wanted him in every way possible. But tonight wasn’t about you. It was his reward, not yours.

One large hand cupped your cheek, pulling you back into a kiss. Your hands were on his skin and you were rocking against him, wanting to feel all of him beneath you. Sucking your lower lip into his mouth, you moaned. His hips pressed up, finding your heat.

His fingers were fast as they tugged your shirt over your head, hands cupping your breasts. Your head fell back as played with your tits, fingers finding hardening nipples through your bra. He lent forward, tugging one cup down, lips closing over the hardened peak. The man had a smart mouth, his skill with it not kept purely to wicked words.

“Want this off,” he mumbled against your skin.

Hands reached around unhooking, giving him unfettered access to your breasts. His mouth was hot against you, sucking as one hand played with the other nipple. You were arching into him, offering yourself to him, wanting him to consume you. Your fingers were buried in his hair, urging him on as you moaned his name.

“Want you so fucking much,” he groaned.

He kissed across your chest, giving attention to the other nipple. Your hips were rocking again, grinding down on the hard length beneath you. He was moaning into your skin. You looked down, catching blue eyes already looking up at you. They were molten, simmering with heat, smouldering as he gave a harsh suck. The cocky bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you.

You loved it.

You dragged him back to you, kissing him, your tongue in his mouth and your moans muffled. His hands replaced his mouth, continuing to play with you, circling and squeezing and rolling your nipples. You wanted him closer.

You slipped off his lap, fingers reaching for his belt buckle. On knees, between his legs, you stroked his length through his trousers. His hips pressed up into your touch. Freeing him from his trousers, you took him in your hand, giving a slow stroke. Precum leaked from the tip.

The way he hissed your name as your thumb circled over the head was addictive. His fingers wound through your hair, half lid eyes watching you. You lent forward, tongue giving a small kitten lick to the tip, tasting the salt of him.

“Oh, fuck, love,” he groaned.

You looked up at him again, tongue dragging over your lower lip. You held his gaze for a moment, breathless anticipation hanging in the air. With deliberate movements, you licked him from root to tip. His hips jutted up towards you, a wordless plea for more.

Wrapping your lips around him, you were slow to take him in. His fingers tightened in your hair, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. Drawing back, tongue pressing against that spot under the head at drove him wild. His hips rose to meet you as you slid your lips down again, taking him as deeply as you could.

“Have I told you how perfect you are?” he asked, voice strained.

You hummed around him, watching the way his head fell back, fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you. Your cheeks hollowed, tongue teasing him. Worshipping him was the easiest thing in the world, and you could do it for hours on end if he let you. You were slow with him, taking your time, wanting him to feel every single moment of pleasure. It was his reward, after all. He should be able to enjoy all of it.

Touching him was one of the greatest pleasures in life. Warm skin beneath your palms, mouth working him, cupping and tugging and skimming fingertips until he was making those whining noises that were like a drug to you.

The fingers in your hair dragged you off him, pulling you up until you were back in his lap. Cheeks flushed and eyes dark, he kissed you until flames were consuming you and you were nothing but want. His hands ran down your spine, leaving your nerves lit up in their wake. His hands grasped your ass, pushing you against him until you hissed.

“This is your reward, ghost boy,” you said into his mouth.

“Don’t care,” he growled, “want you.”

You stood, long enough to strip your trousers from your legs, flinging them to one side. He shuffled his down his legs. Fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you closer again, right between his legs. You lent down, kissing him until your head turned dizzy.

“One moment.”

You stepped back, disappearing into the darkness of the bedroom. With the ghost of a memory, you picked your way across the room, rifling through the bedside drawer. Returning, you tossed the condom at him. He didn’t hesitate, tearing the packaging open. You took it from his hands, slow to roll it down his leaking erection, stroking over the hardened length until his hands had grabbed you, pulling you back onto his lap.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked as his lips trailed over your skin.

You huffed a soft chuckle, letting yourself arch into him, grinding unforgivingly against him, the hot throbbing between your legs driving you crazy. His hands kept stroking over your skin, touching you in every way you would allow and when he looked at you it was like he couldn’t believe you were there with him. That you were allowing him to have you. That somehow he’d gotten luckier than he ever could have believed he would be.

“Lars, please,” you begged, needing him inside you.

“Say it again,” he growled, pressing you more insistently against him.

“Please,” you whined.

He lifted you, lining himself up with your entrance. You pushed down, slow, taking him within you, an almost sob coming out with the relief of the feeling. You paused, adjusting to the feeling. His eyes caught yours, holding you there, lips kiss stung and eyes molten.

“You’re wonderful,” he praised, “you feel so good.”

In response you began to move, rising until he was barely in you before you lowered again. The soft groan that came from him was music to your ears. Doing it again, you lingered at the height of your movement. His fingers dug into your hips and pulled you down, his own hips rising to meet you.

“So good,” he groaned again.

You pace increased, watching the way his face changed. Pleasure rippled out and you felt the need to kiss him again. Biting down on the full lower lip that had been tempting you for so long, he gripped you harder.

“Can’t believe anyone would give this up,” he groaned, hands sliding around your body, cupping your breasts again. Thumbs flicking over hardened nipples before he began to roll them between thumb and forefinger.

“Lars,” you moaned, “fuck.”

Your head fell back, his name sweet on your tongue. He lent forward, sucking one into his mouth as you continued to bounce on his cock.

“Never going to let you go,” he mumbled into your skin, “mine. All mine.”

You dragged him back into a kiss, muffling your moans into his mouth. You could feel it, when he began to get close, the way his body began to tighten beneath you. One hand travelled down your body, dipping between your legs. His finger drew tight circles over your clit as he continued to pound into you. Reaching further, deeper in you, over and over he hit that spot within you only he had ever been able to find.

You weren’t in control of your body any more, moving on instinct. Chasing your pleasure, desperate to give him his, it was nothing but rutting against him.

He came, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he tried to muffle himself, going rigid beneath you. You made a high keening noise, continuing to move against him. His fingers were still moving over the bundle of nerves between your thighs even as he began to catch his breath.

His name was long and drawn out as your own pleasure crashed into you. Your internal walls were clamping down on him, keeping him within you. The way you kissed him was sloppy, tongue and teeth and mumbled praise.

You slumped against him, face coming to rest against his neck. His hand was stroking along your spine, the other arm curled around your waist, keeping you in place. You placed slow kisses along the skin in front of you, pressing closer as the chill of the air began to penetrate the cloud of pleasure you’d found yourself in.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said.

His thumb brushed over the imprint of his teeth on your shoulder. You looked down at it.

“It was kinda hot,” you said, “you’ve marked me. Everyone will know I’m yours.”

“And are you?” He looked up into your face, emotionally open, almost vulnerable, “mine, that is.”

“I’m completely yours,” you said, sitting up properly again.

Cupping both of his cheeks, you forced him to continue to look at you. His lips ticked up into a small smile, and you found yourself smiling back at him.

“Of course I’m yours, ghost boy,” you said.

“And I’m yours,” he said, softening before your eyes.

The way you kissed him this time was sweeter, softer, full of so much more emotion.

“So, did you enjoy your reward, ghost boy?” you asked when you drew away.

“I don’t know,” he said, “you might have to try again.”

You shoved his shoulder but you were laughing and his eyes were twinkling.

“Asshole,” you laughed.

You wondered if maybe he liked the name calling because the way he looked at you was with reverence. Like you were something wonderful he’d caught in the circle of his arms. It made you soften, knowing how safe you were with him, how he wasn’t going to hurt you like your asshole ex had.

“You know I always enjoy it with you,” he said, catching your chin.

When he kissed you, you melted against him, knowing this time was so different because he was so different. He was so much better.

#lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield imagine #lars pinfield #anon #request

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

Hey, sorry to trouble you. Unsure of your time zone so i hope this is sent at a good time! (Sorry if it isn't!)

Could you maybe do something with Vox and a Reader who saves him from a surprise attack via a Sinner or Angel?

Kinda the Reader just like 'Oh sorry i got blood on you. Glad you're okay.' With Vox unsure if he wants this person under contact or to kiss them. Or do whatever go nuts!

(I have no idea what timezone I’m in tbh, I’m too lazy to check. As I’m posting this it is 10:50 AM where I live, if that helps anyone. No worries, though! I love answering all your asks and writing out posts based on your requests!)

“Walking downtown, avoiding the paparazzi…” Vox muttered to himself. He’d really done it this time. He was trying to avoid being out of the Vee tower for too long, but he’d taken a detour with almost no Voxtek cameras. Now he couldn’t teleport. It made him uneasy. “God fucking damnit…”

“Stop right there, bitch,” a sinner demon said, pointing a gun at him. Vox froze, but not out of fear. He was surprised first, that a sinner demon would try to hurt an Overlord. This one must be new, or arrogant. But as he looked at the gun, he couldn’t help the tidal wave of emotions that over came him, all memories of compromising situations- similar situations- he’d been in when he was alive. “That’s right, now… put your hands where I can see them.”

Vox absentmindedly complied, still partially reliving every single time he’d had a gun pointed at him before. Every wound he’d received, every bullet he’d had to fish out of his own flesh.

“Good, now-”

The sinner demon was cut off brutally. With an axe. To its neck. Its head came off with ease and you stood behind it, looking surprised. Vox’s eyes widened. Now he was vaguely afraid.

“Oh. I didn’t expect it to be so… fragile,” you said, nudging the corpse of the demon lightly. “Huh. Well, in any case…” you looked up to Vox, an apologetic look on your face. “Sorry about that. Did I get any blood on your suit? I can cover the expenses.”

“I… uh,” Vox was speechless. He’d just frozen up in front of a lowlife sinner demon and had been saved by another, who was now apologizing to him. What the fuck. Something had to be wrong with him, especially with these weird feelings he had in his chest. Felt all fluttery and stupid like butterflies. “My suit is fine. I narrowly avoided the splash zone, I think. Thank you for your offer.”

“Of course! Not a problem,” you said with a smile. Vox noticed you hadn’t stepped any closer to him, you’d kept your distance. But you’d put your axe away. You knew who he was and how dangerous he was, how defenseless you were in comparison, but you were still talking to him. Did you feel superior to him just because you’d saved him? No, that couldn’t be it… you seemed so… genuine. “Seedy part of town for a business man like yourself to be in. I’m guessing the paparazzi were a nightmare today?”

“Oh absolutely,” Vox said with a grin. He was quickly regaining his confident demeanor. “It was absolute torture at that interview! Ah, but don’t tell anyone I said that. It wouldn’t be good for my image. I’m sure you can keep a secret,” he said, linking his arm in yours and walking with you. This was a test.

“Definitely,” you said, with a small laugh. “It’d be far more embarrassing for me, anyway. I mean, the fact I interrupted your walk through town? With murder, no less! That was quite rude of me.” You smiled, carefree and lighthearted as he walked you away. You didn’t even know where he was taking you, but you were still so upbeat. “No worries. If you don’t tell anyone about that little incident back there, I won’t say a word about your occasional distaste for public attention.”

“Wonderful! Sounds like a deal, then,” Vox said, looking down at you. He was pleased with how this whole thing had gone. You hadn’t even seen him as weak for freezing up in front of that other sinner demon! You probably thought he was annoyed or planning to kill the demon himself. His image was safe, you didn’t suspect a thing. You had no idea how vulnerable he’d been in the moment back there. “Say, how about we make another, more official deal? Something with some actual benefits.”

“Really?” You asked, looking surprised. “I mean, I don’t have much to offer. We only just met and-”

“And you’ve piqued my interest, dear,” he said with a smile. He held your arm tighter, more protectively. Whether you agreed to anything or not, he’d be keeping you around. “I have a feeling we’ll get to know each other very well.”

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #reader insert #thanks anon!

[indieyuugure]

Hey Indie, so I have a question. What are your thoughts on mutant mayhem or the bayverse movies?

I think Mutant Mayhem is incredibly good, while the Bayverse movies are contently mediocre.

Like, don’t get me wrong, the bayverse movies were pretty good (the second more so than the first), but I think in comparison to Mutant Mayhem which is—in my opinion—a masterpiece, the bayverse movies are just pretty good. Like “Not Bad but Not Mind-Blowing” if that makes any sense.

Mutant Mayhem has a well written plot, it’s captivating and makes sense. The characters in it are also well written, hilarious and consistently in character. I love the artistic style of the movie, it looks sketchy and messy, and the animation is smooth yet choppy in all the right ways. The way the dialogue is done too really adds so much life to the movie, it feels very real and in many cases is recorded banter of the voice actors. I think because of the 2D animation medium they chose, the sky was the limit and they took full advantage of it.

The first Bayverse movie isn’t really as good as the second which I felt was better, but I’ll try to judge their vibes as a whole. I think the plots often think they’re more clever than they are, but are not bad per se, like I’d say as far as action movies go it’s probably average. I actually think they did a really good job on the CGI and designs of the turtles. I know many people say the designs are creepy and a bit disturbing, but I think the thing is that the turtles are supposed to look that way. In the cartoons fans always are like “How could you scream at this??” Not realizing the kids animation stylization filter on the world. So yeah, I think that was extremely well done. April and Casey are kinda cringe, but Shredder and Krang are pretty cool. I’d say for being a live action movie of TMNT, it didn’t do too bad.

Hope that’s what you wanted, lol 😂

Good question! :]

#tmnt #q&a #Mutant mayhem #tmnt bayverse