#obviously not everyone is like that and sure you can argue that only a handful are like that but like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cheshirebitch · 3 months

Text

Alastor x Reader

𝔸𝕞 𝕀 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥? pt 2

( part 1 here ) ( part 3 here )

Husk was the first to notice me, since we both thought I was going to die.

“Oh (Y/n) you son of a bitch!” Angel grabbed me tightly into a hug, squeezing the air out of my lungs. Charlie ran up with Vaggie tailing her.

“How did you do it?” Vaggie and Charlie asked at the same time. Husk looked over and barked out, “How did she do what? Because she saved him and she also somehow saved herself from Boss Man’s wrath.” He took a swig of his drink, eyeing me suspiciously. I knew he was going to pamper me with a million questions later.

“Well, I just offered Vox information that sounded valuable in a state of dire quick thinking. Sure, he can be smart, but not on the spot. It was simply a trick play of environment and temptation.” After all, isn’t that what I’m good at?

“What was the info you gave?” Curiosity got the best of Angel. I smiled before pressing a finger to my lips.

“Can’t spill. Even if I wanted to.” A red magic spread across my face where it looked like my mouth was sewed shut. Angel recognized it from when he saw my chains appear before.

“Oh doll…” Pity. A look of pity is all I received and it made my chest tighten. My eyes scanned quickly over everyone. Everyone had the look of pity. I wiped the magic off before laughing dryly. “I have my ways around it obviously.” I waved them off. I don’t need their pity. I chose this. I just regret it lately. Alastor wasn’t always this closed off, at least not to me. We used to share almost everything. It was us against the world until he left me alone in it, twice.

“So, I take it we pissed off the Vee’s?” Vaggie stated as she looked at me and Charlie. She was holding up her phone that had Velvette’s recent social media post explicitly saying that Hell was about to freeze over.

“Well, it did give us the chance to actually redeem Angel Dust.”

“Everything comes with a price though, Charlie.” I alluded to what was to come. The battles I can see happening here in the future are enough to worry me on what’s to come. The future is so unsettled on what can happen right now that I can only see small things and not the big picture. I felt a tightness in my chest again.

“Stand straight darling.” Alastor smoothly spoke behind me as he pushed his hand against the small of my back and drifted up to make my spine straighten. I hate how he only gets on my case about that when Husk literally has a hunch back at this point. Deep breaths (Y/n). Deep breaths.

“Thanks sir.” I said through gritted teeth. Alastor flinched slightly at how I called him sir and how tightly I said it. He looked at me as if asking with his eyes, What is your problem? I couldn’t help but shift my jaw tighter. I squinted my eyes, You’re the problem dick. He clenched his jaw as well and pressed his hand harder into the small of my back, any harder and he would be pushing me. Somehow though, I noticed how his presence made the tightness in my chest go away. Despite the fact we were arguing through our eyes. Charlie turned towards Alastor, dragging our conversation to a quick halt.

“What should we do in preparation?” She was mostly looking at me and not Alastor which made my once annoyed face into a smug one. They are looking towards me for leadership now. I warned you Al, don’t play with fire. After all, you are the reason I’m down in this mess anyway.

“We need to cover all our bases and make it seem like we aren’t even worried about whatever they are doing, and continue business as normal. Alastor and I will cover the rest. Just watch each other and don’t leave without a partner for a little while.” He seemed to relish in the fact I still sounded like I needed him. I can’t help but feel like he loves that feeling, even if he left me and still won’t tell me anything anymore.

After spilling plans with Charlie and the team on what our next moves should be, I dismissed myself towards a separate room. I know he can feel the slight anger during our whole interaction because he swiftly follows me.

“Yes, Alastor?” He smiled wider with his stupid half lidded eyes. But my god do I always melt- stop it. You’re mad, remember? How could he keep playing with your feelings? It's like these seven years took everything we built between each other and ripped it to shreds as if we were never anything. Were we though?

“Inner battles dear?” I wish he would let that cheesy smile slip once or at least make it look sincere again.

“You tell me. You’re the one who kicked me out of my own room.” He hummed playfully as I scrunched my face in anger.

“Well, since you’re my pet, it’s also my room.” That cocky motherf-

“We need to talk, Alastor. I want to begin the negotiation of my contract coming up soon.” A slip, his eyes screamed worry but then it was gone. Bingo.

“Renewing it again? We both know you will.” My smile matched his which unnerved him slightly.

“Remind me why again. If I remember correctly, you abandoned me for seven years, won’t talk to me anymore, and have been acting weird lately. You aren’t the Alastor I signed my soul away to.” I seethed. He was holding his jaw so tight I thought he was about to crack his teeth. I leaned closer, almost on my tippy toes to get in his face, his head looked down at me. I saw a glimpse of those eyes he used to give me. The eyes he would stare at me with while I listened to him talk for hours. Then they were replaced with a slight hurt. He opened his mouth, his smile quivering as he thought of the right words.

“There you are! Nifty got stuck in the toilet again, can you help us get her out?” Charlie spoke loudly. Everything I was about to get, all the answers, just…

…gone.

The feeling of overwhelming… EVERYTHING. I wanted to yell at Charlie.

Why can’t you just wait? Fuck Charlie, you just ruined everything.

Alastor quickly fixed all the vulnerabilities he had and proclaimed, “Well of course! What type of help would I be around here if I didn’t?” I watched him walk away with Charlie, a hurt look that he caught when he glanced back.

His smile faltered quick enough for me to see it. His eyes glanced at Charlie as if trying to tell me something before he fixed his behavior and carried on as normal with her when she looked back at him. They swiftly walked out as I was left in the entertainment room.

Alastor, what did you do?

Husk was at the bar cleaning glasses from Angel and Cherri Bomb’s celebration. Swirling around my drink, wishing I didn’t drink as much as I did. I will hand it to Angel and Cherri for having such a persuasive way with drinking. My hair was slightly messy, my normal pantsuit switched out to my comfy clothes, and my eyes looked tired.

“You finally going to admit you had too much yet?” Husk chuckled out. I chuckled back before I sipped the rest of my drink down quickly. The glass hitting the counter answered Husk instead, and the sound of it sliding down to him as I smiled at him.

“Nope.” I taunted back. He shook his head, pouring more into my cup, and gently sat in front of me. I stared at it for a little while before Husk sighed and piped up, “Penny for your thoughts?” He knew I loved it when he said the sayings I normally do. Made me feel like we really are real friends, despite the situation we are both in.

“Well, I think I have a theory on what has Alastor… different.” I was careful with my choice of words as Husk eyed me. He knew I was never going to let this new Alastor last long. I mean Husk even was starting to get treated more like a dog rather than someone who helps Alastor with a slight rough friendship. Hard to believe we were all friends once.

“Continue?” Husk poured himself a matching drink as he watched me intensely. This isn’t something I would bring out loud unless I had some sort of evidence pointing towards it. I shuffled my hands around before stealing a quick sip of my drink.

“I think Alastor made a deal he regrets but can’t talk about.”

(Part 3...?)

(Lore buildingggg I promise next update will have one question answered. Can you guess which one? As always all characters and world belongs to the respected owners <3 story belongs to me. Tagged who I could! Thank you for loving the first one!)

(Should I add the songs that inspire the writing?)

TAG LIST: @immortal-ries @kat-nee @shybananabagellover @tiedyedghoulette @alyslovesflowers @seven709 @vixie--21 @montis-posts @trashbin-nie @sh3sa1dwhat @for-hearthand-home @funtimefreddynaofficial @jyoongim @eviebuggg

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

650 notes · View notes

mournings-stars · 1 month

Note

Hey !!

How about writing romantic head-cannons with the hazbin hotel cast where the reader (could be AFAB) and has catlike features but also has a cat like personality?? (Like the reader is grumpy , tired , always frowning etc)

Obviously take your time , but hopefully this request will reach you well :33

catlike!reader x hazbin cast

anon u literally read my mind i was just sitting down to write something like this so i got u (charlie and vaggie can go together but i made them separate) also im including angel so reader is not fem but they can still be afab if u want — also also, i only included the actual hotel cast, so if you want more characters lmk!!

charlie

you know those cats that hate everyone except one person, that would be you with charlie

charlie won’t bother you or pester you about waking up for activities because you’ll just come when you can, and once you do you’re very engaged (only because it’s her)

as soon as you lie across her lap she makes sure she does not move 1. because you’re warm and she loves cuddling with you and 2. because if you got up and made a face at her before going to sit somewhere else she’d be devastated

she knows just where to scratch, massage, and pet you to get you to fall asleep or relax — she’s put very special attention into memorizing these things and literally everything else about you

vaggie

you can be grumpy together (mostly with alastor, she values your grumpy support when it comes to the radio demon)

vaggie loves to cuddle — if you come to sit behind her legs or between them she could stay like that for hours or just fall asleep

you tend to sleep in with her, 1. because she, like charlie, would rather be still for hours than have you grumpy and moving away from her, and 2. she could use some relaxing time with you before having to work

she can’t keep up with your naps, but she will pause what she’s doing to give you a little kiss on the forehead so she can snap a picture of you stretching and curling back up

husker

husk is already a little cat like (he’s literally a cat) so yall either get along great or you’re arguing all the time then sleep together (yk those cats that are hissing and growling and shit then cuddle while they sleep… yeah)

he lets you sit on the bar, but only because if he told you to get down you’d start knocking things off the counter “accidentally”

whenever he sits on the couch, if you’re not already asleep, you’re quick to sit next to him and lie on his lap. he might grumble a little, but he’s definitely running his hands over your hair and listening to you pur as you fall sleep

loves bedtime — as soon as you’re in either of your rooms, the first thing you’re doing is cuddling up and he might not admit it to anyone, but it’s his favorite part of the day

alastor

you know those cats that, no matter how much you move, they just won’t get off of you? thats you with al

he reluctantly lets you lie on him, but in the same way he lets niffty climb all over him, he’s not going to stop you. especially because he doesn’t mind how warm you are. not that he’d say it, but he does find you lying on him very comfortable after a long day and will definitely use it as an excuse as to why he can’t get up to do whatever someone is asking for

“can’t you see i’m needed elsewhere?” “i’m very busy at the moment!” and he’s just drinking coffee, reading the paper, and sitting with your head on his lap

when you’re alone, he’ll tell you that you’re welcome to lie on his lap “if you truly need to rest”

don’t get grumpy with him though, he’ll get up every time you come to sit with him

angel dust

don’t put it past him, he will carry you around if you’ve been lying on him and he needs to get up because 1. there’s no way he’s waking you up and 2. he’s not about to have you be grumpy that he moved (though there is a chance you’ll be grumpy that he moved you, but at least you’re still warm)

loves cuddling, but his favorite thing is making you purr by massaging your ears out scratching your head while you’re lying on him — and he absolutely loves when you lie on him

yes sitting on the couch is nice, but once he’s lying in his room and you come in and lie on his chest, he’s the happiest he’s ever been. especially after a long day at the studio

if he has to leave while you’re asleep, he’ll leave you food that probably won’t get eating until he comes back and wakes you up by moving your cushion slightly, making you all pouty — which he finds absolutely adorable

he can’t take any pouty/frowning/grumpiness from your seriously when it’s so adorable

sir pentious

you definitely have a bit of similarities when it comes to finding warm spots to relax in, and that probably led to you relaxing together because you refused to move, and he needed to be warm (that’s when he found out he actually enjoyed your company)

as quickly as he let’s you into his workspace, he kicks you out because you just keep knocking shit over, but then he let’s you back in cause you’ll just sit outside the door and sneak back in when he leaves momentarily

once he figures out how to get something warm in his workspace that you’ll just sleep on, he’s happy to have you there. especially because he finds you adorable

he probably stops working to sit with you, or kiss your head, or just wake you up because he does kind of miss you knocking things over even though he can’t stand it

517 notes · View notes

berry-potchy · 9 months

Text

Indulge Me

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader Rating: Explicit (18+ only please) Word Count: 7,072 Summary: You're a Spiderwoman who has ended up pinned underneath Miguel O'Hara in his lab one too many times. You're not sure what you are to him or what to call your relationship. And that would've been fine until your neediness kicked in and made you catch feelings. Surely, Miguel taking you to his room for the first time means something right? In which your lack of understanding of Spanish and denial of the hints Miguel drops are keeping you from realizing you already have what you want. Tags/warnings: pwp, p in v sex, rough sex, praise + light degradation, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, face sitting/riding, breeding kink, soft dom!Miguel, needy reader, recording, mirror sex adjacent, implied chubby reader, undefined relationship but soft feelings sprinkled in there as a treat, no use of y/n so lots of Spanish nicknames to make up for it, reader does not understand Spanish, brief sexy use of spider webs A/N: this is quite literally just a self-indulgent fic with most of my favorite Miguel x reader flavors. Not beta read but I hope you still enjoy it! (Translations are the end!)

Also on AO3

Edit: turns out some parts got messed up while I was posting here on Tumblr D: it's fine on AO3 though which is weird because I copied from this post instead of my doc because this has the correct spacing. Everything should be fixed now.

•🕷️────✧˖°˖🕸️˖°˖✧────🕷️•

Miguel has you standing in front of him between his parted legs as he sits on the edge of his bed. Even in this position, you were barely any much taller than him, only needing to tilt your head a bit to meet his red eyes. He looks at you from your face, down to the swell of your breast where his eyes are joined by a taloned finger on its journey downwards. You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the sharp talon cuts through your spandex suit, fully exposing your soft chest to the cold air of his quarters. He would argue that the stretchy translucent mesh with a spiderweb lace design on your chest area didn’t do shit to cover the fullness of your tits anyway so he didn't understand why you even bothered with it. It was for style obviously but riling up Miguel O’Hara was a great bonus. You let out a shaky breath as he continued further down until he stopped right below your navel.

“Que linda,” he says in that low sexy voice of his, very different from the usual grumpy tone he uses to chastise you. He snakes his arms around your hips, bringing you closer to him and his hands find your plush bottom, giving them a rough squeeze. You are getting so worked up by how much attention you are getting from your usually sulky boss. Your heaving chest is right in front of Miguel’s face and his lustful gaze almost feels like it is burning you. The heat spreads from your chest downwards until it pools in the pit of your stomach and between your legs.

“You ruined my suit,” you pout, not really that upset about it. You think it was hot honestly but you just want to tease him “Am I supposed to go on missions with my whole chest out now? Walk around the HQ flashing everyone?”

“Of course not,” he says, rolling his eyes. He continues to take in your figure, hands gently kneading soft flesh on your sides “I’m making you a new suit. Should be done very soon. It'll be the same design but it will offer far more protection than this flimsy thing.”

“Making me a suit just like yours? What so you can control it hm? Deactivate it whenever you want to fuck me?” You laugh, wiping the imaginary tear in your eye until you realize Miguel is silent and looks like he’s been caught red-handed. You lightly slap him on his arm, flustered. “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

Instead of answering you, he brings his head forward to close his lips on a clothed nipple, his tongue flicking the sensitive erect bud. Your mouth opens as you let out a soft gasp at the sensation and you can feel the corner of Miguel’s lips twitch into a slight smirk. He teases your nipple alternating between flicking it with the tip of his tongue and giving it an audible suck. He pulls away for a split second only to give the same attention to your other nipple. You weave your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to your tits. Your other hand is holding onto his shoulder for support as you urge him to keep going with your whimpers. His hands haven’t stopped exploring your body. His wide hands warm against your hips, ass, thighs, everywhere he can touch, squeezing your softness, committing every curve to memory.

“Migueeeel,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together to try to relieve the ache between your legs. You appreciate the attention to your nipples but your cunt was throbbing with need. You are so close to ripping the rest of your suit and panties off because the way the fabric is sticking to your wet pussy is becoming too uncomfortable.

“Miguel what, muñeca?” He pulls away, licking his lips. Those red eyes are now looking straight into yours and you feel yourself shiver. You try to look away but Miguel grabs your chin to keep you facing him. “Eyes on me. What do you want? Use your words.”

“Please,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment but Miguel just raised an eyebrow at you, unamused. “Stop teasing please.”

“Ah I see okay,” he says, taking his hands off you before standing up and walking to his closet.

“W-wait what are you doing?” you almost trip on your feet, knees feeling weak, as you chase after him. You grab his arm, tugging at it to get his attention as you pathetically look up at him.

“You said stop teasing so I’m getting you a shirt so you can go back to your world and get some rest,” he says as he looks through the neatly folded shirts in his closet. He’s stalling, pretending he was trying to choose one but he’s messing with you. There is no way he would let you go home tonight without getting at least a couple of orgasms wrung out of you. You aren’t leaving until he made sure you were stuffed full and dripping with his cum. You aren’t leaving tonight. Period. He knew you were too far gone with lust to figure that out yourself.

“Miggy, that’s not what I meant please,” you sob, pressing your body against him. Just the thought of being left unsatisfied was painful. “Please, Miggy, I need your mouth. And your cock please”

He finally looks at you and pulls you closer to him by your waist. You run your hands along his still clothed chest, feeling his heart beating with yours. You look up at him with glassy eyes, begging him to finish what he started. He coos at how desperate you were for release.

“You want my mouth and my cock?” he hums, still teasing. He easily lifts you up with one arm supporting your ass to carry you back to his bed. He’s carried you multiple times before but it never ceases to amaze you how he does it so effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, hips bucking trying to get some friction against your still unfortunately clothed cunt. “Where do you want them, muñeca? You have to be more specific. Which one do you want first?”

“On my pussy, please. I need your mouth on my pussy. Miggy, I wanna cum on your face” you sobbed against his neck “And then- and then I want you to fuck me. I want you to fill me up with your cock. Only you can fill me up so good, Miggy. I need it.”

“Good girl,” he whispers right next to your ear, making you shudder “Now, was that so hard to do? Was it hard to tell me what you wanted?”

“Yes!” you bite his shoulder and you feel satisfaction when you hear him break character and snort. He shakes his head, smiling fondly while he sets you down on the bed.

"Qué voy a hacer contigo?" he brings his lips to your temple to whisper more softly "Qué haría sin ti?"

Your heart skips a beat at the gentleness of his tone. You’re not sure what he said but the genuine affection is evident. Intimate moments like this with Miguel are slowly becoming more and more frequent and you decide that you don’t mind it. You even crave it now. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you lean further toward him.

He pulls away but the fond look on his face doesn’t waver. He slaps your thigh, making the soft fat jiggle just how he likes it, as he moves to get settled in his bed.

“Put those lovely hips and thighs to use and ride my face, conejita.” He lies down, anticipating, patting his chest to encourage you to sit down.

You didn't need to be told twice. You rip off the rest of your suit, your heated skin meeting the cold air of his room making your nipples pebble painfully. You quickly take off your panties and toss them aside with your ruined suit. You squeal as you scramble to get on top of him. You position yourself on top of his waiting mouth, straddling his face but just hovering over his face, hands on the headboard to keep yourself steady. The smell of your arousal is almost too much for Miguel to bear at this proximity. The urge to lock you in his room for the next few days and not let you out until you’re thoroughly fucked and bred is getting hard to ignore. His fangs extend as his animalistic urges surface, yearning to bite you and mark you as his.

“Are you trying to tease me now? How can you ride my face if you don’t sit?” Miguel’s tone is deeper than it was just a second ago. There’s a certain roughness to it, a growl in his voice that makes your hole clench around nothing. He grips your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, waiting for you to sit down or he’ll make you. He’s trying to be patient, turning his head a little to mouth at the fat of your inner thigh. He licks a stray trail of your slick up your thigh, stopping just a breath away from where you both want his mouth to be. You feel him sigh, savoring your taste like he just drank the finest nectar, a promise of what’s to come.

“But Miguel–” you yelp when he suddenly pulls you down by your thighs and you immediately feel his tongue lapping at your aching cunt, his nose bumping deliciously against your swollen clit. He wasn’t going to hear your excuses. The only things he wants to hear coming out of your pretty lips are your moans and whines for more. The way Miguel is sucking and devouring your wetness so eagerly makes your head spin and your grip on the headboard tighten to steady yourself for a moment. He teases your hole, licking around the small opening before plunging in as far as he can, feeling you clench around his tongue. He grows impatient at your lack of movement and starts rocking you back and forth on his face by himself. He flattens his tongue for you to grind your pretty folds onto.

“Miggy, feels so good,” you whine, bending over to look at him from under you. He’s so pretty like this, forehead scrunched up from how focused he is eating you out, and when you get a peak of his nose and his cheeks, they’re shiny from being soaked by a combination of your wetness and his own spit. You take one of your shaking hands off the headboard to brush the hair away from Miguel’s forehead only for him to guide your hand into a fist, grabbing his hair, urging you to use it as leverage to ride his face harder. And who are you to say no to that?

You move your hips to try to match the pace he set for you, your thighs burn but you pay it no mind. Not when you feel that familiar delicious knot forming in your core. Your head lolls to the side and your eyes screwed shut as you immerse in the pleasure, grinding your cunt harder on Miguel’s tongue, nose, chin, anywhere you can get some friction, getting desperate to reach your orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum, Miggy. Gonn’ cum on your face” you whimper. You take your hand off the headboard and bring it to your tits, squeezing them, pinching at rubbing circles on your pebbled nipples. Miguel doesn’t stop lapping hungrily at your pussy, shaking his head from side to side as much as your grip on his hair allows. He groans as he watches in awe as you chase your own pleasure.

So close.

You’re so close you swear you can almost taste it.

Miguel could tell from how your hips stuttered and your pace growing frantic, rougher. He gives your clit another suck and that finally pushes you over the edge.

You feel the sweet release consume you like wildfire, your body tensing, back arching, toes curling. You can’t even hear yourself scream Miguel’s name, curling into yourself as he continues to suck on your oversensitive, pulsating clit. His hands held your shaking thighs steady, not letting you close them. It’s all too much.

“Miggyyy,” you sob pathetically, pawing at his head and his grip on you. You finally manage to pry an eye open only to see him watching you intently “Too much. I can’t-”

He doesn’t stop. He continues to lick stripes at your puffy folds and flick the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue albeit slower this time. He takes one of his hands away from your thigh and plunges two of his thick fingers knuckle deep inside your needy hole. He manages to find your sweet cushiony spot and puts enough pressure on it to make you see stars. That burning hot coil is back just mere seconds after your climax and if you could think at that moment, you’d think it’s unfair how he seems to know your body too well, knows just where to touch to make you unravel.

He adds another finger into your cunt, stretching you out for his cock, curling them inside you, and hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You know that it’s not enough, that it’s nothing compared to what’s coming for you. No matter how much prep you do it's going to be a tight fit and you can’t wait to be stretched to your limits once more. You stop fighting him, needing to chase after your orgasm, grinding your clit again on his tongue as he pumps his fingers in and out of your slutty hole.

Soon enough, you feel your second orgasm wash over you. You spill over his face, making a mess on his pillows and bedsheets. Your limbs go numb and this time you can’t even form words, just sobbing, babbling nonsense as your body shakes on top of Miguel. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn't for Miguel supporting your back with his free hand. You frantically tap his hand as you hiccup a pathetic “no more.”

Miguel relents and lets you catch your breath for a second. He kisses your puffy cunt one more time before moving you to lie on your back on the bed. He lifts your head to turn over the soiled pillow and fluff it up before getting you settled comfortably. You watch as he catches the dripping wetness from his chin with his equally soaked fingers and sticks them into his mouth, eyes rolling back and moaning at your sweet taste. You feel your cunt throb at the lewd action and you can’t help but let out a needy whimper from the back of your throat. It’s so unfair how much he affects you.

“Ay, pobrecita,” he coos at your flushed face with fat tears running down your cheeks as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and settles between your parted legs. “too much for mi conejita to handle? I know you can take more. Your pussy is so slutty, isn’t she? So needy. I doubt two orgasms is enough.”

He cups your face with one hand, thumb wiping away a tear on your cheek, his other hand brushing your hair away from your face, knowing how much you hate the feeling of it sticking to your skin. Your lower lip is jutting out in an adorable pout that he can’t help but kiss, catching your lip between his teeth. You scrunch up your nose and push his face away as you try to steady your breath.

You can see his naked chest rise and fall faster than usual, his mouth open to catch his own breath. You didn’t even notice when he disabled his suit but your eyes are thankful as you drink in the sight of his warm brown skin, stretching across the expanse of his unfairly defined body. He looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, taking extra care to give him the most perfect proportions. How lucky are you to see this masterpiece up close? It would be a sin to not enjoy the view.

Your eyes trail down from his strong broad shoulders to his massive tits, and even further down to see his cock standing up proudly against his navel, the head dripping beads of precum and smearing it against his abs. Pride blooms in your chest as you realize that he’s just as affected as you are.

Your throat suddenly feels so empty. You lick your lips as you tear your eyes off his cock to look up at his face only to find his hungry gaze meeting yours. His eyes glint with danger as he takes in the sight of you in your post-orgasm haze, seemingly plotting his next move.

You didn’t have to wait long because, of course, he can’t keep his hands away from you.

He moves closer, making you spread your legs further. His hands grab at the back of your thighs to push them towards your torso, your knees almost touching your chest. Your dripping cunt twitches as it’s exposed to the cold air. Your hole clenching on nothing, begging to be filled.

“Que rico. Podría acostumbrarme a esto,” he says, his voice deep and rough with lust as his hands rub up and down your thighs, squeezing, feeling you. He drinks up the sight of you, so bare and exposed, all for him to take. “I could watch you like this all day. Maybe take a video of you right now so I can watch your pretty cunt pulsing, crying for me, anytime I want. Or…”

He takes his cock in one hand, running his thumb on the swollen tip to spread the beads of precum around, pumping his shaft with a few languid strokes. You yelp when he slaps his thick, heavy cock against your puffy folds.

“I could tie you up like this and keep you here for my own pleasure.” He starts moving his hips at a torturously slow pace, sliding his length along your wet folds, getting it lubricated by your own slick. He brings his hands back to your thighs and pushes them even further until you’re practically folded in half. “Keep you here to breed. Fill you up with so much cum and you’ll stay like this so it will surely take, yeah?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miggy” you hiss as the tip of his cock keeps bumping into your throbbing clit “What’s stopping you from doing so huh? You have your web and your little surveillance bots. Put them to good use.”

“Of course, you’d love that, my pretty little slut,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he lines up the tip of his cock with your hole. Your eyelids flutter as you hold your breath in anticipation, waiting for that delicious stretch of being filled by his massive cock.

“Eyes on me, cariño,” he commands and you obey, looking up at him from under your lashes “That’s it, good girl.”

He starts to slowly press his cock into your greedy hole. Inch by inch, he sinks in, knocking the air out of your lungs. Midway, maybe, you can’t tell, there’s just so much of him, you start to feel a little faint, your shoulders tense and your mouth stuck hanging open. You feel so full of him, almost like he’s going to split you apart.

“Breathe for me,” he coos as he slowly presses more of him into you, filling you up more than what should be possible. He drapes your legs over his shoulders, his chest pressing against the back of your thighs as he uses his now free hands to cradle your face. You suck in a breath as he instructed and try to even out your breathing. “There you go. Keep breathing. Relax for me. Thaaat’s it. My sweet girl. So good for me.”

You preen at his words, warmth flooding your chest and going straight down to your pussy. His hands stay on your cheeks, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin as he pushes the last few inches in. You put your hands on top of his as you lean into his touch. He starts to grind his hips slowly, gently, getting you used to his size. The coarse dark curls at the base of his cock tickle your sensitive clit and the head of his cock softly probing at your cervix makes you roll your eyes back and whimper from the fullness.

“Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me haces, cariño,” he leans in to capture your lips into a deep kiss. Soft and gentle until both of you wanted more. One of his hands finds the back of your neck to tilt your head as he pleases as he tries to devour you. His tongue licks into your mouth and his fangs graze your lips with every movement. You hum against his lips as you feel him start to pull his hips back, letting his dick slide halfway out before snapping his hips forward to plunge himself back inside, his balls lewdly smacking against your ass. And he keeps doing it over, and over again making you moan oh so wantonly.

“Estás tan rica. Estás hecha para mí, mi amor,” he whispers against your lips. The breathlessness and the hint of desperation for release in his voice make you shiver. His pace picks up, thrusts growing rougher with it. The wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you and skin slapping against skin echo around his room. The only other sounds you can hear are your combined sounds of pleasure, calling out each other’s names.

You pull on the hand that Miguel has on your cheek to lace your fingers together, his large hand easily dwarfing yours, his talons folded back to not hurt you. Your other hand slips between your bodies, travelling downwards to feel where you two are connected. There’s a deep rumble coming from Miguel’s chest and he presses your sweaty foreheads together, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. Your tight heat is milking his cock so perfectly and at this rate, he’s not going to last long.

“Miggy,” you whine, keeping your eyes on his. His irises seem a little more brown as he looks at you so tenderly, making you feel like you are going to melt into a puddle of goo. He brings your joined hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles and you think you really just might turn into goo.

His thrusts get messier and more frantic You feel the familiar coil building up in your stomach. You lift your hand from between your legs to press firmly against the area below your navel and the sensation is electrifying. You can feel his cock pistoning in and out of you from where you are touching. You can feel him rearranging your insides, molding your pussy to accommodate him and only him, ruining you for anyone else.

“Mi niña hermosa, mi niña linda. Mía. Toda mía.” he moans into your ear, almost whiney and you know he’s near the edge. He starts peppering kisses on your neck, licking, sucking, grazing the sensitive skin with his fangs but not sinking them in yet. He takes the hand you aren’t holding to rest on your hand on your lower stomach. His thumb reaches further down to stroke your clit earning him a shaky whine from you.

“Cum for me again, hermosa,” he lifts his head to look at your flushed face. You’re sure you look like a mess but to him, you’re more beautiful than the brightest twinkling stars on a clear night sky. “Let me see your pretty face when you cum.”

And with that, you’re gone, pushed over the edge, screaming his name, squirting clear liquid up to his chest. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your hold on his hand tightens, and your legs on his shoulders shake and flail from another intense orgasm. There’s ringing in your ears but you faintly hear him cooing at you, whispering sweet words you can’t quite understand.

Miguel is still fucking into you with messy, frantic thrusts and ragged breaths but it doesn’t take long for him to follow, not when your velvety walls are pulsing, contracting on his dick. He puts a large hand on the space beside your head for support, his claws tearing through the pillowcase, as he drives his hips into yours a few more times before spilling inside you with a deep growl. He paints your insides with his cum as he rides his high with a few more shallow thrusts. You clench around him trying to squeeze as much cum out of him with your tight hole and he whimpers your name.

Both of you pant in unison, trying to catch your breath after that life-altering orgasm together. You turn your head to the side to kiss the inside of Miguel's wrist next to your head. Miguel doesn’t want to move. Everything is too perfect at that moment. You’re perfect.

But he has more plans for you tonight.

He takes your legs off his shoulders to wrap around his waist as he adjusts the both of you so he can lay down comfortably on top of you, putting most of his weight on his elbows on the bed. His dick still plugged in your hole, keeping his seed inside and refusing to part with your tight heat.

“Miggy,” you softly call him, looking at his relaxed face resting on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“Hm?”

“... pull out.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Fine, but only because I want to,” he grumbles, clearly not wanting to pull out. He gets on his knees again so he can at least watch your sloppy hole fluttering as he slowly pulls out. A thick milky ring of your combined fluid sits at the base of his cock. His eyes darken as he sees your cunt trying to clench at air and his cum starts to drip out of you. He can’t have that. He collects the trail of cum with his fingers so he can stuff them back inside of you.

“Miggy, come back here,” you pull at his hand and when he doesn’t budge, you add “You can just cum inside me more later. I need cuddles.”

That gets him to leave your fucked out hole alone. For now. Miguel kisses your stomach up to the valley between your breasts to your neck and lingers on your lips. He goes back to his earlier position on top of you. You drape your arms around his neck as you hum in contentment against the kiss. He smiles and moves to mouth at your sensitive neck, planting soft kisses, licking and sucking as he moans and pants in your ear.

“Miggy, I’m sleepy now,” you turn to look at him. You know what he’s doing. You know that he’s trying to turn you on again. And it’s working.

“You can do one more, mami. One more for me,” he says. He’s almost pouting, almost begging “You said I can cum in you again.”

“I didn’t mean right away. I just came three times already” you whined wrapping your arms around his broad chest. you want to feel him close.

“Mmm, you can cum four times. Maybe more because you’re such a needy little whore,” he murmurs into your neck, not stopping his ministrations. “My cum slut who loves being bred. We’re not going to end the night without your tummy full of cum I promise you that, cariño.”

You roll your eyes at him but you don't push him away and instead start playing with the short curly hairs at the back of his neck, ignoring the way your pussy shivered at his perverted words. You find comfort in his warmth and weight on top of you. You inhale his familiar deep masculine scent and it almost lulls you to sleep until you feel something wet and hard poking at your thigh.

“How are you hard again?” you say in disbelief as you look down and sure enough, Miguel’s dick is erect and ready to go for another round.

“It’s been a while since we had sex and my hand could only do so much to make up for your absence, cariño,” he huffs as gets up on his knees to turn you over and slap your ass. The sound of his palm meeting the sticky wet skin of your ass is undeniably lewd. “And what about needing to get you pregnant does not make sense to you? Get on your hands and knees for me. That baby is not gonna make itself.”

You plant your knees on the mattress and present your ass to him but you don't bother to lift your upper body from the bed. You keep your face down against the softness of his pillows. You didn't want him to see the giddy smile on your face from hearing that he hasn't slept with anyone else. His cum starts dripping out of your hole, coating your clit with creamy white and Miguel almost cums again on the spot.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His large hands grab at your ass, kneading them. His thumbs spread your puffy lips apart so he can watch your cunt try to keep his cum inside. You groan as you force your arms to lift you up. “There’s my good girl.”

He smacks your ass which earned him a yelp from you. His lips curl up as he watches the flesh of your ass jiggle from the impact.

“Get on with it,” you whine, wiggling your ass to entice him to move faster. For someone who wanted to stop at the third round, you sure are impatient to be filled again.

“You are going to be the death of me,” he chuckles as he guides his cock back inside your wet heat. “There you go, mami. Back where it belongs.”

You moan loudly as you feel him grinding his hips, driving his dick as deep as he can reach inside you. Your eyes flutter close, as you savor the stretch of your hole around his fat cock once more. You couldn’t agree more with his words.

You hear Miguel from behind you input a command on a device. It beeps obnoxiously like it’s mocking you. It’s the last thing you want to hear while he is balls deep inside you, his girthy cock stretching you deliciously and filling you up so good. You think to yourself what was so important that Miguel can't put his gizmo down and enjoy the feeling of your warm, tight pussy on his dick? Right after insisting you can go for one more round?

You are about to snap at him for being ungrateful until a hologram appears in front of you. It shows a live video feed of his very own bed and a clear view of your fully naked self on your hands and knees getting ur insides rearranged by your boss. Your hair is a mess and your makeup is all smudged from how he made you cry from all the begging and overstimulation earlier. And he looks so big compared to you, having to bend low to align his hips with yours. You didn't even notice the recording devices planted around the room until now from how your brain was so fogged by lust. There seem to be at least three around the room from different angles. Well, it turns out he wasn’t just bluffing when he said he could record you earlier.

You wonder if he always had those set up. You haven’t really been to his room before. The few “encounters” you had with Miguel happened in his laboratory on his silly little platform, both of you too consumed by lust to think about moving to a more private area. It’s rather unlikely that they’re for actual safety reasons when they all just record the same area. You entertain the idea that him taking you to his room tonight is not just a spur-of-the-moment thing, that he might have all of this set up for tonight for when he has you writhing in pleasure on his bed. How thoughtful, you think. It makes you clench around his dick.

"You really are a pervert," you quip to annoy him. Clearly, the urge to mess with him hasn’t been thoroughly fucked out of you yet. You didn't even get to laugh at your own childish remark when Miguel abruptly starts thrusting his hips without warning, harder this time, dragging out a surprised whimper from you. His tip is bullying your cervix, testing the line between pleasure and pain but you love it. Your eyes meet Miguel's intense red glare on the screen.

"You're still talking," he tuts, his head shaking like he's some kind of pet owner trying to reprimand a disobedient pet "Let me fix that, cariño.”

He brings his large calloused hands back on you – where they belong, you think to yourself, echoing Miguel’s words. His left hand is firm on the flesh of your waist, you are sure they are going to bruise once he’s done with you. His other hand fondles your breasts, the sharp talons on his fingertips lightly grazing your soft skin. You know that when you look at yourself in the mirror tomorrow morning you’d look like you barely got away from being mauled by a feral beast, evidence of how Miguel O'Hara had his way with you and how you enjoyed every single second of it.

You cry out his name, chanting it like a prayer. He’s so deep inside you that you can almost feel him in your chest, his thrusts fucking the air out of your lungs.

“Miggy, Mi…. Mig– ah, ah Mi– haaaa –guel ahhh”

Your eyes roll back at the continuous assault on your sweet spot and your cervix with every deep thrust. High-pitched whines come out of your throat as your arms give out from under you, making you fall face-first on the soft mattress. It all feels so good but overwhelming. You think you’re going to pass out.

“Que rico, mami,” he pulls your hair so you can face the screens. “Look at yourself. Beautiful. Taking my cock so well. Don’t worry. I have this all recorded if you’re too cock drunk to watch yourself now, cariño.”

You can't say anything back. You try really hard to come up with something but the only word that comes out of your mouth is “please” over and over again becoming progressively needier each time. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him, his chest flushed against your back, allowing him to rock you back against his forceful thrusts.

“Gonn’ make sure I put a baby in you tonight, cariño,” he growls in your ear. “I can’t wait to see your tummy swell in a few months. You’ll look divine, I won't be able to take my hands off you even more.”

His eyes are back to a glowing red as they meet yours that are glazed over by tears and lust. His hand tightens his hold on your hair making you tilt your head further, exposing more of your neck for him to suck bruises on. Your tits are bouncing freely at his aggressive pace. Coupled with the high-pitched moans coming out of your mouth, it’s all so pornographic. It makes you feel like liquid fire is running through your veins and pooling into your stomach.

“You’re gonna cum for me? Let go. Come on. cum for me, mami,”Miguel grunts in your ear, his hand on your hair letting go so he can greedily grab at your tits. “I wanna feel your cunt pulsing on my cock. Can you do that for me? Of course, you can. Going to milk me dry.”

And just like that, you throw your head back on his shoulder, eyes screwing shut as another wave of orgasm crashes down on you. Miguel follows closely, filling you up with more cum that drips down your thighs and on the bedsheets. Your body slumps back against his, too tired to keep yourself upright. You don’t even have the energy to open your eyes, content with feeling Miguel’s warm body against yours.

“I got you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you and moving you to lie down on the bed. You hum in contentment, letting him care for your tired body. He bends down to plant a kiss on your forehead before he pulls away. You miss his touch already.

A beeping sound lets you know that he turned off the monitors. You feel him taking the soiled bedsheets, getting up from the bed to get fresh ones. You have half the mind to reach out to him and tell him he can clean up later so you can cuddle now. Your mouth, however, doesn’t want to move so instead you groan as you blindly reach your hands out.

Miguel chuckles at your antics, walking back with fresh sheets and a damp towel to wipe off the sticky mess from your body. He sits next to you on the bed and brings the towel to your tear-stained cheeks, gently dabbing the area around your eyes to get rid of the messed up traces of mascara and eyeliner. You take your hand to rest on your chest trying to calm your wildly beating heart.

The comfortable silence, unfortunately, doesn’t last long. You hear the unmistakable voice of Lyla cut through the air.

“Heeeey, bossman! Heeeey, girlie!” she drawls and your eyes snap open as you snatch the sheet from Miguel’s hands to cover yourself.

“Ay, coño! I thought I said no alerts tonight,” Miguel looks pissed, rubbing his face in frustration before moving to turn off his watch. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Wait, wait! Sorry to interrupt the big night, Miguel, but it’s an emergency. Trust me you’ll want to fix this now,” Lyla raises her hands in surrender before Miguel presses a button. She turns to you, looking apologetic and asking for help “Then you can go back to babymaking, right, dollface?”

“I–” you flush, choking on your own words. You begrudgingly turn to Miguel, your lower lip caught in between your teeth. You lower your eyes as an ugly feeling crawls up your chest.

“It sounds important. You should go,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to speak up any louder. “I’d say I can be back up but I can hardly move so you’re on your own, big guy.”

Miguel sighs and gets up, telling Lyla to send him the information and that it better be worth his time.

You are already sexually satisfied and tired – that’s what four orgasms could do to you – but you are a little upset and sulky that Miguel has to be called in for work right now. Stupid anomaly or whatever it is. It’s probably important and a universe out there might be in grave danger. But you can't help feeling like shit about it though.

You like how soft Miguel gets when he cleans you up after sex. You like it when he picks up your tired form and whispers soft words to you in Spanish. Plus, you were looking forward to cuddles. What’s the use of having sex in his room on his bed if not to cuddle afterward and wake up next to each other the next day? And then, suddenly, in the early morning light, realize that you’ve been madly in love with each other all along. Okay, you are more than just a little upset.

Miguel notices you pouting and your eyes getting glassy with tears as you try to roll off the bed. He shoots his glowing red web at you, trapping you where you are before going back to readjusting his watch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, walking back to the bed as he makes sure his suit is all good and ready for the mission. He kneels on the bed to drag you to lie on your back.

“What are you doing? I'm going to take a shower,” you sniffle trying to avoid his eyes “I’ll take care of myself. you should go”

He hums as he takes both your wrists in one hand and forces them above your head to secure them together with his webs.

“Miggy?” you look at him and there’s a spark of mischief in his eyes. He darts his tongue across his lower lip and you feel a shiver run up your spine.

He doesn’t respond. He only keeps looking at you like he’s going to devour you once more. He brings your legs up to the position he had in before, knees to your chest, cunt fully exposed to him. You blush and your heart starts pounding in your chest. He shoots out more of his web, making sure you’re comfortable and your legs are securely tied in that position.

“Good?” he whispers and you nod in response “Words, cariño.”

“Perfect,” you moan, your chest heaving with need. He smiles at you fondly, caressing your cheek with a curled finger, and plants chaste kisses on your temple, your nose, and the corner of your mouth until he reaches your lips. He hums in contentment as he savors the feel of your lips against his. Then, he pulls away reluctantly and puts on his mask. He sets his watch to the right coordinates opening up a portal to wherever the universe needs saving.

“I’ll be back as fast as I can. I’ll make sure that anomaly regrets ever being made for interrupting my plans for our night,” he grumbles and gives you one last kiss through his mask for good luck. “And then it’s going to be all about you for the rest of the night, hm? I promise.”

He walks into the portal backwards so he can look at you until it closes and takes him away. Your heart flutters in your chest, anticipating what’s to come as you feel the webs digging deliciously into your soft flesh.

•🕷️────✧˖°˖🕸️˖°˖✧────🕷️•

Translations:

Que linda - how pretty

muñeca - doll

cariño - dear/darling

Qué voy a hacer contigo? - What am I going to do with you?

Qué haría sin ti? - What am I going to do without you?

conejita - little rabbit

pobrecita - poor thing

que rico - “[you] look good” (literal: tastes good)

Podría acostumbrarme a esto - I could get used to this

Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me haces - You're so beautiful. You don't know what you do to me

Estás tan rica. Estás hecha para mí, mi amor - You feel so good. You were made for me, my love

Mi niña hermosa, mi niña linda. Mía. Toda mía. - My beautiful girl, my sweet girl. Mine. All mine.

mami - mommy (as an endearment for a partner)

coño - pussy

A/N: so many thanks to my friend who helped me with translating and giving me tips on some better Spanish terms to use 🙏

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara headcanons #potchy-writes #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x female reader #chubby reader

2K notes · View notes

astraaa3 · 2 months

Note

Yandere Lucifer and GN!Reader headCanon

A/N: Thank you for the request Anon. I absolutely loved writing thisss. Kisses and hugs. Feedback is much appreciated. Also, if you want to proofread this degeneracy that I write please feel free to shoot me a dm. Mwah. Now, let's get this bitch on the road.

Yandere!Lucifer X Gn!Reader

Note: The first few ideas/phrases/headcanons whatever you want to call them might not seem like straight-up Yandere behavior, but it will get there. Lucifer doesn't seem like the type to instantly go full "You're mine, you're not allowed to leave". You'll see what I mean by that~ Cw/tw: yandere behavior (obviously), given the first warning possessive and obsessive behavior are a given so keep an eye out for that as well; threats of violence; actual violence;

=========꧁🍏꧂=========

Initially, you came to the Hazbin Hotel out of pure curiosity and boredom. You didn't actually think that sinners could get redeemed. After all, everyone here had their chance of leading a righteous life. That said, you ended up staying at the Hotel. Whether it was because of the Princess' puppy eyes that basically begged you to remain, or whether it was because you found yourself actually enjoying the company of the residents, you still didn't know why for sure.

It was a few weeks into your stay at the hotel when you first met Lucifer. It was apparently the first time Charlie saw her father in quite a while as well.

After Lucifer spent some (much-needed) father-daughter time with Charlie, he found himself at the bar right next to you. He was immediately taken aback by your looks. The two of you quickly found yourselves making some small talk. As most talks over a drink go, the topics took a deeper turn after a while, when Lucifer asked you "Do you really believe sinners can be redeemed?"

You smiled looking into your drink as if it could give you the words you couldn't find within yourself. Finishing your drink in one big gulp, you stood up, looking at Lucifer with a small smile: "Not really, no. But I think that if anyone can find a way to do it... it's Charlie" With that you left. Unknowingly leaving behind you a flustered King of Hell.

Since that discussion Lucifer found himself entranced by you. He analyzed everything about you. From the way your nose scrunched up with laughter whenever you were genuinely laughing, to the way you walked (he could already tell how you were feeling based solely on the way you stepped).

He made sure to bring you your favorite drink whenever you felt down, coaxing you into telling him whatever made you upset over a drink (or more than a drink if you didn't feel particularly sharing in regards to what made you upset).

And well, if it was someone that upset you, that person would find themselves on Lucifer's radar. (and if their bodies turned up later on, well, it's not like he would ever let you find out; he didn't want to risk losing your favor)

You found Lucifer's unyielding pursuit of finding everything about you to be quite cute. Yeah, maybe it was a bit over the top and spiraling out of control, but the silly crush you had developed for the King of Hell was jumping up and down with joy whenever you had his attention.

The first time Lucifer's possessive side came out you were arguing with another sinner in the Hotel's lobby. The sinner was some runt who thought he would be able to get his hands on Angel Dust if he stayed in the hotel. Having grown fond of the resident porn star you defended your friend giving the sinner a verbal lashing. Lucifer just watched on amused and annoyed (that your attention was not on him) his love-sick smile turning into an enraged frown when the sinner proposed that the two of you "made love instead of war". HOW FUCKING DARE HE. Not only did he dare look at what belonged to the King of Hell. Not only did he dare to imply defiling your precious innocent body. He dared to utter the word 'love' while looking at you.

Lucifer's patience snapped and with a snap of his fingers, a portal opened beneath the sinner's feet teleporting him high up in the sky on the other side of the Pentagram. You looked shocked at Lucifer. Seeing him angry on your behalf... It was hot.

That night was one of the many the two of you found yourselves falling into bed together, soon after making your relationship official.

As days passed, Lucifer started making more and more odd requests: "My love, could you please tell me whenever you leave the hotel?", "You should leave some of your clothes over at my place, for simplicity's sake." , "Could you please stop talking to (Friend Name)? I... think they may be harboring feelings for you. I think I actually heard them admit to that once. I'm sorry if I'm overreacting but since Lilith left me....", "Darling, I know we haven't dated for long, but I would love it if you were to move in. I know you love the hotel, but I want to make sure you are safe. No? I... alright. We'll talk about it later, it's going to be ok".

The moment that made you realize that Lucifer's obsession was more serious than you thought was after the battle against Adam and the exorcist angels. You got hurt in the chaos of the battle. It was just a stab wound, but when Lucifer saw it, he flipped. With a serious tone, he looked at you, a crazed look in his eyes: "You are going to make a contract with me. You are going to give your soul to me. I will not hear any objections. You clearly can't take care of yourself. So, do we have a deal?"

You reflexively nodded out of fear, having not seen your lover so serious.... so obsessed.... so possessive. This was the first time you looked at Lucifer and saw The King of Hell, the Devil from the Bible. As he gently took your hand shaking it he smiled, the crazed look never leaving his eyes, he cupped your face gently "It's going to be alright, my love, I will take care of everything. I will make sure that you never need for anything. And you will never leave me, after all, you are the apple of my eye."

=========꧁🍏꧂=========

Small prompt: After the deal

It has been two months since you moved in with Lucifer. Your lover wouldn't take no for an answer. And well, you couldn't really say no to him anyway.... After the initial apprehension ended, you fell into a domestic routine with Lucifer: he would coax you to wake up with small kisses peppered across your face, kisses which turned into full-blown sleepy make-out sessions the moment you were awake; afterward, he would make breakfast for the two of you (the duck-shaped pancakes being your favorite); then, the two of you would go to the Hotel to check up on everyone or whatever else the two of you felt like doing; at the end of the day you would take a bath with Lucifer as he would make love to you, your body warm and soft from the hot water; you ended the day with a kiss. The next day it was the same routine. And the next. And the next.

Wherever you went, whatever you did, Lucifer was there with you. Initially, you were bothered by it, feeling like your privacy was forcefully taken from you. But as Lucifer whispered sweet nothings into your ear, as he would hug you to his chest proclaiming his love for you, as he would make love to you cradling your face and telling you that you're his... You slowly forgot what it was like to have time alone.

When you first realized how much of your time Lucifer monopolized you tried going on a walk alone. That was the first time since the deal when you saw Lucifer get truly angry. Golden chains wrapped around your body, you were tied to your bed, his smile overly sweet as he caressed your face: "You see how easy it is for someone to just kidnap you? What if someone tried doing something to you, my love? You are so weak and pure, I can't let those dirty sinners touch or even glance at you. Now then, you can play with the duckies while I make sure that no one who saw you today sees the light of day again." with that, he kissed your lips sweetly before leaving you there tied to the bed, with a rubber duck on your chest.

After that, you never tried leaving again, too afraid that maybe your lover's ire will turn to you this time around. But Lucifer would never. He loved you, obsessively so. Maybe... it wasn't that bad letting him lock you away in the gilded cage you called home. After all, did you really need anything else when you already had him?

#lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar x reader

285 notes · View notes

jazzsonly · 7 months

Text

ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ

pairing(s): tara carpenter x fem!reader

warning(s): angst. tara being a bad gf and overall MAJOR asshole. lowkey bloody description of heart break. barely proofread. ooc tara.

summary: oh the things you did just so you could call tara yours.

*inspo. song: favorite crime by olivia rodrigo

part two.

────────✬────────

when you first started dating tara (six months ago) you loved nothing more than how caring she was. she stood up for you when there was a chance to(no matter how silly,) she jumped at the chance to walk you to your car, she would constantly beg for you to stay over, and so on and so.

you also just adored her nerd obsession with horror movies, no matter your distaste for them, she somehow made you love them too in a weird.

in short, you just loved tara as a whole…back then.

now? you still love her but it was a bitter love.

feeling like you couldn’t even recognize your own girlfriend was a hurt of it’s own. after the ghostface attacks, it was like tara, well wasn’t even tara. she were constantly drunk, you feel like the only time you ever got a hold of her was when she called drunk out of her at some frat party needing a ride.

she no longer attended your dates, didn’t want you to stay over, oh and the constant arguing. mostly her accusing you of things and claims you to be clingy when you wanted to spend time together.

one night it got so bad, she were just yelling at you while you cried, feeling so small. sam had to step in and stop the girl before she yelled you to death.

despite all that, here you were settled on the couch and ready for movie night with the core four. as much as you loved them, no doubt that they were your second family. you couldn’t help but feel lonely in the moment.

nearing the end of jeeper’s kreepers and tara had neglected to sit next to you the whole night. in fact, she were seated with amber, her head leaning on the girl’s shoulder.

nothing but bitterness filled your mouth at the sight and the feeling.

sure you had chad and sam by your side but obviously you want your girlfriend by your side to cuddle with.

“that movie never gets old. a straight classic.” chad commenting while he stood as the credits rolled.

“facts.” amber then spoke, standing with the boy.

you stayed put while everyone piled to the kitchen for dinner, hoping tara would stay with you.

“tara.” you spoke meekly, almost afraid.

“what?” she was on her way to the kitchen as well.

“why didn’t you sit with me?” you watch as her hands coming to her hand, a big sigh, and an ‘oh my god’ under her breath.

“can you please not start tonight? i want to enjoy one night without you being a bitch.”

“tara, i’m not being a bitch. i just want to know why my girlfriend didn’t sit with me, but yet is cuddled with another girl.”

“okay, one i was not ‘cuddled’ with amber and two maybe i just didn’t feel like sitting with you, is it your abandonment issues? is that why you’re so fucking clingy?”

so much for opening up to her about your mom. you thought at the girl’s comment.

your leg bounced up and down, she were starting to raise her voice and the last thing you wanted to do was argue in front of your friends. it was embarrassing enough for it to happen in front of sam.

“nevermind.” you swallow a lump in your throat, trying to join the others but tara grabs to your wrist.

“no. you wanted to fucking complain so bad and ruin my life! you are such a fucking burden y/n. do you know that? you make me hate everyday with your shit and i’m sick of it.”

you intense chew on your lip, stopping the tears.

“well if that’s how you feel…”

“that is how i feel.” she threw your wrist down, walking by you as if she didn’t just shatter your soul.

you walk past the kitchen, uttering on about how you were heading to the bathroom.

somehow, with any strength you had left in you, you didn’t cry. you took a few deep breaths, repeating:

don’t cry.

before stepping out, to finally join the others.

as much as you wanted to laugh and be in conversation with everyone, you couldn’t. your mind wouldn’t allow you. all you could think about was tara.

why? why was she doing this me? why? when she claimed to love me much and to be in love?

how could she be doing this me?

who even was she?

it was like a shotgun to the heart, your blood and your heart, in pieces all over the wall and you couldn’t do anything but watch it splatter.

“y/n?”

you look to chad, “huh?”

“you okay? you’ve barely said anything?”

“yeah,” you clear your throat. “i’m good. i just don’t thinking i’m feeling too well, i should head home.”

despite sam offering you to stay, you declined and bid your goodbyes to everyone, well, besides chad who offered to walk you to your car.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, be good.” you joke, pulling the jock into a hug.

“yeah uh…listen, i heard all tara said to you and—

“it’s nothing…it’s fine, she’s just going through stuff.”

he paused, looking at you for a second. “that’s no excuse for what she said to you, y/n. she talked to you like she didn’t even know you. you shouldn’t let someone treat you like that…no matter how much you love them.”

“we’re all going through it, including you. trying to watch our backs for ghostface, even if things have died down a little, it’s still scary knowing he’s out there. so please take care of yourself, i love you. you’re my best friend…i don’t want to see you hurt…especially not from tara.”

you weren’t really sure want to say to the boy, of course you meekly told him you loved him too, pulling him into yet another hug. this time tighter and longer.

for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt loved. it may not have been from who you wanted it to be but still you felt loved.

you settled in your car, locking your door. you couldn’t help but break down, you felt so many intense emotions at once, you thought you could hold them in but chad’s speech brought them out.

✬

needles to say, you clung to chad every movie night for the past couple of weeks. it turned from best friend to a big brother to you.

he even took you out to breakfast, listening to you rant about tara and her ruthless nonsense. though he was a bit of an airhead, he gave you advice to the best of his knowledge on relationships. you didn’t take it, knowing it were no good.

the last time he actually dated a girl not just fucked one was in second grade. you still appreciated the attempt though.

tonight was yet again another movie night and you happily took the seat next to chad, who mindlessly put his arm around you.

“uhm, i was kind of hoping to sit with y/n?”

you had to make sure you weren’t dream.

tara wanted to sit next to you? you guys have barely spoken in two weeks. all it’s been is good morning text tara didn’t respond to until mid noon.

chad looked at you for approved and you gave him a timid nod. that’s all it took for him to give his seat up.

tara proudly put her arm over you, like chad had, taking you by surprise again. as much as you wanted to ask, you didn’t. you couldn’t risk ruining this sudden surge of affection.

the sudden surge of affection that lasted half way through the movie, until tara whispered in your ear.

“you think you’re so slick? fucking my best friend behind my back.” and there it was. you could smell a hint of alcohol on her breath.

thanks amber, for getting the parton. you sarcastically thought.

as best as you tried to ignore her, once again not wanting to argue in front of everyone. you couldn’t ignore tara repeatedly calling you a whore in your ear.

“slutting yourself out all because i don’t wanna go on a date with you.” and that’s when you broke.

you abruptly stood up, “enough tara.”

everyone’s eyes on you but you didn’t care. you had the courage chad had handed you and you couldn’t waste it.

“you hate me so much? you think i’m a whore? fine. i’ll be that and nothing to you at all. i’m done and so are we.”

— part two?

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #mindy meeks martin #amber freeman #ethan landry #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin #scream six #ghostface #jenna ortega

806 notes · View notes

asuyaka · 5 months

Note

Eyyy it's been a while since I've requested anything, and since I'm back to my JJK brain rot how about a good old request for my favorite dead divorced gay couple?(how are we copin', manga readers?)

So idk if you've ever seen or heard of the "Missing Halloween" animation on YouTube, BUT--

What if satosugu found out that Reader(who they were very close with) was actually the spirit of an past special grade student that died in a mission by the hands of curse users (maybe they raided the school or something, idk it's like- 1AM in here my brain will not remember all the shit that happens in the JJK lore to make a coherent plot point) and now just roams around near the school, and that explains why everyone just seemingly ignored Reader's presence completely and gave the three weird looks whenever they hung out together. Also I like to think that these two idiots found out about reader's situation after fooling around during detention and accidentally tripping on some dusty old boxes that had some old stuff in it, finding one of those group school year pics from when Yaba was the boys' age and Reader was also in the pic from when they were still alive.

In much simpler words, Satosugu x ghost!reader that they didn't knew was a ghost until they found a picture of Reader's academic years.

-🌈, Anon.

★ - JJK brainrot 's so real f' me too !! (Satosugu once 'm get m grubby lil hands on you... >:(( )

☆ - Satosugu x Ghost! Reader !!

♡ - 's nice ta see you again, 🌈 nony !! ヾ(^▽^*))) hope you're doin' well <33 (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ | 'm have seen Missing Halloween! made me s'sad (◞‸◟；) but s sooo bittersweet! m nota huuugee animation fan, but Missing Halloween 's one of m favs! (๑≧▽≦)

Being a ghost is interesting, to put it simply.

You get to see things you never got the chance to when you were alive, like the top of Mount Fuji and the vast streets of Shibuya. Sure, you missed what it was like to eat your favorite food or speak to people, but it's the price you have to pay for your naivety.

You thought you'd be alone, wandering the hallways of Jujutsu High forever until they came.

Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru.

The strongest sorcerers in the modern era.

Shock is an emotion you haven't felt since your death, but you feel it again when you notice that those two can not only see but touch you.

It's an odd feeling. Having someone touch your skin after years (it's only been two) of being dead. Weird, but nice.

"Suguru, back me up here!" Satoru whines, holding his friend by his shoulders and shaking him back and forth.

You and Satoru were arguing about which ice cream flavor was the best. Granted, you haven't had ice cream —or any food for that matter— in a long time, but there was no way you would let Satoru get away with saying Birthday Cake.

"This is your argument, and I like Vanilla." Suguru shrugs and the betrayed look on Satoru's face causes you to giggle.

Satoru turns to face you, chest out and voice boisterous. "Well, [Name], since we can't agree, I guess that means we'll have to go to an ice cream store to find out!

Suguru's face turns blank. "Where in that argument did going to an ice cream place happen?"

"Right now, duh." You huff, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"No, guys, I don't have money, and I'm not taking you dumbasses to an ice cream place at this hour." Suguru's voice is stern; like there's no room for back-and-forth bickering.

You three were now at a small ice cream shop a few minutes away from Jujutsu High.

You tried not to talk to Suguru and Satoru much, so to bystanders it wouldn't look like they were talking to literal air, but they didn't get the hint and kept talking to you anyway.

Sometimes you wonder if they even know you're a ghost.

The way Satoru uses you as a headrest (you're putting spiders in his bed tonight) and how Suguru tends to maintain eye contact when he talks to you (earning a couple of odd stares from some in the store), you’re 99.9% sure they think you’re a real person.

Which you are, obviously, but you’re only technically real to them. Why that is, you aren’t exactly sure yourself.

Before you three get to the counter, you make up a fake excuse of having to use the bathroom. You tell them the flavor you want, make sure Satoru doesn’t do anything weird, and order the flavor with the most sugar (you aren’t 100% sure if you can even eat but it’s worth trying) before you excuse yourself.

You make your way to the roof, sitting on the edge and looking out into the city. It’s calming.

You’ve always enjoyed how relaxing it was to be able to see people going about their lives, the soft breeze sounding through your ears accompanied by the smell of ice cream and bread from nearby stores.

It’s nice.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Suguru and Satoru sitting at an outside table. They were talking amongst each other as they presumably waited for you, an empty spot only held by a cup of ice cream filled with your favorite flavor.

You drop down at the back of the store, brushing the dust off your body and making your way to where Suguru and Satoru are sitting.

“Jeez! Took you long enough.” Satoru rolls his eyes and immediately starts eating his ice cream.

Suguru rolls his eyes. His posture is the same as always, a man spread and his arms crossed only breaking whenever he needs to eat his ice cream as well.

Huffing, you kick Satoru underneath the table. Blowing a raspberry before taking a bite of the ice cream.

Good news, you can eat.

Bad news, you don’t taste a single thing.

Well… they don’t need to know that. They’re having fun, your inability to taste shouldn’t spoil that for them.

“Satoru, Yaga’s going to kill us if he finds us, you know?” Suguru huffs, keeping watch as Satoru looks through the yearbook of past students in Jujutsu High.

“Oh, hush!” Satoru kicks him in the knee, gasping when he finds a book tucked away behind several (thankfully sleeping) cursed corpses.

Satoru grins. “Found one.”

Suguru takes one final glance at the hallway before turning to see what Satoru dragged him here for in the dead of night (or early in the morning depending on the way you look at it).

They flip through the yearbook, snickering when they see what Yaga looked like two years ago. His buzz is shorter — if that’s even possible — but he still has his stone-cold resting face.

They make it to the back of the book, where there’s a special section dedicated to students who died before the year is over.

Really, Satoru was looking for what [Name] looked like when he was younger. He’s suspected you were older than the two of them since he never sees you during school.

“Satoru… is– is that…?” Suguru’s voice is weary as his finger points at a photo of some dude he recognizes.

A boy he recognizes.

It’s your picture, you look the same as you do now. “What’s he doing here? We see him all the time– right Suguru?”

Suguru pales. “Is that why Shoko calls us crazy? [Name] isn’t alive—”

“Yes, he is!” Satoru almost yells. The book drops from his hands with a thump! small colors of blue peeking out from the bottom of his sunglasses.

“We can touch him, we can see him!” Satoru stomps his foot. “How is that possible if he’s dead, huh?!”

“He might be a cursed sp—”

“Then the curse alarm would’ve sounded!” Satoru’s voice sounds like it’s tethering over an edge. He’s confused– he’s known [Name] for as long as his first year, you, him, and Suguru are inseparable so why can Suguru accept the fact that you’re (supposedly) dead?!

“Let’s ask him then, is that okay?” Suguru puts his hand directly on Satoru’s shoulder, moving his thumb slightly for comfort.

The albino takes a deep breath to calm himself. He shouldn’t be mad at Suguru, he loves Suguru.

So, he does what Suguru says. He lets Suguru lead the way to where they found you the first time. Close to the artifact warehouse but closer to the forest that surrounds Jujutsu High.

You’re there. Sitting on the grass as you stare longingly at a bird.

The sound of rocks crunching under their feet must give them away because in a second you lock eyes with Suguru, a soft smile on your face.

“Suguru!” Your voice is warm– comforting even. “What are you guys doing here? Aren’t you guys breaking curfew?”

“Are you dead?”

Satoru’s blunt question causes your body to freeze. He sounds angry. Maybe it’s because you didn’t tell them that you were a ghost, and they somehow found out themselves.

You weren’t all that popular when you were alive. You were an adequate sorcerer with mediocre abilities. Nothing that puts you out there– not like the two in front of you anyway.

“Y-Yeah?” You avert your eyes sheepishly. “I mean, I died a few years ago so—”

“Why didn’t you tell us anything?” Satoru cuts you off, the hand still holding Suguru’s tightens slightly.

Why didn’t you tell them? Because they’d stop hanging out with you? Were you scared you’d lose the only people who know you’re still technically here?

Because you’re bound to this school and have only ever left because your attachment somehow shifted to Satoru and Suguru.

Ah, that’s why.

You were scared to be left alone. That’s why every time you could, you’d rush over to where they were. Engage in conversation with them, and do mildly illegal things with them because they make you feel wanted.

“I guess… I was scared you two would stop hanging out with me..?” You let out a laugh even though nothing is funny. “You two are the only people who know I still exist, so I thought if you figured out I was a ghost…”

“— that we’d stop talking to you altogether?” Suguru finishes for you and you can’t help but nod.

“That’s stupid! We fight curses, why do you think being a ghost is going to stop anything?!” Satoru grabs you by the shoulder. You’re sure his grip hurts, but you can’t exactly feel pain anymore.

“Yeah, I know…” Your hand touches Satoru’s forearm. “Now that you know… it doesn’t change anything between us… right?”

The longer the silence stretches the more anxiety swallows you whole. If they stop talking to you or start avoiding you, you aren’t sure what you’ll be bound to.

Maybe that spot by the artifact warehouse. You’ll be forced to stay there– alone, with no one to talk to, no one to make you feel alive.

“Of course, not.” Suguru’s voice is warm, it makes something well up in your eyes.

“Sure, it might be weird since sorcerers can’t see you, but you’re our friend. You just have to promise not to keep life-altering secrets from us. Right, Satoru?”

Satoru huffs, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “You owe me, stupid ghost boy!”

A smile stretches across your face and you’re unaware of the warmth rolling down your cheeks. “I’m glad.”

You won’t be alone.

You’ll be able to talk to them, now that they know your biggest secret.

You’ll have Satoru and Suguru, and they’ll have you.

Maybe being dead– or being a ghost isn’t so bad after all.

#ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 — ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ #jjk x male reader #male reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x male reader #geto x male reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #suguru x male reader #satoru x male reader #x male reader #009 #⋆｡𖦹 — ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ#jjk #satosugu x reader #satosugu x male reader #🌈: anon!

379 notes · View notes

cinemastyles-backup · 7 months

Text

BMWB

Summary: an anon request - “can you do a one shot where y/n is in the band and for some reason Harry and her don't get along and they end up fucking?? Like not enemies to lovers but more or like enemies to fw because they're so good at it ??? Pleaseeeee”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, lots of arguing, oral (both), fingering, biting, hair pulling, filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

MAJOR ASSHOLE FRAT BOY HARRY

"One, two, three, four." Harry screams into the mic and bobs his head to the music. I strum my base, close my eyes and tilting my head as I feel the music.

My eyes suddenly snap open when Harry starts to yell, "Stop. Stop. Fuckin' stop." I lay my fingers over the edge of my bass and sigh, "What now, Styles?"

I know he's talking about me, he's always talking about me.

He scoffs and shakes his head, "Are you even here with us right now? Because the he only thing you should be focusing on is getting the beat of the fucking song right. Jesus christ."

I roll and shut my eyes and take a deep breathe, "Harry. Chill out man. She was doing fine." Niall says setting down his guitar, "Maybe you need to ta-"

Harry cuts him off, "Maybe you just need to shut the fuck up."

"If you don't want me to pla-"

Zayn cuts me off, "No, y/n. You're the best bass player we've had, Harry's just having a bad day."

Harry shifts his weight to his left leg and puts his hands on his hips, "You know wh- fine. Take a fucking break, all of you."

He walks off the stage and throws his water bottle.

"What the fuck is his issue lately?" Louis says walking up, "Don't take it personal, y/n. Harry can be.." he trails off his words.

I sigh, "Egomaniacal? Asshole-ish? Cocky? I can stand here all day."

They laugh and I look over my shoulder, "I'll try and talk to him. If the screaming at each other stops call the coroner because I've strangled him with his mic cord."

I set my bass down gently and walk in the direction Harry went.

I look left and right and walk down the hall. I stop as I see Harry leaning against the wall. He turns his head towards me and looks away with an eye roll, "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you're all of a sudden coming at me?" I cross my arms, "We were fine and now yo-"

"Just go practice because you obviously need it." He pushes off the wall and walks towards me. I grab his arm as he goes past me, "No. I don't obviously need that, Harry. What I need, is for you to tell me what the fuck your issue is."

He laughs and tilts his head back, "Like I'd ever talk to you about what's bothering me. Go the fuck back to the stage. We have a show to get perfect."

He pulls his arm away and scoffs, "Don't ever fucking touch me again."

"Don't ever fucking yell at me again." I shoot back.

He stop waking and turns around, "Oh? So now you're the boss? Telling me what I can and can't do?" He walks up to me, "Let me tell you one thing, sweetheart." He leans in, his face an inch away from mine, "I'm the boss. You do what I say when I say it, hmm?"

I roll my eyes at him, "Mm. We'll see."

I step around him and walk back to stage. Before I enter back, I look over at him and smile, "You coming? We have a show to make perfect." I smirk and push the door open.

"Is he dead?" Louis asks with a slight laugh.

I shake my head, "Not yet." I pick my bass up and gently strum the strings. Harry walks in and everyone goes quiet.

"Let's get this fucking right." He says just loud enough for us to hear. He walks up and takes the mic off the stand and looks around at us, making sure we're ready.

"One, two, three, four."

——

"You guys are on in five." Liam, the crew manager says. I nod and finish applying my lipstick, "Okay."

"Don't fuck this up." Harry says leaning against the door frame to my dressing room. I look at him in the mirror, "Is that you threatening me or demanding me?"

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "Sometimes I just wanna-" he clenches his jaw and tilts his head, "Nope. Not happening."

"What?" I turn around and lean against the table, "You wanna what, Styles?"

He stares at me, and in that moment, if looks could kill. I'd be dead.

He walks up to me and brings a hand up, his thumb gently pulls down my lower lip, "Sometimes I just wanna gag you with my cock so you shut the fuck up for once."

He drops his hand, "Like I said, don't fuck this up."

He leaves the room before I have anything to say, which I don't. Harry just left me absolutely speechless.

"Hey, y/n. Let's go. We're up next." Louis knocks on the door, "You okay?"

I blink and turn around quickly, wiping away the smudge of lipstick Harry's thumb left, "Yeah. Coming."

——

The whole show, I was on edge.

On edge because of what Harry said.

On edge because he looks so fucking hot in that tight Green Bay jersey.

On edge because he kept looking over at me any chance he got.

On edge because he was fucking with me.

We finish the song and the crowd goes wild. Screaming for Harry. Screaming for me. Screaming for all of us.

"Give it up for the amazing band behind me." Harry says while clapping, "Niall, Louis, Zayn.." there's a pause before he says my name and the boys glance towards me then look back at Harry, "And y/n who actually did very well tonight."

The crowd screams and I force a smile and wave.

I shook a glare back at Harry and he smirks behind his mic, "We're going to give you guys one last song and then we're off to Phoenix!"

Harry walks around stage as we start to play the final song of the night, "Let's go!"

——

We exit the stage and I immediately walk up to Harry and shove his shoulder, "What the fuck was that?"

He cocks his jaw and smirks, "I know you didn't just shove me."

I go to shove him again and Zayn grabs my arms, "Settle down." I pull my arms and he gets louder, "Settle down, easy y/n."

"Why would you fucking say that?" I yell, "I actually did well tonight? What the fuck Harry!?"

He chuckles and shakes his head. He motions for Zayn to let me go and he puts his arm around my shoulder, "Let's take a walk and talk about this."

I push his arm off of me, "What so you ca-"

"Now, now." He cuts me off, "Just come on." We walk down the hall to the door with his name on it, "In."

I roll my eyes and push the door open. I walk in and turn around, ready to start losing my absolute shit on him but he holds his hand up, "I get under your skin."

"Yeah the fuck you do." I cross my arms, "And you do it on purpose."

He walks over and pours himself a drink, "Because you make it so easy."

"By what? Giving you a reaction?" I huff, "Do you want me to ignore you? Quit the band?"

"Why would you quit the band?" He asks bringing the glass to his lips. He lowers it and shakes his head, "You're the best bass player I've had, y/n. I don't want you to quit."

His words confuse me and I know my face shows it.

"He sits down and rests one arm straight out on the back of the couch and brings a leg up over his other, "Sit."

I find myself always listening to his stupid little commands so I shake my head, "No. I'll stand." He chuckles, "Hmm. Okay. Suit yourself, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes, "What do you want, Harry." I state, "Because if you're just going to sit there and-"

"You. I want you."

"Excuse me?" I laugh, "Did you just say you- you want me?"

He nods, "Yeah. I believe that's what I said."

"You're not serious."

"But I am." He finishes his drink and stands up, "You see, y/n. I really don't like you, for reasons I'm not open to telling you just yet." He sets his glass down and walks over to me.

I stay silent and watch him as he gets closer, "We have our issues that, well, the whole band can see, right?"

I shrug, "I-"

"Shut up." He says louder. His voice goes back to normal and he walks around me, his chest presses against my back and he moves my hair off my neck.

My breathing gets faster and I bite my lip.

"There so much stress while touring, right?" His fingers drag up my shoulder and neck.

I nod.

"I want you to be my little stress reliever." He leans down and licks up my neck, "No strings attached."

I shut my eyes tight. Fighting off every urge to turn around and give into him.

He's an asshole.

He makes your days a living hell.

He gets under your skin in the most annoying ways possible.

All the thoughts run spin around in my head and I let out the breathe I've been holding.

"What do you say? Huh. We help each other out and when you piss me off.. I get to fuck my anger out and fuck that annoying little attitude out of you."

I want to say no so bad. I want to turn around and slap some sense into him, but the idea of being Harry's fuck buddy is just so overpowering.

"You can speak now, sweetheart."

"Y-yes."

"Good answer. Now get on your knees." He places his hands on my shoulder and pushes me down. I land on my knees and bite my lip, looking up at him as he walks around to stand in front of me.

He starts to undo the belt on his jeans and he gives me a smirk.

"What?" I ask as I tuck hair behind my ear.

"Do I make your nervous?" He chuckles, "No need to be nervous."

I roll my eyes, "Please. If anyone should be nervous here, it's you."

"How's that?" He asks shoving his jeans down, "I'm not nervous one bit. Excited actually."

I raise my eye brows and laugh slightly, "Why because you're about to shut me up?"

"Exactly." He pushes his boxers down and pumps his cock in his hand a few times before pushing the head of it against my lips, "Open for me."

I part my lips and he pushes his cock in, letting out a groan.

I wrap my lips around his cock and swirl my tongue. I work my way down, getting him wet enough, teasing him slightly before I give him exactly what he wants.

I sink his cock into my throat and he moans.

I shut my eyes and control my breathing through my nose before I bob my head, gagging around his cock.

"Ah." He moans out, "It's nice to hear the sound of you choking on my cock rather than you speaking."

I ignore his words and continue to fuck my throat with him, working him up until he places a hand on my head, "A-alright. We can come back to this. I wanna see that ass of yours bent over."

I pull off and wipe my chin off with my wrist. He pulls me over towards the couch and slips his shirt off. My eyes flicked up and down his toned, tattooed torso and he grips the hem of my shirt pulling it up over my head.

"You know, y/n." His eyes move up and down my bra covered chest, "You are pretty fuckin' hot."

I smirk and unbutton my jeans, "So are you."

He smirks and watches as I take my jeans off, kicking my shoes out of the way. We both stand there naked and his hands reach out to explore my body.

I close my eyes as he leans in, sucking random spots on my neck. I moan out quietly and bring my hands up to his arms.

Wow, he isn't yelling at me to not touch him.

His hand moves down and pushes between my legs. His finger slides between my folds, "You're fuckin' soaked, sweetheart."

I part my thighs and dig my nails into his skin as he circles my clit, gradually applying a harder pressure.

I whimper and tilt my head back. Harry kisses and sucks spots under my chin and jaw line.

"Harry." I moan out quietly, "Fuck me."

He chuckles against my skin, "Are you demanding?"

I bite my lip, debating on what I should say before my mouth speaks on its own, "What if I am?"

He sighs and pulls his hand away from between my legs, "Then you get more time without my cock in that desperate cock hungry pussy of yours."

He walks over and gets another drink, "I'm going to enjoy this drink. Sit down and, oh I don't know." He shrugs, "Convince me that you're deserving of my cock going into your pussy."

I chew the inside of my lip and nod, "Okay."

I sit down on the couch and smirk as I bring my legs up and spread them. He pauses and stares at my open legs. I bring my hand down and rub circles onto my clit, moaning.

I need Harry to touch me.

"Afraid you won't get me to cum?" I tease, "Am I going to have to fake it with you then do it myself later?"

He roughly sets his glass down on the table and stands up, "There you go again.. running your mouth."

I bite my lip and sink my fingers into my pussy, letting out a loud gasp, "What? Im just asking questions."

He scoffs, "You have no idea."

"Mm. I think I do." I tilt my head back and moan. A smile grows on my lips as I feel the couch sink down.

"You'll be begging me to fuck you after this." He moves my hand and replaces it with his own, his rings roughly hitting my skin as his fingers pump in and out.

I arch my back off the couch and moan, "Fuck."

He shifts back and bends down, attaching his lips to my clit. I let out a gasp and put a hand on his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

He moans against me and that causes me to moan. I clench my walls around his fingers as I feel myself approaching my orgasm.

My eyes roll back and I smile as he did exactly what I wanted him to do.

He pulls his fingers out and licks up my pussy. He pulls away and moves up, rubbing the head of his cock against my clit, "That didn't seem fake to me."

I smirk and my mouth opens as he shoves his cock into me without warning, "Fuck." He smirks and tilts his head as he pulls out and thrusts back in.

He grips my hips tight and fucks me. His lips part as his eyes shit and a moan escapes his lips, "Shit, y/n."

I grab his wrists and arch my back, "Harry." I whimper, "Fuck."

He leans down, pressing his lips to mine as he continues thrusting. I drag my nails up his back with one hand as I pull myself to desperately cling to him with the other.

He gently bites my bottom lip and moans.

I tilt my head back and he kisses up and down it.

For a moment I would have thought I wasn't having sex with the asshole I shoved in the hallway, but with Harry who actual gives a shit.

He moans against my neck and pushes his cock deep into me, "This pussy is mine." He whispers in a deep, raspy voice.

"Yours." I breathe out, "Yours."

He goes back to thrusting and attacking my neck. I wrap an arm around his neck and sink my nails into his shoulder as I cum around his cock.

"Fuck." He groans lowly, "You feel so fucking good."

I whimper in his ear, "You fuck so good."

He smirks and kisses my cheek and over to my lips. Our lips move in perfect sink and he pulls out and I can feel his cum shoot out into my stomach.

He continues to kiss me, his hand pulls my hips closer to his. He slowly leans back and looks at me, "Who's pussy is this?"

I roll my eyes and smirk, "Yours."

"Damn right it is." He leans up and looks around, "Um.." he gets up and grabs a towel, "Here." He tosses the towel down next to me as he cleans himself off.

"Thanks." I wipe myself off and sit up, I lean over and grab my clothes, slipping my panties and jeans back on, "So what does this mean?" I smirk and laugh.

He shakes his head and smirks, "Nothing more than band mates with benefits."

——

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated and don’t forget to hit follow! ♥

484 notes · View notes

vbecker10 · 2 years

Note

Hi I was jw if you could do a Loki x reader where they have a huge fight and then reader leaves for a mission to only come back injured. Loki is given a note from her apologizing to him and when she wakes up he takes care of her apologizing as well? Super duper fluffy ending?

Hey anon!! I have two asks that have very similar ideas so I'm doing them together. I'm sorry if it took me so long to get to it that you sent it again but I really do love this idea. I changed a little bit of it and kinda combined both asks. Hopefully it was worth the wait 💚

That's Not What I Meant

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: arguing, angst, injury, lots of fluff

Summary: You and Loki have an argument but before the two of you can resolve it, you are called away on a mission for a few days. You return from the mission injured and still hurt by what Loki said before you left but he is determined to show you how much you truly mean to him.

A/N: I threw in Halloween stuff cause it's October so why not right 🎃 lol... also, as usual this got away from me and is way longer then I intended 🤷‍♀️

"Its October first!" you say as you flip the calendar on your kitchen wall excitedly. "Do you know what that means?" you turn towards Loki.

He looks up from the coffee maker, "I would say its Saturday but I imagine that's not the answer you are looking for."

"Its Halloween!" you answer with a wide smile. He rolls his eyes but you catch a glimpse of him smiling before he turns back to face the counter. You move to stand behind him and put your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back.

He shakes his head and chuckles softly while he pours the fresh coffee into two mugs. "I was under the impression that Halloween was on the last day of the month, not the first," he says.

You groan, letting go of him so you can lean your back against the counter next to him. You look up at him, crossing your arms and say, "Technically yes but... we can do Halloween stuff all month."

He takes a sip of his coffee, "A whole month seems a bit unnecessary. Surely one day is enough."

"It absolutely is necessary!" you tell him, a bit louder than you expected to.

He raises an eyebrow then waves his hand for you to continue. "Very well. What did you have in mind, darling?" he asks.

"Everything... Some of the parks here do hayrides, corn mazes and apple picking. I've always wanted to go apple picking, maybe Wanda could teach me how she makes those mini apple crumbles," you say and Loki smiles, you know how much he loves any type of dessert he can get his hands on. "There are tons of haunted houses we can visit of course," you add.

"Of course," he nods dramatically in agreement which causes you to laugh.

"Oh and I feel like you would like pumpkin carving," you say and he tilts his head curiously. "Because you know..." you make a stabbing motion, "Knives and such."

"That seems acceptable," he laughs then leans forward to kiss you briefly. "Anything else, love?"

"Can't forget watching horror movies with lots of junk food and cuddles or scaring everyone on the team," you tell him.

"How could I say no to either of those?" he smiles as he puts his coffee mug on the counter and moves closer to you. He slips one arm around you and you lean against his chest, looking up at him. "It'll be hard to pick a favorite activity but I don't think you can beat scaring the others," he says with a mischievous grin.

You hit his chest lightly, "Want to try picking a favorite again?"

He kisses the top of your head, "Pumpkin carving?"

"You're the worst," you giggle as you pull free. "The correct answer is horror movies and cuddles, obviously. Just for that, I'm picking out our costumes for Stark's party."

His mood shifts suddenly as the playful smile leaves his lips. He picks up his coffee mug and takes another sip. "There's no need for you to do that," he says in a serious tone, "I won't be attending the party." With that, he turns and walks out of the kitchen.

"You don't want to go?" you ask as you follow him into the living room.

He sits on one end of the couch and sets his mug on the coffee table. "Y/N, you know I don't go to Stark's parties. I never have and I see no reason to start now," he says without looking at you.

"I thought we could go together," you say with a hopeful smile.

He picks up his book from the side table and open its, "Why would you think that?"

"Because it would be fun?" you ask, feeling more unsure of yourself with every passing moment.

He looks up at you briefly and then back to his book. "I doubt very much it would be," he says.

You stand across from him in silence, hurt by the thought that Loki didn't even want to consider going with you. Loki has never been one to socialize with the team voluntarily but you had been excited about the idea of finally having a date to one of Stark's parties.

"I know we've only been dating a few months but... I guess I just assumed you would want to go with me," you say quietly.

"Don't Midgardians have a saying about assuming things?" he asks as he turns the page of his book.

"Well, yea..." you put your mug on the coffee table. "Can you not read while we're talking?"

"You know I'm perfectly capable of holding a conversation and reading at the same time," he says without looking up, you wrap your arms around yourself and don't respond. He finally looks up and slides his bookmark between the pages before setting it on the table. "Better?" he asks in a sarcastic tone.

"Oh, is it rude of me to want you to pay attention to me when I'm talking?" you ask, unable to hide your growing annoyance.

"There is nothing to talk about. I have told you I'm not going," he says. "You're more then welcome to go to that ridiculous event alone." He sits back and opens his book again.

"Its not ridiculous," you argue back but he doesn't acknowledge you as he turns the page.

"And I don't... I don't want to go alone. I want to go with my boyfriend. What's wrong with that?" you ask.

"Are you really going to just ignore me now?" you ask when he continues to read silently.

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm just done with this conversation," he says as he flips the page.

"That's not how conversations work-" you say, rolling your eye sarcastically.

"I don't want to be with you Y/N," Loki says in a harsh tone as he slams the book closed.

You instantly take a step back as his words hit you. He stands up quickly, dropping his book as moves towards you. "Go, I meant I don't want to go with you," he tries to correct himself but your mind has already latched onto those words.

"You... don't..." you whisper as you stand in front of him in disbelief, shaking your head slowly.

"No, no. That's not what I meant," he repeats. "Y/N, I didn't mean that."

He reaches for your arm and you pull away from him. "But you said it," you say, you feel as if you're heart is physically breaking. "Why would you say that?" you ask, close to tears.

"Y/N, I-" Loki starts to explain but is cut off by the sound of your phone ringing from the other room.

You turn from him and walk back to the kitchen to answer it. Loki follows you and tries to take your hand but you turn from him. You purposefully stare at your feet while on the phone to avoid looking at Loki who is growing increasingly upset and nervous.

When you hang up from your call with Agent Hill you ask, "Can you please leave? I have to be ready to take off for a mission in twenty minutes and I-"

"Y/N, I'm not leaving until we talk," he shakes his head. He attempts to close the distance between the two of you again and this time you don't move away. You keep your eyes fixed on the ground as tears begin to surface. He touches your cheek lightly but you still don't look up.

"That's not what I meant," he says again and you nod slowly, your heart believes him but your mind won't let go of this words so easily. "Please look at me," he pleads but you can’t.

"I have to get ready," you tell him again in a hushed voice.

"Can we talk when you get back?" he asks and you mumble ok in response. He kisses the top of your head lightly and says, "Be safe, Y/N."

(Three days later)

You limp slowly down the long corridor and find yourself standing in front of Loki's door. You can tell he's awake, most likely reading, when you see the light creeping out from under the door even though it's just past one in the morning.

You stand there frozen for a moment. All you want to do is feel his arms wrap around you but every time you picture him, you hear his voice echo. He said he didn't want to be with you and although he quickly took it back you just couldn't shake it. His words had burned themselves into your thoughts and refused to leave.

You try to take a deep breath and feel a searing pain spread through your left side. You look down at the brace on your left knee and rub your left arm, just above where the cast was set. Shaking your head, you turn to drag yourself the rest of the way down the hall to your room to sleep.

You get a few feet away when you hear Loki's door open and you stop but don't turn. "Y/N, welcome back," he says quietly.

You can feel your heartbeat picking up at the sound of his voice and you can't help but smile a bit. "I've missed you, love," he says, you can hear he's stepped out into the hall.

"I missed you too," you tell him as you turn to face him. You watch as his eyes move up and down your body, filling with concern.

"Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asks, standing close to you. You shrug and tell him that the mission was ultimately successful but you were thrown during an explosion at the Hydra base. You had broken your arm and sprained your knee, in addition to being covered in bruises. You tell him you're exhausted and just want to lay down.

He reaches out and takes your hand, "I know you're tired darling, but come with me." You look up at him quietly, he gently strokes your cheek. "Let me take care of you," he says in a soothing voice.

You smile sleepily and nod, absolutely nothing could sound better then letting Loki look after you right now. No matter what he said before you left, you were still completely in love with him, although you had never been brave enough to say it. You squeeze his hand lightly and he leads you back to his room.

Once inside, he closes the door quietly and picks you up careful not to hurt your side or leg. You let out a small laugh in surprise as he carries you bridal style into the living room. "I can walk," you tell him but you make no attempt to be put down.

"Not without being in pain it seems," he answers in a caring tone.

You wrap your good arm around his neck a bit tighter and kiss his cheek lightly without thinking. He smiles when he looks down at you but you can see it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes are red and glassy, his normally silky smooth hair appears slightly tangled and you've never seen his clothing wrinkled before.

You look around as he carries you through his apartment. His space is usually meticulously neat but there are books messily piled on the end table and floor. You notice a pillow and blanket from his bed have been moved to the couch and there are several empty mugs on the coffee table. He walks through the living room and into his bedroom where the bed you've shared is made perfectly, expect for the missing pillow. You realize its the pillow from your side of the bed that's been moved to the couch.

As if he is reading your thoughts he says, "I haven't been able to sleep without you."

You close your eyes, hold him tighter and whisper, "I'm sorry, Loki." You knew how hard the last few days had been for you but you are quickly seeing how badly it had affected Loki as well.

He kisses your forehead as he gently opens the bathroom door with his foot. He sets you down on the countertop next to the sink.

"I understand you're tired but... I just need you to know I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't mean what I said before you left, you know that right? I was frustrated about the party and it just came out wrong. I-" he tells you and you pull him closer to you. You put your good arm around his waist and move your legs to be on either side of him as they dangle over the edge.

You had spent the last three days replaying what Loki said and you can tell he had been too. "I know Loki," you interrupt him. "I know you didn't mean it," you tell him and he breaths a sigh of relief. He strokes your cheek lightly then leans down to kiss you.

When he breaks the kiss, you hide your face against his chest. "Y/N...?" he asks, running his hand up and down your back lightly.

"I'm sorry I pushed you about going to the party. I know you don't enjoy going to them and it wasn't fair that I got upset instead of listening to you," you tell him.

He puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head so you are looking up at him again. "I will go to the party, I just want to make you happy Y/N," he offers but you shake your head no and he looks confused.

"I don't want to go anymore," you tell him.

"You should go. I know how much fun you thought his last party was," he says.

You smile at him and run your fingers through his hair gently, "I would rather spend time with you, doing something we both like."

He cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. You kiss him back as his hand slides down your back, holding you close to his chest. You giggle when you pull away to breath, "I meant something like going to a museum... but that works too."

He laughs at your response than says, "Well we still have all the things on your Halloween list to get through."

You nod happily as you yawn then groan in pain when your stretching aggravates your sore muscles. His smile fades and he looks concerned again.

"Let's get you more comfortable, darling," he says and you agree.

You rest against Loki with your eyes closed as you listen to the tub full with water. After a few minutes, Loki carefully helps you out of your dirty, bloodied uniform and places you into the warm water. You let out a sigh as your muscles begin to relax from the oils Loki had added. Resting your broken arm on the edge of the tub, you let yourself sink completely under the bubbles.

Loki's kneels behind you and begins to gently unbraid your hair. He runs his long fingers through your hair and then down your neck to your shoulders, massaging all the tension from your muscles. When he finishes, he kisses you softly. "Just rest now, I'll be back in a moment," he says as he gets up.

You nod with a smile, struggling to keep your eyes open. Just as you are about to drift off completely, Loki returns to being you to bed. After drying off, Loki conjures you a soft pair of green shorts and a black tank top to sleep in.

You giggle, half asleep when he picks you up again and carries you into the bedroom. He lays you on the bed and then gets in next to you. At soon as he pulls the covers over the two of you, you curl up against his side.

Loki wraps his arms tightly around you and whispers, "I love you, Y/N."

For a moment, you aren't sure if you dreamed hearing this words or if he actually said he loved you for the first time. You look up at him and when you see his smile, you know you weren't dreaming.

"I love you too, Loki," you confess happily, right before you slip into a sound sleep.

@michelleleewise @ace-of-gay @high-functioning-lokipath @poetic-fiasco @soubi001 @lokisninerealms @lulubelle814 @lovingchoices14 @justasecretwriter @theaudacitytowrite @klaushargreeves420 @coffeeorsomething-irl @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @avoliax @talesofadragon @lokiandbuckysdoll @animnerd @juulle987 @lokiprompts21 @javagirl328 @kats72 @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @mochie85 @princess-asgard @holdmytesseract @lokixryss @peaches1958 @lokidbadguy @highkeysimpingforloki

Let me know if you want to be taken off or added to this list! 💚

2K notes · View notes

r1pp4r · 9 months

Text

hi lovelies!! work has been busy <333 i’m working on requests but in the mean time have some simon “ghost” riley headcannons :))

- i also bought a ps4 and have been playing cod so… more content hehe 🫶🫶

anyway!! here’s the headcannons :)) slight NSFW warning!!!

——————————————————————————————

- 🫣

• simon isn't a physical touch man unless youre in private but it takes a little bit. he won't be all over you when the two of you are out in public, especially on mission. but he'll do discreet little touches here and there (i.e put his hand on your upper arm, brush your shoulder, your knee, thigh) he'll even grab your pinky (he LOVES finger holding you cant change my mind)

• while simon would be absolutely infatuated with you, he'd also be terrified of you. he loves the thought of having you wrapped in his arms at night but the thought of him crushing or possibly hurting you shuts the idea out almost completely.

• this one is sad but he's hurt you before sleeping. he was definitely having a night terror, he's pushed you out of bed sometimes or woken up screaming. you didn't get to see that until farther along in the relationship though, he probably wouldn't physically sleep with you for maybe the first 6months to a year. it depends on ur dynamic :))

• as much as i know everyone thinks he'd be some mean, aggressive brute in bed... bro. he'd literally be so sweet. he'd take his time and make sure you felt loved. he likes to use his hands and mouth more than his yk, it just makes him feel like he's violating you less? idk how to explain it but he doesn't like receiving TOO much, like he won't ask for it every time but if you ever wanna really get him goin.. 🫣🫣🫣

• simon loves to take care of you, and the thing is you'll argue over it. (at least imc) but he'd definitely try and be the main caretaker of everything and i mean EVERYTHINGGGG, but he also likes ur independence :)) so u have your own job n your own money, he just likes to take care of the big things you pay for groceries n shit (when he's not looking)

• this man LOOOOOVES ur thighs. he loves just feeling his head squished in between the warmth. he loved feeling the skin squish between his fingers as he grabs your legs... esp when it jiggles after he spanks u. ANYWAYYYYYYYYY

• he loves cuddling whenever youre the little spoon in any shape or form. simon is ALWAYS holding you. his arms are wrapped around your form like a cocoon and he makes sure you're all cozied up against him. he also likes to make sure you're protected and one of the only ways he can do that is with his arms around you. he feels the safest with his arms wrapped around you, as do you.

• playing off that.. this man will literally murk a motherfucker if they LOOK at you wrong. (obviously not he'd just stare.. at them. very intensely) but if anyone ever put their hands on you in any sense of malice... i don't think for a second simon would hesitate.

• also... playing off sense. simon 100% knows when someone's bullshitting, or he can call anyone out within a minute. he's VERY good at reading people and truly can figure out their intentions quickly (obvs they can change or he can be wrong but like.. he's not 85% of the time.)

• once simon is comfortable enough with you, he'll come to you whenever he's having a moment and will allow you to basically cradle him until he doesn't need it anymore. he doesn't like to be squeezed tho (besides during ... but we knew that 😸) he just wants you to hold him and run ur fingers through his hair

• he talks a LITTLE bit more with you and his tone is a lot different and his voice is softer but he still doesn't talk a LOT. you do most of the talking but he prefers it that way because he loves listening to your voice. (he 100% calls you on missions whenever he can rather than text, he HATES texting)

• simon has cried to soap and roach about how he wants to love you but feels like he can’t. 100%.

• he only likes to be called simon when they’re at home, or in the bedroom. sometimes you’ve slipped up and he doesn’t mind :)

•bonus simon loves ur hands :~)

433 notes · View notes

shuttershocky · 5 months

Note

There's a thread on the arknights reddit asking why is Eyja so resistant to powercreep. About half the answers were because the devs virtually give no other casters the amount of res ignore she has and she was just made right from the start and casters past her are either meh or Goldenglow.

It's a fun problem to talk about and these answers are correct, but I would argue that fully understanding the issue of Eyjafjalla's effect on Arknights' design and why she's so hard to powercreep comes down to understanding the combination of four things:

Arts damage is calculated by reducing the initial damage by a percentage given by the target's RES

Arknights is a Tower Defense game

Eyjafjalla was first and with a very overloaded S2

Closely related to #3, Arknights is a live service (gacha) game

I'm not sure if I can explain this very cohesively, but I'll try. This is going to be a very long post going over all 4 points in detail, after the cut

I'll go over info you definitely already know to explain Point#1, but please be patient.

Arts damage in Arknights is calculated like how Magic Resistance works in many games—it's reduced by a percentage of the target's RES, vs Physical damage being a flat reduction by DEF or ATK - DEF. Let's explain Physical first.

The flat reduction from DEF means that while Phys damage does almost nothing if it's below an enemy's DEF, slowly slowly increasing the phys damage being outputted will get over the enemy's DEF until it starts being effective. The higher you boost the phys damage over the initial DEF, the more effective the attack becomes. 2000 DEF may be extremely tanky, but if you deal 10,000 damage per hit in one second, you're still dealing 8000 DPS. On the other hand, if you deal 1000 damage per hit 10 times in a single second, you're doing basically nothing (a minimum of 5% damage per hit) to a 2000 DEF target despite having the same DPS.

Meanwhile, Arts damage being reduced by a percentage dictated by enemy RES means that the actual damage per hit doesn't matter. If you make a 10,000 damage Arts attack hit an 80 RES target once per second, you do 2000 DPS. Do the same thing where an attack does 1000 damage Arts hits 10x in 1 second to the same 80 RES target, and you do 200 x 10 or 2000 DPS. This means Arts damage ultimately only cares about DPS, no cares about whether it gains it from boosting ATK or ASPD, it will be the same in the end.

Moving on to Point #2, other games that calculate magic resistance in this way aren't Tower Defenses, but Arknights is. Being a tower defense means that the objective in any stage is to beat all AI enemies in a stage before they finish their set path to your goal, and no matter what strategy you go with the only approach to victory involves killing all enemies in some manner. This foundation means that DPS is inherently king (as in many games, but with Tower Defense's especially), as your only form of gameplay involves destroying the AI enemies with set patterns, everything else only serves that purpose. The hypothetical ultimate Arknights unit is not the one with the best utility or versatility or strategic potential, it's the unit that can kill the most number of enemies onscreen more efficiently than everyone else. So when it comes to units that deal Arts damage, Arts units that can kill the most enemies the most efficiently are the most valuable.

In other games in completely different genres but with the same approach to magic resistance (a very big logical leap I know but hear me out I swear), DPS numbers cannot be the end all-be all. For example, Dota 2's magic resistance works the same way, and they even have heroes with similar approaches to the game, but being a human player vs human player game and actually being unable to win by killing all enemies alone creates nuance.

Lina and Skywrath for (an extremely simplified and obviously overlooking many, many more nuances) example, are both squishy magic damage nukers whose goals are to surprise one enemy and then destroy them as fast as possible with very high magic damage. However, they are usually incomparable, because they're not just fighting set AI enemies walking on pre-determined paths, but human players who will react in different ways to the smallest differences between the two characters (ex: Skywrath has no way to completely stop enemy movement so he'll have a partner nearby to watch out for, Lina has a stun so she's more likely to be alone, but there's no dodging her homing Laguna Blade like you can with Skywrath's ground-targeted Mystic Flare so kill her before she fights back). Also, you can only win in Dota by destroying the enemy's base, so a team with 100 kills can actually lose to a team with 30 kills if the team being beaten up constantly dodges fights but manages to destroy the enemy base still. The ability to kill your enemies must actually be in service of your ability to destroy buildings (which are normally magic immune), meaning a caster that can annihilate enemy players is the blink of an eye but is useless at breaking buildings or defending may become a liability if they don't help their team at pushing faster than the enemy or can't help defend their buildings. To put it short: in other games, the non-linearity of both the objectives and combat encounters means increasing raw magic DPS cannot always be a solution

So now we go into Point#3 and 4, Eyjafjalla was the first 6 star Caster, and Arknights is a live service game meaning it must change over time.

Eyjafjalla having an automatic and powerful skill with RES shred, multiple charges, and even AOE on her S2 spelt doom for the entire Caster class, even more than her infamous S3. With S2, Eyja was cheaper than Casters with AOE, dealt more DPS than them while having their AOE, didn't require any manual input from the player, and even shredded enemy RES.

Now Eyjafjalla's S3 could be competed with, as it was a long cd multitarget DPS skill. Ceobe came with her own machine gun on S2 that could scale off enemy DEF, while Carnelian came with true AOE rather than a 6 target limit (though Eyja's S3 was still better in the end lol). However, her S2 being so easy and so powerful in a tower defense where efficient and strong DPS is the most valuable trait you can possibly have means HyperGryph either have to directly powercreep it with a similar skill, or work around it, which is where Point#4 being closely related comes in.

HG's approach was trying to work around it, which is why other Casters have clearly tried to stay out of her way either via utility or new features. Goldenglow has global range, Ebenholz sacrifices DPS for instant burst (but then eventually got a DPS module anyway), Mostima has big slows, Dusk creates summons to block enemies, etc. But even with all the utility or features being put into other Casters, if Eyjafjalla kills enemies just as quickly and easily as she did at release, then there's no real reason beyond your own fun to use anyone else. Eyja's S2 is still killing everything. That means enemies also have to change.

If Eyjafjalla killing enemies so easily with either S2 or S3 is a problem, then the only solution without being able to nerf her is make enemies harder for her to kill alone. This is why Patriot Phase 1 had 90 RES, so Eyjafjalla couldn't just kill him like she did all other bosses while Amiya's S3 had True Damage. Later enemies would also try other gimmicks, like the enemies in Lonetrail starting with very high DEF and RES that would lower after multiple hits, so strong DPS casters like Eyja can't instantly kill them with S2 (although her S3 will kill them from rapidfire lol).

However, unlike someone like Exusiai who had low ATK but monstrous DPS from multihits and ASPD, simply raising the floor of enemy RES will negatively affect ALL Casters, because of point#1— Arts only cares about DPS because of how it's calculated, damage per hit doesn't really matter. While Exusiai players can still play around with her by attempting to boost her DPH above the enemy's DEF threshold (and run the math on whether they should just try to lower enemy DEF instead), Casters will react the same to boosting ASPD and ATK, while lowering enemy RES will become more and more efficient the higher enemy RES gets, and hey, guess who comes with a RES shred? Eyjafjalla's S2.

Eyjafjalla trapped Hypergryph's design team. Keep raising RES and other Casters quickly become more and more useless without RES ignore / RES shred of their own, becoming a second support class when Supporters already exist for the idea of "Casters but supports". In fact, as RES gets raised, Eyjafjalla and other casters like Ifrit become more and more valuable as DPS units (in a tower defense where DPS is king), since they can ignore / shred RES when most cannot. Keep the game playable for other Casters however, and it means Eyjafjalla will continue to reign supreme.

HG tried to do a balancing act. This is how we got enemies start to get more RES over time, which weakened Casters overall enough that HG made a module for Core Casters to ignore 10 RES (that Eyjafjalla also got LOL). This is also how we got into the current state where Eyjafjalla is still comfortably killing 90% of the game and seen as near impossible to powercreep, because if she can't then people without her (and there WILL be people without her, because it's a gacha game and she's not guaranteed) would be totally screwed. Try to directly powercreep her by making a second Eyjafjalla with bigger numbers, and not only will you be pissing off people that rolled for Eyjafjalla, but you'll be creating an even bigger problem instead of fixing the first one.

So to tie it all together

Point # 1 means that Arts damage is a lot less nuanced than Physical damage, leading to raw DPS by any means coming out on top

Point # 2 means that if the only way to win is to destroy all enemies, then the ability to destroy enemies with damage faster and more effectively will always be the strongest solution

Point # 3 means that since Eyja was first and also very overloaded with features, everyone else was created with the knowledge of that they'll be competing against her, meaning you either had to directly powercreep her, or stay out of her way. HG chose the latter

Point # 4 means that while Arknights tried to address her, by either making tankier enemies or by event game mechanics, they were trapped by their own design. Because of Points #1, #2, nullifying Eyjafjalla too much would be screwing over everyone else because of the end result of Point #3, which is everyone tried to stay out of her lane when it came to DPSing. Not everyone can have Eyjafjalla because it's a gacha game and who you get is all RNG, and while you want new units to be attractive to make money, directly powercreeping old characters screws over your own players and makes them angry, while powercreeping Eyjafjalla directly will not even fix the problems created by points #1 and 2, it just makes an even more problematic, second Eyjafjalla.

Thanks for reading this far! If anything wasn't clear just ask and I'll try to explain it again

#Arknights

225 notes · View notes

iwas-princess · 1 year

Note

hihihi can I plzpkzplzpkz have iwaizumi hajime w a oikawas little sister!reader

iwaizumi hajime • my pride and joy

genre: fluff/suggestive

“babe, should we bring the watermelon or beer?” hajime called from the kitchen. his eyes were fixated on the brand new bottle of wine in his hands as he read the label curiously, a crease forming between his brows and a frown on his lips giving away his current emotion.

“um, i think kawa is going to bring the watermelons.” you answered as you entered the room after getting ready in the bedroom. “wait, no- matsukawa is.”

“so beer it is.” he sighed before settling the bottle into the open tote bag on the counter, his attention having yet to travel on you ever since you walked in.

“sorry.” you apologetically mumbled, watching his back muscles contort briefly when he set the wine down.

your prideful older brother, toru, was hosting a celebratory cookout in honor of his departure to argentina next week, gathering everyone he had ever met in his luxurious backyard this evening.

you were already practically sick that he would be so far away from you for a pretty large period of time, and this crowded get together didn’t help calm your nerves. if you weren’t dating his best friend, you easily could have gotten away with not attending and rescheduling with him in the morning to go out for lunch instead. but, iwaizumi persisted that you both go, reasoning that it would ‘matter more in the future’ and ‘you’re his favorite person, you have to go’. it was pathetic how well you listened to him, you decided.

his breath hitched as he turned around and caught sight of you, suddenly feeling anxious for the following few hours with you and two hundred other people. hajime always knew you were gorgeous, even as a child, but it never failed to take his breath away at how well you cleaned up.

“hey, sexy.” he mumbled under his breath before cockily leaning against the marble counter and shamelessly checking you out.

your cheeks heated at his attention, his predatory gaze and sly smirk making your sundress feel suddenly tight. you knew it was one of his favorites, but had faith that he would try to keep it together just for today— even at home. but, obviously you were too hopeful because now he’s practically drooling on his shirt.

“haji, wait until we get home before you start flirting. you’re only going to work yourself up with no relief.”

he groaned like a angsty teenager, throwing his head back dramatically at your denial. he understood why, of course, given that you both were staying at oikawa’s until the later when party had ended, but he still found himself slightly disappointed. it would be hours until you arrived home, hours of other people gawking at you while trying to hide from hajime’s view to avoid getting killed and he really wasn’t in the mood to watch you cry as he and toru argued over a ruined party.

since childhood, iwaizumi had been scarily protective of you, even more so than your own brother. everyone was terrified of him when it came to you, and even though you were hot, they all knew better than to pay you any mind. any more than a quick ‘hi’ would send them home battered and sulking, and absolutely no one planned on that fate tonight.

but, he was sure someone would try to tempt him with the way that dress hugged your curves.

“oh, stop acting like a child. you’ll get your fix on the car ride home— if you’re good.” you placed a quick kiss to his jaw for reassurance as you left the room once more, heading to the bathroom to finish your makeup.

good, he’ll be indeed.

—

the party was chaotic, just as you and hajime had suspected. your brother’s two acer backyard was filled with far more people than he had claimed he invited, and the many conversations overlapped each other loudly.

it was gorgeous though, the decorators sure outdid themselves with the many yards of fairy lights that hung over everyone’s heads and the floral arrangements took all of the guest’s breath away as they entered. drinks were in each hand, the variety being either a wine glass or a beer bottle, most picking the former.

tonight, you and iwaizumi chose to stay near the gazebo where oikawa and his fiancé stood as they greeted all of the guests and old friends of his with large smiles on their faces. most old high school teammates would make their way over to you two next, itching to catch up with the former ace and his girlfriend— his captain’s baby sister.

all of sejioh remembers the infamous oikawa y/n, the girl who was very off limits but everyone wanted, especially her brother’s teammates. it had been a common locker room joke that she would marry one of them someday, and they would gush about how great of a wife she’d be. iwaizumi would often find himself in a good amount of trouble afterward for getting physical with whoever would bring it up, or take of too far, and you had never loved him more than when you heard all of those stories.

“i just can’t believe that you were her pick.” an old teammate shook his head in disbelief as he downed his wine. “i mean, don’t get me wrong, iwa, i’m not surprised you were in love with her, especially after all of those punches i got back then, but wow. i’m just shocked she chose you and not hanamakki. they were good friends there for a while, y’know?”

you could practically feeling the anger fuming off of your boyfriend as your arms linked with him, his tan skin feeling clammy and heated against yours. his face was slightly red, tinted with light frustration from his old friend’s tipsy ramble. it was his second glass, and he had been talking both of your ears off for an hour now about ‘the good old days’. you wouldn’t have minded if hajime hadn’t felt so stiff and hot with each word the man spoke.

“yeah, well, i guess i was more her type than makki.” he shrugged, trying his best to come off as unbothered. “right, babe?”

you nodded, flashing a tight smile at his forced tone.

the flex of his arm as it suddenly tucked you closer to him caused a wave of need to flash through you, his possessiveness and strength making him even more attractive tonight.

you glanced at his face, but soon regretted it once you found that you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. he was a hunk, his face flushed slightly out of aggravation and lips in a very forced smile, as if he was trying his best not to frown angrily. you’ve always thought his hotheaded nature was attractive but tonight, it had done something entirely different to you.

you didn’t feel the insatiable need to tear his clothes off, or makeout with him in the bathroom until you both got caught— you felt proud.

proud that you had been lucky enough to find someone so obsessed with you that the mention of your ‘choice’ had him fuming and tightly trapping your arm in his.

also, so very proud that he was trying his best to appear far more positive than he actually felt, an accomplishment that he had never been able to achieve. but for you, he did.

and you had never felt so perfect for him than now.

“yep, definitely my type.”

#iwaizumi 🌷#iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi x chubby reader #iwaizumi x chubby reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader smut #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x chubby reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader fluff

1K notes · View notes

standfucker · 1 year

Text

Reacting to Your SH Scars - Monster Trio, Law, Kid, Killer

CW for SH, obviously. GN reader in all except Sanji’s somewhat implies a fem reader. Reader is short but it only comes up in Zoro's and Kid's sections. No established relationship, but implied feelings between everyone and the reader.

Ao3 link

Luffy

You had to wait forever for the others to finish dressing and leave the shared quarters so you could change as well, not wanting them to see your scars. You always had some excuse as to why you lagged behind, and they didn’t question it.

Your captain was less patient, however.

"Y/n! You done yet? Come on, let's go!" You hear him shout from outside the door. You’re about to reply when the rubber man bursts into the room without warning.

You’re decent enough, having already donned shorts and a tank top, but you haven’t pulled your long sleeve shirt on yet, your scarred and cut arms plainly visible. You go rigid as his gaze falls to them.

Luffy doesn’t say anything, and you hastily pull on your shirt, but it’s too late.

“Sorry… I’m ready,” you mumble awkwardly.

Luffy still doesn’t speak. You don’t think he realizes what it is, that he doesn’t understand what he saw. That he’s naive.

So it takes you by surprise when he says softly, “Ace used to do that.”

“Ah…” You fidget with your hands, unsure of how to respond.

“But he got better.” Luffy stretches an arm across the room to wrap around your shoulders and pulls you off your feet, making you yelp as he reels you into a side hug. “You will, too. I know it.”

You weren’t going to say anything. You’re generally good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. But he sounds so certain, and you can’t help it, bitter pessimism flaring up like it always does. This time, it slips out. “What makes you so sure?”

Luffy blinks at you, entirely unphased. “I believe in you!” He says, and smiles like the sun, that bright and shining grin he always has that shows his genuine care and delight.

It catches you off guard. So much so that even though it’s been years since you’ve cried, you have to bite your tongue right then to keep yourself from tearing up. You want to believe him so badly.

“I… I see,” you manage to say. “Thanks, Captain.”

Luffy turns to walk out the room, pulling you along by the hand. He pauses before either of you exit, though, turning to face you again.

“Luffy?” You question, but a second later he’s leaped onto you, wrapping his stretched-out body around you multiple times, in a total, enveloping hug that only he can give.

He giggles, and despite everything, despite all the years of suffering and bad thoughts and hurting for no good reason, you find yourself laughing too.

Sticking around is worth it, you think, if you get to be with him and the crew.

Zoro

You and Zoro insult each other. Not in the way that he argues with Sanji–your dynamic is all teasing, neither of you ever serious in your ribbing.

“Keep up, Cyclops,” you taunt after you dispatch an enemy before he does. “I thought you trained with Mihawk?”

“How about you worry less about my speed, and more about what the adults are keeping on top of the fridge, Pipsqueak,” he shoots back with a grin.

And so it goes, until the time you’re hanging out with him on the ship. He’s spilled some of his sake, and the match you used to light your cigarette drops right into it, igniting the small puddle. You pull off your jacket in a panic and quickly smother the fire.

Zoro finally understands why you’ve never taken off your jacket in front of anyone, eyeing the scars and cuts that run up both arms.

He doesn’t comment on it. But from then on, he stops trading friendly insults, no longer responding when you call him stupid names or make fun of him for getting lost.

It messes with you, it makes you feel worse. You want him to treat you like he used to, desperately missing the banter.

You don’t know how to bring it up. You certainly won’t do it when the others are around. But finally you can’t stand it anymore, and you approach him one day when he’s exercising, the two of you alone on the bow of the ship.

“Why?” You ask, and he tilts his head at you in question. “You don’t talk back to me anymore. Ever since you saw me without my jacket. Why, Zoro?”

Zoro doesn’t stop his reps, glancing at you while he curls a massive weight. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” You pause and lower your voice. “It matters to me. I feel like… I mean…” It’s so hard to be candid in front of him when he’s so stoic. You suck in a nervous breath. “Are we not friends anymore?”

Zoro’s eyes widen. “Of course we are.”

“Then what is it?” You try to keep from sounding as upset as you feel, but maybe you don’t do a very good job, because Zoro stops and sets down the weight to give you his full attention.

He looks at you carefully, as if deciding how to phrase his thoughts. He’s not usually one to think before he speaks, but he does so this time.

“It’s not because I don’t like you,” he starts, scratching the back of his head. “It’s just… I can’t do it. I keep thinking, ‘what if I’m the cause one time?’ What if you do it because of me?”

“Oh,” you say quietly, then speak up, “oh, no. No! Zoro. It could never be you. Never.”

He doesn’t look convinced, so you keep going.

“You could never hurt me like that,” you admit sheepishly. “Not you. I’m only ever happy when we’re hanging out.”

“Not happy enough,” he mutters, his gaze settling onto your arm–first the left, then the right, remembering what he saw.

The words pierce you like one of his swords, and you feel yourself choke on nothing. “No,” you agree. “I guess not.

Zoro picks up a towel to wipe the sweat from his face before he approaches you. “Y/n. Is there anything I can do?”

You gape at him, not expecting the words, and certainly not expecting him to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“Anything at all,” he repeats. “I don’t want you feeling like that.”

You look down. You’ve been ill for so long, you don’t know if you’ll ever stop feeling that way. But… “Treat me like you used to,” you request. “Like I’m not fragile. I need to be treated like a normal person. I need to feel normal.”

Because if someone treated you like you were as sick as you really were, you think you’d throw yourself overboard. You’re not ready to confront that reality. Maybe you never will be. ‘I’m fine’ was your mantra, even when you were not. Especially when you were not.

Zoro nods. “I’ll try,” he says. “But can’t you talk to someone? I mean, no one else knows, right?”

“No one else knows,” you confirm. “And… Well, would you talk to anyone? Have you ever brought up anything that personal to anyone else?”

Zoro opens his mouth to reply, but when he says nothing, you know you got him.

“See?” You press. “It’s not that simple.”

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue, lowering his hand from your shoulder. “Shit. Alright, I get it. Damn it…”

“No need to curse about it. It’s not that big a deal.”

Zoro looks at you so sharply you flinch. “Yes it is? Are you crazy?”

You grimace. “I mean, probably? Given the whole, uh,” you raise your arms, “you know.”

He doesn’t laugh, but you weren’t expecting him to. You weren’t really joking, anyway.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’m sorry. I never meant for you to see it. I don’t want you to worry.”

Zoro looks at you again, and you can’t figure out his expression. “...I’m glad I saw,” he says after a moment.

“Uh,” you reply dumbly, caught off guard, “you are?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate.

You want to ask why, but you don’t, shifting nervously from foot to foot. Surprisingly, it’s Zoro who breaks the silence first.

“You’re really happy when we hang out?” He asks, face still frustratingly neutral.

“Well, yeah. You’re my favorite,” you say without thinking, then stop and cover your face in embarrassment once your brain catches up. “Fuck.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, and then a smirk stretches across his face. “No need to curse about it.”

Your cheeks get hot, but you’re also flooded with relief, because he’s teasing you again. Maybe everything will be okay after all.

“Shut up,” you grumble. “Forget I said anything.”

Zoro reaches out and ruffles your hair, making you squawk and attempt to smack his arm away. He’s far too strong for you to move him, though.

“I’m going to finish training, and then I’ll come hang with you,” he says. “Though you can wait here if you want.”

You decide to join Zoro, exercising alongside him (with normal sized weights, thank you very much.) He clears his throat once you’ve worked up a sweat.

“You can take off your jacket, you know,” he says. “If you want. I’ve already seen your arms, so…”

You’re not really sure how comfortable you are with that, but it’s hot enough out that you relent, shrugging off your jacket. To his credit, Zoro doesn’t stare.

You thought it would be more awkward, but to your surprise, having your scars exposed without any judgment makes you feel normal. It’s almost euphoric. You smile to yourself, putting a little more effort into your workout.

The two of you drink together afterward, falling back into your routine of affectionate taunting. It’s like nothing has changed, or so you thought.

By the end of the following week, you realize telling Zoro that you felt better with him around might have been a mistake, because he almost never leaves you alone anymore. When the others are around, he doesn’t do anything differently. But he has a sixth sense for when you’re by yourself, appearing by your side right when you seem to need it. He even shows up when you wake up in the middle of the night and go to sit at the bow of the boat. It’s eerie.

You tell him he doesn’t have to do that, and he just shrugs it off. “I like being around you, so it’s fine,” he says casually, like the words don’t spear you through the heart.

The idiot. But you can’t really complain.

Sanji

It took you a while to get used to how touchy Sanji is. Hugs, pats on the shoulder, touches to your arm or side, even holding your hand sometimes–he never holds back.

You’re a bit touch-starved, so you don’t mind. So long as it never becomes inappropriate, you’re alright with it.

Sanji lets you help in the kitchen sometimes. He was reluctant at first, but you told him you needed something to do, needed to keep your hands busy. You didn’t tell him why. But he conceded, giving you simple tasks to complete.

Your sleeve gets dirty while you’re cutting fruit one evening. Sanji glances at it, damp with pineapple juice, and steps over to you, tutting.

“I know you don’t like taking off your jacket, but why don’t you at least roll up your sleeves?” He asks, and before you can respond, he’s reaching for your arm and pulling back the sleeve himself.

The moment he sees the cuts, he yanks his hand away like he’s been burned. Your freeze, throat going dry, unable to do anything but stare at him in shock.

He’s staring back. The two of you just stare at each other for a dumb minute. Fear crawls through your veins and twists up your heart. No one in the crew knew about your issue until then, and you have no idea what he’ll think of you. The anxiety makes you want to vomit. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Um,” you say, and it comes out much higher pitched than it’s supposed to.

“Y/n,” Sanji says quietly. “Who did that to you?”

You don’t know why he’s asking, because you think the answer is obvious. Those are clearly not battle scars. You’re pretty sure he knows, too. Maybe it’s just hard for him to believe–you do an excellent job masking, after all. Sharing that kind of thing got you in trouble in the past, so you only ever appear happy in front of other people, laughing and cracking jokes like you’re not crumbling inside. To any outsider, you’d seem like the most easygoing crewmate in the Straw Hats.

You set down the knife. “Uh… I did?”

His expression slowly morphs from shock into sadness, a frown etched into his features.

“Hey, no,” you say quickly, “don’t–don’t look at me like that. It’s okay, really.”

“But–” he starts to say, pausing when he sees the slight tremble in your form. You can’t help it–past experience tells you you’re about to get yelled at.

“I’m okay,” you say, as much to yourself as to him. “Everything is fine. So don’t…”

Sanji looks at you helplessly. “But… Why?”

You’re glad he’s not yelling at you, but somehow, that look is almost worse. You don’t want to be screamed at again, but you also don’t want him to feel bad for you, either. You do enough of that on your own.

“I don’t really have a good answer for that,” you swallow.

“Nothing at all?” He practically whispers.

You get it. Not having an explanation for something so drastic is probably stressful for him. You shrug, turning back to the pineapple you were slicing to finish what you started, unable to both bare your truth and look at him at the same time.

“Sometimes I do it because I need to hurt on the outside as much as I’m hurting on the inside,” you confess. “Sometimes I do it because I’m so numb that I want to feel something. Sometimes I do it because I can’t sleep. And sometimes, I do it just because I deserve it, I guess.”

When he doesn’t respond, you glance at him cautiously, breath catching when you see his somber expression. “Sanji… I told you not to look at me like that–”

Sanji wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. Normally you’d lean into it, but this time, you tense up. “Oi, be careful! I’m holding a sharp knife, here.”

“Y/n,” he says, ignoring your comment. “You don’t deserve it. I don’t know why you think you do, but you absolutely don’t.”

A lifetime of illness isn’t going to change from a single affirmation. You don’t agree with him, but you can appreciate the sentiment. It feels good to hear, at least.

“Thanks,” you sigh, setting down the knife but remaining tense. “I, uh. I’m grateful that you care…”

“It’s not just me,” Sanji says. “Anyone on this crew would say the same thing.”

“I’ve never doubted that,” you say. It’s not enough to stop your unfortunate coping method–you think all the love in the world couldn’t hold you back–but it’s still nice to know. You finally relax into his embrace, and he squeezes a little tighter.

Sanji pulls away a while later, and you’re startled to see him tearing up. “Sanji! Stop, you don’t–it’s fine! Please, stop!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he says, “I had no idea you were hurting. I can’t call myself a man…”

“Shut up! Of course you didn’t know. I put so much energy into hiding it.”

Sanji grabs your arms. “Then don’t. At least, not around me. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

You bite your lip. “But…”

“But what, love?”

“You don’t think I’m weak?” You blurt out before you can help yourself, unintentionally revealing one of your deep-seated fears.

You never thought you’d be admitting any of the stuff you’ve told him in the past minute, but here you are. Something about the cook just draws it out of you.

“Oh, Y/n. Of course not.”

You look at him like you don’t believe him.

“You’re hurting that much, and you’re still with us,” Sanji says softly. “I think that makes you strong, more than anything.”

His look of genuine sincerity makes your lower lip tremble for a moment, but you squash down your feelings before you completely lose control.

“Okay,” you say shakily. “Thank you, Sanji.”

You ask him to keep your issue secret, which he promises on his honor to uphold.

The next time the two of you are alone, he asks you how you’re doing.

“Great,” you chirp automatically, smiling on reflex, before you pause, remembering what he told you that one night. You don’t have to hide it from me. “...Actually, uh… I don’t really feel all that good.”

“You want to talk about it?” Sanji offers.

“Not really.”

“You want a hug?”

“...Yeah.”

Sanji embraces you, tight and warm, and this time, you let yourself cry just a bit.

Law

Law sees them when he’s inspecting an injury you received in the Heart Pirates’ latest scuffle. You’ve managed to avoid it for so long, but eventually you have to take off your shirt in front of him, revealing your shoulder, and what you’ve done to it.

Law looks at you in a way he never has before, in a way that is hard to describe. Like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. His stoic frown seems to deepen.

“It’s fine,” you say. “It’s been years. I don’t do that anymore.”

The frown turns to an expression of incredulousness. “Have you forgotten I’m a doctor?” You wince as he continues, “I know what a recent wound looks like. By the look of it, your newest cut was… twelve days ago.”

You’re shocked that he pinned the exact day. You gape at him for a moment before muttering, “I wouldn't call it a wound.”

You think the comment pisses him off, because he looks more than a little angry with you. “I can’t believe you just lied to my face.”

Oh. That’s what it was. You look away as guilt creeps in, unable to meet his eye. “I’m sorry, Captain. I just didn’t want to concern you with my problems.”

“I…” He pauses. “ I can’t… this was happening underneath my nose...”

You huff at the phrasing, not quite able to laugh at that moment. “No more ‘underneath your nose’ than any of the crew masturbating. It’s a private thing I do to relieve stress.”

“It’s not the same,” Law snaps.

Like you don’t know that. You know. You know it’s wrong. You don’t say anything. Law looks even more upset.

Then, he says, “I can hardly call myself a captain. All these years, and I had no idea you were hurting so much.”

You realize he’s mad at himself. You balk. “I’m… I’m not hurting.”

“Y/n, you cut yourself.”

For some reason, him saying it out loud makes it worse, your stomach churning as your mouth gets dry.

Silence hangs in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Finally, you say softly, “I’m sorry.”

The anger in his face drops for a moment. “Don’t apologize.”

Another awkward silence.

“What now?” You ask, afraid of the answer but unable to tolerate any more quiet.

Law’s expression softens. “From now on, you come talk to me when you’re not feeling well. That’s an order.”

“No. If I did that, I would be bothering you every day,” you argue.

“That’s fine.”

You frown. “But you’re not that type of doctor.”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I will be. For you.”

For you. Your jaw drops slightly in disbelief. You knew he cared, but that… That was more than you felt you deserved.

“I don’t want to worry you,” you say weakly. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Please.” Law takes your hand in both of his, looking at you intensely. “Please talk to me. Don’t bottle it up like this.”

You stare at him in disbelief, because you’ve never heard Law beg for anything. It’s all overwhelming–him seeing this awful part of you, him caring so much he says that, the warmth of his hands around yours. “Captain…” You close your eyes for a moment to lessen the stimulation of the surrounding world. “Okay.”

“Promise me.”

You look down at his hands holding yours, then up at him. “I promise. Next time, I’ll talk to you.” Then you look away again, because if you see him looking at you like that any longer, you think you might cry. And it’s been ages since you’ve last cried.

Law squeezes your hand, and the dam almost breaks. But you manage, barely, to stay composed.

You keep your promise, seeking him out as soon as the following day. You warned him it would be frequent, and when you approach him it’s with a feeling of guilt. But he reassures you, and he listens, just like he said he would.

Kid

Kid sees after he gets injured. The cut won’t stop bleeding, so you reluctantly take off one of your arm warmers to use as a tourniquet until you make it back to the ship.

Kid does a double take at your exposed arm. You feel your cheeks get hot, but say nothing while you finish tying the cloth tight.

After you finish, you step back to give him space, but Kid grabs your wrist, extending your arm so he can better look at it.

“Hey!” You protest, trying to pull away, but even in his non-metal hand, his grip is like iron. He doesn’t budge, openly staring at the scars and cuts.

“Kid!” You hiss, and he looks at you sharply for not calling him ‘Captain,’ “let go of me. And stop staring, damn it.”

He lets go. You pull your arm to your chest protectively. The two of you walk in silence, but you notice Kid won’t stop glaring at you.

“You got something to say?” You ask harshly, not meaning to snap but too nervous to speak calmly.

“Yeah, I do,” Kid bites back with equal pissiness. “Never do that shit again on my ship.”

The breath catches in your throat. “I can’t,” you admit before you can stop yourself.

“What was that?” He stops walking, turning to face you.

You stop too, tensing under the intensity of his full scrutiny. “...I can’t stop. I keep trying to quit, but… I have a bad day and I crave it, like a cigarette.”

Kid’s frown shows teeth. You feel yourself wither, but the admission keeps going, tumbling out of your mouth like a boulder rolling down a hill, unstoppable. “I won’t lie to you. It’s probably going to happen again. If that’s unacceptable, then I guess… I guess I have to leave the crew.” That thought hurts more than anything, and you bite your lip.

Kid’s hands ball into fists, his artificial hand screeching slightly with the grind of metal. “No one said you have to leave,” he says. “Nevermind. Just… Just keep trying to quit.”

He starts walking again. You have to trot to keep up, his legs that much longer than yours. Kid’s words repeat in your mind as you follow him, because coming from the prickly captain, it means more than he could possibly know. Keep trying, huh? Maybe… Maybe you will.

Your next concern is what you’ll do when you get back to the ship. Even if you run to where your spare clothes are stored, there’s a very good chance multiple crewmates will see your scars. They’re not exactly hard to spot.

Kid seems to read your mind, because right as you round the corner and the dock comes into view, he takes off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders without saying a word.

Your eyes widen, but he won’t look at you. With the difference in height between you, his coat is dragging on the ground, but he doesn’t seem to care.

Your heart clenches, but you don’t say anything either, knowing he’ll just snap if you point out his kindness. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his coat, your hands barely poking out of the too-long sleeves. The size difference between you makes you look a little ridiculous–you look like a pile of fabric with a head. You lift the bottom of his coat off the ground as you walk. It’s the least you can do.

(And, once you’re sure he’s not looking, you bury your nose into the fur of his coat and inhale deeply, taking comfort in his scent wrapped around you.)

Kid’s demeanor toward you changes after that. He’s far less harsh, he doesn’t raise his voice as often, and when he does, he quickly corrects himself. He’s generally just softer. You even notice that he appears around you more often and eventually realize that he’s checking on you. You never say anything, and you don’t really talk about it. But that’s okay.

His presence is enough.

Killer

Killer sees when he walks in on you in the shower. He leaves quickly with a muttered apology, and you don’t even realize he saw anything, at first. But after you dry off and get dressed, when you open the door, he’s standing there.

You only know he’s looking at you because his mask is tilted down in your direction. His bulk takes up the doorframe, and you wait for him to move. He doesn’t, as still as a gargoyle.

“Um… Killer?” You say. “If you want the shower, you have to move so I can get out…”

Killer reaches out, and at one point, you might have flinched. But you’ve known him so long, and Killer’s always been nice to you, even when you were new to the crew. You don’t feel any fear as one massive hand rests on your upper arm, where your scars are hiding under the sleeve of your shirt.

“What’s… oh, fuck,” you breathe as it dawns on you, “you saw it, didn’t you? Shit. Um. I, uh…”

Naturally, you can’t see his expression, and it’s kind of driving you crazy, because he’s not saying anything to show what he’s thinking, either. His hand around your arm squeezes slightly, and you swallow, not really knowing what that means.

“Killer…” You mumble. “I don’t… Uh… Look, just… You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

Killer pulls you toward him suddenly, as easily as if you weigh nothing, and wraps his massive arms around you, crushing you against him in a hug.

You squeak in surprise and instinctively squirm, but he doesn’t let go, so you give up after a moment, going still.

He’s so warm, and the contact feels so good. Almost too good, because suddenly you think you might cry, and you realize you haven’t actually been hugged in years. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so safe.

“Killer,” you choke out around a lump in your throat. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to cry.”

“That’s okay,” he rumbles above you, deep voice soothing. “You can cry. You probably need it, yeah?”

Damn it, that does you in, your eyes stinging as tears well up. You don’t want to, but his gentle permission is like a catalyst, and you sink into him as the tears start to roll down your cheeks. He can’t see it from how your face is pressed against his chest, but when he hears your first sniffle, his arms tighten around you.

Even while you cry, you try to hold back, to keep from openly sobbing. It’s like Killer can sense that, because his mask presses against the top of your head almost affectionately, and the action just makes you break down further until you finally let go entirely. Your arms, at first hanging limply at your sides, raise so you can hug him back, fingers digging into his shirt.

Killer holds you for as long as you need it. You’re not sure how much time has passed. Eventually your sobs fade and the tears stop, but even then, Killer doesn’t let go until you do first.

“Killer…” You look up at him gratefully, and he wipes away your tears with his hand. “Thank you. You were right. I needed that, more than I’d like to admit. Thank you…”

He nods.

“And, um,” you swallow, “you won’t, uh…”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Killer assures.

“Okay,” you sigh, now more than a little tired after the swell of emotion. “I know you don’t like keeping things from Kid, so… Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You’re about to step past him when Killer gently grabs your wrist. “Y/n.”

You turn back to him, your expression asking the question for you.

He bends over, lowering his head until his mask touches your forehead. His free hand takes your other wrist. “People care about you. The crew. Kid. Me. We all care.”

You might have cried again if you hadn’t just let it all out a minute ago, but it doesn’t stop your chest from getting tight. “I know.”

Killer’s thumbs rub circles on your arms for a minute before he lets you go, straightening to his full height.

You assume that would be the last time he holds you. It would have been good enough. Even though you kind of crave the physical attention after that, you’re satisfied with the one time. But Killer seeks you out again later in the week, waiting until the two of you are alone to envelop you in another hug. He does it again days later, and again after that. In fact, you realize that he takes the chance to do so whenever you two are in private. It doesn’t happen too often on the ship.

But when it does, well, how can you be upset?

Thanks so much for reading! I hope it made you feel better, if only a little. (Reblogs are much appreciated!)

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece imagines #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #law x reader #kid x reader #killer x reader #trafalger law x reader #eustass kid x reader #this got way longer than it was supposed to be. i understand why people do bullet points now #no regrets tho #zen writes

2K notes · View notes

annmarcus63 · 5 months

Text

It's a pleasant night. His belly is full, his feet throbbing after dancing all over the tavern like he was the eighteen-year-old bard he used to be. He's no longer that foolish child, not after everything. The only thing left from the eighteen-year-old Jaskier is Geralt. Jaskier smiles at the thought. Speaking of a certain witcher, he's sitting on the chair by the window, the light from the fire coloring his side with an auspicious orange hue. He’s so handsome.

It's been a while since the last time he traveled with Geralt, quite a while since the last time they were traveling to a big town, Oxenfurt specifically. That's the reason he feels so content, lightheaded in the best of ways and a little bit excited. You see, he's received a letter from the university. He will be named Artist of the Decade in a major award (obviously) as part of the Oxenfurt Music and Arts festival. Artist of the decade, him, Jaskier. Valdo Marx shited in his pants when the results were published, Jaskier imagined.

"I hope he'll be there! I want to see his cherry plump face when I'm called to the stage. ‘Vulgar art’ he said, he called me untalented, the bastard" The bard is beginning to remove his clothes before going to bed, he's undoing the laces of his boots while talking like eighteen-year-old Jaskier used to. "I'm sure he'll be there. That snake. There was a time he told everyone at the music guild that the lyrics of my song were false, that you weren't even my friend!”

"Most of the lyrics aren’t exactly true" says Geralt in the background, Jaskier ignores him.

"Oh oh oh I want to see his face when he sees you there"

“Jaskier” Geralt calls

"Take that mister 'i'm better than you' "

“Jaskier” Geralt calls

"Yes, darling?" Answers Jaskier with fond exasperation. He's having a big monologue here and that's the moment Geralt decides he wants to add to the conversation. He's been quiet lately.

"I'm not going" Jaskier feels a bold blow on the center of his chest. His heart hunching on itself at registering those words. He understands perfectly well but decides to play dumb anyway. "Where, darling?" and apparently Geralt wants to play dumb too because he stays silent.

"Can I ask why?" Jaskier crosses his arms in front of his chest, already defensive and Geralt is there, still sitting, with a somber expression. This is going to end in an argument, both of them can tell.

"I can't"

"Alright..." Geralt hates being prompted to talk when the conversation is tense, but Jaskier can help it, and doesn't want to help him.

"I'm sorry" at least here he looks remorseful.

"No, no, Geralt. You promised!"

"I'm sorry, something has come up..." Jaskier takes two steps forward and Geralt stands raising his hands in a placating manner.

"What has come up...?" And then Jaskier remembers, the black speck against the window in the middle of the night a week ago. "Does this have something to do with that raven?" Geralt growls, sometimes he forgets his bard used to be a Redanian spy. “Is it because of Yennefer?”

"I'm sorry" Geralt nods, giving the truth. "Is important"

"This is important too!"

And now the bard is shouting at Geralt, he hates doing that, but the witcher is not helping either.

“It’s an award, you have plenty”

“It’s NOT an award, is THE award”

They are standing in front of the other, speaking to the other’s face, up this close Jaskier can see the pattern of tiny scars all over Geralt's face. The bard takes a couple of calming breaths, trying to keep his temper. He hates arguing with the witcher. "Can't she wait?" he asks, but Geralt only denies with his head, already so sure "What is it about?" the witcher doesn't reply "You don't even know!" There goes Jaskier temper again, the bard throws his arms in the air, exasperated and frustrated. This is important to him, and Geralt knew it and it pains him to realize that the witcher would so easily push him aside. A if Jaskier achievements aren't a thing to cherish and celebrate, as if... he's not important. "She didn't tell, she said It's important" Says Geralt followed by a heavy sigh indicating that he thinks Jaskier is being childish.

"This is important to me, Geralt - "

" - I know..."

" I asked you to come last year, remember? I told you that I might win the award and you promised you’ll come! I know you don't like big cities but..."

“-I’m sorry” And that's it. Jaskier can feel his heart turning into dust and falling heavily to the pit of his stomach. It's not the same as the mountain, but it feels similar in a way. Jaskier is realizing just how much he means to Geralt. Again. Jaskier holds Geralt's eyes from below, at least the witcher looks ashamed.

And then after a long, resigned sigh the bard murmurs "Whatever" It keeps happening, repeatedly, suddenly and inexplicably he keeps getting hurt with by his own naivety by thinking that someday Geralt would choose him, not over Yennefer, Ciri or the other witchers. Just choose him because he wants to. Because it's fair, because Jaskier wants him to be there.

He likes Yennefer now, he even catches himself thinking of her with love. The kind of love you have for the one that makes your true love happy. But he also knows that she can fend for herself and that it is possible for Geralt to wait at least a day before responding to her siren song. She gets to have him forever, why does Jaskier can't have him only for a fucking day? And now he's being pitiful, and he hates himself a little bit for that.

Maybe he's overreacting, maybe it's not that important… but it is! He wants Geralt to be there, to share the award with him. But at the end it's not Geralt's fault, he'll not resent the witcher for having priorities, a family to take care of which includes Yennefer and the others but not him. Maybe it's time for Jaskier to find his own. He has already spent enough effort in becoming part of Geralt. Jaskier goes to search his travel bag for his notebook, he needs to rework on his acceptance speech.

"I'll gather we'll be parting ways at the crossroads tomorrow?" Jaskier turns around briefly, wanting to see the witcher’s expression, to be suddenly confronted with an uncomfortable and unexpected feeling at reading on Geralt's face, a lot more than surely the witcher wants to convey. Shame, uncertainty, fear of not knowing what went wrong and how to prevent it from getting worse. And Jaskier feels sympathy, despite everything that has happened, what is happening, Geralt tries, on his own, albeit slow way.

"Yeah"

"Good"

Geralt starts fidgeting on the same spot from before, when Jaskier decides he has had enough and turns. The witcher hasn't moved an inch, he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, the bard can tell. But it won’t come to that. Not anymore. Enough of this, enough of scraps.

"I'm going out, don't wait for me" Jaskier murmurs when he's at the door. Geralt calls for him, but Jaskier pretends to have not heard.

In the morning Geralt arrives at the stables to find Jaskier already waiting for him by Roach. They travel side by side all morning, Jaskier holding his notebook in front of his face, he seems to be reading and rereading the speech, which is weird because he said he's already memorized it. They haven't spoken much, and Geralt hates it. He should be saying something, anything! Something along the lines of "I'll go with you" but Yenn... what if?

Jaskier stops and turns around to face him from below, one hand scratching Roach's neck. They are at the crossroads; it's almost noon and Geralt doesn't know what to say. Their gazes lock for a long time, the wind singing softly around them, the leaves of the trees falling like orange rain. It's so calm. "Take care, Geralt" Jaskier says in the softest of voices and turns right. Geralt watches marching away, wondering why it feels like a goodbye.

It's funny how loneliness comes in the strangest of forms. Surrounded by dozens of people shouting his name from the square in front of the stage. Wasn't this what you wanted? his mind supplies unhelpfully. Yes, he did want this, the love and admiration of the masses. He is, after all, the artist of the decade. But, well, in retrospect he was young with little knowledge of life. It's only natural that your aspirations may change through the years. Don't get him wrong, older Jaskier wants the same as younger Jaskier, but now, he understands that the love of the masses can't fill the void of being unloved and unwanted by people close to him, or people he thought were close to him. So, he accepts the award with the biggest smile on his repertoire, mocks Valdo Marx and goes to the tavern with a bunch of scholars like him. He drinks, he laughs, he sings a lot of his songs, flirts and plays gwent. And with every sip of wine and ale he peels a little bit of his sorrow, his wounded self-esteem, his beaten heart, and self-pity. He wished Geralt was here, with him, but he's not here, so be it. Enough of wanting, enough of this ever-present loneliness. He's resolute. He'll find a place to call home, and he won't resent Geralt. Ok maybe a little.

The celebration has reached the part where everyone is drunk enough to dance and sing at the top of their lungs. Jaskier is standing on top of a table surrounded by the taverns, he's leading the song. He's sweating all over, his hair a brown wet mess. He's happy. When the front door swings open, it's Geralt. The witcher removes his hood and instantly locks eyes with the bard. Like a hunter finding his prey. Jaskier stops singing, right there and then, hopefully no one notices because the song continues its course.

No, no, it's too late. Jaskier thinks. I've already made up my mind. The bard climbs down from the table and pushes through the crowd. His mind it's a volatile compass, pointing at his resolution and to Geralt. It tries to decide how to proceed. It tries to decide which path will hurt more or less.

"What are you doing here?" Jaskier is proud of his steady voice. Not even the ale could break him.

"I thought I'd make it on time, ''Geralt replies , his eyes trying to find Jaskier's, but the bard is looking at a spot on the witcher's shoulder.

"You're late" In that moment the blue eyes look up to meet yellow ones, defying Geralt to name the issue. To name the hurt on Jaskier’s eyes the night before. To name the emotion that is now on the bard's eyes.

They both know this isn't about the ceremony, not anymore.

"I'm here now" Geralt says heavily and Jaskier laughs cause it's funny really. i'm here now so it must be enough.

And this is the thing, he forgave Geralt many times thanks to sporadic care and attention that would be forgotten later. His heart is screaming within his chest, the poor thing wants to take Geralt back. But no, Jaskier won't listen to it anymore.

"And you are late"

A girl walks past them holding a tray of beers, Jaskier takes one and drinks half of it in one go.

Geralt watches him, anxiety sewing itself on his veins. He can feel that is it. He fucked up, again, but this time for good.

"I thought Yen’s message was important" Jaskier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, cursing internally, his tongue loosened by the alcohol. He sounds bitter and resentful. He hates it.

"It is, but this is too" and oh the witcher is trying but instead of being charmed Jaskier gets angry.

"Oh, now it's important, I see. Well, maybe if you have arrived on time for the actual ceremony..."

“…I tried”

"Maybe it wouldn't be too fucking late" A young couple turn to look at them. Feeling embarrassed, Jaskier lowers his voice and continues. "I appreciate the effort, Geralt, but it is an unnecessary one. I’m sorry my friend” says Jaskier, reaching out to place a hand on the Witcher’s muscular arm, trying to convey comradery, an olive branch if you will, for Geralt to take and be gone without blame. If Jaskier dared to look at Geralt's face one more time, he would find sadness, grief, shame, and fear. Every emotion that the witcher always tried to conceal from everyone, especially Jaskier. “There's an open bar, enjoy the celebration. Rest. I'm going to sleep" In that instant Jaskier's heart broke even more. Oh, how he wanted this man, how he longs for him, decades on end. Even in his resolution he still wants him.

He needs to rest too. He's not young anymore, his feet hurt, and his thighs are trembling from the exertion. So, he turns around up the stairs to his room, closes the door behind and with clothes and all, he gets into bed and sleeps like death.

---

I'm posting this fic again because I just realized that I never posted the ending. I'm stupid. I'm sorry.

#geraskier #jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #Geralt does not appreciate Jaskier #Jaskier x self-respect #it took him more than twenty years but is an achievement all the same #Jaskier wants to be part of Geralt's family #geralt x jaskier #joey batey #angst with a happy ending #if loving one self can be considered as a happy ending #the witcher netflix

168 notes · View notes