#i'll get back to the pride requests i just wanted to draw this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

Text

What's Mine

SUMMARY: After months of secretly seeing each other, you and Tyler find yourselves caught between professional boundaries and personal desires. When a flirtatious rival pushes Tyler's jealousy to the surface, he claims you in a way that leaves no doubt about your relationship status-to you or anyone else.

A/N: sorry that these requests are taking so long! I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to juggle writing with Thank you to the person who sent the request for this one in. This one came from the prompt “I’m not the jealous type, but what’s mine is mine.” I've had this one mostly done for a while (like a week or so) but the scene at the end just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to. But I think I'm finally happy with the final result. Hope you like it! xx

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing (I assume, I'm not positive though). Smut (P in V, Unprotected)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the low strains of a country tune from the jukebox. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily were engrossed in a heated pool game, their competitive banter rising above the noise. You and Tyler had claimed a small table near the edge of the room, tucked away just enough to let you watch the chaos unfold.

Tyler sat back in his chair, nursing a Budweiser. His long fingers tapped idly against the glass bottle, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of quiet intensity he always carried. You were close enough to feel his presence, that steady, grounding calm he exuded without even trying. But far enough apart to not draw suspicion from the rest of the team.

Your drink was nearly gone, and you stood, brushing your hand lightly over his shoulder. “I’m getting another. You want one?”

He glanced up at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, darlin’.”

You nodded and made your way toward the bar. It was busy, and a line was forming as people crowded to get the bartender’s attention. You leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you waited.

“Hell of a storm today, huh?”

The voice came from your right, smooth and friendly. You turned to find a man standing beside you, his elbow resting on the bar. He was tall, with a confident grin and a storm-chaser logo stitched onto his jacket—a rival team.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but neutral. “Definitely one to remember.”

“Bet you’ve got some good footage from it,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. “You’re with Owens’ team, right?”

You nodded, not bothering to hide the pride in your voice. “That’s right.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I mean, you guys have a solid team. And... well, looks like you’re not just good at chasing storms.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile tight. “Appreciate the compliment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Tyler. He was still at the table, but his body language had shifted. His posture was no longer relaxed; he sat forward slightly, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His sharp green eyes were locked on you, his expression unreadable but intense.

The man at the bar didn’t seem to notice. He continued, his voice low and smooth. “If you ever get tired of running with Owens, maybe you should give our team a shot. We’ve always got room for someone like you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks but I’ll pass. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

The man didn’t back off, his grin turning slightly smug. “Well, if you ever change your mind—or just feel like grabbing a drink sometime—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you cut him off firmly, turning back to the bar as the bartender handed you your drink.

You glanced over your shoulder toward Tyler. He was still watching, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes flicked briefly to the man beside you before returning to yours. There was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

You gave the man a polite nod before stepping away, leaving him at the bar as you made your way back to Tyler.

As you approached, Tyler’s gaze never left you. He set his beer down, his fingers drumming once against the table before he stood.

“Everything good?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it—a quiet undertone that only you would catch.

“Fine,” you replied with a small smile, though you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral, but his eyes gave him away. “No reason.”

You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. His attention briefly flicked past you, toward the bar where the man still lingered. Tyler’s jaw tightened again, and he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leaned in. “Let’s dance,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Dance?”

“Yeah,” he said, already guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stayed on your back, the contact warm and steady as he maneuvered you through the crowd.

The dance floor was dimly lit, strings of lights crisscrossing overhead and casting a warm glow over the couples swaying to the music. The song was slow and soft, a welcome contrast to the energy of the bar. Tyler stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, turning to face you.

“Here?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart gave a little leap at the intent in his eyes.

“Here,” he confirmed, sliding his hands to your waist.

He pulled you closer, the motion smooth and confident, and suddenly the crowded bar felt a lot smaller. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft, worn fabric of his flannel. The scent of him—faint cologne, beer, and the outdoors—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the song dictating the slow, deliberate steps. Tyler’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the hem of your shirt where it met your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you pressed against him.

But there was something in the way he held you tonight—something different. His movements were just a little firmer, his grip a little more possessive. You felt it in the tension radiating from him, in the way his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re tense,” you teased, tilting your head to study him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too even, his expression unreadable.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at the bar like it owes you money.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flicked past you, just for a moment. Curious, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted the storm chaser from earlier still lingering at the bar, his eyes darting toward you and Tyler on the dance floor. When you turned back to Tyler, his jaw was tight again, his green eyes darker than usual.

“Oh my God,” you said, the realization dawning. A grin spread across your face. “You’re jealous.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning in just a little closer. “You’ve been staring him down ever since I got back.”

Tyler’s hand on your waist slid a fraction higher, pulling you tighter against him. His voice dropped, low and rough. “I’m not the jealous type,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “but what’s mine is mine. And I didn’t like how he was looking at what’s mine.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his tone, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “What’s yours?” you asked, your voice light but laced with challenge. "Not sure I know what you mean."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, his other hand combing up and his thumb brushing along your jawline. The touch was intimate, deliberate. “You know exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled, though your heart was pounding. “Do I? Because last I checked, there’s no label on this... whatever this is. We’re just keeping things casual, remember?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I?” you countered, tilting your head as if to test him. “Because I’m thinking maybe I’ll let him buy me my next drink. He seemed nice. Even offered to let me ride with him if I want.”

Tyler’s grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You better watch that mouth of yours,” he warned, his voice low and steady, “before it gets you into trouble.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Leaning in closer, you let your hand rest on his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel. The touch was casual enough to appear innocent, but the way his eyes darkened told you he didn’t take it that way.

“What kind of trouble?” you asked softly, your voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity.

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small, almost dangerous smile. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep running that little mouth of yours,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m gonna take you against the nearest surface I can find. And trust me, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone—including him—knows exactly who you belong to. So unless you want us both taking a ride for indecent exposure tonight, I'd suggest you knock it off.”

A shiver ran down your spine, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could recover, the song shifted, transitioning into a faster tempo. Tyler pulled back, the satisfied glint in his eyes unmistakable as he saw the look on your face.

He grinned, spinning you out in a smooth twirl under his arm before pulling you back against him. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

And then, without warning, he dipped you low, his hand steady at your back as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was firm and unapologetic, a silent claim that left no room for doubt to anyone looking.

When he pulled back, his hand still cradling your back, you blinked up at him, your breath uneven. His gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Are you done being a brat, or do I need to make things even more official?”

You laughed softly, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” you teased, still catching your breath. “I kind of like seeing you jealous.”

Tyler’s hand stayed firmly on your back as he guided you off the dance floor, weaving through the clusters of people. You were still reeling from the kiss—your lips tingling, your heart racing. His confidence had left you breathless, but there was also something grounding about his presence, his solid grip on you as though letting go wasn’t an option.

As you reached your table at the edge of the bar, Tyler pulled you into a quieter corner where the music softened to background noise. His hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly over your hip as if staking his claim.

“Subtle,” you teased, leaning against the wall. “You think that was enough for him to get the message?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small smirk, his green eyes glittering with amusement. “Don't care. I wasn’t doing it for him,” he said, his tone low and deliberate.

For a moment, you forgot the noise of the bar, the crowd, and even the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. All you could focus on was Tyler—his steady gaze, the way his hand still rested on your hip, and the unspoken promise in the way he stood so close to you.

“So, what was that all about then?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice softer now.

Tyler leaned in slightly, his free hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The proximity was intoxicating, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“I told you,” he murmured. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “But we're still not official, though,” you pointed out, your tone teasing.

Tyler exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I want something,” you shot back, your eyes glinting with challenge.

Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand resting on the side of your face as he caressed your jaw. “You want official? Fine,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes held something more—something tender.

Tyler leaned in, his forehead brushing yours as he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Call me whatever you want—boyfriend, lover, or just Tyler—but as long as you call me yours, that’s all I care about.” His thumb traced the line of your lips, and the weight of his words settled around you like a promise.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, fierce and tender all at once. He kissed you slowly, his mouth lingering over yours, as if sealing the words he’d just spoken with a kiss that spoke louder than anything else. His hand cradled your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Tyler’s lips pulled away from yours, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes, that mischievous spark returning to his gaze. He traced his thumb gently over your cheek, as though savoring the moment.

“So,” he said, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, “was that official enough for you, or are you gonna make me actually say it?”

You tilted your head, matching his grin, letting your fingers lightly graze the back of his neck as you gave him a playful challenge. “I think I kind of want to hear you say it,” you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

Tyler sighed dramatically, his eyes rolling with mock exasperation, but it was clear he was enjoying this little moment just as much as you were. He leaned back slightly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave you a mock-serious look.

“Darlin’,” he began, his voice dripping with affection and a touch of humor. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

You burst into laughter, the sound light and carefree, as Tyler grinned at you, clearly pleased with himself. His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips quirked upward.

“See?” he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. "I don't know...I kind of liked it,” you replied, a hint of sweetness in your voice. “Thank you. I know you probably think it was stupid, but it was nice to hear.”

Tyler leaned in, brushing his lips over your forehead in a soft, affectionate kiss. “Darlin', I'll do whatever makes you happy. If that means saying it, then I'm happy to do it,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer again.

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone, and for a moment, all the teasing and banter fell away. This was real—so much more real than you’d expected it to be when the two of you started this quiet, undefined thing.

The moment hung between you, charged and intimate, until the sound of laughter from your team broke the spell. You glanced over Tyler’s shoulder to see Dani and Boone watching you from the pool table, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” you said, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Tyler turned to follow your gaze, his hand dropping back to your waist. “Good,” he said simply. Then, louder, so the rest of the team could hear, he added, “Yeah, we’re together. Anyone got a problem with that?”

The table erupted into laughter and a chorus of good-natured teasing, but no one seemed surprised. Dani shot you a knowing look, and Boone raised his beer in a mock toast.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you turned back to Tyler. “You're as subtle as a freight train,” you teased.

He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “You love it,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And he was right—you did.

As the night eased into a comfortable rhythm, the initial teasing about you and Tyler began to fade—well, mostly. The team had always been a tight-knit group, and now that the two of you were officially “out,” it seemed like fair game for them to poke fun.

Dani was the first to pounce, sidling up to your table after winning yet another round of pool. She leaned her cue against the wall and smirked. “So, is this why you always rode shotgun with Tyler on every drive?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Boone joined in, raising his beer. “Oh, I get it now. ‘I’ll navigate.’ ‘I’m the best with maps.’ Sure, that’s why,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes.

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I am good with maps,” you said defensively, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dexter, usually the quiet one, chimed in with a rare grin. “Guess that explains all the ‘extra stops’ you two needed on those long drives. Thought it was weird how often you needed coffee breaks.”

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Oh my god, you guys are impossible.”

Tyler, on the other hand, was taking it all in stride. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, the very picture of smug confidence. “Jealousy’s a bad look on y’all,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re not jealous. Just annoyed it took you this long to admit what we all already knew.”

Boone nodded in agreement. “Seriously, the way you two looked at each other—like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. We were just waiting for the dramatic kiss in the rain.”

Tyler grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You shot him a look, though you couldn’t hide your own smile. “Interesting is one word for it,” you muttered, leaning into his side despite yourself.

As the team’s attention shifted back to their game, you stole a moment to glance up at Tyler. His green eyes met yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar faded away. He gave you a small, almost private smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

When it was finally time to call it a night, the group began gathering their things. Dani slung her bag over her shoulder and paused by the door, looking back at the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, lovebirds,” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “Try to keep it down tonight, okay? Some of us would like to actually get some sleep for once.”

Your cheeks went bright red as the rest of the team burst into laughter. “Dani!” you protested, your voice high with embarrassment as you hid your face in Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler, however, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. He tightened his arm around you, giving the group a lazy grin. “No promises,” he said, his tone teasing but dripping with that cocky charm you both loved and hated.

The laughter grew louder as you groaned again, playfully smacking his chest. With his arm still wrapped around you, Tyler guided you out of the bar, his hand resting securely on your hip as you stepped into the cool night air. The laughter and teasing from your teammates still echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think they’ll ever let us live this down?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not a chance,” he said, pulling you closer. “But as long as I’ve got you, I don’t really care.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked toward his truck.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of a country station playing on the radio. Tyler had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on your knee, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of your jeans. Every so often, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn’t help himself.

But your mind was racing, and as much as you wanted to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his touch, you couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. Was what happened back at the bar real, or was it just Tyler getting caught up in the moment?

When you pulled into the motel parking lot, the tension was still simmering beneath your skin. Tyler parked the truck, turned off the engine, and hopped out, coming around to open your door like he always did. You followed him up the stairs to your room, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you turned to face him. “So…” you started, your voice careful, testing the waters.

Tyler paused, halfway through pulling his flannel shirt off. He tilted his head at you, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “So?” he repeated, his tone light.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “What happened back there… at the bar,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Was that real? Or are you gonna wake up tomorrow and tell the team it was all some big joke? Just you messing around for some laughs?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything. But then Tyler stepped closer, his flannel discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his plain white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice steady, “do I look like I’m joking to you?”

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you saw was certainty.

“I meant every word I said tonight,” Tyler continued, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you a step closer. “You’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. “But… you said we needed to keep things low-key,” you reminded him, though your voice wavered.

“That was before,” he said simply, his thumb brushing along your side. “Before I realized how much I hated watchin’ someone else try to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, but it was the tenderness in his eyes that made you melt.

“Tyler…” you whispered, but whatever you were going to say next was lost as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It started slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. But as you kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair, it deepened, his grip on your waist tightening as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Tyler walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your jaw—each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours.

“Does that feel like I’m jokin’?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “No,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

He grinned, that familiar cocky charm flashing through for just a second. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

The kiss deepened as Tyler pressed you back onto the bed, his hands trailing down your sides with a possessiveness that sent shivers through you. His touch wasn’t rushed—no, Tyler Owens was deliberate, savoring every moment as though he had all the time in the world to prove his point.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. The sight of him like this—raw, unguarded—made your heart race. He sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and then peeled it up over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands roamed your bare skin, his touch warm and grounding, but his eyes were what made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. His thumb traced along the edge of your bra, just barely brushing your skin. “All mine.”

His words sent heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. Tyler leaned down, his lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “belongs to me.”

He kissed his way down, his lips teasing, his hands skillfully finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease. As he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze was reverent, almost awed.

“My girl,” he said, his voice low. His hands moved to your waist again, hooking into the band of your jeans.

As the cool air hit your skin, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Tyler noticed immediately, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet yours. His head tilted slightly, and his lips curled into a smirk that sent a wave of both heat and embarrassment through you.

“None of that,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth. “They all know now, sweetheart. No need to hide.”

Your eyes widened, and you gave him a look that was part incredulous, part exasperated. “Tyler, we can’t …what if we get a noise complaint!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles.

“I don’t care about a noise complaint,” he said, leaning down until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “The team knows. Hell, everyone at the bar knows. But now…” His smirk widened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Now it’s time every chaser in this motel knows who you belong to.”

“Tyler,” you started, but before you could get another word out, his mouth was on yours again, silencing your protest. His kiss was commanding, his hands sliding over your body in a way that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.

“Now,” he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Who do you belong to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, he shifted, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked against your skin, and the combination of his touch and his words sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Tyler,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, that infuriatingly smug smirk firmly in place. “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “Say it again.”

You glared at him, your face heating with both embarrassment and arousal, but the challenge in his eyes only spurred you on. “You,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

His grin softened slightly, turning into something warmer, something that made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulled back, his hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and the possessiveness in his voice was tempered by an unmistakable tenderness.

As he kissed you again, deeper this time, your earlier doubts and insecurities melted away. Tyler wasn’t just claiming you—he was showing you, in every touch and every word, that he meant it.

Tyler’s hands moved over your body with a slow reverence, his touch igniting sparks wherever his fingertips lingered. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier softened into something else—something deeper. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze steady and intense as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He finished undressing you as he slid your panties agonizingly slow down your legs, letting them fall away as his hands brushed your hips. The air felt charged like you were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of you could name.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky but carrying a weight of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

Your hand found its way to his face, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Tyler…” you whispered, but you couldn’t find the words to finish. The look in his eyes—unwavering and full of something unspoken��was undoing you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, and then the tip of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, slow and deliberate. His hands framed your face as he kissed you fully again, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He shifted, guiding your body beneath his as he shed the last of his clothing, his movements unhurried but purposeful. The heat of his skin against yours was electric, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that had your heart pounding.

Tyler paused for a moment, his weight braced above you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“I need you to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about wanting to fuck you. It’s more than that.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in them wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss, your lips conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.

When he finally started to push inside you, the moment felt like time had stopped. His movements were slow, measured, as if he were afraid of rushing it. This wasn’t like the other times you’d been with Tyler before. Every time before had felt like it was just physical. Practically ripping clothes off of each other and hot and heated kisses him getting inside of you as fast as he could.

But this time…this time his touches were just a little softer. His kisses were just a little deeper. And the way he was holding you, like he was cherishing you made you swoon.

As he moved with you, his hands roamed your body. He murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with affection. And when your hand gripped his shoulder, your nails digging slightly into his skin, he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to his in ways that felt like second nature. But it wasn’t just physical—there was something so much deeper in the way he held you, the way his hand laced with yours, fingers intertwining as though he needed to feel connected to every part of you.

It wasn’t long before the tension building between you both crested, your body trembling in his arms as your climax washed over you. Tyler held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear. When he followed moments later, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the quiet groan that escaped his lips sent another shiver down your spine.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breathing the only sound in the room. Tyler finally shifted, rolling to his side but pulling you with him so that you stayed nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as though letting go was not an option.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “I meant it, you know. You’re mine.”

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you’re mine,” you said softly, the words feeling like a vow.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your back. “Damn right, I am.”

As you lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the moment settled over you. This wasn’t just another night, another stolen moment of passion. This was the start of something new—something real.

And as Tyler held you close, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him, you couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

#Tyler Owens #Tyler Owens x reader #Tyler Owens x you #Tyler Owens Fic #Tyler Owens Fanfic #Tyler Owens Fanfiction #Tyler Owens Smut

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banj0possum · 10 months ago

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Alistair x (platonically) Teen Reader

In the fic he is like oh my god a bride, he walks in and instead of an adult..or a bride-

They find a teen, who literally threw a pebble at him, an angsty teen💀

I’m very happy to read ur fics and usually pair them with teen/child mc because I find it funny because they expect the love of their life

and teen mc standing there :🧍‍♂️

anyways sorry for the long request, luv ur writing, and ur art :D

Yandere! Evil King x Teen! GN! Reader

CW: platonic relationship, Alistair is a bit of a DILF so do with it as you will, Dads are hot you guys!! READER IS A MINOR.

👑 Who is this sassy lost child?

👑 His minions kidnapped you while you were on a carriage ride back to your kingdom.

👑 He was hoping for like a princess or something to marry and take over the kingdom with or whatever so like...what tf he gonna do with you???

👑 Clearly you were too young to be in a situation like this, but theres no way he's giving you back without a reward, so yes he still holds you for ransom.

👑 "Child, I am Alistair, King of-ACk!"

👑 Did...did you throw a pillow at him?!

👑 "How dare yo- AHK! Stop it!" another one..

👑 You refuse to listen to anything he says, you just wanted to go home

👑 You two had a bit of rivalry for a bit. He hated you and you hated him.

👑 He promised not to show any affection or care towards you since in his eyes, your actions didn't deserve it. How can someone be so rude to a king !?

👑 But he starts to notice you don't eat much. He never sees you in the dining hall and has only seen quick moments of you nibbling on some bread or pastries the servants gave you.

👑 He scoffed, so irresponsible! You must eat a proper meal right this second or you'll starve!

👑 You're surprised to see a meal prepared for you during your routine trip to get a snack from the pantry with a note on the plate.

👑 "Next time, ask for a proper meal. I don't want your parents to think I've been starving you. -Alistair P.S. go to bed early."

👑 Huh...

👑 Alistair smiled from the doorway of the dining hall, watching you eat up with a smile on your face. You might have been too scared of him to ask for food so you've been sneaking snacks while he wasn't looking.

👑 Of course he wasn't doing it because he cared about you, he just didn't want royalty like you to resort to such pathetic means to eat!

👑 Why are you still sad? Perhaps he should get you some things to keep your attention..

👑 He asks (threateningly may I add) about your hobbies or interests.

👑 The next morning your cell (which has been upgraded to a lovely room in the castle because he didn't want you to be filthy and gross in a dungeon) was filled with anything he could find that he thought you'd enjoy.

👑 Don't think he wants you to be happy! He's just tired of seeing you sulk everywhere!

👑 He denies everything, but you swear you could see a tiny smile on his face when you hugged him happily.

👑 You start being a little more open to him, showing him anything you've made or done with pride and he'd receive it gratefully, but he won't show it of course.

👑 "I made you this friendship bracelet!"

👑 "I've seen better jewelry."

👑 "Oh I'll take it back then I guess.."

👑 "No, it's mine now, back off."

👑 Drawings and the like that he said would be thrown out as soon as you left would be seen framed in his room

👑 It would be a..waste of good canvas..

👑 And of course he buys a few books of your choice for you to read, he'd be damned if your brain turns to mush.

👑 Bro bro he'd be the type to let you swing around while holding onto his bicep.

👑 If you ever have any problems, or come to him in a bad mood, he'd have no idea how to help other than to sit down and listen to your troubles.

👑 He's not the most physical when it comes to affection, but you bet your ass he's gonna do everything he can to cheer you up.

👑 At this point he's rewriting his demands for the ransom. Either your kingdom lets him sign some adoption papers or he's starting a war.

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #yandere oc #oc yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #king x reader #yandere king #evil king #platonic #platonic reader

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snowballseal · 2 months ago

Text

Guard Dog AU - Zayne

Summary: AU where you are the Foreseer, and Zayne is a human you've given your blessing to who has devoted his life to staying by your side, protecting you, and worshipping you. He would do anything for you. Anything.

Word County: 2744

Note: Sooooo, I went a bit feral with this one... Could be interpreted as very sub-like behavior for Zayne, but I feel like we all know this man just wants to worship his partner. So yah. I'll be writing similar au's for the other guys too, but this one might be my magnum opus.

Coming soon: Sylus / Xavier / Rafayel

Warning: Gets a little, spicy at the end, but mostly by implication. Reader likes to touch Zayne's face a lot. Someone calls Zayne a concubine and you get pissed.

Enjoy!

---

“Kneel.”

You stare, features a mask of icy indifference, at the human envoy wavering at the foot of your throne. They shiver in their thick coats, no material warm enough to keep out the biting cold of the Tower of Thorns. The biting cold of your glare.

Yet, still, they don’t kneel. You can see the hesitation on their faces, the pride flashing behind their irises. Humans. They always come, high and mighty, thinking themselves better than you, a demigod.

Your lips part, a scathing reproach ready on your tongue, but you don’t get the chance to correct their insolence.

“I said. Kneel.”

Zayne slams his staff into the polished, white granite. The sound of it echoes all the way to the far halls of the tower. The thinly veiled threat behind his words is unmistakable. Kneel before I make you.

The humans all crumble under the weight of his command. They drop to their knees, one by one, trembling at the pure contempt burning behind his gaze. Contempt for them and their human greed. They don’t even deserve to gaze upon the threads of your robes, let alone kneel in your presence, yet they think themselves above it? You may have mercy on their kind, but Zayne would rather cut them to their knees than allow them to show you such disrespect.

A faint smile ghosts across your lips. With the barest flick of your fingers, Zayne returns obediently to your side. He drops gracefully to one knee, head bowed, eyes locked on the unblemished edge of your robes.

It’s almost amusing, watching him turn so docile, so small for you. A man who conquers you in height and strength, who holds himself with the regal poise of royalty, who you’ve blessed with powers no man can dream of - a submissive guard dog at your feet. Ready to kill if you desire him to. Willing to die for you.

“Foreseer-”

Your smile falls away. Right, the humans. Eyes icing over once more, you turn your gaze to the envoy, regarding them with disinterest.

“What do you want, that you’ve come all this way and disturbed my peace?” Your voice rings like a delicate chime, but carries the bite of a frigid river.

The one who spoke - a man dressed in expensive looking furs, his skin covered in a layer of sweat - flinches at the sharpness of your tone. He seems to steel himself for a moment, collecting whatever pathetic bravery he has gained from his comfortable life, and looks up at you with a determined glare.

“We’ve come here for a prophecy, Foreseer,” he starts again, voice muggish and demanding, “Our kingdom has experienced prosperity in the passing years and our king would like to be certain that it will continue.”

Zayne tenses beside you, his fingers tightening around his staff. You can see him fighting the urge to put this man in his place, his jaw drawing so taut it almost looks painful. Letting out a low hum, you reach out and brush your fingers through the dark strands of hair. A silent request. Zayne wavers, his breath faltering as all his attention falls back on you.

Always on you.

Your touch is gentle but insistent, your delicate fingertips tracing his temple, his cheek, his jaw. It leaves his skin tingling, pleasant and cold. It’s an addictive feeling and he can’t help but yearn for more. Zayne nuzzles into your palm, pressing his lips to your skin in reverent gratitude when you give him exactly what he wants, your fingers brushing more firmly against his face.

An uncomfortable cough breaks the silence, “Foreseer-”

“I heard your explanation,” you interrupt him sharply, a wave of frustration washing over you. Zayne can feel it, feels his own frustration at having your attention drawn away from him. But he doesn’t dare make that known, instead watching your face attentively as you speak. “And I will remind you that my prophecies will not be bound to your expectations. They are bound to nothing but fate, so I advise you to deliberate on what you are asking of me.”

“Our King simply wants to ensure that our prosperity will continue,” the man insists, as if you’re the fool who is missing the point. He levels you with a look of disdain, his eyes not so subtly darting to the hand you now have resting in Zayne’s hair. “Though I am certain now that our Highness would not care for the words of a mere oracle who keeps a concubine as her guard.”

The air in the chamber goes deathly still once the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes narrow at the man, glacier and even, but he keeps his chin held high. The rest of the envoy all shift, sharing uneasy glances between themselves. It seems even they know that what he said was a foolish mistake.

One should not anger a god so carelessly.

Slowly, deliberately, you stand from your throne. A flick of your hand and your own scepter appears from the air, the Creatio Protocore glinting dangerously from its tangle of wood. All eyes fall on it, a mix of fear and greed, all eyes except for Zayne’s, which remain glued to you.

Every step you take, every subtle movement, is controlled, the utter definition of grace. Even the air bows to you, shivering around your form, any remaining warmth fleeing from your presence. Tendrils of ice spread along the granite, creeping up the walls, covering the windows, turning the room into a prison of your anger.

And Zayne can’t help but watch, transfixed, adoration curling in the depths of his being. Because this is you, his goddess, his queen. He may be your guardian, but he is well aware that his title is by grace alone, and not necessity. You’ve never needed him. Not like this.

“You seem unaware of whom you speak to,” you murmur, patience tested and gone, “So let me remind you.”

The man lets out a yelp as ice suddenly grips his boots. You feel a flicker of satisfaction at the panic in his eyes, his confidence disappearing like a leaf carried away by the wind. His companions scatter back, looking on in terror as the ice travels up his legs, encasing the entire lower half of his body.

“I am the Foreseer,” you say, stopping a mere foot away from him. “The demigod of the Tower of Thorns. This is my domain, my home, and you are a pest. I owe you nothing. I owe your king nothing. As far as I am concerned, he is beneath me.”

“You insolent- He is our king!” The man spirts, turning a drastic shade of red. “I demand you show him respect, you despicable wi-”

A dagger presses deftly to the man’s neck and he goes silent, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

“Be silent,” Zayne snarls, “How dare you speak to the Foreseer in such a way.”

You glance at him over the man’s shoulder, brow flicking up. Any other time, it would warm your heart to see Zayne stand up for you, and you would gladly let him cross the boundaries of his position, to act as he sees fit. To act freely. But in this moment, all you can feel is the rage boiling in the depths of your soul. It’s your turn to show them their mistakes.

So you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “I did not ask for you to intervene, my dearest.”

Zayne doesn’t miss the sharp disapproval in your voice, his breath catching somewhere in his chest. How thoughtless of him. Dagger slipping back into the sleeve of his robes, he forces himself to step back, head bowed like a wolf bearing its neck submissively.

“I apologize, my lady.”

You don’t offer your forgiveness, only giving him a stiff nod, and Zayne can feel his skin prickle with unease. Every fiber of his being aches, desperate to earn your affection, to please you, to offer an apology you deem sufficient.

If you want him to grovel, he will. If you want him to beg, he’ll do so until his voice gives out. Even if you want to punish him, he’d take it with such deep affection, because anything from you is more than he deserves.

But until you ask anything of him, all he can do is wait.

And currently, you must deal with the nuisance in front of you, even if you can feel Zayne’s laden eyes locked on you so intently.

“Now let’s talk about your king, shall we?” You muse, turning your attention back to the man. He swallows, regret showing in the way his hands tremble so viciously. “You humans have such a twisted view of power. Whether it’s money or prosperity or health. You are all subject to fate and that is why you hate my prophecy. Your king is no different, and I presume he’s looking for someone to blame when your land inevitably falls into poverty. In fact, I feel confident in saying he already sees it coming, and I would wager that he is the sole cause of it. Am I wrong?”

A low murmur spreads among the envoy. The man goes nearly purple in front of you, face tight with indignation, but he doesn’t dare utter a word, not with the looming threat of Zayne’s blade still nearby.

You don’t need him to confirm what you already know, though. And you’ve had enough of this messing around. The day has been too long, and you desire nothing more than to rest.

“Tell your king that this mere oracle wishes him well in his remaining time on the throne,” you chime and turn to walk away. Your voice carries on over the clicking of your heels, “However short that time might be.”

“You can’t-! Foreseer!”

“See them out, my dearest, and then meet me in my quarters.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Foreseer-!” The man calls again, but Zayne doesn’t even allow him another glimpse at your figure. He’s lost that honor.

“I believe it’s time for you to leave,” he snaps, and breaks the spell of your ice.

The man immediately tries to make a run for you, desperation carved into every line of his face, but Zayne catches him by the collar of his coat and throws him back towards the rest of his party. His eyes set on them, harsh and cold, a sneer pulling at his lips.

“She has dismissed you. I suggest you leave quietly before you test my patience.”

“I will not listen to the orders of a-”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a sigil carve into the air before a blinding light fills the space. The humans flee from the sudden ice clawing at their feet, voices tight with panic, boots slipping against the granite in their desperation.

A faint smile pulls at your lips as you dip into a hallway. Zayne always has been good at scaring people away.

It’s a quiet venture to your room at the top of the tower after that. The howling gale outside is all you can hear, muffled by the thick stone of the tower’s walls. It’s a somehow comforting sound, soothing some your prickled nerves.

Still, you feel tense as you settle on the edge of your bed. Dealing with the humans always does this to you. That’s why you ended up here, in the desolate, snowy mountains, far from any village or kingdom. Dealing with them is too exhausting.

How many humans have come to you, begging for an audience, only to throw themselves into a rage after you share one of your prophecies? A prophecy you can’t control, you can’t change. Yet they always blame you.

You can hardly be blamed for resenting their kind.

All of them except Zayne.

Your dearest. Your steadfast peace. The comfort of your isolation was no match when he came to your tower.

And your frustration melts like snow in the springtime when he appears at your door, wavering at threshold. Hesitation furrows his brow, his fingers twitching against the frame. Features softening, you gesture for him to enter.

“Come here, my dearest,” you murmur, tone impossibly gentle.

He hesitates for only a moment before sweeping across the room, reaching you with only a few long strides. You watch as he kneels at your feet, the thick fur of his robes gathering on the stone floor around him. And of course you notice the way his lips press together so vehemently, like he’s biting back something.

“Please speak, darling.”

Zayne’s eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath passing his lips. You always say the term with such sweetness, such tenderness. It makes him feel dizzy and near breathless, loved in a way that makes his chest ache.

“May I touch you?” He asks, voice a low rasp.

You don’t even have to think to answer, “Of course you may, my dearest.”

With all the care in the world, Zayne gathers the edge of your robes in his gloved hand, drawing the silken material to his lips. His touch is reverent, like even the clothes on your body are deserving of worship. He takes his time, showering each fiber with devout affection, eyes slowly trailing up the material to gaze at you through ebony eyelashes. And you can’t help the way your breath falters so easily for him, always taken aback by the desperation, the hunger you find there.

Something dark glints behind those mottled depths at the sound. Slowly, experimentally he presses closer. When you don’t correct him, his fingers brush questioningly against your ankle, the warmth of his skin seeping through the leather of his gloves. And you’ve never been one to deny him.

Parting your legs, you let Zayne settle between them, your knees bracketing his wide shoulders. His fingers trace adoringly up and down your leg as he nuzzles into your clothed thigh, like a pup starved for affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath, even through the thick material of your cloak, and it makes your usually sharp mind spin.

“Please forgive my earlier thoughtlessness, my love,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing insistently against your inner thigh. “I will accept any punishment to atone for my actions.”

Gods, you never thought you would be so weak for one man. But how could you not be? How can you not crumble under such earnest devotion?

You’d freeze the world over if it meant having him forever at your side.

“You have quite the tactic for coaxing me to forgive you,” you breathe, reaching a hand down to trace through his hair. Zayne immediately leans into your touch, molten eyes soft with feigned innocence.

“I am simply a humble servant, unworthy of your favor, my lady,” he hums, eyelashes fluttering when your grip tightens momentarily in his hair. It’s only then a mischievous smile reveals itself on his lips. “How can I coax a goddess such as yourself to do something against your will?”

“You know full well what you’re doing, dearest.” You lean down, until your cool breath ghosts over his skin, sending a shiver through Zayne’s body. His bravado slips away, replaced by an uneven breath, his lips parting ever so slightly. “And there’s no need for it. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, and that includes my forgiveness. All you ever have to do is ask.”

“You shouldn’t offer such things so lightly, my lady,” Zayne rasps, fingers pressing tightly into the softness of your leg as he forces himself to glance away. “You underestimate how selfish my desire for you is. I would take everything if you allowed it.”

Suddenly, your touch is on his chin, drawing his face back to yours, until he can feel the brush of your lips against his, taunting and delicate.

“If you want everything,” you challenge softly, gaze unwavering, “then take it.”

Zayne inhales sharply. And then his lips are on yours, kissing you so deeply, so tenderly, like he wants to draw the very breath from your lungs, like you’re the only one who can sate his hunger burning inside of him.

And you let him. You let him take everything he desires, because he always gives you everything you could ever desire.

That is how it has always been between the two of you. And that’s how it will always be.

---

This felt pretty different from what I usually write. I was inspired by an Xavier fic I read sometime back, and I just loooove the concept of truly feral levels of loyalty. And I love the idea of reader being just a feral for him.

Can't wait to write Sylus' 😉

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace reader insert #reader insert #x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader #guard dog au series #sub zayne #love and deepspace zayne x reader #feeling feral

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amoeganism · 3 months ago

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HIIII I just saw your post about your event and thought I'll be silly and request smthing ^_^ ok sooo first time meeting ness ! 😯 (one shot or hc whichever you feel more comfy writing! <3) have a great dayyy (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠) ♪

ACADEMICALLY SMART BUT EXTREMELY STUPID alexis ness

aka. how u meet ness aka academic rivals to lovers but ness dont gaf bc hes just trying to #play #ball

you meet him at quite a young age and share a few things in common

ill fitting school uniforms and the wandering eyes of any child

while you find yourself fascinated by the numbers written on your teacher's chalkboard, ness is folding dinosaurs and stars on pieces of scrap paper, mumbling to himself

you didn't mind him and he didn't mind you

you guys were classmates and that was that

but then middle school came around and you started acting like you had a stick up your ass 24/7 as long as ness was around

like wtf that mf almost never studies why is he at the top of your class...

suddenly you get distracted in classes because you're focused on drawing mini ness figures with fat x's covering his face and devil horns

ness sees this one day after your notebook fell to the ground and at first is like omg!!! cute drawing of me as a fantasy creature but then he was like wait what the fuck why do they have it out for me????

he barely thought about you until then but apparently you've developed a passionate hatred for him just because he scores higher grades

he still has no clue

you are FUMING

so you start studying even more if that's even possible

while you go to your schools library to bust your ass in the textbooks ness goes outside with a ball he managed to shove into his bag and starts kicking it around

ness: :D ball!!!! no school!!! ball :D

you: KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF KILL YOURSELF

after one particularly hard test that you flopped (it was like an 80% be serious) you caved in and asked ness with help studying

he looked at the material and was like man idk it just makes sense

little boy thought you were going to punt him into hell like he does with his football

him, terrified out of his mind and just wanting to go to his football club meeting, sits down and looks at the material

you show him your notes and he quickly explains it but is running late on time

he gives you his number and says hes going to text you help

you went home that day like ???? that dude lied to me he isnt sending me shit ??? before it clicked

he does not text you because he does not have your number... he gave you his number...

so you swallow your pride and shoot him a message, begging for help a second time in the same day and on his end, he laughs at you a little but offers to call

you guys work on the subject for a good couple hours and before you hang up, you offer to study together for future exams because he's admittedly a good teacher

ness is trying to find a way to say "no thanks i don't care about school good luck tho XD ROFL LOLLLLL" but then he realizes that it's going to make his parents trust him a little more

he accepts and you guys go to the library together once a week

he finds that you're actually kind of funny and cool and not just a human bomb that's plotting his death

he tries to be slick about offering to meet more often

"oh... this unit is a lot more difficult than the last one.... you wanna heh.... come back tomorrow? *gulp*"

"ok"

"WOOOO"

one day ness told you he was going to try out for bastard munchen and you somewhat knew of them because of ness going on tangents about football

you supported him on it, not realizing it would cut down your weekly meetings

suddenly there was an alexis-shaped-hole in your chest but you didn't want to admit it to him

and for alexis, there was a you-shaped-hole in his chest that he tried to fill by training with kaiser and the rest of bastard munchen

yes, the team was filled with dicks, but none of them had the same foul personality you had!!

texts dvery day checking up on each other but it was nothing like hanging out in person

calls were better but still not the same

as soon as he heard about his first off day, he called you and asked to hang out

you tried to be nonchalant about it but who were you kidding both of you guys wanted to see each other again

although the directions of life the two of you were headed towards were almost polar opposites, being reunited at a stupid library table for the first time in months was all that mattered

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk #blue lock ness #alexis ness x reader #ness x reader #alexis ness #ness #ness blue lock

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l0v3tast3 · 1 year ago

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i’m fucking loving the pervy older boyfriends!!! how about pervy older johnny??

aa tysm anon !!! ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ i loved writing this hehe i've been wanting to write for johnny for awhile now too so thank u for the request!! <<33

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, johnny is mid/late 30's), semi-public s3x, car s3x, dirty talk, abuse of pet names, innocence/corruption kink, breeding kink (r is on birth control), overstimulation, praise kink/degradation, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving)

✎ word count: 1.7k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who has an outrageously high sex drive whenever he's around you, or even just thinking about you. you're just the epitome of perfection to him, so sweet and pretty and smart, and you're all his. that fact alone always astounds him; unlike some others, johnny is aware he's a pervert. to be fair, it's only when it comes to you.

✧ ˖ ° he's just so happy to have you as his girlfriend, he can't help that he expresses his affection for you sexually! you've come to expect that as soon as you get into the passenger seat of his car, johnny's hand will holding the back of your neck to press your lips tighter against his. only when you're out of breath and your eyes are hazy will he draw away, cupping your face to peck a kiss to your nose before he's grabbing the steering wheel with one hand and your thigh with the other. he almost always ends up pushing his fingers into you and teasing you about distracting him when you end up moaning and grabbing at his wrist.

✧ ˖ ° unless he's taking you back to his house, johnny has a bad habit of pulling you into the backseat before you go on with your date. going to the movies or out to a restaurant? he parks in the back of the lot and fucks you slow to "not rock the car", but he just loves when you claw at his back and arms and beg for him to go faster (you've been banned from a concerningly long list of places because he just can't say "no" to you). one of his favorite places to take you out to are drive-in theaters, where he can sit you between his legs and finger you, stopping whenever you start making enough noise to attract the attention of the people around you.

✧ ˖ ° when johnny takes you back to his home, he does try to just spend some nice, non-sexual quality time with you, but he always says you're a fucking minx. if he doesn't make the first move within thirty minutes of settling into the couch, you will. in your defense, it's johnny's fault, and he'll also admit it. he takes pride in how much he's corrupted you, how addicted he's made you to him. he loves how reliant you are on him, especially for your pleasure; johnny will make damn sure that you won't be able to get off without his help after he gets his hands on you.

✧ ˖ ° "what's wrong, bonnie? it's only been a couple'a days, y'really miss me that much?" when you sheepishly mumble that you aren't able to finish yourself off anymore, a cheshire grin spreads over his face. "aww, poor little lass, y'need my help to cum? y'know i'll always help ya with that, c'mere."

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who wants to get you pregnant so badly. he knows you're on birth control and he'll wear a condom or pull out if you say the word, but his favorite thought to get off to while he's away from you is stuffing you full of his cum and seeing your belly swell. johnny's always wanted a family; maybe two boys and a girl, a couple dogs, and a sweet little wife to come home to and wrap his arms around. who better to do that with that you, his sweet little girlfriend?

✧ ˖ ° this results in him practically jumping you the second you tell him you're on birth control. he has you whining and white-knuckling the sheets, the side of your face pressed against the mattress and your hips being held up by one of his hands in no time. the other is planted beside your head so he can lean down close to you. "y'want my baby, lass? how much?" despite the whole thing being his idea, johnny will still make you beg for his cum. "c'mon bonnie, i know y'can use your words. you'll look so pretty with our child, don't ya think?"

✧ ˖ ° when you finally choke out your best attempt of pleading for him to breed you, johnny has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. and despite the rough strokes pushing your body further up the body with each time he bottoms out in you, he'll get sweet. he lays his front over your back and holds your hand with one of his, the other snaking down to your clit. "doin' so well, just a bit more, lass, one more for me. sh, shh, y'can bonnie, promise it'll feel good. we wanna make sure, right? it'll help y'get pregnant, jus' one more, bonnie," he coos into your ear, shushing you when you start whining from the overstimulation. at that point, when he's finally wearing down, you'll already have multiple loads of his cum dripping out of your abused pussy around his cock, so you're pretty damn sure, but how can you say no when he's making you feel so good still?

✧ ˖ ° it isn't entirely about starting a family with you, though. part of it comes from how territorial and protective he is of you. not in the way that he'll kidnap you to keep you from the dangers of the world, but in the way of wanting everyone to know that you're his. in public (around anyone, really) johnny is always touching you. a hand on your thigh, around your waist or shoulders, holding your hand. his favorite place is the back of your neck; the shiver he feels run down your spine when he brushes his thumb under your ear always makes him smile. but there's still that little bit of him that says it isn't enough.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who likes to make fun of you (in a loving way, of course). he doesn't go as far as humiliating you, but the way you try to look away and pout is just the cutest sight that johnny's ever seen. it'll be for any little thing, too. when your hips twitch as he grazes his hands over them. when you start forgetting to try and keep your moans and whimpers quiet. when your eyes start getting hazy while he sucks bruises into your neck that he'll wrap his hand over later. everything is fair game with johnny.

✧ ˖ ° and it doesn't take long for him to figure out how much you like it too. he sees the way your thighs rub together when he pins you against the kitchen counter or the hood of his car. he can feel the damp spot on your underwear spread even more when he brushes over your clit through the cloth. and the way you tighten up around his cock while he tells you what a good little whore you are for him when you let him use your sweet cunt. it's all because of how much fun he has teasing you near-constantly. johnny's ego definitely gets boosted to the high heavens when he catches onto how much you like his voice.

✧ ˖ ° he will definitely use your love of his voice to his advantage. it's just so easy, so tempting when you whine because he's holding your jaw so you can't look away while he fills your head with filthy words. "hah, i love y'like this, bonnie. so pretty with my cock fillin' ya up, doesn't it feel good? tch, i know it does, you're soaked for me lass. i got ya trained so well! sweet little girl, you'll really let me use ya however i want, won't you?"

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!johnny who puts little to no effort into concealing just how much he loves ruining your innocence. when you first start dating, he'll wait as long as you want to until you're ready to lose your virginity; he takes it as an opportunity to come up with more ideas of what to do with you. once he does finally get his hands on you though, it's game over. your clothes are off of you before you even know it and he's kissing and licking and biting every inch of skin he can touch. johnny wastes no time in hunting for your most sensitive spots. he's making a roadmap of the best places to pull gasps and tiny mewls from your lips as quickly as he can, starving for any sound, any reaction he can get out of you.

✧ ˖ ° after you're covered in imprints of his teeth he makes sure you're begging for him to do something to make you cum. johnny will slip off your underwear, following it down your legs with more kisses and nips, and when he's finally get his mouth on your drenched cunt, he won't come back up until you're nearly sobbing, trying anything to get him to let up. your hands will be pinned against your stomach with one of his to hold you down simultaneously, the other working one, then two, then three fingers in and out of your tight hole. when they get tired he'll swap his tongue on your clit with them, his thumb resuming the shapes and letters he draws over the bud.

✧ ˖ ° as he lines up the head of his cock with your pussy he'll finally be soft again, kissing you deeply and wrapping your legs around his waist and his arms around you. then his tip pops past your entrance and, once again, game over. johnny knows he's pushing into you a little faster than he should, but you're already arching your back, clawing at his back, and you're so tight that he thinks he might lose his mind trying to hold back. the way your eyes are rolling back as he bottoms out makes his last bit of self-control crumble.

✧ ˖ ° johnny delights in pulling you down deeper into the depths of depravity with him. how after he finally relents and decides to show you mercy during your first time together you giggly airily, saying you didn't think it could be that good. how each time he tries something new with you he watches you get more and more desperate for him, his cock, his touch, anything he'll give you. johnny just wants nothing more than his pretty little darling to rely solely on him for her pleasure!

#— ask!#— lilly writes! ♡#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #john mactavish #soap #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #female reader #reader insert

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fili-urzudel · 1 year ago

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Jumbled - Kíli Durin x Reader

A proper, full-length fic featuring our favorite little brother! I'm not the most proud of this but it's finished and I think I should put it out there. No one requested this, but it's to tide you over until I put the finishing touches on the last few requests :)

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: a lot of being oblivious and dumb, but other than that we're good.

There were no words to describe Kíli Durin. That's what you were thinking as the top of your quill lightly brushed your bottom lip, gazing out the inn's drawing room window. This was the last town you would all stop in for a long while, and those of you with families had made the choice to write letters to your families back home as quickly as possible. You told them how you were doing, that you were tired but making progress and eating well, and keeping good company among thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.

You told them a bit about Bilbo and his odd little ways that you found quite endearing, if not annoying at times, and about Glóin, and his unabashed love and pride in his family. You told them about the golden-haired Prince Fíli, who was always a gentleman and had fast become your friend. You told them how Thorin was usually a big grump, but you had seen evidence from time to time, usually in relation to Bilbo, that it was all just a front. But the one dwarf you wanted to tell them about, you found yourself tongue—er, pen-tied over.

There were no right words to describe how you felt about Kíli Durin. Perfect wouldn't really do him justice, with his uneven bangs and his dazzling lopsided smile and stubbly beard that he cursed to the end of his days. Neither would ethereal, with the way his scent of pine sap and the feel of the callouses on his hands were so very grounded and real. Princely didn't fit his flippant attitude and his unceasing laugh and his never-ending jokes that had your lungs cramping at times.

Perhaps the real problem was that there wasn't enough paper.

You sent the letter off without writing exactly what you wanted about the soon-to-be prince of Erebor, save for his best wishes to any female member of your household. He didn't think you would write it down, but there was just enough room for a postscript. That would show him.

And before you knew it, you were on your way again. You readjusted your pack on your shoulders as Fíli dropped back to walk beside you. "I don't suppose you confessed your undying love in that letter by any chance?"

You blushed and nudged him with your elbow, too untrusting of your own balance to attempt kicking him. "Do you have to be so loud?"

"I can assure you it's all lost in the thunderous stomping, my friend," he smiled. "But that's probably for the best. Better for the object of your affections to know first, don't you think?"

"Stop trying to push it, Fíli," you groaned. "I already feel horrible for avoiding him for so long. I just... I can't be normal around him anymore, I—I don't know how to get the words out. This is all... so weird."

Fíli gave you a pointed glance. "If you're worried about him rejecting you, there's no way in all of Arda."

"Is that verified intelligence?"

"I'm his brother."

"Fair enough. I'll try."

"Tonight?"

"...Soon."

You didn't even have to approach the prince that evening, as he sought you out to have supper with. "Hello," you said with a nervous smile, scooting to make sure there was plenty of room for him on the log you had claimed. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to get away from him.

"Hey," he returned a bright grin. "I just figured I'd better take my chance to spend some time with you while I can. We never seem to be near each other anymore."

"Hah, yeah," you answered awkwardly. "Sorry about that."

"Have you been avoiding me?" He asked, suddenly serious.

"What?" You asked with wide eyes, horrified. You looked to Fíli, sitting just a few yards away, and he gave you a look that said, just tell him.

"No—no, I wasn't trying to avoid you at all, it's just, you see, well—" gods you were a mess—you sighed. "I just realized, fairly recently, that I'm... in love, and it's made it hard to focus. I'm sorry if I was avoiding you."

That was a terrible confession by any standard.

Rather than looking relieved or hopeful, Kíli looked... pained. Almost angry, and Kíli was never angry. "Oh. I'm happy for you," he said flatly, before picking up his stew and heading elsewhere. He took a seat near Dwalin and Thorin, silently listening to their intense conversation.

You gave a desperate look to Fíli again, and he just shrugged. "I'll try to talk to him," he mouthed, and you nodded in gratitude.

You spent the rest of the evening in silence.

You loved Fíli. Of course, you loved Fíli, Kíli thought as he wandered the outskirts of camp, kicking a rock from one boot to another. Just one look at the two of them could have predicted that clearly enough. He was tall but broad, properly muscular for a dwarf. He had thick, curly hair and enough braids to make Thorin jealous. He had a full beard. He forged enough knives to supply an army and carried half of them on his person.

What did Kíli have compared to that? Bangs he had cut for himself on impulse so that people would have something else to look at instead of his pathetic excuse for a beard? A small game bow that was useless when anything came up close? A sword that he needed help to make?

There was no contest, really. Even if Fíli was engaged, what would that do to stop anyone from seeing his merits?

"You're sure he didn't say anything? Didn't make any significant noises or... grunts or anything?" You asked, on the verge of tears. It had been three days since your terrible confession, and Kíli hadn't so much as glanced your way.

"Nothing. He hasn't said anything to me since, either," Fíli said dejectedly.

There were only two explanations: he had horribly misunderstood you, or he knew you were in love with him and was so disgusted by the concept that he decided to avoid you entirely. As foolish as it was, you were inclined to believe the latter.

"What about what I said would make him hate me?" You murmured.

"Hey now, he may be giving you the cold shoulder, but he does not hate you. Kíli's not like that. You'd have to do something terrible, like... kill me, to get him to hate you," Fíli assured you.

That drew a short laugh from you, and you rubbed your nose on the back of your hand. "I hope you're right," you sighed. "I just wish he would at least look at me."

That night, like the previous two, you sat away from the fire, holding your soup close to your body to stay warm, despite Balin's many good-natured attempts to get you to join them. If Kíli didn't want to be near you, you wouldn't force him.

It was still light out when you decided to lay out your bedroll for the evening, the sun just starting to dip behind the trees. Apparently Thorin had decided you all needed the extra rest.

You glanced up at the sound of footsteps, and your eyes were met with boots. Kíli's boots. "Kíli!" You said, surprising yourself with how... shocked your voice was.

"Are you alright?" He asked, and though he sounded concerned, there was a hardness to his eyes. "People who are in love don't normally appear so sad."

"Well, they do when the object of their affections makes it so clear that they are not interested," you replied glumly. "You don't have to pretend—"

He made a frustrated sort of huff, and you looked up at him in confusion. He had never made a sound like that. "I am sorry for your heartbreak, but forgive me if it frustrates me as well. It is clear to all the world by his disposition, his words, and most importantly, his braids, that my brother is taken. He has promised himself in marriage to a dam he loves, and there is nothing my brother is if not loyal. And I can understand his appeal, but have I not also been a friend? Have I not also tried to be kind and—and charming and gentlemanly and make you laugh? I am not my brother but I would like to think I have my own merits so why are you lovesick over him when I am right here?"

You gazed at him with wide eyes, a smile breaking across your face. "You... think that I love your brother?"

Kíli's brow furrowed. "Why are you smiling like that?"

"Fíli! Kíli has declared me hopelessly in love with you!" You shouted, and the golden prince unceremoniously spat out a spray of his soup, narrowly missing Nori.

By this time you were full-out laughing, and everyone in the company was staring at you, especially Thorin.

"Will you please tell me what's going on?" Kíli asked, all the hardness having vanished from his eyes.

"Kíli, I may have been... fantastically terrible at saying this, and I'm sorry for that, but I was trying to say that I'm in love with you," you explained, taking his hands.

"You're... in love with me?" He breathed hopefully.

"I love you, Kíli, and if your recent outburst was any indication, I'm feeling very optimistic about my chances of you loving me as well," you confirmed.

"But—but I'm short and uncouth and—and I can't grow a proper beard—"

"You were just touting your many good qualities, and I agree with those more," you teased.

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"I love you too," he finally admitted. "May I kiss you?"

"You may."

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #kili durin x reader #prince kili x reader #kili durin #kíli durin x reader #kíli durin

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pastel-medic · 9 months ago

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My name is Xed/Pastel ^v^ (He/Xe/They)! I am 24 years old and any other art accts will likely have the username pastelxapple if you want to find me on other platforms!

Medicsona:

Mercenary Intros

Full Refs:

RED Team:

BLU Team:

Gentlesurgery Ship 💜:

Roulette Class AU:

Blog intro, tags, & rules ⬇️

Ko-fi (sketch comms):

Strawpage:

Tags:

#my art (or #xed art) - My art tag! You can find my artwork directly with this tag 🐍✨

#ask box - All replies to my inbox are tagged with this! It comprises mostly of Q&As of my mercs or other characters, art requests, and other questions!

#roulette class au (or #tf2 roulette class au) - This is the tag for my TF2 AU, the Roulette Class AU! The long and short of it is I swapped all of the mercenaries' classes and there's major differences in the lore.

#quixote - My gentlesurgery ship tag! So not to confuse my ship with RED Medic and VLT Spy from the usual gentlesurgery ship you can find their content separate from that with this tag!

#medic brothers - This tag is specifically for my Medic Brothers (Fritz and Ludwig), so any art and lore for them are tagged with this!

#lore crumbs 🍰 - Small pieces of art and/or posts about my ocs or AUs! 👏🏼✨ I try to tag posts with any info or headcanons about my characters/AUs ^^

#shortcake medic - Tag used for any art I make of my Medicsona, Shortcake Medic! 🍰💖

#tsu art - (or #twin art) - Art tag for my twin's artwork 🦊 (@/hoshi-tsubasa )! I love sharing her work and she deserves more praise for it! ^v^✨ Yes she is a furry so be kind!!!

#moot art 💖 - Art tag for my artist mutuals! I love to share their work so I keep this tagged to their stuff so I can find it again (cuz I'm dumb and don't wanna scroll through reblogs for eternity)

#other artists (or #reblog) - This is the tag I use when I reblog other amazing artists' work!

General Info:

I've technically been in the TF2 community for more than 6 years but I just recently got back into it as of 2024!

Pr0shipper/“problematic” accounts DNI!!! I will block you >:(((

@/hoshi-tsubasa is my twin! Her art is just as incredible so go check her out too if you'd like! She also draws TF2 stuff here and there, plus she has some TF2 merch you can check out on her redbubble!

My main ship is Gentlesurgery, which I draw quite a lot! If that ship is not your cup of tea I kindly suggest to be polite and just move on, harassment and hate will not be tolerated here. I also have other favorite TF2 ships that I don't have listed above in the "Meet The Artist" template that I may draw from time to time! However, please be mindful that I don't really draw HeavyMedic (Red Oktoberfest), MedicScout (Quickfix/Blunt Trauma), or SniperScout (SpeedingBullet) ships, as those are not ships I'm particularly fond of compared to others (MedicScout cuz as a passionate MedicSpy shipper it just feels uncomfy for me) ;3; very sorry! (ALSO ABSOLUTELY NO SPYSCOUT GET OUT OF HERE WITH THAT DISGUSTING STUFF) I do like most TF2 ships tho (I especially love all Spy ships)! 💖

Please be aware I likely will not draw nsfw! There may be suggestive art tho from time to time :3c Some things will be tagged with tw if needed!

Also please do not tag my art with ship tags unless I have them put under my art! I am not comfortable with certain dynamics being labeled as ships, especially if the dynamic is not meant to be in any form romantic/sexual ;;

My hyperfixations do shift so I may hop from one media to another or draw crossovers! I will usually post my other non-TF2 art on my instagram, but all TF2 content will be here!

In addition, please be aware I have ADHD and an alter system (DID), so please note that I may go silent with posts every once in a while. My mental health is not a subject I care to make front and center here, so I prefer any questions or topics of such be kept private! Thank you! 💖

If you can I encourage you to reblog my artwork if you like it! Traction on tumblr is very different than on other social sites like twitter and tiktok, so it would mean a lot to me if you could share my art! 🥺💌 I'm deeply humbled if you enjoy my content, thank you!

Ask Box Rules:

This is a 16+ ask blog, so if you wanna ask me or my version of the mercs something pls feel free! Anon questions will be turned on and off from time to time, but if people completely abuse it or things get out of hand I will shut them off permanently ;3; Also please respect that there's a limit for how much you can ask of me, I won't consistently draw the same thing over and over if it's asked for like more than 3 times (especially by the same person)!

Also, if I do not respond to your ask, it may be because I am either uncomfortable with the ask, am unsure how to respond, or simply do not feel that it is an ask that needs to be posted. I am also NOT an rp blog so I will not respond to rp-like asks. Please respect this, thank you!

Please be respectful! I have major anxiety and communication/socializing is difficult for me, so I may not engage in conversations much ;0; I do get super nervous with parasocial behavior!!! I will do my best to respond to my inbox so please be patient with me 💌

Fanart/Art Rules:

Art Trades are for mutuals only! I rarely do them but think they're fun! Also will only do an art trade if the level of art quality and skill is the similar to my own, thank you! 💖

This isn't entirely an art request blog but depending on the question in the ask box I might doodle something if I'm interested enough! 🍰✨ I don't really draw ship requests often tho! ;3; Might do some that I like but depends!

I don't mind fanart! If you'd like to make fanart for me please tag me so I can see your lovely work! However pls don't draw my ocs or version (aus included) of the mercs inappropriately or in ships I otherwise am not comfortable with, as they already have pre-established relationships ;; Also please do not misinterpret/take creative liberties with my Medicsona (Shortcake Medic) specifically, as he is my personal sona and I am more sensitive about art of him! He is not an oc, he is a sona, so I am uncomfortable with misinterpretations and/or nsfw art of him. If you are unsure about anything please ask me first, I am very firm and particular about him! Thank you!!! 💖🍰

If you want to use my art as a profile pic please ask me first!!! DO NOT REPOST OR EDIT MY ARTWORK!!!!

#please be kind about my personal favorite ships or characters #I can and will block anyone who is rude about them :(((#also please don't flood my comments trying to convince me to like other ships #I get anxious easily and it makes me uncomfortable #team fortress 2 #tf2 #team fortress 2 art #tf2 art #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #my art #xed art

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emotionalmessss · 1 year ago

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Weird request, but would you be willing to take a shot at a Dabi headcannon list where the reader's family was friends with the Todoroki family, so he knew her before the fire when she was still a little girl?

A/N: ou, I'll definitely give this one a shot. I took a different approach with this one, so I hope I answered alright. :) I haven't written in months, so I'm kinda rusty and completely ran with this, sorry.

Warnings: slight spoilers for season six of MHA

Touya, despite being an energetic kid, was shy when you first started coming around the Todoroki household.

At first, he would stay hidden and watch you play with his siblings down in the courtyard, opting to observe you through the balcony railing. Or he’d be too focused on training his Quirk in another room.

He never really said all the much to you, only a few words here and there, but that didn’t stop you from trying to interact with him.

As Fuyumi tosses a ball at Natsuo, you spot Touya out of the corner of your eye, who leans back against one of the wooden support beams and observes.

You couldn’t help but grin when you notice him, turning to give him your full attention, and trying to beckon him over with a frantic wave of your hand.

“Touya! Come join us!” You call out towards him, your bright smile never fading as you urged him to play.

Touya glances over at the sound of your voice, his hand tucked inside the pockets of his pants. Averting his eyes and drawing his lips into a thin line, as he contemplates your offer. For a moment, that stubborn look of his fades, and it looks as though he’s about to concede, but at the last minute, he pushes himself off the wooden beam and retreats upstairs.

Your smile faded slightly and your shoulders slump in response to his denial, but your innocent self quickly shakes off the sting of rejection. He probably just wants to train, you think to yourself.

Eventually, as you started to come around the house more often, Touya slowly found himself getting more comfortable around you.

He started talking to you more than he usually did, and rejecting less of your offers to come and play. Oddly enough, whenever you were around, his entire focus was on you.

You could say that this was just innocent child curiosity, but it was something different. The faint blush and quick aversion of his eyes whenever you caught him looking at you, how he occasionally asked Rei when you’d be at the house again, and how excited he got when he’d offer to show you his Quirk.

He loved to innocently tease you, and tell you all about his plans in surpassing All Might, and becoming the Number One Hero. He would go on and on about it, since you were one of the few people who encouraged him and his goals.

Touya’s head immediately poked out of his bedroom when he heard the front door open and close, followed by the familiar sound of your voice. Less than a second later, he quickly makes his way over to the front entrance with an excited bounce in his step.

“C’mon, I wanna show you something cool!” His voice taking on a higher pitch, laced with a sense of urgency. He grins and grabs ahold of your hand, barely giving you enough time to take off your shoes before he’s tugging you down the hallway and into his room.

Your eyes widen in pure awe as he holds up his hand, a bright flame flickering around his closed fists. “That’s so cool! You’re amazing!”

A prideful smile spreads across his face at your response, which fills him up with a sense of satisfaction. There’s also a weird feeling that builds up in his stomach, one that he’s completely unfamiliar with.

“You really think so?!” He questions, almost like he’s not used to this type of reaction. His smile widens and the heel of his right foot digs into the flooring when you nod.

His eyes shift from you to his fiery fist, and then back to you again. That look on your face, along with your praise causes Touya to completely ignore the gnawing heat that his Quirk produces — one that his body is ill equipped at handling.

Years after the incident, now taking on the persona of Dabi, joining the League, and vowing revenge on Endeavor. The bitter reminders of being tossed aside like trash, the constant rejection, and being deemed a failure, all brewed beneath his aloof demeanour.

That hatred wasn’t solely directed at his father, oh no, it stretched to that perfect little masterpiece. That fucking brat, nothing but a puppet.

But, deep beneath his hateful and resentful thoughts, there was one thought that occupied his mind more than he would’ve liked. You.

It would be a lie to say that Dabi didn’t try to get you out of his head, but it rarely seemed to work out in his favour. He would always tell himself that you didn’t matter and that he’s a kid anymore. After all, Touya Todoroki died.

But getting someone like you out of his head was harder than he imagined. Even after everything, he could still see your beaming smile, and hear your innocent words of encouragement.

Thoughts of you even started to distract him during his business with the League, especially when he was out searching for new recruits. Every time he noticed someone that looked even a tiny bit like you, his stomach would instantly knot up. Anxiety? Anticipation? Who knew.

Whenever the League’s activities would venture a little too close to where you lived (again, why did he remember this?) he’d purposely hang back a bit, his impassive expression giving away none of his inner turmoil.

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spencersfavouritebookmark · 6 months ago

Text

Check Ups - A.H x Reader

IM SORRY TO THE ANON WHO REQUESTED THIS I LOST YOUR ASK!!!!

This is the “doctor and Aaron flirting and going on a date and getting together”

Thank you for my first ever request!! I loooooved this idea and I hope that I wrote it well enough.

Not proofread!! (Also I kind of messed up so ignore that Jack was canonically three at this point and pretend he’s ten for me)

Content: Hotch and his Doctor have feelings for eachother and go on a few dates (pure fluff)

Word count: 1.3k

Hope you enjoy x

Ever since a fatal explosion involving the FBI, SSA Aaron Hotchner had become a regular patient of yours. It was your job to assess him regularly for the next few months to ensure that he was still safe for duty.

So here you were, stood by the side of the man. His boss, Erin Strauss had warned you in advance that Aaron could be stoic and closed off but from your experience he was far from either.

"I'm seeing some great improvements in your hearing, how have you been feeling about your hearing?" You ask softly, glad to see so much improvement.

"Pardon, sorry i couldn't hear you?" He jokes, his eyes crinkling in the corner as he smiles. Although he was a very friendly man you could see how he could appear cold. His sharp features set a professional president but the minute he smiled his whole demeanour was warm.

"Nice to see you got your humour back Aaron, but I do have the power to take your job away from you so I'm gonna need some honesty." You remind him, doing your best not to laugh, as not to give him any sense of pride.

"God, I love a woman with authority." He chuckles, leaning back in his chair pretending to admire you. Although his gaze was joking something about it had your head reeling. Every appointment with Aaron had you sat in your office giggling like a lovestruck school girl the moment he left.

"Aaron, I think this might be our last appointment." You sigh, pulling a card out from one of your draws and scribbling your number on it. "Call this number if anything gets worse"

As you spoke, Aaron's expression softened, the reality of this being your last appointment sinking in. The thought of not seeing you regularly anymore filled him with an unexpected phone sense of sorrow.

He took the card from you, his fingers grazing yours for a moment longer than necessary. Looking down at the numbers scribbled down and he nodded silently. "I'll remember that."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few painfully normal days go by for both of you, falling into the same old routine as always.

Aaron sat at his desk, twirling a pen between his fingers as he stared at his phone, silently debating whether or not to call you. After several minutes of internal debate, he caved and dialled your number. His heart rate picked up as the phone began to ring, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

When you answered, he paused for a moment, his voice coming out a bit hesitant. "Hi, It's Aaron Hotchner. Sorry for calling out of the blue like this."

You rush over to your planner, secretly elated to hear his voice again, to potentially have another appointment with him. "Don't apologise, what's going on, are you getting those headaches again? Sensitivity to sound? Has your hearing gotten worse?"

Aaron chuckled softly at your questions, a mixture of relief and amusement washing over him. It was heart warming to know that you still cared about his well-being, even though this wasn't an official appointment.

"No, no" he assured you, "I'm not calling because my headaches are back or anything like that. My hearing's still fine." He paused for a moment, his tone growing slightly serious. "There's actually something else I wanted to talk about."

You pause for a second, succumbing to your nerves as he announces this down the line. You'd had the 'I need to talk to you' talk countless times but never from a patient. You just wait silently for him to elaborate.

There was a brief moment of silence as Aaron debated the best way to approach this. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for your reaction.

"Listen" He said, his voice more apprehensive than you had ever heard it. Almost foreign from the confident man you had been treating. "I've been thinking about you lately. Not just as my doctor... And I know it's not appropriate for me to call like this without violating my medical ethics but-"

"Are you free mid day tomorrow? I could really go for some good lunch with a handsome man." You interrupt with a sudden burst of confidence, a giddy smirk playing on your face.

Aaron was taken slightly off guard by your sudden display of confidence, but couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He chuckled lightly, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"A mid day lunch, huh?" He paused contemplating his schedule for a moment. "Yeah, I'm free." Excitement flickered in his eyes. "Name the time and place, and I'll be there."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day you enter the café more nervous than you anticipated, taking a seat at a small corner table.

Aaron arrived at the café a few minutes after you in an outfit far more casual than you usually saw him. He usually wore his work suit but seeing him in a t-shirt that he filled perfectly left your cheeks heating up. His eyes scanned the room until he spotted you sitting at the corner table. His heartbeat quickened a notch as he walked over to you, a mix of nervousness and anticipation swirling inside of him.

He offered you a warm smile as he sat down across from you. "Hey," he greeted, his voice a touch gentler than normal "You look beautiful today."

You smile softly, a soft blush spreading across your cheeks as the man takes a seat “thank you, Aaron.” You say, wracking your brain to say something nice about him, but he knows by the way that you look at him that you think the world of him. And to him that means more than words.

He chuckled softly, a warm smile playing on his lips. "You don't have to say anything." He reached across the table, his fingers lightly grazing the back of your hand. "Your eyes speak volumes."

“I knew asking a profiler on a date was a terrible idea.” You joke, although something about him being able to read you so well makes you feel comfortable, seen almost.

“So this is officially a date?” He smirks as he glances over the menu

————————————————————————

The date is successful, as are the next few.

Tonight you’re baby sitting Jack for him. He’s a sweet kid, much nicer than most you meet, and very mature for his age.

“Y’know my dad talks about you a lot.” He says nonchalantly as he builds a Lego wall so his transformers can defend themselves against his nerf gun

“Oh yeah?” You ask calmly, trying not to poke your head in too much.

“It’s nice that he has a girlfriend now.” Jack replies simply, not really knowing the impact of what he’d said.

Of course you and Aaron had gotten very close through your dates but you had never thought that he’d want a relationship with you.

“You think I’m his girlfriend?” You laugh

“Well not yet. But I’m almost certain he wants you to be.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you Aaron had just come into the house and looks into the living room where the two of you sit.

“Jack. That’s enough of exposing me for tonight. Let’s get you to bed.” He says fatherly, he’s so good with Jack.

He glances to you softly “I’ll be downstairs in a minute.”

It feels like an age that he’s up there, you can’t distinguish the words but you can hear soft words being exchanged between father and son. You wait impatiently shuffling on the balls of your feet.

After about fifteen minutes you finally hear his gentle footsteps coming down the stairs.

You stand in the living room nervously chewing your finger nails.

“Hey..” he says softly, finally hanging his jacket up after his long day

“Was Jack right?” You ask quietly.

He nods, confirming every thing you hoped was true. Your heartbeat increases as he nods and you stop chewing your nails, you rush over to him flinging your arms around his neck.

“Is that what you want?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

“More than anything.” You mumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“I should probably go and tell my little man the good news before he falls asleep.”

#aaron hotch x reader #fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #thomas gibson #thomas gibson x reader #fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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strlingsav · 2 years ago

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Fantasy: Two

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: None.

Requested: @dantenyhpmir 🫶🏻

Simon's fingertips traced the curve of your spine, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your head, buried against his chest, cradled inside the warmth of his bicep, lifted to find his eyes. They were warm, received with a loving stare that made his heart pound just a bit harder.

"You feelin' alright?" He asked, the ghost of his fingertips sending a tingle up your back.

He could feel your muscles tense when he tickled the sensitive spot below your shoulder blade- it was something he'd grown fond of, though kept secret just to watch you twist and grin lazily.

His view of you was partially obscured by the hair falling in your face; loose tendrils framing your flustered expression. He'd draw your hair back with an attempted gentleness, watching your eyes flicker to his.

You hummed, drawn out and deep with tiredness. "Tired, worn out," You grinned.

"Y'can tell me if it was too much."

You shifted your head to look at him. "It wasn't. I really enjoyed it, actually."

He nodded, digesting your words, feeling a bit of pride in making you so comfortable, feel so good.

"Glad to hear it."

He pulled the covers over you, wrapped you in his arms and kept you tucked into his side. He liked feeling your deep breaths fan over his chest, your hands lazily strung across his torso, your thigh hooked over his.

It was serene; something you wanted to seal away, keep close for the days he wasn't there. When you'd fall asleep by yourself, void of his warmth and baritone telling you goodnight, you'd love to be brought back here- where it was quiet, and warm, and peaceful.

Your ear to his chest, you'd listen for his heartbeat, try to match your breathing with his as if it would somehow prove you were meant to be. But it wasn't synchronicity, it was your touch, your eyes, your smell; it was all in the way his body was drawn to you, without fail.

He loved just how well you fit into him, latched onto his body and stayed there even when you slept. More often than not, he'd watch you sleep- study the crease between your brows, the soft snores leaving your lips.

It was moments like those that made Simon weak. The vulnerability, the way you clung to him, searched him out even in your deepest subconscious. He wondered what you did when he was gone; if you tucked a pillow between your thighs and wished it was him.

The light of your bedside lamp illuminated his face, enough that you could see his lazy blinks. Everything was slow, and sleepy, an abyss of comfort you could dive into and drown in.

"You want some water?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

You shook your head, your cheek squishing against the smooth skin of his chest. Your hand danced across his chest, your palm flattening against his abdomen.

"I'm fine," You yawned. Suddenly concerned by his lack of input, your head jolted up to look at him. "Was it too much for you?" You raised your brows.

"No," He said. "Not at all."

"Good," You offered a sheepish smile, relaxing back into your pillow of soft flesh.

"You sore?"

"Just a bit- nothing painful."

"Get you a hot bath tomorrow," He said, moving his hand to stroke more hair from your face.

"Sounds nice. Are you joining me?"

"Can if y'like. Not sure I'll fit."

You hummed, dissatisfied. "We'll make it work."

His hand drew soft circles on the small of your back, while the other left fleeting touches to your cheek, petting the hair above your temple. It was rhythmic, nearly hypnotizing as you fought to stay awake.

Your eyelids were droopy, your breathing levelling out as your heart slowed.

"Y'should sleep," He said, pulling the covers up over your shoulder.

He'd noticed the way your eyes rolled shut, the way your lips relaxed as you fell into him. He knew you were tired, fighting it off to spend more time in the relaxing oasis you'd created together, but he refused.

"I like it like this," You fought back.

"I know y'do- but you'll be tired if y'don't."

"You're not tired?"

"I am. Just like watchin' you."

You furrowed your brows, "Not much interesting happens when I sleep."

"You talk."

You furrowed your brows, "What do I say?"

"Nonsense, mostly. Not much different than when you're awake."

You scoffed, threatening to pull away when he tugged you in tighter, a deep chuckle vibrating through his chest.

"Bastard," You chided, a smile hidden from his view as you buried your face in his chest.

He rolled his head to the side, ignoring your pestering.

"Y'like it."

You drew a brow up, a facade of deliberation on your face before you exhaled a long sigh.

"Don't get cocky," Your voice was nonchalant, quickly declining to a whisper as you fought the impending tide of sleep.

"You're supposed to be goin' t'sleep," He interjected, cutting off any ideas you had of baiting him into a new conversation.

You sighed, no longer interested in fighting, undeniably exhausted beyond the ability to protest.

He squeezed you, pressing his lips to your forehead with a softness that made your eyes flutter shut.

He liked the teasing, the way you'd say exactly what was on your mind. He could never get enough, not when you could make him smile, genuinely, nor when you slotted yourself into his side and felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in his arms.

"Goodnight," You whispered, kissing the muscle of his chest.

"Night, sweetheart. Let me know if y'need anythin'."

You hummed with appreciation, before shutting your eyes. Your mind focused in on the rhythm of his breathing, the feeling of his rough hands holding you tightly against his side, and drifted off.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #mwii #simon riley #strlingsavwrites

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anthracite-writes · 1 year ago

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hiya! can you do the brothers with a gn!mc whos kinda popular with other demons? i just think that overtime demons have become curious since theyve managed to grab the attention of the brothers and dateables

Obey Me! Imagines - Demon Brothers X Popular!GN! Reader [SFW]

A//N: Ohhh, intresting - I'll try my best with this one! I hope you enjoy it! Apologies in advance if I misinterpreted your request or if it's a bit OOC.

NOT PROOF READ!! APOLOGIES FOR ANY TYPOS OR SPELLING ERRORS! - PS; Congrats, you're my first request submission <3

Summary: Demon brothers with a popular GN! Reader. Your popularity was fairly lowkey when you arrived in the Devildom just because of pure curiosity, but once word gets around about your Pact making with the 7 Brothers and you managed to become such close friends with both Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Luke and Simeon in such a shot time - that's when your popularity skyrockets and everyone wants a piece of you. You're practically a minor celeberty in the Devildom, but - how exact does the Demon brother's feel about it? - CW//TW; Minor jealous behaviour, possessive behaviour [Lucifer & Mammon], some angst??? [Leviathan]

𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿

At first, he didn't mind it - you're the human transfer student, of course the other demons in the Devildom would take an interest in you just out of curiosity.

Once word gets around about your achievements in such a short time - that's when it catches the Prideful Demon's attention.

The fact that there were so many eyes on you, watching your every move with your sudden popularity - you were bound to have some students that were interested in you, wanting your attention, etc.

Extremely good at masking his jealousy.

Why is he jealous exactly? All the attention you have on you is taking away time and attention you usually have on him and him alone.

Absolutely hates it when your attention is pulled away from him just because some RAD student wanted to ask or talk to you for a bit.

He draws the line when he catches wind that some demons are developing feelings for you and confessing said feeling from your popularity.

They've been taking your time and attention with they're curiosity long enough and he won't stand for this any longer, he would pull you aside;

"Have you forgotten the terms of our pact, Y/N?" He says in a hushed voice, leaning in close to your ear as he holds you by the shoulders with firm hands after he had pulled you aside from prying eyes of other students, "I hate that you're attention is never on me now, you know how much I hate being ignored..." "I don't care how popular you get," He pulls way slowly as he tilts your head up to force your eyes to meet his, "I want your eyes on me and only me, at all times. Got it?"

𝗠𝗮𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻

Oh, he was never on board with your popularity to begin with when you first arrived.

That meant he actually had to do his job as your supervisor to stop you from getting eaten by other demons.

When your popular grew more and more, that's when he started getting [a TON] tiny bit jealous. And he's very vocal about it.

Mans greedy for your attention and you being popular, having people around you all up in your business doesn't sit well with him at all.

He's extremely impatience when your talking to other demons when you two are hanging out - crossing his arms and getting all pouty.

Once he even sees another demon show any interest in you, he's gonna make a scene.

Makes a bigger scene if a demon even tries to make any romantic advancements with you due to said popularity - "Nu-huh! They're not into you, now go. It's my time with Y/N, you're cutting in."

Mammon takes you hand in his as you two walked back to the House of Lamentation after a little walk around the shops, you can feel his hand squeeze yours slightly as he tenses up. "Y/N..." Mammon starts, getting your attention. "I should have priority over everyone else." He says, looking away from you slightly, covering his face slightly with the back of his hand to hide his settle blush on his cheeks. "I get your suddenly all popular and all but... I want you to pay attention to me, I am your first after all."

𝗟𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻

Doesn't care that much to begin with, that's normie behaviour and he's not about that.

Besides, he hates the crowds you draw in with your popularity so he chooses not to hang around you that much.

Though, he does envy you but would never admit it out loud and word for word, probably would beat around the bush.

When your popularity grows more and more as the more things you achieve in the Devildom - that's when the reality kicks in for him.

You suddenly have so many friends and so many admires, and he gets it - you're so much cooler than him, why would people want to hang around a yucky otaku like him.

Watches on from a far, seeing you happily interact with other demons from your popularity only worsens his feelings.

Watching you - his only friends slowly drift off from him, he doesn't try to salvage the relationship he once had with you.

He just reminisces while in room - remembering how you two use to game together, all the anime marathons and watch parties you two had, read manga together, etc.

When he does see you, he just only has very surface level conversations with you [ex. weather, classes, what you've been up to, etc.] - no longer having he's rabbit-hole rambles about the newest game he's been playing, animes he's been watching, manga he's been reading, etc.

He doesn't want to eat up too much of you're time knowing you have other friends that were probably more fun to be around than him.

Often cuts conversations short in an abrupt manner with you if you start the conversation yourself .

Falls back to his habit of locking himself in his room for days on end - opting to just take the classes online / independent learning - refusing to leave beside for the necessities.

"...Maybe it's for the best, if I were Y/N, I wouldn't want to be around me either..." Leviathan mumbles to himself, curled up on a beanbag and leaning up against his room's tank wall's glass as he watched Henry 2.0 swim around the coral and rocks in the lonesome tank. "Why would Y/N want to hang around a yucky otaku like me? I just haul up in my room like the shut-in I am... I'm probably so boring to be around... and annoying with how much I talk..." he said with a sigh, looking at the goldfish that was now staring at him from inside the tank, "At least I got you... you're my friend. Right, Henry?" Silence filled the room, only the tank's heater and filter whirring audible. Leviathan pressed his forehead against the tanks glass as he felt his chest tighten followed by a lump in his throat formed, his eyes watering up. "I miss them so much..." He said quietly as his voice cracked, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes as he tries to stop tears flowed from his eyes and down his cheeks. As much as he tried to deny it, with your popularity - he's just no longer your friend. He's just now sees himself as another person in the faceless crowd to you.

𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗮𝗻

Honestly doesn't care much for your popularity.

Genuinly, he's quite impressed with how popular you gotten in the Devildom with you're achievements.

Though, does worry about you from time to time due to you being close to Diavolo so... there's that.

He doesn't want other demons to take advantage with your ties and popularity.

Other than that, he's really not that responsive to your popularity, even if it grows.

Most likely, you might have the same connection as him due to your popularity so you two go to exclusive events [restaurant grand openings, friends/acquaintances only parties/events, etc]

If that's the case, he's glad to have you there - having a familiar face in the room really puts him at ease.

"Hey, Y/N." He calls out to you as he makes his way through the crowd of demons mingling and talking amongst themselves, seeing you stand off to the side of the room - taking a break from all the socializing. "How are you feeling? Do you want to head out for a breather with me?" He asks with a soft smile, offering you his arm. "You must be a bit tired from talking to all these people - especially with the respect you've garnered amongst other demons. If you'd like to join me, I know a good place to get away for a little social break."

𝗔𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘂𝘀

Absolutely ecstatic that you're finally getting the popularity and recognition in the Devildom.

You do have a pact with him anyways, it's what he expects - the more eyes on you, the more eyes on him by proxy.

He constantly brags that he knows you on a personal level, but would never indulge in any information - he doesn't kiss and tell <3

Would take you to so many parties so you can get to know more Demons than you already know just from your popularity alone.

He's most likely by your side whenever you two are out in public, he LOVES attention and your popularity helps with getting stares and all.

Def. introduces you to all his friends like... 99% of new people you now know is all thanks to Asmo.

Does get a bit pouty when you two are out and random demons try to talk to you.

Usually doesn't mind it but he does have his limits - is it because he's not getting the attention from the people who are fascinated by you and your achievements or is it because he doesn't have your attention and he craves your attention alone?

A mix of both post likely, one more than the other - which one favours over the other? That's for Asmo to know and you to find out.

The two of you were out clubbing with a couple of Asmo's friends but it seemed like the Avatar of Lust's friends were more intrested in you than him, asking you about what's it like to be so close to Diavolo or what's the celestial realm like since you're really close to the angels. Asmo had enough of this, downing the rest of his Demonus and putting his glass down with a tap as he rose to his feet in a a swift manner. "Y/N, let's go dance~" He says with his usual happy-go-lucky voice, not even waiting for an answer before taking your hand and pulling you out of the private room right into the hallway. He pushes you against the wall gently, putting an hand next to your head - pinning you up against the wall as the club's music bumped in the distance. "It's my turn to give you attention, Y/N." He whispered as he leaned in close to your ear, his tone now almost a purr as he spoke. "I'll be sure not to bore you with question like my friends back there~"

𝗕𝗲𝗲𝗹𝘇𝗲𝗯𝘂𝗯

Doesn't let it affect him.

He doesn't mind the fact you're popular, just doesn't like it when you two get interrupted when you two are out.

When you two are out buying snacks and someone recognizes you and starts chatting with you when he's was in the middle of asking you something - he gets kinda upset but not really.

But due to Beel's sometimes expressionless face, the demon that interuping you two's bonding time usually backs off.

In a way, he's kinda like a body guard for you.

Due to his sheer size and the common knowledge he's extremely strong - demons that do post a threat or just want to interact with you back off immediately when you're with this guy.

But the fact your popularity has some perks, that catches his attention.

When you admirer gifts that are food related [and trust me, that a lot of the time] - don't worry, Beel would happily take that off your hands if you allow him to.

"Y/N, do you want get these Hellfire Spicy Newt Chips? This flavour is new-" Beel's words trail off when he sees you talking to another demon, 'Huh, must be one of the demons curious about Y/N...' he thought as he stood up straight, his build and large figure towering over you as he stared intently at you're interaction - just waiting for the conversation you're having to end with the lesser Demon. He notices the other demon's eyes slowly drift up and look at him, suddenly ending the conversation you where having with them and rushing off down the opposite direction of the store aisle you two were in. You look up at Beel with a confused look painted on your face from the lesser Demon's sudden choice to end the conversation abruptly. Beel just shrugged in response and held the chip bag he was holding, "Do you want Hellfire Spicy Newt Chips too, Y/N?"

𝗕𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿

Like his twin, really doesn't care that your popular.

Matter of fact, he uses it to his advantage all while looking after you.

How exactly? You two a little routine that you two do.

He's already waiting in the attic for you, laying down on the sleeping area he had made when he was held captive up there or in his shared bedroom with Beel - probably already napping.

He senses when you enter the room, he waits up from his slumber and invites you to nap with him.

Gives you cuddles and uses you as a human body pillow while the two of you naps,

Listens to you talk about the latest happenings in you new life being popular in the Devildom - gossip and all.

He stays awake long enough to watch you fall asleep next to him before falling asleep himself.

He lets out a soft while as he stirs awake, hearing someone enter the room. Just from the sound of the footsteps, he knew who it was. "Y/N... you're home..." Belphie welcomes you in his hald-asleep toned voice, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He scoots a bit on the mattress - inviting you to lay with him. Once he feels the mattress sink as you lay beside him, he scoots back that his body was pressed against your back, you feel his arms wrap around you and a leg straddle over your hip as if the sleepy demon was using you as a body pillow. "You must be tired, Y/N... it must have been an eventful day..." he mutters into your clothed back as he presses his face into it, his eyes fluttering closed comforted by your warmth. "Tell me all about it..."

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kissofthemis · 1 year ago

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Hello!Can i request the nxx biys with a slightly weird s/o?

Like weird as in they're always happy and goofy 24/7 even in dangerous situations?Like maybe something happened to them in the past that made then this way(you can decide on what happened :D )

Oh,and can i be the K Anon?My keyboard lags a lot if i use emojis,so I hope you don't mind if I go by K Anon here :D

Sorry if this is a super long request it's just been brainrottingbin my head 24/7 and i don't have enough writting skills lmao

❤ Artem ❤

At first, he doesn't notice that you have a tendency to laugh off your pain or make morbid jokes. He thinks that he's just more uptight or strict than most people, so he suspects your behavior is actually more akin to how "normal" people act.

It's when you act blasé after a dangerous encounter that he realizes that this seems to be a unique trait, specific to you.

He specializes in criminal cases. He knows that people who feel threatened or have experienced dangerous situations can react in many different ways... but to be this carefree is not something he's seen before.

You don't lash out, but you don't withdraw. You don't scream or cry, but you aren't bottling your pain either. You're an anomaly.

"Mr. Wing, it's a dark world out there." He knows that. "If I'm too serious, I'll crumble." He's never heard you speak in such a flat, detached tone. "So I stay silly!"

He isn't going to pry into why you feel you have to laugh all the pain away, because he trusts you to tell him if/when you're ready.

He knows what it's like to mask his true feelings.

Instead he offers you his shoulder. "If you ever need to turn away from the shadows... I'll shield you if you need a moment to be vulnerable, before putting that smile back on your face."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💛 Luke 💛

Your smile and laugh make him warm inside. He likes that you can stay cheerful even when faced with stress or with gloomy situations.

He soon realizes that you're a bit too goofy, a bit too relaxed, a bit too much of a jokester. He's not mad about it, but he wants to figure out why you're this way.

At first he doesn't want to tell you he's investigating your behaviors. He's in detective mode and NSB agent mode at the same time; he won't ask for help nor reveal his intentions when he asks to spend more time with you.

He cares, but his pride can get in the way.

Finally he pieces together the puzzle, with clues and hints he obtained partially from you and partially from totally legitimate public sources, no hacking involved. (/s)

"You could've just asked me!" You laugh and wave him off. "It's no big deal!"

Luke gets stern with you. "You were subjected to immense psychological and physical abuse."

You just smile. "And you haven't been?" His scowl gets deeper. "Tell you what! Promise to look after me, so you don't have to worry about me getting trapped or endangered ever again! And then I'll be able to smile freely all the time!"

He reluctantly agrees.

Don't ask if the plush dog he gives you the next time you meet has a camera in it.

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💜 Marius 💜

Your cheerful and carefree nature is what draws Marius to you in the first place.

He's constantly under stress. Whether it's school, tutoring, Z, or Pax, he always has some project pending and is subject to intense scrutiny.

You're a breath of fresh air from stuffy old men. You smile, you laugh, you play. He wants some of that l joy back in his life.

Unfortunately, trauma knows trauma. The more time he spends with you, the more he picks up on eccentricities that... don't quite line up with "innocence" the way he imagines it.

He understands the value of secrets and how they can protect others. He's had to keep secrets to protect his family, the company, reputations, wealth, you name it.

But he also wants to work on being more honest with himself, and that means being more honest with his closest friends. He doesn't have many friends, so he wants you to be able able confide in him the same way he can confide in you.

Of course, while he's a bold and bright businessman, he's a timid and inexperienced friend.

He'll try to tease and pout his way into your heart and mind. "Aww, are you laughing at me again, miss/mx/mister?" Tugging at your sleeves and your heartstrings. "Trying to trick me with a fake smile? Miss/mx/mister doesn't trust me..."

Turns out he has to be direct and blunt. You two end up having a heart to heart about your respective fears and struggles, the horrors you've faced, the sorrowful smiles and the humorous tears.

He comes up with an idea. "Here's a key to my studio. Want to turn pain and fear into something bright? Show me what you can paint."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

💚 Vyn 💚

In case it wasn't readily apparent, Vyn picks up on your act instantly.

He's a psychiatrist. He doesn't know why you act this way, but he can figure out it's unnatural.

(Not to mention he enjoys card tricks. He's also good at perceiving sleight of hand and other "magic" that involves showing someone what you want them to see, instead of showing them the truth and mechanisms behind the magic.)

Instead of playing games or trying to snoop his way into your secrets, he just observes you.

He's skilled at sitting back and watching, waiting, picking up pieces and fitting them together.

You catch him by surprise, however, when you call him out on his behavior.

"Vyn, am I your patient or your friend?" You pout at him and fold your arms over your chest in a highly exaggerated manner, one that is almost comical in nature. You shift back into chuckles and spin around as you wait for his answer.

Your one moment of frustration could easily be brushed off as a joke, but Vyn hears there is actual hurt in your words.

"You are... quite the anomaly," he replies at last. "You wear both the masks of comedy and tragedy. I couldn't help but wonder which was your real face." He leans closer and whispers, "I want to see my friend's true face, beneath all the masks and pretenses. Is that so wrong, dear?"

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #headcanon #artem wing #luke pearce #marius von hagen #vyn richter #thanks for the ask!#I hope the list format is okay! I may alternate depending on what I think works better for a certain request #K anon #tot

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foxglovepng · 8 months ago

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Random Headcannons 3 🌼🥀

Requested: naw

Characters: Scarabia + Pomefiore

A/N: I'm getting back into the writing mood yay I'll probably take requests in the future because I am slowly getting over writer's block. I looked up a word in Arabic and if the word is incorrectly translated incorrectly feel free to correct me.

If you liked reblogs and likes are appreciative <3

Kalim

Knock knock who's there? Autism br br br where the hoes at? not here

I love my Autistic headcanon for Kalim. I also saw a headcanon he has ADHD too. (I forgot the word for ADHD and Autism combined help)

When he's unmedicated Jamil is that one meme of Shinji his stress levels are high. He's practically lived with Kalim so he knows he can get hyper although he pushes through it being used to it.

I headcanon Kalim has sensory issues that mainly have to do with touch. (Mine are sound and taste :skull:)

Since he likes parties and is extremely sociable I feel like sometimes he can get overwhelmed he chills in his sensory swing. I also feel like since he plays the drums he does have backup headphones on hand in case it's too loud.

Jamil tends to calm him down with essential oils (Don't ask me what kind he likes I only know Rosemary, and Cherry blossom)

Jamil

Jamil drop the hair routine or I'll break your ankles Sangwoo style so you can't dance anymore. I will even report your music-listening account so you are no longer allowed to play hip hop DROP THE ROUTINE RN JAMIL

This is my no 2 pookie bear I love him sm ANYWAYS

I feel like in his alone time Jamil has his own hobbies he hides from Kalim and will go above and beyond just to have them to himself. One of those I feel like is reading romance books (Not the feral ones booktok gooners read) romance is one of the genres he reads I feel like he also reads fantasy. (He has read Pride and Prejudice)

He'd probably also go to art conventions on his spare time. He has a sketchbook and draws on occasion (I think he draws similar to Hyunjin's style)

Him and Kalim speak Arabic and English although I feel like when Jamil wants to cuss someone out or insult someone he will bring the Arabic out.

*Ace messes up a play*

Ace: so um great play

Jamil: اهبل (Google says this means stupid/idiot)

Ace: HUH?

Vil

*Throws my genderqueer headcannon at you Eminem style*

Gender queer Icon Vil.

If I am correct he is referred to as Queen by Rook?? so I believe Vil doesn't really care for pronouns and just simply exists. So Vil would use any pronouns interchangeably.

Also random headcannon but Vil's father is like..famous right? So I feel like he gets insulted and called a Nepo baby.

Peep Epel and Vil get into a fight and Epel calls him a Nepo baby. Oh all hell is breaking loose.

(I also headcannon he'd make an appearance in Eurovision)

Rook

I need Frenchie to become a slur so I can shout FRENCHIE at Rook 24/7

This man either has a really good memory or a diary in which he keeps info of students. (Their height, weight, UM, etc) its freaky ngl. AND NOT A GOOD FREAKY WAY.

I saw some art of him and Floyd in the bathroom and he was peeking over the urinal. BRO KEEP YA EYES ON YA JUNK.

I can imagine certain NRC students have a group chat dedicated to slandering Rook.

He probably knows about it :Skull:

Epel

Guys this my son <3

I am a firm believer he is an Amish hater.

"I hate the way you talk the way you walk" ahh beat.

From a farmer's perspective I don't think he's 100% vegan, but if you bribe him with bbq he will start foaming at the mouth.

Bro probably listens to Dixon Dallas good looking-

He's also a Dolly Parton and Carrie Underwood fan.

I feel like with people he's close with especially the first years he lets his country accent loose and it will get even looser if someone (or Yuu) has a country accent as well. The rest of the first years will be like "They are speaking in tongues"

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selfless-solipsist · 2 months ago

Text

My Dearest Enemy [3]

◤• Commander Peepers x Reader • ◢

╰┈➤ This is not slow burn at all and with a serious tone (just saying!). This is THE THIRD CHAPTER, you can read the rest here:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/222059481-my-dearest-enemy

Chapter Three: And Yet I Hold On

Peepers sat there, his eye drooping wearily. He was usually hyper-vigilant, sharp-eyed and quick to bark orders at his subordinates. But today, he was different. He was exhausted, his orb ringed with dark shadows, his 'antenna' drooping listlessly. He hadn't slept all night, his mind replaying the events of the previous day over and over.

The army of watchdogs watched him with confusion. This wasn't the Commander they knew. This was a Commander who looked as if he'd been through the wringer.

And it wasn't just his appearance. His whole mannerism was different too. He was quieter, his usual sharpness and enthusiasm replaced by a weary slouch. He didn't snap at them when they made mistakes, instead just giving them a tired glare.

And as he began to hear whispers, he decided to ignore them completely, too lost in his own thoughts to care. He sipped his coffee, his eye staring blankly at the table in front of him.

He hadn't been this distracted in a long time. He had always prided himself on his focus and discipline, his ability to push away distracting thoughts and stay completely in the moment. But today, he found himself slipping back into memories, reliving moments from the past, wondering about possible futures.

And at the center of it all, was her.

The memory of her teasing smirk. The way she had toyed with him, her words and actions leaving him both intrigued and perplexed. He couldn't get her out of his head. He wanted to know more about her, to understand her.

To know why she kissed him.

But he wasn't sure if he'd get the chance. She had been flippant, unpredictable, and he had no idea if she'd even show up that day.

And as the minutes ticked by, he found himself growing more and more anxious. His eye kept swiveling towards the entrance to the cafeteria, hoping beyond hope that she would waltz through the door. That he would get his chance.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the door he was watching so intently slid open, and a figure entered, drawing Peepers' eye and his immediate attention. He hoped it was her, so so badly.

But no.

It was only his superior, Hater.

Sigh.

The skeleton walked into the cafeteria, and the mood instantly shifted. The watchdogs immediately snapped to attention, their expressions becoming serious and disciplined. Even Peepers straightened, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the presence of his boss.

And as he scanned over the army of watchdogs, his gaze abruptly came to a halt. "Oh there you are, Peeps!" Hater exclaimed in his usual pompous manner as he saw Peepers sitting at his lonely table, his voice piercing the silence. "Just the watchdog I wanted to talk to!"

The commander's 'antenna' perked up a bit at the sound of his superior, his weary eye watching as the skeleton strode towards him. "Morning, sir." he replied, trying his best to keep his voice steady, despite his exhausted state. He braced himself for his boss' undoubtedly demanding request.

And so, the man in charge came and hovered beside him, a wide grin on his face and a gleam in his eyes that Peepers knew meant trouble.

"I've got a new super awesome mission for us," he began, his tone oozing confidence. "And I need you to be in top form, Peepers. As in, not looking like a dead puppy." He gestured in a dumb manner, not a hint of concern in his voice.

The commander couldn't help but grimace slightly at Hater's words, a mix of irritation and resigned duty welling up in him. He was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with the skeleton's 'super awesome' mission.

"I'll be fine, sir," he responded with a tired sigh, hoping his voice wouldn't betray his fatigue.

Hater narrowed his eyes, his grin shifting into a disapproving frown as he studied Peepers' weary frame. He wasn't convinced.

"You look like garbage," he declared bluntly, his expression shifting from pompous to critical as he blinked at the watchdog in confusion. "When did you last sleep?"

The watchdog suppressed a sigh, his 'antenna' drooping further as the skeleton's assessment only confirmed what he already knew; he did look like trash. He looked and felt worn out, and his usually sharp-witted brain was sluggish.

And it was all thanks to her.

"Last night." he replied matter-of-factly, his voice neutral. It wasn't entirely a lie. He had slept a little. It just wasn't nearly enough.

Though Hater lifted an eyebrow at his response, clearly not buying it.

"You expect me to believe you look like that just from one night of not sleeping right?" He said, his tone incredulous. "What were you doing last night, partying or something?"

As he said that, he reached for the watchdogs' tray of food, grabbing a piece of fruit and throwing it in his mouth. Quietly, he grumbled, his orbs moving to the side like an offended child. "...without me?"

Peepers twitched, his irritation flaring at Hater's assumption. "No, Sir, I was not 'partying'!" he responded, throwing his hands slightly in the air with his one eye narrowed. Despite his weary state, he couldn't help but feel annoyed at Hater's casual invasion of his tray and his presumption that he would do something as plebeian as 'partying' without him.

The skeleton only blinked at him, still munching on the food like his question was a serious matter. He clearly didn't believe his second-in-command, as much as it angered the small watchdog.

The man in charge was so childish at times... it was actually quite saddening.

"I was simply.. busy." The commander added while rolling his eye, not wanting to get into the specifics, especially not in public.

Hater snorted, not looking very convinced. He spat out the piece of fruit at his subordinate - not caring that he blinded his vision for a split second -, his eyes still fixed on the smaller villain, studying his weary silhouette. "Busy, huh?" He grumbled, his tone laced with doubt. "Doing what? Paperwork or something equally boring?"

Peepers bristled at Hater's tone, his eye narrowing slightly. He really didn't want to get into this discussion, especially not with the person he knew wouldn't understand. Especially not when he was tired and more likely to let things slip. "Something like that," he mumbled, averting his gaze and pretending to find a piece of lint on his uniform interesting. Anything to avoid the skeleton's penetrating gaze.

Hater watched him a moment longer, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He clearly wasn't satisfied with The commander's vague answers, but he seemed content to drop the subject for now.

"Alright, whatever," he said, waving one hand as if discarding the topic from his mind. However, the watchdog knew Hater well enough to know that this wasn't the end of it. Yet for now, he decided to drop the subject. "Anyways, about this mission I told you about.." With a more eager tone, he threw away the edible, and puffed up his chest proudly.

Peepers was simultaneously relieved and worried when his boss changed the subject. Relieved because he didn't have to give any more answers about his night. Worried because he doubted the mission would be anything less than tedious and energy demanding.

"What.. kind of mission is it, Sir?" he asked, trying to keep the exhaustion out of his weary voice.

Hater's skeletal grin widened, a flash of egotistical pride in his eyes. "Well, I had this amazing idea," he began, his tone dripping with self-importance. "We're going to conquer a planet, and this time, I have a bulletproof plan. No distractions, no interruptions, just us, the planet, and my awesome-ness!"

Oh joy.

Peepers thought sarcastically. his 'antenna' drooping even more at the enthusiastic declaration. A mission to conquer a planet sounded like the exact type of thing he didn't need right now; physically demanding, mentally exhausting, and probably lasting for days, if not weeks. But he held back any complaints. It was his duty to support Lord Hater, regardless of his own personal state.

And well, it was their goal to conquer the Galaxy, was it not?

Even if Hater's view on the matter was a bit... one-sided.

"Sounds.. great, Sir!" he forced himself to say, his voice betraying none of his internal dread.

The grin on the skeleton's face widened, seemingly oblivious to Peepers' lack of enthusiasm. He thumped a hand on the table, the sound echoing through the quiet cafeteria. "You bet it's great!" He exclaimed, his voice loud and booming, gaining glances from the other watchdogs in the room. "We're gonna show that planet who's boss! And all thanks to my genius planning!"

The commander resisted the urge to roll his eye. Hater's constant bragging and self-congratulation could be tiresome at the best of times, but right now, with his brain fuzzy from exhaustion and his mind still preoccupied, it was particularly irritating.

"Right... your genius, Sir." he forced himself to reply, his voice flat and lacking any hint of praise.

Though his superior didn't seem to catch the lack of admiration in the watchdog's tone. But even if he did, he definitely ignored it.

"Damn right, it's my genius!" he declared, puffing out his non-existing chest. He then leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And don't you forget it, Peepers. I expect you to be at the top of your game for this mission. No slacking, no screw-ups, got it?"

The watchdog suppressed a wince at Hater's words.

At the top of his game? Yeah, right.

How was he supposed to be at the top of his game when he could barely keep his eye open? But again, he held back his complaints. His personal issues didn't matter. Hater wanted him to be ready, so ready he would be, no matter how exhausted he was.

"Yes sir." he managed to say, mustering the best determined expression he could in his weary state.

Hater seemed satisfied with his response, his egotistical grin returning. "That's my Commander!" he exclaimed, slapping a hand on Peepers' shoulder, nearly causing him to tumble off his seat. "I can always count on you to get the job done, even when you look like..."

He trailed off, studying his commander's tired frame with new suspicion in his orbs.

The smaller villain winced silently at the sudden touch, his weary body nearly toppling over. He managed to remain seated, but the contact made him acutely aware of just how exhausted he truly was.

How was he going to get through this mission?

Hater's gaze continued to scrutinize him, his skeletal features twisting into a slight frown as he took in the weary state of his subordinate. "Seriously Peepers, you look horrible," he finally declared, his tone laced with skepticism. "You sure you're up for a mission? I mean, you can hardly stay sitting up straight."

Peepers bristled slightly at hisobservation. He knew he looked bad, but he didn't need to be reminded of it. He was already struggling to keep it together, but the remark only added to his stress.

"I'll be fine, sir," he replied, mustering up as much determination as he could, his voice not betraying his weariness. "I might not be at my best, but I can still fulfill my duties."

Hater gave a skeptical hum, seemingly unconvinced by Peepers' assurances. He narrowed his eyes, studying the Commander's weary face closely.

"I don't know, Peepers," he grumbled, tapping a skeletal finger against his ribcage. "If you can't even sit up straight, how are you gonna lead a mission?" He pointed his finger in the air to make a point. "And a very important one, mind you!"

Ah, right. He was supposed to lead the mission, like always.

The comander felt a pang of anxiety at Hater's words. He had been so focused on his own tiredness, he hadn't even considered the fact that he would be leading the mission. He was supposed to be strong, reliable, a model of discipline and determination for his troops. How could he manage that when he could barely keep his eye from shutting?

But he couldn't show weakness, especially not in front of Hater. He swallowed his anxiety and steeled his voice into an approximation of confidence. "I'll manage, sir. I always do."

Hater continued his skeptical stare, his gaze flickering over Peepers' slumped form. He was clearly doubting the Commander's ability to lead the mission, but he seemingly decided not to push the matter.

"Alright, if you say so," he grumbled, his voice laced with doubt. "But if you mess this up, you'll personally be the first to face my wrath, you hear me, Peeps?"

The watchdog suppressed a sigh of relief as Hater finally seemed to drop the matter. Although he could still see the skepticism in the skeleton's eyes. "Understood, sir," he replied, trying to sound as formal and assured as possible. "You have my word, the mission will be a success."

He had to do this. He had to be the commander he knew he was, no matter how exhausted he felt.

He straightened up in his seat, his determination growing. "I'll prepare the troops for our departure immediately, sir," he stated, trying to ignore the weariness in the pit of his stomach. And at that, the gaze of his superior shifted from skepticism to satisfaction at his response. He seemed pleased that the Commander was not succumbing to his tired state. "That's more like it, Peeps," he huffed, his ego inflating. "I knew I could count on you to get things moving."

He then gave a careless wave of his hand. "I'll leave the rest to you. You know what to do."

Peepers nodded at Hater's words, his eyes shining just a tiniest bit in acknowledgement. "Yes, Sir!" he replied, already mentally planning his next course of action.

He needed to go over the mission details, select the right troops, assign roles and responsibilities, and a hundred other little things that he usually completed with great ease. But in his current state, he felt as if he might forget some crucial detail and doom the entire mission to fail. Though despite his inner turmoil, he pushed the anxiety aside and started to stand up, intending to get to work as soon as possible, but as he did, a wave of dizziness crashed over him.

His balance wavered for a moment, and he had to grip the edge of the table to remain standing.

That wasn't good. Not good at all

Peepers internally cursed as the wave of dizziness washed over him, nearly toppling him over. He could feel Hater's eyes on him again, and he knew he must look as weak as he felt right at that moment. He quickly schooled his expression into one of determination again, trying to hide the internal struggle he was facing. He couldn't afford to show weakness now, not in front of his troops. Not in front of the skeleton.

"You alright there, Peeps?"

Hater's voice broke through the commander's inner turmoil, thick with suspicion and hint of... concern? No, the watchdog was just imagining things surely. His superior was watching him again, that shrewd gleam in his eyes as he observed the struggle in front of him.

"Of course I'm alright!" He wanted to snap, but he held his tongue, knowing it would do no good. Instead, he gave a small nod and forced a slight smirk onto his weary features. "Just a momentary spell of vertigo, Sir." He said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Nothing to worry about." With that he closed his optic and crossed his arms confidently.

Hater observed him for a moment longer, clearly not fully buying his reassurance. But, after a moment, he huffed and shrugged. "If you say so," he grumbled, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Just make sure it stays a 'momentary spell' and doesn't mess up our mission, got it?"

The watchdog nodded again, trying not to grimace at the way Hater's words stung. He was far from alright, but his boss didn't need to know that.

"I will, Sir." He replied firmly, even though it felt like his energy was slowly draining with each passing second. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep for a week, but that wasn't an option.

He was the commander. He had a mission to lead. He had to be strong.

Hater's skeletal grin returned, clearly satisfied with Peepers' response. He clapped a hand on the Commander's shoulder again, causing him to wince once again internally at the touch. "That's the spirit, Peeps!" he exclaimed, seemingly unaware of the Commander's actual condition. "You go get everything prepared. Let's get this show on the road!"

The smaller villain gritted his teeth as Hater patted his shoulder again, the contact sending jolts of fatigue through his weary body. He desperately wanted to brush off Hater's touch, to scream and shout and make the skeleton understand that he could hardly keep his eye open, let alone lead a mission.

But he knew it would fall on deaf ears.

Instead, he forced a nod and a tight smile. "Right away, sir," he replied, his voice strained yet determined.

Hater gave a satisfied grunt, seemingly completely oblivious to the strain in Peepers' voice. "That's what I like to hear!" he declared, hovering back, a smug smile on his face. "Go on then, go get busy. I have important things to take care of too, you know." He placed his hands on the sides of his hips in a confident manner.

At that, the second-in-command nodded again, barely holding back a sigh. The last thing he wanted to do was leave, but he had a mission to prepare for. His exhaustion was starting to really show, and he had to keep himself standing with all his limited willpower. And so, he gave Hater a half-hearted salute before he turned on his heel and forced himself to stride away, back straight and expression determined.

As the commander left the cafeteria, he noticed a few of the other watchdogs watching him from the corner of his eye. He could see them whispering to each other, glancing at him with expressions of worry and curiosity once more.

"He looks terrible."

"Is he alright?"

He ignored them all, focusing on keeping his gait steady and assured. He couldn't afford to show any weakness to his troops. As the small villain pushed his way through the base, he noticed a few of them stopped to give him a salute. But he could see their eyes lingering on him, their expressions ranging from concern to confusion to pity.

He hated it. He hated the way they were looking at him, like he was made of glass, like he was seconds from collapsing.

He swallowed down the urge to snap at them, to tell them he was fine, that he was the Commander of Lord Hater's Grand Army and he didn't need their concern. But he knew it was useless. He could see the bewilderment in their scarlet orbs, the uncertainty on their faces. They were seeing their Commander, the one who had always seemed so strong and unshakable, faltering.

It was a strange feeling, to be vulnerable in front of his troops. He had always put up a mask of strength and determination, never letting them see the doubts and fears that plagued him. But now, he couldn't help but show his exhaustion. It was written all over his weary frame.

He could still feel the watchdogs' eyes on him as he passed, the words of their hushed conversations reaching his ears.

"He looks worse than ever..."

"I've never seen him like this before..."

"Do you think something happened?"

"H̴̢̼̟͒́̑e̸͎͔̋͊̓̔̈͘'̶̻͇͉̹͔̮̼͊̈̈́͑̋s̶̛͎̺̰̈́͆̄ ̷̤̣̘͚̉p̶̢̦̮̂̃̑͛̋ă̴̼͈t̷̮̤̩̔̾͠h̴̘̄̃̓̚e̵̯̝̩̭̣̮̽͒t̷̛̰͙͉̘͇̿̓̐̃͂̎ḯ̴̻̭̩̇̕͜c̷͙̥͂͂̇́".̷̢̨̱̼̠͓̲̊̆̕͝

Peepers froze. That... wasn't one of the watchdogs, was it? He must have been hearing things from his fatigue surely.

R-Right?

He shook his head, he had no time for things like that.

As Peepers entered his small room, he let out a sigh of relief. He was finally alone, away from the prying eyes of his troops. The weight of his exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks as he closed the door behind him, his shoulders slumping and his eye closing for a moment.

At last, some peace and solitude.

"Hey." A female voice called out, the tone smug.

"Hey." The commander replied, like it was nothing.

...wait.

Peepers jumped in surprise, his own voice getting stuck in his throat, spinning around to see the woman he longed to see laying on his bed, a sly smirk on her lips. She looked utterly indifferent, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for her to be lounging in his sleeping quarters.

His heart rate quickened as anger and embarrassment washed over him. How the hell did she get in here? "What the... what are you doing here?" he demanded, pushing himself away from the door and striding towards the bed.

But even if he was startled, he couldn't shake the small flicker of happiness in his chest.

He was glad to see her, as strange as it was to admit.

The human female however merely smirked at his outburst, lounging back against his pillow as if it was hers. Her eyes glittered with amusement, and there was a hint of something else. Something that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. "You look tired, Commander." she observed, her voice dripping with mock concern. "Late night?"

Peepers' 'antenna' bristled at her observation. He was tired, exhausted even, and there was no denying it. But to be called out on it, by her of all people, made aggravation flare within him.

"Yeah, I wonder why..." he bit back, his voice laced with annoyance. "Maybe because someone decided to pay me an unexpected visit yesterday and keep me up all night!" He glared at her, his fists tightening slightly from irritation.

The woman's smirk widened at his response, seemingly finding his reaction amusing. "Oh, come on, Commander," she chided, her voice laced with a hint of mockery. "You can't blame me for your insomnia." Peepers opened his invisible mouth to protest but she continued, her tone turning slightly sly. "Unless, of course... you're still thinking about last night."

The villain felt himself flush a deep crimson at her words. He had been trying his best to push the events of the previous night out of his mind, but her reminder had brought it all back in an instant. The warmth of her touch, the electric feeling of her lips on his... And the infuriating way she had left without a word, as if it hadn't meant a thing to her.

"I-I am not!" he protested, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

Yeah right.

The woman's smirk widened into a knowing grin at his response, clearly enjoying his flustered state. "Oh really?" she drawled, her voice mocking. "Then why is your face the same shade as some parts of your uniform, Commander?"

Peepers' flush deepened at her observation. He couldn't deny it, she had a point. He was blushing, like a damn fool in fact. He tried to come up with a retort, anything to deflect her teasing. But his weary brain struggled to find the words.

"I-it's just hot in here, that's all." He managed to stutter out, knowing full well it was a lame excuse. He could already see her raising an eyebrow, her smirk growing even wider.

"Oh, is it?" she teased, shifting on the bed so that she was leaning closer, her face now mere inches from his. "Or is it just your memories of last night that are making you all hot and bothered, Commander?"

Her proximity was making his heart race even faster. He could smell the faint, intoxicating scent of her perfume, and he had to actively stop himself from leaning in.

"Shut up," he muttered, his flustered tone betraying his annoyance. "You're enjoying this far too much."

And she was. Her eyes were glittering with mischief as she observed his flustered state, clearly deriving great pleasure from it.

"If you want it you can just ask for it, you know." She stated bluntly, her face as nonchalant as ever as she leaned towards him slightly.

Peepers tried and failed to suppress a shiver as her words washed over him. The bluntness of her statement, combined with the closeness of her face, was making it hard to think straight. "I-I.. what?" he managed to stutter out, his 'antenna' quivering. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but the fact that she was saying it so straightforwardly was both infuriating and alluring.

Her sly grin widened at his confused stammering, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Commander." she chided, her voice dropping to a suggestive murmur. She moved even closer, just a little bit, and the watchdog could feel the warmth of her breath against his face. "Or do I have to spell it out for you?"

Peepers' mind was reeling. She was too close, her presence alone was making his heart pound furiously against his ribs. It was getting hard to think, to even speak. He opened his mouth to protest, to deny her words, to tell her to back off. But what came out was a shaky, breathless exhale. "You... you're just... playing with me again, aren't you?" he managed to get out, his voice far quieter and less certain than he intended.

She hummed at his uncertanity. "Now why would I do that, Commander?" she purred, her voice like velvet in his ears. She reached out a hand, her fingers brushing the edge of his 'antenna', sending sparks of electricity through his body.

"I did keep my word from last night, didn't I?" she reminded him, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

Peepers' mind was a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings. The touch of her hand against his hypersensitive helmet (even though it made no sense) sent jolts of pleasure through his weary frame, and he had to resist the urge to lean into her touch.

The memory of their kiss the night before was vividly clear in his mind, and hearing her bring it up again was only serving to remind him of it. Still, doubt and uncertainty tugged at his mind. The fear that she was just toying with him, mocking him for his weakness. Though the female seemed to sense his doubts, her smirk fading slightly. She reached up, her hand gently cupping the side of his face, and he leaned into the contact almost involuntary.

"Why would I toy with you like that, Commander?" she asked, her voice low and gentle. "Why would I do it again after I told you that I'd come back?"

Actually, you didn't - was what Peepers wanted to say, but he wasn't able to.

Her eyes were almost soft as they met his, but there was a hint of something else there too. Something he couldn't quite place. The watchdog wanted to believe her, to trust her words. But he couldn't shake off the doubt entirely. Too many times had she left him confused and frustrated, only to reappear as she pleased. It had played havoc with his emotions, leaving him in a tangled mess of confusion and want.

"Because..." his voice was strained and shaky as he spoke, barely above a whisper. "Because you find pleasure in tormenting me."

An eyebrow she raised at his words.

And just like that, he felt her press her lips against his. It wasn't as deep as yesterday, just a small sensation that left him in a massive form of desire. However, she quickly pulled away from it, her eyes showing an unfamiliar glint. "Is this torment?" She asked, before moving to his neck, her breath hot and inviting. "Or is this?" With that, she left soft kisses on that part of his body, her eyes closed softly.

Peepers couldn't help but shiver at the feeling of her lips against his skin. The small peck on his was a tantalizing reminder of the night before, leaving him wanting more. Her lips tracing a path down his neck, hot breath caressing his skin as her eyes closed, drinking in the moment. A tingling shiver erupted across his frame, betraying his desire, his surrender. Each tender kiss was like a flame upon his weary form, igniting a yearning, a need for more.

Her question echoed in his ears, his mind too caught up to form a response. Her actions, her presence, it was all too much...

But at the same time, it wasn't.

He wanted more, he craved more. Every gentle touch, every kiss, it was like a drug, making him crave further closeness, further contact.

His mind was spinning and he was barely aware of his own actions. His arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He could feel her body press against his, her warmth seeping into him. Her scent filled his nostrils, her breath caressed his skin, and he found himself losing what little control he had left.

He couldn't deny it any longer. He wanted her.

The thought should have horrified him, it did horrify him, but at the same time, he couldn't care less. The need for her overpowered everything else.

But then, he realized.

The mission.

The realization of what he was doing, what he was about to do, hit him like a punch to the gut. He was supposed to be preparing for something important, something that his superior asked him to do, and here he was, about to throw all caution to the wind for a few moments of pleasure.

And with her, of all people.

He drew a deep, shaking breath, trying to will himself to back away. But his body wouldn't listen, his arms only tightened around her, holding her firmly against him. His heart was racing, pounding furiously against his ribs as he battled with his thoughts. A part of him, a larger part than he cared to admit, was desperate to ignore the mission, to throw it all away and fully give into her. Another part, the logical part, screamed that it was foolish, that it would lead to nothing but trouble.

He could feel his resistance wearing down, his resolve weakening. Her body against his, her breath on his skin, it was all so distracting.

But no. Hater needed him. Peepers couldn't just throw away a chance to conquer another planet, not when the skeleton finally started coming back to their plans.

"W-wait!" he managed to gasp out, his voice shaky and strained. His arms trembled around her, desperate to pull her closer and push her away at the same time. Every part of him was screaming, torn between his obligations and his desires. The human didn't help matters as her mouth moved against his neck, her kisses more frantic, more insistent. He gave a soft, choked moan, his willpower faltering slightly as pleasure washed over him. "I-I need... to prepare.. the mission..." he tried to form a coherent thought, to focus on his responsibilities, but it was getting harder and harder.

God, he wanted her. He wanted her so bad, it was like a physical ache.

Her lips against his skin, her body pressed against his, it was driving him crazy. It was becoming impossible to think, to breathe. All he could feel was her, all he could think about was her.

No. He needed to focus. He had to pull away, to regain control, he had to...

He couldn't.

In the embrace of her touch, he found himself drowning. Each caress sparked a rush of pleasure. Unable to contain his ecstasy, he groaned aloud, his hands gripping her tighter, pulling her ever closer. Her softness, warmth, perfection, all merging into one blissful sensation. Every thought of the mission, of Hater, of everything was fading into the background, overshadowed by the need, the desperate want for her.

"Commander," her voice was a whisper against his sensitive neck, her breath warm, sending a shiver down his spine. Her hands moved up, her fingers trailing on his anntena, pulling gently. He gave another involuntary moan, his resolve crumbling further.

"Stop thinking," she murmured, her mouth moving towards his ear. "Stop fighting me." And even if she kissed him, there was that familiar hint of coldness in her voice. He didn't know if he really did, but he was sure that he also heard her whisper..."Fight him."

Those few words had the effect of snapping him out of his lust-filled haze. There it was again, that hint of something else in her voice. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was there. It gave him pause, an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach that had nothing to do with his current predicament.

And then he shook his head, trying to regain control. "___, the mission." As much as he didn't want to go, to leave her, he had to. "I have to prepare."

Her eyes, the same ones that had just moments ago been filled with tender intimacy, now had a cold fire in them. Her expression darkened, and her voice was hard as she retorted. "Oh, so the mission's more important, is it?"

She pushed herself back from him, her lips pressed into a thin line. There was a flash of anger and hurt in her eyes, which quickly faded into a cold glare.

"You'd rather prepare for the mission than spend time with me, is that it?

Peepers couldn't help but flinch slightly at the change in her demeanor. The sudden coldness, the anger in her voice caught him off guard. He was tempted to give in, to ignore the mission and focus on her. However, the logical part of his mind won out, pushing the desires aside. He gave a small, reluctant nod, knowing it would only add fuel to the fire. "Yes," he admitted, his voice firm. "The mission is important. I have responsibilities to attend to."

Her cold glare darkened further at his words, her anger flaring like a small storm. "Responsibilities," she repeated, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and disdain. "Because of course you do. Of course you can't just give up your little military routine for a couple of hours. You have to be the perfect, ever-so-loyal commander, don't you?" she spat, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

And then, that smirk coated her lips, but it wasn't as mocking as always. It was cold. "Weren't you the one that said Hater holds you down?" She sat on the bed more confidently, her eyes darkening even more. "You know, back on the Ferris Wheel."

Peepers felt his heart drop into his stomach as she brought up the Ferris Wheel. It was a low blow, bringing up his own vulnerability against him. But her words stirred something within him. He did feel held down by Hater, like an invisible anchor tied him to his captain, preventing him from being himself, from being his own person.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his orb quivering slightly. "That's... different," he protested, though his voice was quieter than usual. She chuckled, a bitter sound that made him shiver. "Is it?" she asked, her eyes cold and mocking. "Is it really any different? You still let him hold you down, still play the loyal little commander, even though he constantly lets you down."

Her words stung. She was right, and he hated it. Hater did let him down, time and time again. Yet here he was, still loyal, still obeying.

The truth in her words filled him with a complex mixture of emotions. Anger, at himself for being so blind to Hater's faults, and at ___for bringing it all out into the open. Yet at the same time, he couldn't deny her words. It was true, he had been letting Hater hold him back, keeping him from being more than just a loyal commander. He had settled, had become complacent.

And it hurt, more than he'd care to admit.

Her smirk widened at his hesitation, sensing his internal turmoil like a predator sensing weakness. "Don't you want more?" she pressed, her voice a soft, silky whisper. "Don't you want to be free? To live your own life, without being tied down to someone as... incompetent as Hater?"

Her words hit him like a dagger to the heart. Of course, he wanted more, he wanted freedom. The idea of being his own person, without the weight of Hater's failures on his shoulders, it was tempting. So very tempting.

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words would come out. He was too lost in his thoughts, too conflicted by her words. They hit too close to home, uncovering feelings he had tried to suppress for so long.

She leaned closer, her eyes fixed on his. "Imagine it, Commander," she purred, her voice low and seductive. "Imagine what you could do without Hater holding you back. No more failures, no more disappointments. Just you, free to do whatever you want, to become the person you're supposed to be."

Her words were like honey, sweetly, temptingly pouring into his ears. The idea of being free, of not having to constantly clean up after Hater's mistakes, it was so appealing.

He found himself drawn to her, her voice a siren's song, luring him in.

Yet, at the same time, a small voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind. Hater was his captain, his friend. He couldn't just abandon him, no matter how frustrating he sometimes was.

She seemed to sense his inner conflict. "But you're loyal," she taunted, her voice filled with mocking sympathy. "To Hater. You would never think to abandon him, even though he constantly lets you down."

She reached out a hand, tracing a finger lightly along the sensitive flesh of his antenna. The touch sent a shiver down his spine, making him shiver. Her words cut deep, hitting him where it hurt the most. She was right. No matter how much Hater's failure annoyed him, bothered him, he could never bring himself to abandon him. Even when it was so painfully obvious that his captain wasn't fit to lead.

And yet, the touch of her finger on his antenna felt too good, too pleasurable. He found himself leaning into her touch, his resolve faltering.

She chuckled, a low, almost cruel sound, sensing his inner turmoil. "Look at you," she taunted, her voice filled with mockery. "So loyal, so obedient. Even when your captain treats you like a worthless tool." Her hand moved up the lighting bolt on his helmet, her touch light but purposeful, sending sparks of pleasure through him, making him shiver.

Her words stung, but he couldn't deny them. Hater did treat him like a tool, an afterthought, rarely caring for his opinions. He was constantly putting down Peepers' efforts, only recognizing his mistakes.

But the touch on his antenna... it was addictive, a distraction that muddled his thoughts, making it harder to think clearly.

She leaned even closer, her voice a sultry whisper in his ear. "You don't have to be loyal to him, Commander," she murmured, her hand still tracing delicate patterns on his sensitive spot. "You don't have to be a slave to his failures, his incompetence."

With each word, her touch became more intense, more pleasurable, sending waves of heat through him as his mind became more and more clouded.

He was at war with himself. Part of him, the rational part, knew she was manipulating him, using his insecurities and his desires against him. He should pull away, resist her, remain loyal to Hater. But another part, the growing part, the part that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, was leaning into her touch, drowning in the pleasure it brought. Every stroke, every caress was causing his resolve to crumble, bit by bit.

The woman's smirk widened, her touch even more intense now, her fingers tracing the delicate 'flesh'. "You don't need Hater," she whispered, her voice both sultry and harsh. "You're better than him, stronger, more capable. You can be so much more than just his commander."

With each word, her touch became more intoxicating, filling his mind with a haze of pleasure that made it harder and harder to think straight. He could feel himself losing control, his mind becoming more and more clouded by her touch. Her words echoed in his head, their truth too hard to ignore. He was better than Hater, wasn't he? He could achieve more, be more, if he wasn't tied down by the skeleton. He could be free. With her, maybe, he could-

No.

No, he couldn't think like that. Hater needed him, he was still his captain. Even despite his flaws, his failures, he still... cared, in his own way. Right?

Her chuckle was both mocking and knowing, as if she could perfectly see his thoughts. "You're still hesitating," she stated, her voice filled with derision. "Still trying to cling to your loyalty, your pathetic devotion to Hater." Her touch became even more intense, even more pleasurable, making it increasingly hard for him to think straight. Each stroke caused another shiver to run down his spine.

Her smirk grew more pronounced as she continued, her fingers tracing circles on his antenna. "You really care about that failure of a captain, don't you?" she cooed, her voice half mocking, half sympathetic. Her words pierced his small villanous heart, igniting a mixture of anger and guilt. She was right, damn it. Hater was a failure, and yet he still cared about him. He still felt beholden to his captain, despite everything.

She leaned in even closer now, her breath warm against his ear. "But tell me, Commander," she purred, her voice almost sultry. "When was the last time Hater appreciated your work? The last time he actually cared about what you did?"

The question hit a nerve, stirring the long-suppressed feelings of neglect and frustration. Hater had never really been a good leader, never really showed genuine gratitude for his efforts.

Peepers felt a pang of guilt and frustration at her words. She was right, as much as he hated to admit it. Hater rarely, if ever, showed any acknowledgement for his work, for his dedication and effort. It was infuriating, but he could never bring himself to confront his captain, to demand the recognition he deserved. Instead, he swallowed his pride and continued to serve, hoping, foolishly, that one day Hater would finally appreciate him.

He really was pathetic, wasn't he?

Her voice softened further, almost seductive. "You deserve more than that, Commander. More than a captain who ignores your efforts, who overlooks your worth." She shifted, moving her body closer still, pressing against him more insistently. As she spoke, her fingers continued to caress, the ecstasy it inflicted making it even harder to think.

Her words were like poison, seeping into his mind and taking root. He did deserve more, didn't he? He had worked too hard, suffered too much, to be treated so dismissively by Hater.

He could feel her body against his, her touch sending waves of heat through him. It was maddening, this mixture of anger, guilt, and pleasure. It made him want to pull away from her, yet at the same time, he didn't want her to stop.

"Why stay with Hater," she asked, her voice a seductive whisper, her hand still gently tracing his antenna, "when you can have so much more?" She leaned in even closer, her body pressing against him with an almost possessive force. Her words and her touch together were almost intolerable, filling his mind with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and feelings.

More. The word echoed in his mind, mingling with the pleasure from her touch and the bitter memories it stirred. He could have more, couldn't he? He could be free from Hater, free from the constant stress and disappointment his captain brought.

But at what cost?

The question hovered in the back of his mind, fighting with the intoxicating pleasure her touch inflicted. He felt torn, pulled between the desire for freedom and the loyalty that had been hammered into his very core.

Her body pressed against him with increasing urgency, her hand on his antenna tracing more intense patterns, making it even harder to think. His mind was a tangle of emotions, his desires fighting against his ingrained loyalty to Hater. He knew he should pull away, resist her, remain loyal to his captain. But her words, her touch... they were all so tempting, so intoxicating. It was becoming harder and harder to think straight.

But no. Hater was his friend, not just his boss. He couldn't just push him away, forget about his existence.

His thoughts were like a bucket of ice water dashed over his heated mind. Yes, Hater was his friend. They had been through everything together, from countless battles to humiliating failures. They had grown to trust and depend on each other over the years. He couldn't just abandon him, no matter how much his own desires pulled him in the other direction. Loyalty, not just to his captain, but to his friend, was what made him who he was.

He took a sharp breath and took a step back, pulling away from her, and more importantly her alcoholic touch.

He took a moment to recompose himself, to pull his thoughts and emotions back into some semblance of order. His sensitive area was still tingling from her touch, and his body was telling him to stay, to experience more of that pleasure. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing his mind on his duty, his loyalty. When he spoke, his voice held a newfound resolve, a conviction that even shocked him a bit. "I can't," he stated, his tone firm. "I can't betray Hater like that."

Her usual smirk turned into a frown, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "You're still clinging to him? After everything I've said? After everything he's done, or rather hasn't done?" Her tone was filled with disapproval and frustration, a stark contrast to the seductive sweetness she had used earlier.

Peepers stood his ground, his determination holding strong despite her disapproval. A part of him was struggling, torn between his loyalty and his desires, but he kept his voice steady, his resolve unwavering. "Yes," he stated clearly. "I am. Hater is my captain, my friend, my..." He hesitated for a moment, a small internal war fighting within him before he continued. "...companion. I can't forget our history, our bond, no matter how hard you try to sway me."

The commander swallowed hard, the truth in her words cutting deep. Yes, Hater often treated him poorly, overlooked his efforts, and took him for granted. It hurt, gods, it hurt so much. But he couldn't bring himself to admit it, to give voice to those feelings. Instead, he lifted his chin, his voice steady despite the tangle of emotions battling inside him. "It's complicated. You wouldn't understand." he said simply, refusing to give her an admission of weakness.

Her eyes narrowed further, her irritation growing. "It's not complicated," she retorted, her tone harsh. "It's clear as day. Hater treats you like dirt, yet you still cling to him like a lost puppy. It's pathetic." Her words stung, but he refused to let it show. He couldn't let her see how her words affected him. So he held his ground, his resolve solidifying further.

"It's not about him treating me well or badly," he countered, his voice firm. "It's about loyalty, about our history, our bond. I know he isn't the best leader, I know he has his flaws. But..." He paused, his voice breaking slightly, betraying a hint of the internal conflict he was battling. "But he's still my boss. My friend. I can't just... abandon him like that."

At that, the woman's eye twitched slightly. She wanted to say something, but decided against it. Instead, she bit her tongue and formed a different response. Her annoyance turned to something close to disgust. "You're a fool," she stated, her voice harsh and cold. "A pathetic, loyal fool. Hater doesn't care about you, not really. He only sees you as another part of his army, a tool to be used and discarded as he pleases."

Her words were like stabs to the heart, but he held his ground, refusing to back down despite the turmoil inside him. He clenched his fists, struggling to keep his emotions in check. Her words were hitting all the right - or rather, wrong - places. He knew they rang with truth, but he couldn't, wouldn't admit it.

"He does care about me," he protested, his voice firm. "In his own way, he does. He may not show it often, he may not appreciate me like he should, but he..."

He trailed off, realizing how weak his defense sounded.

She chuckled cruelly, her eyes filled with disdain. "You're kidding yourself," she taunted, her voice filled with mockery. "He doesn't respect you, let alone care about you. You're nothing to him but a pawn, a soldier, a disposable tool in his grand scheme. But please, do keep deluding yourself into thinking otherwise. It's endearing to see how blindly loyal you are."

Every word was like a lance through his heart. He wanted to deny it, to shout at her, but the truth was impossible to ignore. Hater did often treat him like a throwaway pawn, his loyalty taken for granted. But even knowing this, even feeling the sting of it deep inside, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He took a breath, his voice firm despite the turmoil within. "I know he's not perfect," he stated, his eyes locked on hers. "But I can't abandon him. I won't."

Her expression darkened, her annoyance becoming something close to anger. "Why are you so eager to cling to him? He doesn't deserve your loyalty, your devotion. He's a failed captain, a failed leader. Why can't you see that?" Her voice held a mixture of frustration and disbelief. She was trying so hard to get him to understand, yet he was stubbornly, desperately loyal to someone who didn't deserve it.

Suddenly a scoff could be heard. "Fine." With that, she stood up from the bed, threatening to disappear again. "By all means.. drown in your loyality."

As she stood up, a spark of panic flared up within him. "Wait, where are you going?"

She paused, looking back at him with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment. "I'm done trying to convince you," she stated bluntly. "You're too loyal, too stubborn. You refuse to see the truth, even when it's right in front of you."

She turned her back on him, a gesture full of indifference and irritation. "Enjoy your loyalty, Commander. I'm sure it will only bring you more frustration and disappointment." Her dismissal felt like a blow. She was giving up on him, on her attempt to sway him from his loyalty. He should feel relieved, shouldn't he? But instead, a pang of disappointment washed over him.

No, he didn't want her to give up.

He took a step forward, a desperate plea on his lips, "Wait-" He caught himself, however, his resolve refusing to let him back down. Instead, he managed to bite back the plea, replacing it with a firm directive. "Stay."

She halted, turning to face him again. Her expression was still annoyed but there was a hint of mockery and surprise now. "Stay?" she asked, her voice filled with ridicule. "Why should I? You've clearly chosen your path. Your loyalty to Hater is more important than anything else, isn't it? Even me..."

His hand clenched into a fist. He didn't like that tone, that mocking challenge. He didn't like what it made him feel inside. "No," he protested, his voice firm. "That's not-" He stopped, his mind struggling between his loyalty to Hater and the strong mix of emotions the woman's presence stirred. Frustration, anger, longing... he felt like he was torn between them at her every word, her every glance.

She smirked, amused by his struggle. "Not so sure now, are you?" she teased, taking a step closer to him. Her voice was taunting, designed to provoke a reaction. "You can't decide, can you? Between me and your dear Lord Hater." Her proximity made it harder to think straight, to maintain his resolve. His antenna twitched, the memories of her touch still strong in his mind. He struggled to find his voice, his mind tangled with conflicting emotions.

"It's more complicated than that," he managed to say, his voice hoarse. "You make it sound so... black and white."

She chuckled, taking another step closer. Now she was standing right in front of him, their bodies only inches apart. "Is it, though?" she purred, her eyes locking onto his. "It's quite simple, really. I'm offering you everything he can't. Freedom, recognition, appreciation, pleasure." Her words were like a sultry caress, her proximity sending waves of heat through him. Her voice, the look in her eyes... it was intoxicating, making it even harder to think straight. But beneath the heat, beneath the temptation, he felt a pang of loyalty, a pang of guilt.

He knew he should back away, but his feet refused to move. Instead, his mind struggled with warring desires, his heart torn in two.

"You've given him everything," She continued, her voice a seductive murmur. "Loyalty, devotion, obedience. And what has he given you in return?" She let the question hang in the air for a moment before answering it herself, her voice dripping with mockery. "Nothing. He's given you nothing. Just more demands, more tasks for you to complete."

Her words stung, hitting a sensitive nerve. She was right; he had given everything to Hater, and for what? The captain often took him for granted, failed to appreciate his efforts or even recognize them. But despite this, he couldn't bring himself to sever the ties that linked them.

He swallowed, his voice strained as he replied yet again, "He's... he's my superior. My friend."

"See, you say that again and again..." She smirked, though the amused expression slowly began to disappear. "And yet you struggle." She frowned, turning on her heel. "Well, whatever. I already made my choice." She finished, beginning to push the door open.

Her abrupt movement and the sound of the door opening snapped him out of his daze. The thought of her leaving, the possibility that he would lose this chance, this... whatever it was they had, sent a wave of panic through him. He reached out, his hand grabbing her wrist.

"Wait!" His voice sounded strangled, desperate even to his own ears.

But she ignored him, and as she opened the door her eyes blinked a few times, her expression still nonchalant.

"Huh."

Hater was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

Peepers froze, his hand still on the human's wrist. Hater's presence made him gulp. The captain's expression was a mix of irritation and something closer to hurt, perhaps even anger. He was staring right at his subordinate and ___, his eyes taking in the situation.

The air felt thick with tension, and the silence was deafening. the small watchdog could feel his heart pounding in his chest, every beat like a drum of guilt and anxiety. He hadn't let go of her wrist yet, and he could see Hater's eyes flick down to his hand, taking in the gesture.

His voice was low, filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "Commander Peepers. Care to explain this?" But he couldn't find the words. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. What could he possibly say to explain himself? He was caught red-handed, quite literally.

His grip on the woman's flesh tightened slightly.

But what would he explain?

There were no labels, were there?

She chuckled lightly, her voice smooth and composed. "I think it's quite obvious, don't you think?" She didn't seem bothered by the situation, not even slightly flustered. Instead, she smirked, her confident demeanor making Hater's irritation flare.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze burning a hole through her. He turned to the small watchdog, clearly expecting an answer form his right-hand man. "Peepers?" The commander winced as his superior gritted his name through his teeth, the demanding look in his captain's pupils. He couldn't lie. Not here, not now.

He forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse. "I... we..." He was struggling to find the words, the right explanation that wouldn't make this look worse than it already did.

Hater's patience seemed to be fraying, his fingers clenching into fists. "We what?" His voice was cold, filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment that made Peepers' anxiety increase. He darted a glance at her, hoping for some help, but she simply looked back at him with an amused smirk.

Helpful.

He took a deep breath, trying to find his voice, his courage. "We... we just-" He began, but the woman suddenly interrupted him. "We connected." Her tone was casual, as if it wasn't a big deal. Yet the look in her eyes, the deliberate choice of words, betrayed more than she let on. And Hater noticed.

Hater's eye widened, disbelief and anger flashing across his face. "CONNECTED?!" he repeated, his voice harsh and disbelieving. "What does that even mean?!" His eyes flicked between Peepers and ___, the gears in his mind visibly turning. He was trying to make sense of the situation, to understand the implications of her words and their positions.

But it was hard, since he was quite oblivious and stupid.

The commander swallowed, the heat of embarrassment and tension rising in his chest. He was torn between a need to explain, to defend himself, and a need to keep his relationship with her private, hidden. The human, on the other hand, didn't seem bothered by Hater's obvious irritation. She continued to smirk, her voice nonchalant. "Oh, you know... we just had a discussion. A very enjoyable discussion."

Hater's irritation continued to grow at her casual tone, her smug expression. It was obvious he was struggling to keep his temper under control. "A discussion," he repeated, his eye narrowed and his voice dripping with frustration. "And you need to have this discussion in a private room, alone, with my commander?"

He was practically glaring at this point, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He almost reminded them of a kettle, because of the amount of steam coming out of his nonexistent nose.

The watchdog opened his mouth once more, trying to find something, anything to say. But before he could speak, she cut in again, her voice light and almost mocking. "Well, sometimes private discussions are the best way to connect." Her hand moved slightly, and suddenly she was interlocking their fingers, her grip firm.

Peepers' eye widened in shock at her gesture.

Hater's eye darted between their interlocked fingers and their faces, the realization and understanding slowly dawning on him. The way they were standing, the way they were holding hands... it all suddenly clicked. His expression was a mixture of shock and anger, his voice low and harsh again. "So when I asked you to prepare for our mission..." He gritted his teeth, his gaze becoming bloodshot. "You were here with HER?!"

If there was a table, he would flip it over alright.

Peepers' antennae drooped guiltily as Hater's accusation hit the nail on the head. Yes, he had been here, with her, instead of preparing for their mission. And it was now painfully clear that Hater had noticed his absence. He tried to speak, to make an excuse, but no words came out. He was caught red-handed.

Hater's anger seemed to swell as he realized the extent of his subordinate's actions. He took a step forward, his voice rising. "You ditched your duties, our duties, TO BE HERE WITH OUR ENEMY!?" He was practically seething now, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. The human in question was enjoying this, of course, watching the whole scene with amusement. But that seemed to only anger Hater further.

"And not only that," he continued, his voice sharp and biting, "You were holding hands with her. Explain that to me, COMMANDER PEEPERS!" He was fuming at that moment. There was no way, no way that his only friend, his right-hand man was in a romantic relationship. Not when he himself had no person like that at his side. It was horrible, unfair and it angered the skeleton to no end.

Peepers winced at the scathing tone in Hater's voice. He had never seen the captain this angry, this indignant before. He couldn't blame him though. This was... pretty bad. The woman chuckled again, seemingly unbothered by Hater's anger. She cut off her lover (if she could even call him that) again, - she clearly didn't want the commander to defend himself - her tone nonchalant. "Oh, we were doing a lot more than holding hands."

Hater's eye widened again, his anger now mixed with disbelief. He turned to look at her, his expression a mixture of shock and irritation. "What?!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean more?"

She smirked, enjoying the captain's reaction. "Well, let's just say we were... exploring each other." Peepers felt his cheeks burning, the heat of embarrassment and exposure almost overwhelming. He couldn't meet Hater's gaze, not with her making things sound so... suggestive.

Hater's eye darkened further. "Exploring?" he repeated, his voice a dangerous rumble. "What do you mean by exploring?!"

"Oh, you know..." The human's hand slid up Peepers' arm slowly as she spoke, her touch sending a thrill through him. "Touching, feeling, discovering." She was enjoying this, watching as Hater's anger grew with each word she spoke. The watchdog couldn't help but be both embarrassed and slightly aroused by her boldness. It was a wild mix of emotions.

Hater's eye almost bulged out, his expression a mixture of anger, jealousy, and something else Peepers couldn't quite place. "You-" he began, his voice strangled. "You two-" He struggled for a moment, the realization and implications of their actions slowly sinking in. She was almost flaunting it, too. She was enjoying this little game, and it was driving Hater insane.

"We what, Hater?" Her tone was almost mocking now, a smirk on her lips. She took a step towards him, pulling Peepers with her. He didn't resist, feeling like a spectator to the scene unfolding before him. He watched as Hater's expression shifted from anger to something closer to hurt, his eye flicking between the two of them.

He was jealous. Not in a romantic way of course, but jealous either way.

Hater's eye darted between their connected hands, their proximity, her sly smile. His jaw tightened, his fingers clenching into fists again. "How long has this... thing been going on?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Peepers winced. He knew this question would come, and he also knew his answer would only further enrage his captain.

Before he could speak, however, ___ beat him to the punch. "One day I guess." she answered, her tone nonchalant as if they were discussing the weather.

Hater's eye widened again, a mixture of shock and... disappointment on his face. "One day?" he repeated, staring at her. "Are you serious?"

His eye flicked to the watchdog, who looked away, not meeting Hater's gaze. Hater's voice lowered, though it was now more surprised than anything. "Commander, is this true? This... thing has been going on for only one day?" He whispered to him, placing a head between him and the human, thinking that she couldn't hear him.

Peepers swallowed, feeling the weight of Hater's question and disappointment in his stomach. He couldn't avoid answering, especially with Hater's eyes pleading for the truth. He gave a shaky nod, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Yes, sir." He could feel the woman's gaze on him as well, her hand still firmly holding his. She was amused by this little exchange, but thankfully, she remained silent for now.

Hater took in the information, his eyes narrowing as he processed the confirmation. He was quiet for a moment, a maelstrom of emotions clearly visible in his orbs. And then... his expression hardened again, his jaw clenching. "One day," he repeated again, his voice taking on a harsh tone again. He took a step forward, his anger returning in full force. "One single day and you can't even bother to prepare for our mission? You ditch your duties for her?"

Peepers shrank back slightly under Hater's glare, feeling the full weight of his disappointment. "I-" He tried to speak, to explain, but the words caught in his throat.

The human, meanwhile, remained aloof and unbothered, her smirk never leaving her lips. She leaned against the wall, looking as if she was enjoying the whole scene like theater. But then, she chuckled. "Oh, don't worry." With that, she released the grip she had on the Comannders' hand. "I was just leaving anyway."

Her eyes were cold.

Hater turned to look at her, a mixture of anger, confusion, and a hint of relief in his eyes. "You're... leaving?" he repeated.

She nodded, her smirk fading into a small, mysterious smile. "Yes," she confirmed, her voice back to being nonchalant again. "I have places to be." She began to walk towards the door, seemingly done with the whole scene that she had started. Before she left, she sent a small glance to Peepers over her shoulder.

She mouthed a few words to him, words that made his pupil shrink in size.

You've made your choice.

The commander watched her go, his heart sinking slightly as he realized that she was leaving, that their brief encounter was coming to an end. Part of him wanted to call out to her, to ask her to stay, but Hater's presence behind him froze him in his spot. He turned to look at his captain instead, bracing himself for the barrage of questions and disapproval that was surely coming.

Hater's expression was still a mixture of anger, disappointment, and... something else. Perhaps confusion. He stared at the door where she had just left, his green hues flickering as he processed what just happened.

Finally, after what it felt like eternity, he turned to the second-in-command, his gaze sharp and penetrating. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just looked at the commander. Peepers swallowed, his antennae twitching under the intense scrutiny. The silence was deafening, making him squirm with unease and anticipation. But he couldn't take it anymore and spoke up.

"Sir!-" he began, his voice slightly trembling.

The skeleton cut him off, raising a hand to silence him. His voice was steady, almost eerily calm.

"Don't."

The single word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. For a moment, he simply stared at Peepers, his eyes studying every facet of his features. "You're my commander, my second-in-command," he continued, his voice still quiet but laced with a hardness that made the watchdog's heart sink further. "You're supposed to be loyal," Hater continued, his eye narrowing. "Loyal to your duties, to me, not... not this." He made a vague gesture, and though Peepers knew he was referring to the woman he longed for, the words stung.

But he was loyal, wasn't he? He defended Hater when she tried to convince him to leave with her. He told her countless times that he wouldn't. But Hater didn't know that, he could only assume based on what he saw.

"I am loyal, sir," Peepers insisted, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. "I- I was just-"

But Hater interrupted him again, his voice growing louder. "'Just'?" he repeated, his eyes darkening. "You just... what? You were just holding hands with the enemy, my enemy?" He gritted his teeth, almost crushing them in the process.

Peepers flinched at the sharpness in Hater's voice, feeling more and more like a scolded child under the skeleton's intense gaze. "No!" he protested. "I mean... Yes, but..." He stuttered for a moment, trying to find the right words, the right explanation. But how could he explain this? How could he tell his captain that in one day, he had accidentally grown feelings for an enemy?

Hater's eye narrowed further, his patience running thin. "But what, Commander?" he demanded, his voice cold and hard. "You have a better explanation for this?"

Peepers swallowed again, his brain working at a million miles per hour trying to find something, anything to say that would make this whole situation less bad. But he drew a complete blank. What could he possibly say that would justify his actions, that wouldn't make his relationship with the enemy sound even worse?

Hater seemed to take his silence as an answer. He let out a low, frustrated growl, his hands clenching into fists.

"So you have nothing to say," he said, his tone harsh and biting. "You have no explanation. You just... did it." He sighed, clearly done with the whole situation.

Peepers felt like he was shrinking under Hater's gaze, his words like physical blows. He knew he was in the wrong, but hearing it stated so bluntly, so disappointedly from Hater's mouth made it all so much more real, so much more painful.

He tried to speak, to defend himself again, but all that came out was a shaky, guilt-ridden whisper. "But... I'm still here."

Hater let out an almost humorless scoff at that, the sound like a dagger through Peepers' heart. "You're still here," he echoed, almost mockingly. "But for how long? For how long until you decide to sneak off with her again? Until you decide that she's more important than our mission, more important than me?"

He took another step closer, his eye filled with a mix of anger and... hurt.

Peepers felt a pang of guilt, hearing the hurt in Hater's voice. It was subtle, buried under layers of anger and dissapointment, but it was there. Hater was hurt. He was hurt by his subordinate's actions, by the idea that the Commander would choose an enemy over him. It was a thought that he had never even considered, but now... now he felt like a jerk for even making Hater think he would do something like that.

He tried to speak, to say anything to assure Hater that he would never betray him, never choose her over him. But the words stuck in his throat, his guilt and anxiety making it hard to speak.

"Sir... I-" he began, his voice barely above a whisper. But he couldn't finish his sentence before Hater cut him off with another scoff.

Hater's eye darkened again, his voice taking on a bitter tone. "Save it," he said, his voice low and harsh. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't want to hear your apologies."

He took another step forward, towering over Peepers once more. "What I want, Commander," he continued, his words as sharp and cold as steel, "Is for you to remember your loyalties. Your real loyalties. Remember who you're supposed to be loyal to."

Peepers felt a pang in his heart at the skeleton's words. Of course he knew who his real loyalties lied with. It was Hater.

It had always been Hater.

But... ___...

There was something different about her, something that made his heart flutter in a way it had never done for anyone else. Even Hater. And now, being confronted with Hater's anger, his disappointment, Peepers felt torn.

He looked up at his boss, struggling to find the words to express his inner turmoil, his conflicting feelings. "I- I am loyal, sir," he whispered, his voice shaky and filled with guilt. "I am..."

But Hater's eye only darkened further, his expression hardening at Peepers' words. "Are you?" he said, his voice low and harsh. "Because from where I'm standing, it seems like you were pretty loyal to her a little while ago."

"Give me one more chance, please Sir!" He managed to whimper out.

Hater paused, surprise flashing in his eye at Peepers' desperate plea. He hadn't expected the Commander to beg for a second chance, especially after the scene he had just witnessed. He was silent for a moment, his eye studying the commander, searching for any sign of insincerity. But he found none. The watchdog looked small, guilty, and genuinely remorseful.

Hater's expression softened ever so slightly, but the anger and disappointment were still there. "Why should I?" he asked, his voice still sharp but lacking some of its previous harshness. "Why should I give you another chance after what you did?"

Peepers swallowed, gathering his courage to meet Hater's gaze, pleading with his eye.

"Because I will do anything, sir," he said, his voice firm despite the fear and guilt he felt. "I will make up for it. I will do anything. Just... just let me stay."

Hater was quiet again, studying the commander's expression with a mixture of anger and curiosity. He had never seen Peepers look so desperate before, so scared of being abandoned. A part of him felt a pang of satisfaction at seeing his usually composed and confident Commanders so shaken and vulnerable. But another part of him couldn't shake the image of his subordinate holding hands with the woman, the image of loyalty and trust being given to someone other than him.

He clenched his jaw, his eye darkening for a moment before he spoke. "Anything?" he echoed, his voice quiet but expectant.

Peepers nodded, his antennae quivering slightly. "Yes, Sir!" he said, his voice trembling. "Anything."

He meant every word. He was desperate. He needed to prove his loyalty, needed to make up for what he had done. He would do anything to stay in Hater's ranks, to remain close to him. Hater's eye narrowed, a small smirk slowly forming on his face. He was intrigued now. Peepers' desperation, his willingness to do anything to make up for his actions... it was quite funny for the skeleton lord.

"Anything, huh?" he repeated, his voice taking on a slightly amused tone.

He circled around the watchdog, studying him with a mixture of anger, curiosity, and... perhaps a hint of excitement. He was going to test the commander's loyalty, see just how far Peepers was willing to go. "Very well, Commander," he said, his smirk growing wider. "If you're so eager to prove yourself, I have... a task for you."

Peepers felt a mixture of relief and trepidation at Hater's words. He was getting another chance, a chance to prove himself. But at the same time, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like this 'task.'

"Yes, Sir?" he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite his pounding heart. "What is it?"

At that, the skeleton smiled and clasped his hands together, making the commander confused for a small second. But then, the gesture was replaced with a sudden jump filled with rage.

"GET BACK TO YOUR DUTIES AND STOP WASTING MY TIME!!!" The skeleton screamed out, his figure losing all sight of hurt.

Peepers flinched at Hater's sudden outburst, startled by the sudden switch in his mood. He took a step back, his heart racing in his chest.

He had expected Hater to give him some kind of difficult or demeaning task, a way to humiliate the Commander and show his superiority. But the sudden outburst seemed... different. Hater had gone from stern and annoyed to... something else entirely.

"S-Sir," he managed to stutter out, still startled but trying hard to compose himself. "What-"

"You heard me, Commander," Hater interrupted, his voice cold. "Get back to your duties. We have a mission to prepare for, and I don't have time for this... nonsense."

It was like a switch had been flipped. The hurt and anger that had been evident in Hater's eye and voice just minutes ago had vanished, replaced by a cool, cold exterior. Peepers was taken aback by the sudden change in Hater's demeanor. It was as if he was pretending that their entire argument didn't happen, that he hadn't just caught the Commander talking and holding hands with the enemy.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, unsure of what to say. Part of him wanted to argue, to defend himself, but the other part knew it was futile. Hater was in one of his distant, cold moods. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this. That's why he stood up, ready to leave and work.

He turned to leave, but a low, cold chuckle from Hater stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, Commander," Hater called out, his tone laced with mockery. "One more thing."

Peepers swallowed, turning back to face Hater, anticipating another harsh command. But the smirk on the skeleton's face made him wary. He had a feeling he was not going to like whatever Hater had to say next. Hater took a step closer, once again towering over the commander. His eyes was narrowed, his smirk still firmly in place.

"From now on," he began, his voice low and cold, "You will not be speaking to any... uninvited guests without my permission. Is that clear?"

The watchdog nodded quickly, his heart racing in his chest as he realized what Hater was implying. He was being forbidden from contacting the woman of his dreams, from seeing her again. The realization stung, but he knew he couldn't argue. Not now, not when Hater was in this mood.

"Yes, sir," he managed to say, his voice shaky. "I... I understand."

"Good," Hater replied, his smirk growing wider. "I'm glad you understand, Commander. Because if I find out that you've so much as looked in her direction without my permission..." He paused, his eye narrowing even further, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I will make you regret it. I will make you regret it severely."

Peepers felt a chill run down his spine at Hater's words. He had never heard the skeleton sound so ominous, so threatening. It was a clear warning, a clear reminder of who was in charge. He swallowed, trying to keep his face neutral, to hide the fear and hurt that was coursing through him. "Understood, sir," he said, his voice a whisper. "I will not... contact her without your permission."

Hater's smirk turned into a full-blown sneer at the Commander's words. He didn't believe for a second that Peepers would so easily give up on a potential liaison with the enemy. But he decided to torment him, to push his buttons. "Oh, I'm sure you won't, Commander," he mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You've always been so obedient, so loyal. I can't imagine you ever doing anything that would... compromise your duties to me."

The smaller villain felt a pang in his heart at Hater's mocking tone. It was as if the skeleton was taunting him, daring him to go against his orders, to prove that he was just as disobedient as he clearly thought he was.

He wanted to argue, to tell Hater that he was loyal, that his loyalty to him was unwavering. But he knew it would be no use. Hater was in a cruel mood, and he was not going to listen to reason. So with that, his only choice was to sigh.

"My loyalty to you, Sir" he replied firmly, "Is not compromised."

B̶̡̪̿u̶̯̥̥͑̂t̴̰͖̋̓͝ ̷̲̿͑̂w̸̭̤͠͝a̵̡̝͂͝s̶̫̗͆͝ ̴̡̪̋̊h̷̳͔͜͝e̸̹̓ ̴̞̝̗̂̒r̸̫͛͐e̸̬̝͝a̵̬̍l̷̡̥͚̔̈́l̷̰̫͂͆y̵͍̟̹͐ ̷̰͐͒͑s̶͙͊̈́̕u̴̢͘r̵͔̹̎e̴͔͍̽̓̓ ̷͉̍̍͘ä̷̹́̐b̷̳̪̙͋͒o̷̩̘̯̊u̵̮̇͑̉ț̵͘͠ ̶̠͛́͠h̶͔̭͙̽̀͗ĭ̶̟̺̳ś̶̼͑̉ ̸͖̦͈͋̄͠w̸̠̙͙̆̀o̶̝͙͕͑r̴̫͌͘ḍ̴̯̍͊͘s̶̡͍̃̒́?̸̪̹̽͐

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