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saintkaylaa · 3 months ago

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𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 🚬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐤𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐗 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 2.9𝐤

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐀𝐤𝐢, 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Kinktober 2024 || I love Aki so much, but something about pervy Aki but against his will really does something to me. Happy Kinktober you disgusting pervs ᥫ᭡ Also big big thanks to my beta readers, I love you! ART by yuonnoaii on X

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

Aki was a devil hunter, but when it came to you, he fought both devils and demons just to not touch himself to the image of you.

You, his new neighbor, from across his balcony in the building over. Aki, who had not been with a woman in God knows how long. Overworked, burnt out, anti-social, with extreme suppressed sexual desires.

That was until he saw you.

If he was honest, he had completely forgotten that sex was even a thing—in all forms. Sex with another person, self-gratification, porn, lust, urges, desires—all of it. In his line of work there wasn’t any time for that, and in Aki’s case the only desire he really had was revenge, but that was a desire that he knew was going to take time to satiate.

The encounters that he’s had with you got increasingly more difficult for him with every passing instance.

At first it was just fleeting glances—no stares—at you in the beginning. You weren’t like anything he had ever seen before. Beautiful, captivating, and intriguing, so just looking at you, trying to catch a glimpse at you while you lingered and occupied your balcony across from his eventually should have been his first signal to have built a stronger disposition against you.

Then you talked to him, albeit a little insulting, mean, and even, well, intimidating, because the first instance was when you had straight up called him a pervert. Confronting him for his blatant staring and or borderline offensive, not so sneaky glances at you while he dragged through cigarettes, distracted by you. Blowing through cartons faster than he would have liked, because of you.

And he felt disgusted.

Grossed out that although yes, he found you mean, intimidating, and believed you had every right to call him a pervert, and irritated by his actions, he also found you incredibly sexy for it. Curious over what really lied under that confident mean exterior.

Every instance after that was the same. You two would find each other on your respective balconies, playing with the tension that was undoubtedly there. Bad tension. Negative tension, but tension nonetheless. Aki would get caught admiring you (ogling you from your perspective), you’d call him out, and he’d have to retreat into his apartment fighting all that hell had to offer just to not to stroke his cock to you.

Admittedly, it did get better when you would tease him for looking and make fun of him for even peeking at you from behind his bangs and a pink tint on his cheeks. You were ruthless, and it only made his desire for you grow.

Fuck. Then he talked back, and in your response, he knew that he was fucked for sure.

He had been in the shared mailing room of both your buildings. Sifting slowly through his mail in a poor attempt to avoid going back up to his apartment and finding you lounging around in skimpy pajamas in your living room—as he noted that you tended to do a lot in the mornings. But then you were there. As if manifesting from his mind and rounding the corner to enter the mailroom with him.

At that point he had half a mind to ask you if you were a devil, because no way were you now crushing an attempt he made to not be so perverted against you. It wasn’t fair, and he feared you for it.

It was avoidance at first. He didn’t know what to say to you, but then you spoke to him again, and it was like he lost total control of himself.

“See you later, pervert.” You had told him. It was teasing, but not at all lighthearted.

It was then that Aki decided to do something.

Nearly missing you by an inch, he took hold of your elbow and spun you back to face him. You gasped, arms tensing slightly as you look up at him with surprise. But he wanted to make sure he had you at full attention.

“Hold on,” he says lowly, his chest rumbling.

"Look, I don’t want you to think I’m a pervert, okay? I apologize if I’ve made you feel that way. You’re very pretty, is all.” He struggles to compliment, but his gaze doesn’t break away.

“I don’t mean harm.” He finishes, and he truly means that. His hand lingers on your elbow as he locks his dark blue eyes with yours.

You seem to hold your breath as you register his words, then you glance down at his hand still grasping you and slowly trail your eyes back up to his. Realizing his touch, he slowly unfurls his fingers and releases you.

Both of their skins are cold from the loss of heat.

“You must not know a lot of pretty girls.” You finally say, voice tight.

“None that look like you.” Aki replies right over your comment. What compelled him to say that he was unsure. He was never that forward, bold, or even confident, and especially not with women, but something about you made him act out.

“What’s your name?” You ask, your eyes transfixed on him.

Aki held your gaze, his expression unreadable as he sensed the intensity between you. Your question broke the thick silence that had settled, and he felt himself hesitating for only a brief moment before responding.

"Aki Hayakawa," he replied, his voice firm and steady, a hint of curiosity coloring his words, "And you?"

“Aki.” You repeat his name slowly, sounding out each syllable.

He knows you did that on fucking purpose. Now wondering what it would sound like if you moaned his name.

After another frustrating pause, Aki speaks, “So is your name something I have to earn or what?” He says flatly. Meeting your eyes with just a bit of intimidating irritation.

Your mouth parts slightly like you have something to say, but then your tongue glides over your perfect white teeth in one slow swipe. Amused, you were fucking with him again.

Aki cursed you in his head. The sudden disgusting thought of how your mouth would look wrapped around his cock. Your tongue gliding over his needy tip instead of your teeth.

“I’ll see you later, Aki.” You tease, but your voice is soft. Different than the other times you have teased him.

That night Aki was chilling in his living room when he heard the faintest sound of a sliding door open and close. He knew it must’ve been coming from outside... His neighbor, most likely out on her own balcony.

The sound was like a command to him now.

He stood up from his seat on the couch and walked towards his own sliding door. When he got close enough, he opened the door to look out, his eyebrow rising at the sight of you once more across the other building. His heart racing just a bit, his skin running warm, and he could feel the telltale sign of an impending erection as you turned to look at him. Like a dog responding to stimuli; Pavlovian.

Now he was moving without control, crossing out into his balcony, hands buried in his pajama pants. His eyes fixated on your form. Watching your every move. Your eyes met his, and suddenly Aki’s mouth opened to speak.

"Hey," He greeted you simply, his voice low as his eyes looked you up and down with this newfound (misplaced) confidence. You looked over at him, not at all surprised by his presence. You nodded towards him.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Aki thought to himself as he looked over at what you were wearing. A fucking short fitted satin slip, that left no room for imagination. Aki's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat.

The slip clung to your every curve, showcasing your body in a way that rendered him mute. He was captivated, unable to tear his gaze away from the provocative sight before him.

He had expected to have a casual conversation. Especially after the conversation from earlier, but the combination of your clothes—or lack thereof—and the charged atmosphere between sparked something primal within him that he struggled to suppress. His hands tightened around the fabric of his pajama pants pockets, his body responding instinctively.

He was fucking perverted.

Aki cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and speak in a controlled tone, despite his body now pulsing.

"What are you doing out so late?” He asked, taking a step closer to the railing so that you could better hear him from your own balcony. You tilted your head a little confused. Crossing your arms over your chest, your tits being pushed up a little as you did it.

Aki cursed you in his head.

“What am I doing on my own balcony?” You quizzed from across the building.

Aki's gaze flickered down to your crossed arms, his eyes involuntarily drawn to the way your breasts were lifted and accentuated by the position. He suppressed a groan, feeling his desire flaring up. Your innocent question only served to increase the tension between you and him, heightening the forbidden allure of the situation. He clenched his fists, forcing his mind to focus on your words rather than the erotic image in front of him.

"Yes, what brings you out here this late?" he replied, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. He couldn't allow himself to be consumed by lust, not when he had done so well by not giving in to his desires before. But with your tempting presence, it felt like a constant battle against his own morality.

“Aki, you’re asking a lot of stupid questions. I live here. I can do whatever I want in my own apartment on my own balcony. I could stand naked out here if I wanted.” You laughed, the faintest tone of annoyance. However, you knew what your words would do to him. Now that you were acutely aware of how you made him feel after earlier’s display.

The mental image of your naked body forced Aki to shut his eyes for a moment and let out the smallest groan. He knew you couldn’t hear, but he also knew that you knew what you were saying. What you were doing. Vexing him the way that you did. The lust was beginning to consume him.

It was a losing battle. He was fucking losing.

Aki's eyes snapped open, the intensity in his gaze now almost feral as he stared at you across the distance. He hated you for playing with his desires so effortlessly, for knowing exactly how to push his buttons.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the ache in his crotch only grew more insistent. The walls he had erected to protect his focus, his sanity, and his character were crumbling under the weight of his lust.

“Every word you speak is deliberate.” He declared, like he was accusing you. His eyes trailed up your body in a moment of weakness.

“Yeah, it is.” You assured quickly.

Then there was palpable silence.

Aki's mind was a whirlwind of desires and frustrations, his body seemingly betraying him at every turn. He watched you move to your door then, each subtle action a temptation that he couldn't ignore. His gaze lingered on you as you turned your back to him, exposing your ass to him. The throbbing in his pants intensified, his body craving release. He can only imagine the wet spot of pre in his underwear.

“You make it too easy.” You laughed; your voice, filled with taunting amusement, cut through his haze of desire, reminding him of his vulnerability and the hold you actually had over him.

If Aki was smart, he’d listen to his rational side, urging him to regain control and to retreat to the safety of his own apartment. But the magnetic pull he felt towards you rooted him to his spot.

“Don’t burst a blood vessel touching yourself tonight.” You mocked so boldly and bluntly it sent Aki reeling. But before Aki could even think of responding, you had already retreated back into your apartment. Aki stood there, stunned, face flushed with both embarrassment and frustration. How could you see right through him, exposing him so easily and without mercy.

Fuck.

He didn't have time to process your leave, as he felt himself unraveling. His body pulsed with need, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. God damn, it hurt.

With a frustrated growl, Aki turned abruptly and retreated into his own apartment, shutting the sliding door with a resounding thud. He paced back and forth in his living room, grappling with the overwhelming surge of desire that threatened to consume him. He knew he had to find release, to quiet the burning ache that clawed at him. But his thoughts were clouded, his focus scattered under the weight of it all. He needed to regain control and find his center once again. But in that moment, desire won out.

He had suppressed his urges too many times in the last few weeks for anything to work this time. He just kept getting harder the more he thought of you, so he stopped pacing and just stood in the middle of his living room looking down at his crotch. Groaning for it to go away. Flashes of his neighbor’s body, your tits, your ass, your mouth, your pretty face, the way you rolled your tongue, the way you said his fucking name. It was all too much, and Aki had half a mind to start touching himself.

It was over.

Aki hurriedly moved to the bathroom in his room, turning on the cold water with the intent of splashing his face. Instead, he braced himself on the sink, letting the water run, the cold ceramic helping alleviate his rising temperature but it wasn’t enough. He closed his eyes to breathe, only to prove a mistake. Because all that played in his head, over and over again, was your interaction this morning, and without even realizing it, Aki started to unbuckle his pants.

Your words played in Aki's mind over and over, along with your face and body in his head repeatedly. The way you looked at him—the way you had been teasing him—fucking with him—it was just too much.

He let out a little groan as his pants began to loosen, his brain barely registering the movement as his eyes closed and he fell into this trance. Aki’s hand slid into his pants to grab hold of his angry, needy cock. The touch instantly gave him relief. He breathed out shakily, his hand moving against himself a couple times to the thought of you in that satin slip. The way it hugged all your curves, the way it pressed up against your tits...

How would they look getting fucked by him?

“Fuuuuck…” He breathed out.

He couldn't help but moan softly, pleasure pinpricking across his skin as his hand moved faster and firmer. His mind filled with vivid images of you, and every stroke of his hand brought him closer to release. He could almost feel your presence, as if you were there with him, encouraging him to let go of his inhibitions and give in to his carnal desires.

God, what would you say if you knew what he was doing to the thought of you.

He imagined what it would be like to plunge his cock into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his cock and down his balls; hot and wet saliva coating his length.

What it would sound like if he fucked that mean, intimidating act out of you. Imagining how pretty your pussy must be—as pretty as you were? And how pretty that pussy would look clenching around him.

And then he replayed the way you had said his name. Trying to envision all the ways he would try to get you to scream, moan, and cry his name.

“F-Fuck Aki! Give it to me! Please more! Aki!”

Aki’s breathing grew heavier, his movements becoming more urgent as he neared the edge. His body responded with an intensity he had never experienced before.

And then he imagined your face.

With a final moan and a few more sloppy strokes, he came. His body shuddering, knees nearly buckling, as one of the hardest orgasms he’s had in so long consumed him. Ropes of hot, thick, white cum splurged out into the sink and swirled down the drain with the running water.

As he stood there, panting and spent, Aki couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief and shame. He had succumbed to his desires; let them consume him in the most perverted way possible. This wasn’t him. It was nasty and disrespectful... But deep down, he knew that the battle wasn't over. The allure of his neighbor still lingered, as did the pent-up lust that threatened to consume him later—again.

After cleaning up and taking a cold shower, Aki lay in bed annoyed and angry, to say the least. Still disgusted with himself, but also disappointed. Not only for giving in to his lustful temptation, but ultimately for letting you have this power over him. Worse was the fact that he touched himself to the thought of you, and he didn’t even know your fucking name.

If only he knew that just across his balcony, in the building over... you were still knuckles deep to the thought of him.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

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erinaeris · 6 months ago

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Laios Touden and the Responsibility of Power

First off, let me gush just a bit about how fucking STRONK this man is. Olympic weightlifters are dying of sheer envy and lust over this man. He is a FUCKING POWERHOUSE.

My favorite panels ever, and judging by the cropping of the second photo, Tumblr agrees.

AHEM, where was I?

Ah yes. He's not just strong and incredibly hot, my man is literally an invasive species in this dungeon. He knows every single weak spot of every monster Thistle tried to throw at him and when he finds it he just fucking RAMS HIMSELF AT THEM AND TAKES THEM DOWN.

And when he's a dwarf HE LITERALLY BENDS STEEL.

"Beat Namari at arm wrestling"? My boy, she wouldn't let you anywhere near because you'd FUCKING BREAK HER HER HAND ALONG WITH THE TABLE. (It's such a fucking shame we didn't see Senshi at least raising an (perfectly plucked except it just grows that way naturally) eyebrow in the background when he sees this. Alas, he was too distracted by his hair.)

But I mentioned responsibility, didn't I? Strength is power in the dungeon, and we all knows what comes with great power. And Laios is, in fact, very responsible with that power!

(Futther examples under the cut, wee bit spoilers for anime watchers)

This scene lives rent-free in my head forever, because of two things: Thistle suddenly realizing just what the hell he's up against,

And Laios breaking Thistle's arm.

Now, I think Laios didn't mean to actually break his arm here, he's just half-blind and dizzy and knows he has to restrain Thistle or it will all go to shit. So that's what he does. The move you see above is a restraining hold. The point is that the person pinned down can't struggle much because the position of the arm presses the suprascapular nerve, so it hurts a lot, but unless they're held that way for too long they'll be fine.

But Thistle is TINY and elves are generally fine-boned. I think Laios really did just underestimate his strength.

And the moment the dragons aren't an IMMEDIATE THREAT anymore?

Laios heals him. Thistle's a better mage than him by miles, he could have done it himself. But no. Laios does it. He was too rough, too careless with his strength, and he immediately backtracked, fixed what he broke, and continued with more mindfullness.

And these are just the examples that stuck in my mind the most. And it happens often enough that the team isn't even fucking surprised! Laios' strength would 100% scare people who only saw him in a barfight and didn't know anything else about him. Hell, the other adventurers they meet fucking quiver before this guy who just took down a monster they had nightmares about in one blow, up until he opens his mouth and they relax. You put more malevolent software in that sort of hardware and he'd be the next Shadow Governor.

But Laios is Laios. He's a gentle soul at heart (a Great Pyrenese, specifically, the gentlest souls ever unless you're out for their flock) and he is VERY CAREFUL with his strength, ESPECIALLY around his team. Chilchuck, who is literally half his size and underfed to boot, can smack Laios as much as he wants with ZERO fear because Laios is aware he can hurt Chilchuck by literally tripping over him, so he just stays still and lets Chilchuck smack at him. I'd be surprised if he ever managed to leave a bruise. Chilchuck has to aim at Laios' weak spot (back of the knee here) just to get Laios to notice him!

But because I have some experience with marital arts and close combat, I think the fight with Shuro exemplifies my point so fucking well! Laios is HURT here, he's living every autistic person's worst nightmare.

And he HOLDS BACK. His restraint is fucking IMMACULATE.

Shuro is fucking lucky Laios still liked him when he started talking shit, because he would have broken his spine otherwise. Laios doesn't even take the fight seriously! He starts with a fucking SLAP.

Shuro retaliates with an actual punch (that does nothing but piss him off)

Laios wobbles. Shuro HITS THE DIRT.

And this is the part where he realizes just how outside his weight category he is. Shuro definitely has technique on his side, but that means jackshit when you need ten blows to to even bruise your opponent, but one hit from them will leave you drinking through a straw for a week. For a second there, Shuro thought he was in ACTUAL DANGER.

But instead of finishing the job, Laios tries to talk him down, which just sets him off again. Man was at his fucking LIMIT, and it snapped. Self-preservation who?

And the best part is? Shuro is throwing all his strength behind his punches and Laios just takes them, but Laios? He mostly pushed Shuro around!

They're mostly grappling here, precisely because Laios is very conscious his friend is pretty fragile right now.

And when he does have enough?

Shuro is flat on the ground again, and Laios has a black eye and a bloody nose. He sits down and five minutes later he's ready to go! Like yes, Shuro was at a low point here, but he's been mowing through monsters at only a bit slower pace than Laios' party. He's no weakling regardless. And Laios had to HOLD BACK SO HE WOULDN'T HURT HIM. And it's so obvious that Maizuru takes one look at the two of them and leaves them to their toussling.

When I saw her reaction I had to scroll back and take another look, because I was sure she would intervene! But she doesn't! She is aware of Laios' strength, she has to be, and she doesn't lift a finger to help her precious charge. She knows the big dog he's wrestling with knows to watch his strength.

And that's my whole point: my boi is STRONK AF! And he is very aware of his strength, and how he could hurt the people around him is he wasn't careful, so he is ALWAYS CAREFUL. He has deeply internalized the fact that to have strength is to be careful with it, to use it in service of people rather than to hurt them (possibly from his dad). He is going to SUCH a good king! He's not going to like the job but by GOD he will do it really well.

And I will give my right arm to see a fic about the first corrupt lord/governor/courtier who attempts to misuse their authority for their own gain. Kabru's gonna have to talk Laios out of an execution.

#dungeon meshi #laios touden #delicious in dungeon

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

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🌙 Like You Did With Her 🌙

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

Part of the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Can I request Spencer x female!reader who are in an established relationship and she sees him kiss cat that one time. And once the case is over she’s not actually mad cause she understands he had to but she kinda plays it up a bit like ‘I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that’

Warnings: BDSM themes, dom! Spencer Reid, mentions of cheating, voyeurism, cuckolding, exhibitionism, bondage, handcuffs, penetrative sex (P in V), consensual degradation (use of whore and slut), anal play, cum play, implied unprotected sex, unconventional sex location (non-public), rough sex, clit stimulation, etc.

A/N: Additional warning - you may not see God's blessing if you read on. To say I got carried away would be an understatement. If you're reading this and you know me, do not ask questions. Simply separate the art from the artist. It's what I want (I'm being dramatic).

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd promised Spencer that you wouldn't let Cat Adams or anything she said or did get to you. You'd waven him off on his “date,” kissed him goodbye, and then sat on his couch for hours worrying.

And you'd kept worrying as the hours passed, until you'd heard voices in the hallway and then movement, and the door was opening and you saw it.

Your boyfriend savagely pushing another woman up against a wall, fighting for control, his large hands spread wide and tensed against skin, his lips sucking and kissing and preening, and showing his control.

You watched for entirely too long before you accidentally made your presence known.

It was a game to Cat, and you knew enough about her to know that you couldn't show any reaction. You didn't know if she'd only get more dangerous if she knew just how much you'd enjoyed watching that.

You held the conversation still, letting Spencer push at whatever game it was he was playing with Cat, but you weren't wholly there. Instead, your mind was playing the comparison game.

You loved Spencer. Spencer loved you. When you had sex with Spencer, it was clear that Spencer loved you.

And maybe love was all there was to it because based on what you'd now seen, there wasn't exactly that much heat when you did it.

If he could be so rough - and you wanted him to be rough - then why wasn't he being rough with you?

He may have been playing games with Cat, but you'd fucked him enough to know the subtle postures of his arousal. You caught it in the way he held himself, the way his breathing hitched, the way he was looking.

Not just at her, but at you, too. As if he were caught between the two of you, unsure who to force to their knees first.

So you let him do the talking and tried to distract yourself from a moment of arousal that you feared would never be satisfied.

To your credit, you lasted two weeks. You hadn't made love to him that night because it was too soon, and he was desperately grovelling in apology for something you weren't angry about in the slightest.

Sure, you should've been angry. If not because he'd made out with another woman than he'd made out with a sociopathic serial killer specifically, one who'd made his life a misery. But you couldn't bring yourself to be upset when your hands worked their way between your legs every time you thought about it.

A week after, he caught you pleasuring yourself, and he'd taken over, kissing you gently and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

His touch was pathetically gentle, and after you came, he rolled off the bed and took himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone.

A week after that, he initiated sex again, but it was soft, sweet, and so warm that you felt almost ashamed for wanting him to choke you out even just a little bit.

Spencer wasn't exactly unaware of your preoccupation.

You hadn't kissed him without frowning in two weeks, and you hadn't initiated anything sexual yourself. There was still the casual intimacy, the friendship, the I Love You’s, but you seemed distant and he knew he fucked up.

You drew a line in the sand when he started coming home with flowers.

“Spencer-? What is this?” You said as he pushed the bouquet into your hands, kissing you hello as he walked through the door.

“Flowers. Lilies, to be specific, you like lilies, right? I didn't ask, I should've asked-”

“Why did you buy me flowers?” You said, still just staring at him and the guilt on his face.

“I thought - You like flowers.”

“I do. But I also like to know the reason behind the flowers, so spill.”

He hesitated for a moment and let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair as he looked between you and the flowers.

“Lilies are apology flowers.”

“Spencer,” you said, almost exasperated, throwing your hand sin the air and walking back to the kitchen.

“You're upset. You're obviously upset. I kissed Cat, and-”

“You did a little more than kiss her.”

“Y/N,” his voice getting slightly deeper, his voice warning you to tread lightly. “You're jealous.”

“I already told you I'm not,” you said, even though that was half a lie. “It's just-”

“Just what? Jealousy? Speak to me, Y/N, you've been ignoring me all week.”

His brow was furrowed, his stress evident in the hard lines of his body, his stiff shoulders, the line of his mouth. You wanted to keep pressing his buttons until that anger, that stress, boiled over, and you got to experience what Cat had.

“Sorry,” you said, dropping the lilies on the counter in your kitchen and turning around to face him once again. “I haven't been ignoring you, though. Ignoring someone is when you make out with another woman in a doorway, not knowing your girlfriend is sitting on a couch watching the entire thing.”

“Y/N!”

“What? I'm not allowed to tell the truth now? Are you afraid you'll feel too guilty?”

“I am so sorry, Y/N, it was-”

“I'm not.” You said quickly as he stepped forward. You knew that if you let him get further in his apology, he'd bundle you up in his arms, and gently carry you away to kiss and hug and cuddle and have sex in the most dignified, loving way imaginable. You didn't want that.

“What?”

“I'm not sorry. I lied earlier. I'm not sorry, I'm fucking envious.”

You slid your hands down his chest as he stilled again, watching g your hand descend to the front of his pants. You grabbed his belt and pulled him closer.

“Spencer, why have you never fucked me like that?”

His eyes widened in shock, but they quickly flicked back to your hands as you slowly unbuckled his belt.

“I… I didn't fuck her, let's get that straight.”

“I know,” you said, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I was watching.”

His hands gripped the counter as he stared at you straight-faced, finally locking eyes with you as you pulled his belt free and dropped it to the floor.

“I don't want to treat you the way I treated her,” he said, voice quieter but still full of tension, as if ready to shout at any second.

“You don't want to fuck me?” You asked, even as you grabbed his cock through his pants, taunting him with the fact that he did. You knew he did, because you held the evidence in your hand.

“No…! Yes, I do, but not... like that.”

“Not like what?” You said, pushing his shirt up and out of his pants so your hands had more room to explore, fewer layers of clothing to obstruct.

“Like… like a… fuck, stop distracting me.”

“I'm not distracting you, I'm trying to prove to you that this is meaningless and that you should bend me over and fuck me like a cheap whore.”

“Y/N!” he said, either exasperated, or desperately horny from your grip on his hard cock.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away from him, pinning it against the counter with his own.

“Stop.”

“No,” you spat back at him, pressing closer to him and wiggling your hand free so it could stroke his dick again. “Not until you make me.”

His lips dropped to yours in a kiss, but this time, you could tell you'd made progress. An annoyed harrumph echoed through the kiss, and you fought his tongue back as he tried to take control of your mouth, attempting to gently lead as he always did.

“Y/N,” he moaned, as your hands fought off his to fondle his cock, unbuttoning his pants and pulling it free as you stroked it gently, teasingly.

You had to show him a taste of his own medicine.

“Y/N, we need to talk, keep your hands to yourself.”

“No,” you said, stroking harder, spotting into your hand while keeping eye contact with him. “Unless you want to try and stop me?”

He watched your hand fall back to his cock, watched you tease the tip with one small stroke, then another, and then another.

And then he finally broke.

He pushed your hands off quickly, twisting one arm up and around your back, pinning it there as he grabbed his handcuffs and attached your hands together behind your back.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

“Cheap whore? That's what you wanted?” He said, pulling your hips back so his cock could nestle in the fabric of your skirt.

You nodded, rolling your shoulders to test the limits of your new restraints. Restraints you knew had been on Cat two weeks ago. You wondered if he was thinking about her now as his cock got harder and harder. You wondered why that turned you on so much.

“Okay. I'll give you what you want, but don't complain after.”

“Please, like you could actually hurt me that much.”

His hand immediately crept up to your neck and wrapped around it delicately. He didn't press down, but the threat was there as he leant down to whisper in your ear.

“Y/N?” You nodded in response, not chancing talking back. “Shut the fuck up.”

His hands pulled your skirt up first, and you found yourself without underwear just as fast, though you felt it suspended between your knees. He ran a finger through your folds, pushing your legs wider with one hand as the other grabbed a fistful of hair and slowly forced your head onto the counter.

This was new. All of this was new. The position, the location, the emotion. The handcuffs. You struggled against them again but didn't say a word, as his hand gently came down on your bare ass.

“Ah,” you cried out in surprise, jumping slightly as you felt the impact.

“I said be quiet,” he said from behind you, inspecting your pretty pink pussy as you displayed yourself for him.

One finger slowly slid into you, and you bit your lip to hold back a moan. It was joined by a second finger, and then he started moving them.

He'd touched you before, buried himself deep inside even, but this new angle felt different, and your eyes rolled shut as he pumped in and out. With two weeks of frustration, you were perfectly wet for him already, and you were almost embarrassed about the wet sounds his ministrations were causing already.

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, pushing your hips back into him, in time with his fingers.

He pulled out his hands and slapped your ass again, hard, as you cried out.

“You want to be treated like a cheap whore, but even they follow instructions, Y/N.”

You heard him spit on his hands again, and then his digits returned.

Except they didn't return to your pussy, but a spot higher up.

His fingers lubed up your ass with his spit and your arousal as he gently slid a finger into your ass, and you cried out in shock, or pain, or arousal, or whatever it was that had your head sagging to the counter, your legs lifting onto your tiptoes to allow him better access to your holes.

“You're even tighter here than there…” he said, almost curiously, as of transfixed by watching his fingers enter and exit you.

You were so distracted by his fingers, you barely noticed his cock probing at your pussy before it slid into you entirely.

You really couldn't help the mess you made of the kitchen counter. When he pushed into you, he used his free hand to lift your leg slightly, and inadvertently pushed your clit into the edge of the kitchen counter. With every thrust of fingers and hips, you ground into the edge, pussy flooding with juices as you were stimulated on all fronts.

You almost begged him to play with your nipples as well, just to see what the experience would feel like, how hard you could cum when every area of your body was being bombarded with pleasure.

As it was, the cock and handcuffs probably would've been enough. But you felt the shame of your arousal dripping down your leg, piddling at your feet. You heard him questioning which part of the experience it was that had led to you being such a desperate slut.

Was it his cock? Was it the fingers in your ass? Was it the handcuffs? Was it the fact that you were still imagining him doing exactly this to another woman while you watched on?

You didn't know, and he didn't degrade you further by asking.

His hand gripped your hair again, pulling you back harshly so your back arched, and your clit painfully pushed down into the edge of the counter.

With a scream - a loud, sudden, uncontrollable thing - you came, letting loose a torrent of cum down your leg.

Still, he kept thrusting, but he let go of his previous vow of silence.

“You are such a cheap whore, aren't you?” He said, removing his finger from your ass, hands gently gripping your hips as he pulled your ass cheeks, inspecting how far he'd stretched you, how much your hole gaped open.

“You've been so jealous that I wasn't tossing you around all this time. My cock could've been buried inside someone else, and you'd have enjoyed that. Wouldn't you?”

You could only moan in response, too scared to confirm or deny. You wanted more.

“You know, Y/N,” he started, leaning down to your ear again, squishing you painfully against the hard counter. “Cheap whores don't deserve cream pies.”

Just as you approached another climax, he pulled out of you, letting you crumple to the floor without his weight counterbalancing your own.

Then he hooked a finger under your jaw and lifted your head up. He barely managed to grunt out “close your eyes” before his cum was shooting out over your face.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, I love you… I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-”

Your lips parted in shock as a spurt hit your chin, your eyes. It was even in your hair. He aimed after that and managed to get a good amount of it on your tongue as you grimaced away from his hold.

But his hands held you still, and you swallowed it, even wiping the spurts from your cheek and eyes and licking off your hands as you cleaned up.

When he was finished, Spencer let you go and leaned back against the kitchen counter. When you could open your eyes again, you stared up at him in shock before collapsing down and laying on the cold floor of your kitchen, chest heaving.

“I knew…. I knew it would be more…” you said, unable to find the words to describe the deeds you'd just done.

“But I wasn't expecting… most of that.”

“I'm so-”

“Do not fucking apologise,” you demanded, pointing a stern finger at him as he pulled himself together.

“Next time you bring flowers home, I'm going to be expecting that as a follow up,” you laughed, letting him help you off the floor and release you from your constraints.

“So,” he said, playing with the cuffs as he gave you an awkward, straight smile. “Bondage, huh?”

You burst into laughter as you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him all the way to the bathroom.

“By the way,” you said, beginning to strip yourself off, distracted only by your attempts to strip him off as well. “You're cleaning the kitchen after we're done.”

#cmkinkbingo2024 #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #reiderslibrary #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert

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boolger · 3 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 3

AO3 link. <-former chapter - next chapter-> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc:7k

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

Author's note: hi sinners <33 this chapter was a fight bc i was unsure of what way to go with certain things and bc of so much going on in my real life. you know the deal w reader by now, otherwse go read part 1 or 2. This chapter was supposed to be longer but I decided to cut it, since it was already at 7k words. while i do have a humiliation kink, being mean to me, and saying i need to hurry up won't make me hurry up btw.<33 at least pay me. also i have a ko-fi now, wink wink.<33

Also according to Google translate: “ona delayet eto kazhdoye utro?”=“does she do this every morning?

The familiar scent of home sept into your nostrils as your face was pressed against the couch, the faint scent of the cigar smoke and of Nikolai added to the mixture. He had done nothing but push your skirt up, just like John had done earlier today, then pulled your panties down - contrary to John’s touch earlier, Nikolai’s hands were gentle, rough palms running over the skin of your ass, almost tenderly pushing your tail out of the way.

“Such a beautiful ass,” Nikolai all but purred, John chuckling from his chair, while you tried bending your back a little more, to show off your pussy as well, your tail touching your back a little, “so desperate, Lapochka”

“She is like that all the time,” John just casually commented, almost sounding proud and you hid your face a little more in the couch as Nikolai grabbed the fat of your ass and spread your cheeks, exposing your holes.

“Cute cunt,” Nikolai commented, almost if you were a piece of art that he was methodically going through, one of his hands moving to swipe a finger over said cunt, just along your lips, making your entire body shiver - until his finger continued up to your asshole, playing along the rim for a moment, “cute asshole too. You play with that?”

“Not often tha' she lets me,” John casually explained while you whimpered at the feeling; you weren’t really the biggest fan of anal sex, though you didn’t mind it. You would just rather have your pussy fucked, rather than your ass.

“Fuck me, pleasee,” You whined, hoping to distract him and Nikolai just laughed, fingers going down to run along your pussy again.

Maybe, if he was this easy to convince to fuck you, he wouldn’t be too bad to have around. As long as he didn’t try to ‘train’ you or anything like that.

Your mind turned off when he finally pushed two fingers into your cunt. The sudden intrusion burned for a moment, but it was essentially nothing and forgotten just a moment later. His fingers were thick, only slightly thicker than John’s, but the man hadn’t taken off the rings on said fingers. The metal was cold against your inside, not that you really minded.

Another finger was added and you felt your tail wag a little again — the stretch was nice, the fingers and the cold metal felt so perfect, especially as Nikolai curled them a little.

The delighted bark that left you from his touch was unexpected for the both of you, but Nikolai seemed to like it, given his repeated attack at just that spot. It made sounds leave you without your consent, your tail wag a little harder, the men laughed; honestly you didn’t give a fuck, too busy chasing your own pleasure.

When Nikolai pulled his fingers out, you didn’t even attempt to hold back your displeased sound - though it was quickly replaced by an impatient yap, as you heard him zip down his pants.

It had been a while since anyone but John had fucked you. You had grown accustomed to the feel of him inside you, on your tongue, in your hands. The weight, the shape, the length. The way his pubic hair that was nicely kept but still there, would tickle your own - the way his hairy chest and stomach would press against your back.

So when the head of Nikolai’s cock nudged its way into your cunt, your toes curled in excitement. He was a little thicker than Price, but nothing you couldn’t take, the Russian man behind you groaning out some words you couldn’t understand.

He wasn’t as long as your owner but it felt like his cock curled upwards a little, making a shiver go up your spine, a small mewl leaving you.

While John would have taken his time, making sure you were fully stretched and feeling good, doing just as he knew you liked, Nikolai once again was an opposite to him. As soon as he was fully inside you, curls tickling your cunt, he held onto you - then pulled back and thrusted hard into you, giving you no option to get used to his cock or to get ready.

Taking you, opposite to John’s familiar loving you. It wasn’t that John was never rough, he was, but without your deeper connection to Nikolai it felt dirtier. But John was right there, watching you.

Watching how his crush was fucking you hard. You were the center of attention, just like you deserved.

Nikolai’s hips and stomach hit your soft ass in a harsh rhythm, his fingers gripping onto what John lovingly called your ‘love handles’, using them to pull you back on his cock. Your mouth was open as you panted in between your loud moans, your sounds accompanied by Nikolai’s deep grunts, the slapping sounds of your bodies colliding - as well as the wet sound of his cock thrusting into your dripping pussy. You were pretty sure you could hear John jerk off as well.

Your fingers desperately tried to grip onto the fabric of the couch, but you were pushed further and further up, ending up pressing your hands against the armrest, so as to not slam into it.

Closer and closer to the edge, Nikolai’s cock hitting that sweet spot inside you, making your toes curl as the man moaned out words you didn’t understand. You mewled out words yourself, mind lost in the pleasure - until it was ripped from you.

An almost furious wail left you as your orgasm was so rudely ripped from you, Nikolai’s cock pulled out, you turned your head as you whined; watching him aggressively strip his cock, dark eyes on you, an almost manic grin on his face.

That asshole knew he had just stopped you from coming.

He slapped one of your asscheeks hard, making you wail again - then he came on your ass, moaning as he got it on your skirt and panties too.

“Nggh,” Your mouth wasn’t cooperating with your mind right now, even as you watched Nikolai wink at you, before he tapped his dick on your asscheek a last time - and then dared to fucking pull up his boxers. Your eyes flickered over to look at John, who had just come as well. That well-known, blissed out smile on his face from when he had a really good orgasm.

“Noo,” you whined, managing to push yourself up on your elbows, body tingling as you looked back at Nikolai, “please - touch me, lemme com’, please plea–”

“Net, Lapochka,” the man all but crooned down at you, even daring to pull up your panties, dragging the fabric through the mess of cum he had just created, “You misbehave earlier.”

“I didn’t, no no,” you sat up even more, your body feeling it was on fire from the missing euphoria, “I didn’t, I was good.”

“Was not.” Nikolai raised an eyebrow as he argued back at you, tipping his head to the side, clearly not looking like he was going to budge.

So you looked over at who you knew you could always trust.

Except Price had closed up his pants as well, taking another drag of the cigar, before he shook his head.

“You weren’t exactly nice,” he pointed out, voice calm from the orgasm like that traitor he was, “threw a tantrum when you got into the house as well.”

“You can’t do this,” you whined, pressing your thighs together, before sitting up, on your knees “I wanna come, master!” Using your best cards, knowing John got weak when you called him that. And you saw it, you saw the way his fingers tightened around the cigar. But he still shook his head.

“Nikolai said no. I said no. Accept it.” He said it so casually, like it was something you were supposed to be used to. A growl left you at his words, Nikolai giving your collar a little tug.

“Don’t be like that, puppy,” he mused, sounding delighted with the entire situation, “You will survive.”

How dared they? Leaving you like this? You deserved much better!

You growled at Nikolai who just let out a pleased hum at it, giving one of your ears a little tug.

“You’re being mean - John,” you escaped the couch and Nikolai, instead going to your master, getting on your knees and crawling in between his spread legs, watching him with pleading eyes, “I’ll be good, I just need to come, then I’ll be good, I swear.”

His lips pursed for a moment, eyebrows dropping a little. He was considering it and you nuzzled against his pant leg, fluttering your eyelashes at him, hoping Nikolai hadn’t already poisoned his mind too much.

“Pleaseeee,” you begged in soft whine, “I’ll be good.”

“Net,” Nikolai rudely interrupted and you almost felt proud of the fact that you didn’t shoot him a mean look, instead keeping your gaze at John.

“Nik,” John started and you recognised the tone of his voice, the one he always had when giving into you; the one you knew to chase, to catch onto and clamp down onto. So you blinked innocently up at him again, letting out a pathetic little whimper, pursing your lips. Ready to cry, if that was what he needed to see. Your pussy was almost in pain with need and it wasn’t the same with your own hand.

“No,” Nikolai repeated, a little harder this time, “she is too spoiled. You said that yourself, my friend.”

The signs of when he would usually gave in disappeared and holy fuck, you wanted to gnaw off Nikolai’s dick that exact moment.

“But—“ you didn’t get any further before John just shook his head, once again turning you down.

“Nope. Nik is right. You heard him.”

“So you hate me now,” you whimpered out, perhaps a tad dramatically, but god you were so turned on it hurt.

“Please, puppy,” Nikolai answered before grabbing you by the collar and pulling you backwards, away from your owner, “you are not getting to come. It is punishment for not behaving.”

You cried, cried actual tears but it didn’t help. In fact, it somehow made it worse, which it usually didn’t. You couldn’t help the sad howling sound as you were left, no, abandoned, by the men, the fingerprint lock making escaping the dog crate close to impossible. Touching yourself then felt pointless.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They entered your house, your home, your territory. Sure you wanted to leave this farm any moment, willing to grab onto any chance to get John to move back to the city - but still. Three big, dirty and stinking hounds shouldn’t be allowed inside this farmhouse.

You had finally been let out of the crate after a little over an hour and now, barely two hours later, another punishment was forced upon you. You just stared at the three hybrids with an angry look as they passed you, where you sat in the living room in one of your many fluffy dog beds. Making no movement to greet them or offer help with anything.

The Scot’s tail wagged at the sight of you, grinning at you and yeah, you knew you were hot - but that dog needed to mind his own business. You just huffed at him and looked away. Laswell was helping in the kitchen, while Nik and Price helped show the pack where the different shower supplies were, as well as where they could find clean clothes.

“You have to get used to them, you know,” Laswell said, looking down at her phone, standing in the doorway, “do you know where the paprika is?”

“No I won’t,” you answered stubbornly, “and it’s in the kitchen cabinet next to the fridge.”

Laswell disappeared again.

“They’re probably going to use your brushes on their tails, you know,” she added from the kitchen, the words making you whine out loud and almost gag.

Disgusting. You didn’t like the idea of other hybrids using your brushes. You would have to ask John for some new ones, that shouldn’t be too hard… and maybe do it when Nikolai wasn’t listening. That man seemed to bring problems.

Even though John and Nikolai found your anger amusing as they returned, you still followed them into the kitchen. They were definitely torturing you.

“You could just sell them again,” you muttered, watching John take over from Laswell with the potatoes that were being roasted.

“You do not give up, no?” Nikolai teased, giving you a couple of pats on the head.

“No - and are we feeding a bloody army?” Yes, you were upset about several things and now the amount of dishes they were making was added to the list. They should be making those only for you, not from the men who were probably using your nice, expensive soaps and brushes.

“We’re three more than usual,” John pointed out, fishing out a piece of potato, taking a bite of it with a hum - before throwing the piece at you. You caught it with your mouth, easily, Nikolai making a small cheering sound that made your tail wag.

“File said food aggression,” Nikolai added as he put down some dishes on the table, “we need enough.”

“Besides, don’t you remember the food at the auction house?” John asked, eyes still on the pan.

You let out a small huff. You did. It hadn’t been anything to write home about and being reminded almost made you feel bad for them… almost. At least you were still the one living inside. So… technically John loved you the most. Right. Even if you wanted a tiny house now as well.

“You’re up to no good,” Laswell commented as she passed you with some vegetables, that made your tail wag from the mere smell, “go sit down and attempt to behave.

“I always behave,” you answered, barely looking at her, knowing she was just rolling her eyes - ignoring her “sure.” as well.

They did indeed have nice and brushed through tails when they appeared not too long after. They looked much cleaner, their new clothes helping them as well. They didn’t stink of sweat and auction anymore, which was a good thing you supposed.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dinner was tense. You sat at the opposite end, quite purposefully, while John and Nikolai tried to keep the men from fighting everyone over the food. Laswell was watching over the entire thing like a hawk and if you had to growl back at one of them, just because you wanted more sauce, you were going to throw a tantrum. Perhaps this would be another sign for Price to ship them back. Nikolai on the other end, was harder to ship back to the auction.

He in fact seemed to press his way in everywhere.

Despite having an endless amount of beds and nice places to sleep, you plopped down on John’s bed, on the right side. Your side.

Usually you would cuddle up next to him once he decided to go to bed after getting all the animals inside. It took a little longer tonight since he had three new hybrids following together with Nikolai, so you were asleep once John returned.

A displeased grumble left you as a hand patted your ass a couple of times before giving you a push.

“Move, sweetheart.” You grunted, knowing he could fit with the space left - so you made no move to make more space.

“I cannot sleep on top of you,” you opened your eyes at the voice, before slowly looking over your shoulder, squinting angrily at the owner of it. Nikolai was wearing nothing but boxers and a white undershirt, gold chain still on, like a walking stereotype.

You were not giving up your space in John’s bed. It might as well be yours and John's bed.

“Go sleep in the guest room,” you answered grumpily, not moving an inch as Nikolai laughed.

“Princess,” John sounded slightly tired, “be nice.”

“It’s two doors down,” you still looked at Nikolai, not even attempting to sound any nicer, “I’m sure you can find it.”

Bloody asshole laughed again. So, they were smooching. Fucking wonderful. Great. Just what you needed. Another man to annoy you.

Before you could do anything, a familiar hand took a hold of your ankle and pulled you down the bed, making you yelp.

“Sleep in the foot end or go to your room,” John demanded before getting into his own usual spot - that fucking traitor. While Nikolai moved to lay down in your spot.

“Meanie,” you grumbled, but still settled at the foot end, growling lightly as you stole one of the blankets hanging over the bed frame at the end. You weren’t going to sleep alone - you needed the sound of John’s snoring.

“It’s a sin to sleep together when not married,” you argued instead, pulling the blanket over you, turning your back to the men who just chuckled.

Nikolai gave you a little push with his foot in retaliation.

“As if you care about Christianity, slut,” he mused, making you grumble again. But you didn’t answer because you truly didn’t give a shit about it.

You definitely weren’t jealous at the sound of them kissing each other. Your traitorous tail definitely didn’t wag a little.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

When you woke up, you were curled in between their legs, body hair ticking your chin. You yawned softly, stretching your legs a little before wetting your lips. Both men were snoring. John’s leg was in between yours, his shin close to your crotch. You looked over at the clock.

5:43 AM. They wouldn’t have to get up before 6 AM; which meant you had time for fun. You tail was wagging, thumping a little against Nikolai’s leg, who grunted, giving it a seat - which you ignored, getting up on your hands and knees before crawling beneath John’s blanket.

You took in the scent of his musk, rubbing your face a little against his morning wood, your mouth already salivating like a good dog.

Because you were a good dog. The best. It just seemed like your owner had forgotten, so you needed to remind him. You could do that.

You pulled his boxers down slightly, only to free his cock. Licking his balls a little, taking in the taste of sweat and musk, his familiar pubic hair greeting you, before you licked a stripe up his length. John was stirring and Nikolai had stopped snoring. Your focus was on your owner for now however - Nikolai could get himself off, he had taken your sleeping spot after all.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth; it was hot beneath the covers but you didn’t mind, letting his cock slide further into your mouth, using one hand to pull back his foreskin. A groan left your owner and as you let the familiar weight of his cock, further down your throat. You felt him stir - then a hand slid beneath the cover, to rest on your head, nuzzling your ears a little.

“Well, good m’rning to you, princess,” his voice was rough, a little dry sounding and it went straight to your pussy, your tail trying to wag beneath the covers. Even from beneath the covers you could hear Nikolai’s muffled chuckle.

“Ona delayet eto kazhdoye utro?” You pretended the slightly muted words that you didn’t understand didn’t turn you on as well; Nikolai apparently had a wonderful morning voice as well.

A moan left Price as you slurped noisily around his cock, spit dripping down his balls as you sucked him a little deeper, moving your tongue. By now you could take his cock without problem most days.

“Not always - ah,” John managed to answer whatever Nikolai asked about, his hand moving to rest on the back of your head, holding your head down as he began thrusting into your mouth. A wet gurgle left you beneath the covers, air warm in your nostrils as he used you, cock forcing its way into your throat repeatedly. With darkness and the smell of John, his hand on your head, everything was normal for a moment. Just like you liked it.

The cover that hid you from the world was gently peeled away, exposing your face to the low light of the night lamp in the otherwise dark room. A tired looking John with heated cheeks and a slightly open mouth was watching you. His hair was a little messy and he needed a shave, but to you he was perfect.

He used you, fucking into your throat lazily, his moans so low they sounded like humming. His pleasure was above yours and for once you didn’t mind; you liked how he was the one who decided the pace, how much you were allowed to breathe. He could hold you down, face almost pressed into his lower stomach and there would be nothing you could do about it - there was nothing you wanted to do about it. Even though the idiot, Nikolai, was in the bed, it was a nice moment… Especially with how your owner looked as he tipped his head back a little, forcing his cock even deeper so hard that you almost gagged; his eyelashes kissing his red cheeks, breathing hard as he came into your throat, Nikolai whispering words you didn’t understand.

When you were finally allowed to pull off, you gasped for air, drool and spit dripping from your mouth - resting against John’s hairy thigh, as you caught your breath. Tail still wagging.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Apparently the dinner last night had been enough of an experience for John and Nikolai, that they had decided that letting the hybrids eat on their own at first was the easiest, so that they could be sent out again.

The three brutes were once again let into your house - sure, it wasn’t your favorite place in the world, but the moment the three of them got inside, you suddenly loved it a bunch more - dragging along the scent of sweat and wet earth, all their eyes on you at first, then the food. Their body language was wary but not angry, their tails carefully wagging.

Freshly collected eggs, bacon, beans, whole grain bread, yogurt and fruits. Had it been served on a fancy plate in a cafe in the city, you would have loved it. But as you watched them, you despised it.

They ate like, well… dogs. It was nasty to look at and the sight made your nose scrunch as you stood, halfway hidden behind John as he was making more fried for the rest of you.

Ghost, Gaz and Soap had gotten each their own plate this time and it seemed to help on some of the aggression as well - you had listened to Nikolai and John discuss what to give them and how much and how to keep them from trying to take the whole dish, before the hybrid men came inside.

Their tails were wagging and there were pleased sounds coming from them that bordered on improper. Everything you had been taught was bad manners through years of training? They were doing that, seemingly not caring about any kind of etiquette. Much to your annoyance however, John didn’t seem to be bothered and Nikolai seemed more interested in making food for the rest of you.

Were you the only one who could see and hear how they chewed with their mouths open, ate too quickly and all messily, talking with food in their mouths?

You were far from a small person, but as John pushed you aside and exposed the rest of you, so that he could grab something and you felt the three hybrids’ gazes on you, you suddenly felt small.

Ghost was drinking water and though he wasn’t looking away from you, he mostly seemed annoyed with your presence - while Soap was chewing on a piece of bacon rather lazily, a little spit dripping from his lip, more focused on you than the food. As if it was you he wanted to eat. Whether it was in a threatening manner or an attempt at a sexual one, you didn’t know - no matter what, you didn’t like either option.

Gaz though, was looking at you through his lashes, licking the last of his little bowl with yogurt clean, with loud, slurp-like sounds; his red tongue caught the last of the white substance on the edge of the bowl. Giving it a couple more slow licks while keeping eye contact with you, a pleased rumble leaving him. Improper and loud, not even attempting to hide the sexual undertones.

They all looked at you, as if you were their dessert; hadn’t it been for you keeping the two men in between, they would probably have tried to eat you by now.

Brutes. Couple of knotted idiots. Horny bastards. Should be sent back to the military, sooner rather than later.

“Gon’ join us outside, lass?” Soap asked with a smirk on his stupid face, not even trying to be discrete in any way, the sound of several tails hitting chair legs not going unnoticed by you, even if you did your best to ignore it.

You growled at him, really all of them, before almost spitting out a “no”, nuzzling closer to John once more, pretending your tail wasn’t in between your legs. Your soft silk bathrobe at least hid some of your body.

“Don’t be snide, dove,” Ghost crooned, much more darkly, the scars around his mouth not helping him look one bit kinder even as he smiled a little, his ears tipped towards you, “haven’t even introduced yourself to us. Impolite, innit?”

“Fuck off,” you snapped back, still using John as a shield, even as the man muttered a “behave,” next to you; Nikolai only laughing with delight, giving your head a pat as he passed you to collect more plates.

“You can all play later,” John said too casually for your liking and he even just ignored your growling, continuing, “Out with your lot now, go get changed or something - Nik and I will be out soon, Laswell will probably join us.”

You dared to cast a last glance at Gaz; the Belgian Malinois and German Shepherd mix hybrid looked right back at you as he slowly licked a stray drop of yogurt from beneath his bottom lip. Once again you were unsure whether the sight turned you on or frightened you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“No,” you crossed your arms, defiantly looking at John with crossed arms, “ I will not.”

“Princess,” he looked at you with an almost tired expression, “he didn’t bring his phone.”

“Too bad for him,” you answered, not making any movement to even get ready to go outside, “If I go outside I’ll die. If not from your stupid hounds, then the horses will trample me to death and the geese will eat me.”

Price snorted, but he didn’t give up - because 30 seconds later you were pushed out of the door with a yelp, barely managing to keep on your feet; then shoes and a jacket followed, tumbling around you as you looked at your owner who just gave a nod towards one of the fields.

“Phone is in the pocket. They’re that way.” Then the door was slammed and as you heard the locks, you let out a little whimpery howl. A worker who passed near the barns laughed and you flipped them off, before putting on the shoes. It was a pair of John’s Wellington boots, which were too big on you - but you didn’t own any yourself, having straight up refused the idea of even going near tall, wet grass. At least he had given you one of his coats as well, which was warm. It couldn’t close because of your chest, but it was better than nothing.

The things you did for that man. You were better than this.

At least that was what you told yourself as you tramped across the gravel driveway, towards the direction John had shown.

While the boots were too big, they saved you from the dew of the grass that the sun hadn’t reached yet, even if they slowed you down.

The sun hadn’t quite gotten far up enough, so it was a little cold in your jeans and crop-top that John had dressed you in earlier. The top was white, with pink borders and said good girl across your chest, which he had caressed for a few moments and told you to live up too.

Easy for him to say.

“My my, what’cha doin’ out here, princess?” You didn’t like how you jumped at the voice and sudden appearance of the hybrid next to you, immediately growling at him. Gaz didn’t look one bit apologetic about it, his eyes almost shining with glee, tail wagging, grinning so widely that his fangs were exposed.

“Fuck off -” you snapped, stepping away from him before continuing to walk, “I’m looking for Nikolai.”

“Aaww, don’t be like that, puppy,” he continued, following you closely, even daring to get close to sniff at your neck! the nerve!

You growled and snapped at him, Gaz managing to pull his face back in time, but with a fucking laughter leaving him.

“Those teeth isn’t goin’ to hurt anyone, baby!” he pointed out smugly, following you as you walked again, increasing your pace, “You’re really just a little lapdog, huh? So weak.”

“I told you to fuck off.”

Gaz didn’t care, snickering and following along with you instead, like a hungry wolf, knowing the lamb would be vulnerable and tired soon; ready to sink its teeth into the lamb’s throat and rip it apart. You had no plans of letting any of the hounds get to you.

You snapped after him a couple of more times, hiding your excitement when you saw Nikolai, hoping that the man would get this mutt off your back.

“You could be nicer, you know,” Gaz cooed, hands in his pockets, walking backwards in front of you, his tall ears tipped towards you, tail wagging behind him, “just because you are a bitch, you don’t have to behave like one.”

You were going to strangle this motherfucking piece of shit and it was like Gaz could see it on you - tail wagging even faster.

“Why don’t you go fuck one of your stupid friends?” You asked, trying to ignore him even as anger simmered in your veins, curling around the fear of the bigger man, “it’s only a matter of time before Price sends ya ‘ back anyways!”

“Oh we both know that’s not happening, sweetheart,” he answered, voice going a little darker, licking his lips slowly. “Our owner said it himself, didn’t he? Too much to handle for him. Maybe you just need a good knot, hm?”

“Let me know when you find one,” you snapped back, relieved that Nikolai was right there, watching over Soap herding some sheep, “because none of your sad mutt dicks are coming near me.”

“Puppy - What brings you outside? Too lonely?” You could have slapped Nikolai or maybe bitten him, as he asked the questions with amusement in his loud voice; both Ghost and Soap instantly gave all their attention to you, staring you down. Had the situation been different, you would have bathed in that attention. Yet you felt fear go through your body at this point, even as you tried to hide it.

“No,” you grumbled at Nikolai, as a sweaty looking, tail-wagging Soap stepped towards your sudden little group, “you forgot this.”

“Ah, Spasibo,” Nikolai took the phone with an almost sheepish look, “I always forget. John finished paperwork, da?”

“Hello, bonnie lass,” Soap whispered as he passed you, a tad too close for your liking, hand running along your lower back, making you growl low, before focusing back on Nikolai. He stank of sweat and sheep. His tail wagging, blue eyes watching you intently.

“He isn’t, he’s waiting for a phone call. Something about problems with the tractor’s mechanic.”

“I am better than mechanic,” Nikolai argued, furrowing his brow, as if you were saying the opposite and not just the messenger, “I’ll go back. You boys can hang around with her.”

“Nononono-“ you argued, instantly following Nikolai as he began walking, sending the hybrids a mean glance, over your shoulders as a warning, “I’m not hangin’ out with these hounds.”

“awww, dove, don’t say that,” Ghost crooned, the bigger breed appearing behind you, following you closely, his footsteps heavier than yours, “we have to get to know each other, baby.”

“No we don’t.”

“Did you not socialize in the city, pretty?” Gaz asked, following on your right side, Nikolai still in front of you, not joining the conversation but no doubt listening along, “or were you too busy sucking cock?”

You snarled aggressively at him, ignoring Nikolai’s chuckle in front of you.

“Shut up,” you snarled at Gaz, who just winked back at you. They all wore outfits that seemed practical but comfortable, in stark contrast to your jeans and crop top, together with John’s jacket.

“Dinnae take it personal, cuilean,” Soap tried to weave his way in between you and Nikolai, but you merely stepped around him, giving him a shove with your shoulder - earning whistles from the other two. Ignoring the annoyed snarl from Soap.

Gaz’ hand slid out to hold onto your jacket, distracting you as he yanked you a little closer to him, “c’mon, we can show you a good time yeah? Don’t you wanna learn some new things?”

“Like what? Being mindless beasts? No thanks.”

You managed to yank it free, but the moment you did, Ghost took a hold of it from the back.

“We can be nice, you know.” He said, still a little playfulness in his voice, “when we want to.”

Once again you managed to yank the jacket free - only to almost stumble into Soap in front of you. The border collie hybrid was smirking and as you started walking to follow Nikolai, he started walking backwards, not taking his eyes off you.

“Ye’ve been angry every since we met, hen,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already turned each of them down so far, “we just wantae have fun - we’re not here to steal your master from you.”

“Your mere presence here proves that to be a lie,” you hissed back, stopping for a second, “I don’t want you here! I was perfectly happy in…”

It took you a second to realize but Nikolai was getting further away from you.

When you realized what was happening, it was too late; Soap had managed to create a space in between you and Nikolai, essentially herding you away from him. With Gaz on your right side and Ghost behind you, you had no other option than to bolt left, trying to catch up to Nikolai again or get into safety. Only, that was like throwing a bone to the wolves.

“c’mon bonnie,” Soap’s voice was louder, happier than before as he bolted after you. One glance at Nikolai proved to you that he wouldn’t be of any help. In fact, that fucking traitor just continued walking towards the house.

You weren’t supposed to be the prey here, you were supposed to be safe at the farm! All this bloody hell was because of this stupid farm!

Everything would be good if Price had just listened to you!!

The others were much faster, wearing proper working shoes instead of the ones you wore, that were too big, making it even harder to run. You weren’t really a runner anyways. Nor a fighter, but in the big city, it hadn’t been necessary. There, in the streets of London, you and John could wander without worry, the sounds of the city like an neverending soundtrack. There you could follow your owner in a nice tempo, without fearing being ripped apart by mutts like these, Soap snapping at you each time he got close. Purposefully guiding you once again, without you realizing before it was too late. It wasn’t until you spotted the shed, or rather the little house, that Price had given them - and not you, which was bordering on abuse, wasn’t it? - that you knew you were in trouble.

But despite your screaming, one boot falling off in the fighting and your desperate attempt to get away, it didn’t matter; strong arms got a hold of you, snapping teeth and fingers on your tail and nape. Soon you were on the ground, even for just a moment and it was three against one; you were doomed to lose.

The screams echoed throughout the fields, in between the wheat and the fruit trees, but the world didn’t stop spinning. In fact, it carried on, just like before. There was grass and dirt on your clothes, some of the dew wetting your exposed white shirt.

Nikolai out of sight, but you doubted the man would have helped you anyways. You couldn’t even hear his steps in the gravel as he walked to the front door of the farm house, closing it after himself; dooming you to your fate.

Ghost had hoisted you over the shoulder, letting out a grunt as you almost instantly began hitting his back, managing to tug at his tail a couple of times. Despite hanging with your head upside down, Soap and Gaz’s hands were still on you, tugging everywhere they could touch - until Ghost gave a sharp bark, from deep in his chest, that made you flinch.

It was almost like a wordless commando that the men instantly understood, dashing in front of Ghost to the shed, getting the door open while you tried twisting, almost hitting the doorframe, since it was barely big enough for the two of you, when you were on Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost didn’t do anything but grunt and force you through even as you tried holding onto the frame, desperately screaming and howling. Wordless howls and the echoes of your owner’s name didn’t change anything as the shed swallowed up every sound, the door closing behind you.

“Stop throwin’ a fit,” Simon grumbled before unceremoniously - and heartlessly, you might add - dumping you into their nest of mattresses, pillows and blankets. They hadn’t even been here for long, yet it already stank of them.

You weren’t even given a second to catch your breath before Gaz was pulling off John’s shoes from your feet, then his jacket, muttering about you getting their bed wet and dirty, like a naughty pup. He managed to avoid your bites, snapping at your fingers with his own teeth whenever you managed to get a hold of his ears - then Soap was upon you, fully distracting you from Gaz.

“These tits,” the mutt declared happily, ignoring you as he pushed his face in between your breasts, pawing shamelessly at them, “pure perfection.”

“Let go of me,” you snapped, almost feeling horror go through your body as you pulled his head back by his mohawk; only for the man to moan like a whore. Your pants got pulled down to your knees by Gaz, a yelp leaving you, unsure of where to put your attention in order to escape.

Bloody bastards; strays, mutts, illegitimate—

Soap’s hand was big as he suddenly and easily grabbed your throat, a tight grip around your pretty collar. Pressing you down into the mattress, cutting off your air for a moment, stunning you - while your hands went to dig your nails into his forearm, his skin saved by his shirt, he forced himself in between your legs; strong hands grabbed your wrists and Gaz pulled your hands over your head, while Soap tugged on your jeans even more, your well kept tail stuck in the hole in the pants.

You were crying and writhing, Gaz’s hands a little dry as they held onto your wrists, Soap freeing your bottom part. All while this was going on, Ghost just stared. Like an actual ghoul, standing a little from you, keeping an overview of the situation, leaving against the main door. Watched as the men began to humiliate you.

“Poor princess,” Gaz cooed, keeping your hand in tight grip, bending your fingers a little, trying to coax the claws out that wasn’t there anymore, “did Price declaw you?”

“Nooo,” you whined, attempting to tug your hand free as he unsheathed his own claws, letting them dig into your skin a little, as if to prove that he still had them. They were a little sharp, but not much; probably sanded down a little during their stay at the auction house.

“No? Nah you’re right, sweet sir wouldn’t do that to his favorite slutty princess, would he?”

Soap hummed, forcing his fingers into your mouth, running them along your filed down canines, “guessing he dinnae do this either, eh?”

You gurgled around his thick, dirty fingers, while tears began to swell in your eyes, from the embarrassment… not to mention anger, from the pure assumption that Price would do that to you? “Nah, ye are a pretty rescue, aren’t ye?”

You bit down around his fingers; the bastard laughed, but still winced a little as he pulled them out again with a “bad puppy.”

“Get on with it, Soap,” Gaz urged, his tail thumping against the mattress, sending you a wink as you stared up at him, growling.

“Look’at this kitty,” the way Soap spoke made you blink away a few tears in confusion, while you wondered what the fuck he was talking about; then, as Gaz laughed like a dirty dog above you, you realized Soap was calling your pussy a kitty.

You growled, trying to raise a leg to kick him away, but his hands were on your thighs, forcing them apart; he was stronger than yourself and you were one against three. It would most likely end badly for you and as he unceremoniously mouthed at your panties, a loud whine left you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growled, scraping his canines along the petty lace, “yer kitty smells divine.”

“Don’t call it that,” your voice was a little weak and it almost came out in a sniffle.

“Aww, dinnae worry, I’m gonna make it purr, yeah?”

“You’re so fucking nasty — shit!”

His tongue slid beneath the fabric, running along your pussy, making your brain shut down.

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nathaslosthershit · 3 months ago

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Passenger Princess Piastri (OP81)

Summary: Oscar hates driving outside of F1, you are sick of driving him everywhere and have tried everything to curb his obsession with being a passenger princess, but you may have stumbled upon a new method of making him get behind the wheel. (Aka Oscar's wife finds a new upside to her pregnancy)

'Oh having a husband who races cars for a living must be so nice, you have a built in personnel driver!'

Unfortunately, you are dating Oscar Piastri, a man who has trained in the art of guilting you into driving.

It was always something new, 'I don't like driving on the streets in anywhere but Australia', 'i have been driving all weekend, can't you just take the reins this one time', 'I know it is summer break, but you look so hot behind the wheel, I just want to appreciate my pretty wife while I have her with me'.

And you gave in, every time. It got to the point where he didn't even ask, just happily hopped into the passenger seat while you'd sigh and get behind the wheel.

But it had to to end. Oscar's reign as passenger princess had turned into a passenger queen, and you were going to force him to abdicate.

It started with little things; not joining him on errands you didn't need to go on, putting so much stuff in the passenger seat he had to sit in the back, not unlocking the car until he moved.

It worked well, but unfortunately he eventually caught on to all of your ways and found loopholes. He'd beg, and beg, and beg for you to go on errands with him, he knew if he could produce a few tears and a line about how much he loves doing these little domestic tasks with you, you'd give in. He would just move your stuff, all of it, or if he thought ahead, stuff so many things into the back you 'couldn't possible expect him to go back there'. He would just wait, and wait, and wait until you unlocked the car, doesn't matter if you had time sensitive plans, he would happily arrive late in the passenger seat, he'd even blame it on you.

This back and forth lasted years, he didn't care, he wasn't going to give up, but neither were you.

When your first thought upon seeing the positive pregnancy test was that you were going to milk this for all its worth and make sure the next 9 months + were passenger seat filled for you, maybe you should have reevaluated the situation, clearly it had gone too far.

You felt better though when you saw the same realization hit Oscar soon after you told him the news.

"Yep! You are not getting a free ride for a very long time, honey." You said, giddy at the look of despair on your husband's face.

"Please, come on, don't you think thats dramatic? You are pregnant, not incapacitated."

"You are so hypocritical to call me dramatic! You drive for a living, Oscar, yet you force your beautiful and amazing wife to drive you around as your personal chauffeur! You did this to me, and now you have got to pay the piper my friend."

"Wouldn't I be the piper in this case?" He was trying to distract you with a dirty joke, and damn it almost worked.

"No, because I am playing you, lovie. Plus, I am holding precious cargo now, don't think I won't call your mom or sisters to yell at you if you try to make me drive."

You felt victorious as you saw all the fight leave his eyes. Maybe it was cruel to use your pregnancy against your husband to force him to do a task he hated doing. Maybe it was evil to feel giddy about how you now had a new method of getting him to drive you places. You weren't saying you'd get pregnant again in the future just to win this ridiculous stand-off you two had, but it was definitely an added bonus.

A/N: I don’t know what this is guys I just sat down and wrote something I had no preconceived plans I just knew my Oscar girlies were hungry and needed to be fed

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine

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taegularities · 11 months ago

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entertainer (teaser) | jjk (m)

Summary: Growing singer Jeon Jungkook is as charismatic as he is self-absored – that is, until he meets you. Caught in a web of secrets, he finds a riddle in you he urges to solve; even ready to turn the spotlight towards you until nothing remains… but regret.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers (or something); angst, bits of fluff, smut ➳ warnings: do not fall for this jk i repeat do not f– 🚨 he's kinda hot though; (not so) silent yearning, flirting, sexual tension, he is so attracted to her :'), mystery, oc is a big question mark, full jk pov!, dark past(s), crying, fear, confrontation and fighting, cocky kook, secrets and revelations, explicit sexual content (kissing, fingering, teasing, drunk shenanigans, sooo much lust, big dick jk, etc.), more warnings on drop day once the fic is finished!! not much for the teaser itself, though <3 ➳ wc: 1.8k :') (around 20k for the full thing) ➳ a/n: scratches head. this has been a long time coming and i'm beyond curious how y'all will like it :') very new and experimental, so let's see how it goes!! as always, drop a message to lmk what you think of this lil glimpse, i'll be waiting with dangling feet hehe!! <3

➳ give the Entertainer playlist a first listen! 🖤

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

“Why are you the textbook definition of a fuckboy, honestly.”

“Fuckbo—”

“Nevermind.”

If he wasn’t well acquainted with this little game, he would’ve missed your subtle, nearly veiled intent to tease. But he’s done that a million times before — hence, catches the faint twitch of your gorgeous lips immediately.

You’re enjoying this. So he should join… right?

Yet.

You’re not being entirely insincere. In fact, he hates how he picks up on the note of truth in your velvety voice.

Trimmed nails scratch the back of his head, and he barely notices once the two of you halt in front of another piece of work. Distracted, he doesn’t bear the art any mind, instead asking, “You really think of me like that?”

You shrug a shoulder. Nonchalance a constant feature, but so natural, even somewhat gentle, that he can’t help but feel drawn to you. “A little.”

“Well, shit.”

“Don’t overthink it. Enjoy the art.”

“Sure.”

Reluctantly, he glances to the canvas. It’s a mess of hues; a random arrangement of spontaneous emotions. Resembles the masterpieces he used to create in Microsoft Paint, back when his legs would still dangle off the chair.

“So,” he starts, nodding towards the painting, “what do you see in this?”

You hesitate. Or maybe it’s not hesitation — more like… a thinking pause. Sometimes, when Jungkook notices a whirring mind, he sees a steaming brain through a skull. Working at full blast.

But somehow, he only recognises a tranquil ocean as he observes you gather your thoughts. Everything about you is tender, but wrapped in dark mystery.

How much mental training does it require to become this inscrutable?

When you finally speak, you’re saying similarly odd things.

“I see… colours.” Right. Stating the obvious. Jungkook chuckles, delivering a head tilt. “And am wondering how the painter got to create this at all. I mean, this looks so meaningless at first, doesn’t it?”

“But it’s not, yeah?”

“We’re fast to think that. Most of the time, there must be a trigger, or a thought on something, no matter how small. Something might have been bothering him. This is—” A hand gestures towards the painting. “Such a chaotic mind.”

Interesting…

“Is this what you usually think about all day?” Jungkook wonders.

You scoff. “I’m just a person, too. I think about a lot of random things.”

“Ahhh. Like what?”

“Like… seeing all the green in this exhibition made me realise how that colour makes me cry.”

Jungkook takes a haphazard look around. Now that you say it — there’s no hint of a nature theme, but the abundance of green is striking. It’s as calm as you. No wonder you’d immerse yourself in a showcase such as this.

You continue, as if tracing and reading his mind like an open novel, “It’s soothing, right? And unique. These earthly things sometimes make me feel like not all of us are deserving of seeing such beauty. Like it should be reserved for those who've earned it.”

Earned it? How?

Jungkook can’t see your thoughts as clearly as you’re apparently capable of doing, but he has an inkling of what you might mean. Truly dazzling souls merit the stunning bloom of the world, right?

And then…

If that’s what it is.

He wonders — do you think he deserves to see the colour green? Or is it already over if he has to ask? Perhaps, should he be perceiving it as grey right now? He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know how you think of him — doesn’t know anything about you at all. You’re a tough nut to crack.

“Hmm… that’s a way to think about it,” he says.

“Only because it’s the same for people. And I’ve had this thought about humans a lot… I…” You hesitate, blink, and then grant him your gaze. “I knew someone who was the colour green. Not everyone deserved them, either.”

Someone…

Poetic minds carry a certain pain in their eyes.

He’s been seeing it in yours. He just doesn’t know how to handle it. So he doesn’t. Yet.

Instead, he asks, “What else are you thinking about?”

“Uhmmm,” you voice, straightening your back a little, as if waking up from a dream — a nightmare? “I’ve been thinking about trying that, too. Painting, I mean. It doesn’t have to mean anything or be good. Just a great way to capture something that resonates with what I feel.”

Every word you’ve uttered today was otherworldly. You didn’t talk like this when you were at the meeting, or in his office. Your soul is somewhat free-floating here, and he doesn’t understand why.

And it’s a behaviour he usually strays away from. The vulnerable ones can be dangerous.

But somehow… you’re too strong of a magnet.

One who shrugs all the puzzles away — and he sighs in despair. Maybe it’s not time to find out what you feel just yet. What resonates with you — even though he’s dying to hear it.

He inquires, “Are you always this much of an open book?”

“No. Not at all.” Of course not. Rhetoric question — he knows this much. “But I like thinking out loud sometimes.”

“I’m glad to be a sounding board then.”

“Hah. Well, I was also thinking how I appreciate that I met you here.” Pause. Oh? What a surprise. Strokes his ego, though. And then, out of the blue again, “You wanna go to the museum restaurant?”

Jungkook has barely inhaled half of the exhibition yet. But just for today, he couldn’t care less.

Perhaps this is enough for now, visiting the overpriced restaurant, watching you from afar as you inspect your nails calmly. You’re not busy on your phone like the rest of the crowd — entertained by the same media that he’s part of.

Maybe he can be a bigger part of their lives one day — be the one flitting over their screens, the one they adore. The one they worship.

But you don’t seem to indulge in those mind-numbing devices for now. You might be an addition to his team, but privately, you float in your own world. Distracted by the thoughts you won’t disclose.

Your hands retreat, arms crossing on the table and lips curling into a smile once he strolls back to you. Satisfied, he informs you, “One cake to go with the coffee. As the lady suggested.”

“Oh. One?” you ask, “Don’t you want one?”

“I do.”

“So…” You stall, and he waits until it clicks, your head tilting in understanding. “Are we sharing?”

Jungkook lifts a thumb, pointing over his shoulder, back to the register, “Those chocolate cakes are sweet as hell. I’ve got a sweet tooth, but believe that it’ll be enough for us two.”

You laugh — a candied, disarming chuckle before you breathe an, “Alright.”

Jungkook doesn’t know you well enough to feel any skip of his heart; yet, you stir something else in his mind. While he does avoid them, it’s still always people like you who intrigue him the most — those who veil themselves in a coat of secrets.

He sighs.

“That was fast,” you note, eyes at a point behind him.

And he understands when the waitress arrives a couple moments later, serving two perfectly prepared cappuccinos and a mouth-watering chocolate fudge piece.

You thank her with a gentle smile, and tuck a hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your dangling silver earring.

And he watches.

Watches as you nod towards him, urging him, “Start then.”

Observes your smile as he signals you to start instead. And he gazes at you as your delicate digits reach for the fork, tearing off a piece, wrapping your lips around the utensil.

And then… oh God.

He feels his guts twist; hears all background noise fade; blood rushing away from his head.

All the way through his body as you slowly relish the sweetness and then drag the wet tip of your tongue over the fork. Licking away the leftover chocolate.

Jungkook swears it happens in slow motion. And witnessing your elegance in snail’s pace… makes him sick.

When your eyelashes flutter, gape lifting to meet his, the sound around him comes alive again — as does he. He averts his stare from your mouth, covered in the same colour as the coffee, but you notice.

You catch him looking. And it makes you… smile? Shit.

But you don’t boast your effect; only digress as you say, “Well… tastes as fancy as it looks. Try.”

You’re as relaxed with him as you can be. But you always are; with everyone. He craves that bit that’s only reserved for him — and maybe he’s too zealous too fast. He hasn’t known you for long.

Making you smile must be an achievement, though, right? If only… you didn’t think of him like…

He nods, and then leans over the table ever-so-slightly. His knees brush against yours, a soft but deliberate move. He places an elbow on the table, grasping the fork, close to you. If he lifted his hand, he could touch your cheek.

He wishes he could.

His eyes meet yours through his bangs, the cake’s taste irrelevant to your presence. And when his ego doesn’t let him live, he finally asks, almost as if insulted, “Do you actually perceive me as a fuckboy?”

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, furrowing your eyebrows, and then giggle before questioning back, “Jungkook… that’s bothering you this much? Mmmh. How would you like to be perceived?”

“Just. As a decent guy who wants to get to know you. And I know you know.” You blink, but he doesn’t buy it. So he elaborates, “I’ve been trying to make clear that I find you interesting. And somewhat attractive.”

People usually display a flicker of glimmer in their eyes upon hearing such praise. But you don’t budge; in fact, your eyes remain the same, if not a little darker. Why?

Yet, you cock an eyebrow, sporting a teasing, playful tone, “Somewhat, hm?”

He shakes his head, clicks his tongue.

“You’re pretty and I think you know,” he blurts, “and I don’t want to screw up right away.”

Is it the habit of never failing; getting what he wants? The urge to solve an enigma? The chance to dive into you until you’re bared to him? Why are you so interesting to him?

You’re just a person.

Maybe it’s just the unsettling need to discover what you’re hiding — it won’t let him rest. There’s something about you that screams to him to unravel.

He doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t know if you’re even from the same world as him — even though you seem to have crossed his realm before.

No matter what it is; Jungkook only understands for now that he wants to take off your layers.

Wants you to be the colour green for him.

wrote most of it now and while sick, so it might change hehe! but i hope it's okay so far, and it shall only get better!! i'm so so excited for this, like i've been working on it and putting thought into it since october, so i hope it's worth the wait <3

as always, send your thoughts, questions, complaints lol lemme know what you think or i might perish sniff. super curious to know!! also, here's the taglistttt 🤍 love and appreciate you all <3

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook

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sm-baby · 1 year ago

Text

The Chosen One

Freakshow AU by: @hootbon

WHATS UP FREAKSHOWERS, SM-BABY HERE-

Banned myself from drawing for a bit but my creative juices were still screaming at me 😔 gonna also repost this on ao3 later when I set up the account

Word count: 6795

Freakshow AU Able with some indulgent Showtime teehee~ no beta, we die like Queenie HOOTBON DONT MIND HOW OUT OF CHARACTER THIS IS LOVE YOU GIRL MWAH MWAH MWAH MWHA

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

Caine and his brother sometimes take bets during games.

There are also times when they get especially bored, and take the games up a notch.

They don't simply place their bets on a chosen human, no. Instead, the brothers figure out a set of games, choose their humans, and steal them away to mentor them.

Caine’s punishments are especially harsh during these occasions. Although he usually kept a cheerful facade, he would be especially antsy, tap his feet, cross his arms, much less masked. It must sting to have the person you trained lose. Not only is it a bad choice of character, but it's also a bad reflection on you as a teacher. Inadequate. Unworthy. Pitied.

Able himself was a special man. He never took these sorts of challenges seriously, but rather a bonding activity between him and his dear brother. Maybe because he hadn’t led the circus firsthand, rather, did the business side of things in the background. He never cared for the humans, and simply visits now and then. Caine would often be more strict during his visits. Telling the group in subtle ways to behave for an hour or so.

When he visited though, it was always a treat.

Gangle broke her mask? He supplied one that's—

“A little harder to break. “

Kinger was feeling especially antsy?

“A 6 legged friend to keep you company!”

Ragatha, did you anger Caine?

“ I will speak to him."

The group often preferred when Able was over as Caine would be distracted for a few hours-- even if they did have to behave. One would imagine the relief someone would have when Able chose them for a game and be whisked away from the dreaded halls covered from trap to trap.

That day, the brothers chose a series of games based on the arts. As they stood in front of the number of players forcefully aligned like a character select screen, the brothers pondered their options.

A series of games based on the arts… It's wisest to pick more of the artistically inclined members of the group, so not someone who specializes in strength or speed… perhaps Gangle or Ragatha or-

“You! At the very back."

It was almost like a death sentence the moment his digit pointed at their person. The group sighed in relief after silently begging, pleading, holding their breath that they would stay out of it, or at least have Able take care of them… but this time it was curious.

The group stared curiously at Able’s chosen person, who was purposefully placed at the back. Enough to be considered “participating" but not enough to be a quick option.

Pomni trembled, and just from the beckoning of his finger, she could feel her gravity to be pulled towards the blue ringmaster, the tip of her shoes dragged along the floor as an invisible squeeze engulfed her body.

“N-No! No no!" Pomni gulped, trying to word a nice way to decline. “ Y-You don't want me! I’m-- not really.."

Able beckoned her closer. " A ballerina is perfect for a game of art! Apologies if she was your chosen freak brother, but—"

Suddenly, a different kind of gravity pulled on Pomni’s body, in the exact opposite direction from Able. Silently, the older brother, Caine, was pulling the doll away in protest. Pomni was lucky the men were being civil, The opposite poles of gravity would be enough to rip her straight in the middle.

Still, she grit her teeth while it felt like two children were fighting over a toy.

“ Oh!" Able laughed. “ That’s cheating brother! I chose her first, maybe you should be more decisive next time you-”

“ No thank you!" Caine said, and Pomni suddenly felt a stronger pull towards him.

Despite the calm/cheery tone of voice, Caine kept a spot of jealousy at the back of his mind. Usually, he would not care. But this was a special case. Pomni has not yet held a good impression on Able— mostly because she hasn't exactly met him one-on-one—And Caine was not about to let her…

“ Nonsense!” Able said. Pomni felt a pull from the opposite direction, putting her back in the middle. She could feel her muscles tense from the pressure.

It was … strangely entertaining for the rest of the humans. “ Better her than me." One of them whispered.

The brothers continued their quarrelling. Able continued." Oh dear brother, the purpose of our freaks is to perform! I don't see why this little thing wouldn't be able to have the same opportunity. “

" Our ballerina is off-limits! You can choose from any other assortment of freaks." A pull.

" She looks perfectly well to me! “ pull.

“ I won't let you! “ A pull again.

“ Oh, I promise I'll take good care of her! " A pull again!

" No, I don't think so! “ a pull again!

" You seem to be holding quite the issue with her being with me, brother, why is that?"

“ Because I want her."

Silence…

The blue Brother stared.

Caine didn't yell, he didn't speak any louder really, but it was a frustrated tone of voice, more aggressive than passive. Why, Able hasn't heard that kind of tone in a long time. His brother spoke like he was gritting his teeth… curious.

“ I..'' Pomni stammered. “ I think im gonna throw up… “

Quickly, Able let go of his pull, sending her flying towards Caine before being set gently on her knees to the ground. Her hands held to her mouth closing in any sort of vomit.

Pomni could sense reactions from her fellow freaks, snickering, whispers… Although Ragatha wanted to feel bad, even she could feel a sort of satisfaction from the display.

Still…the group couldn't help but figuratively roll their eyes.

Why is it always the new girl?

❄︎ ✌︎ ☹︎ 😐︎ 📬︎

Before they knew it, the brothers stared directly at each other… silent, expressions blank yet intense as the two seemed to have a form of communication they could not grasp. The room was as quiet as ever, but the group couldn't help but sense a dangerous amount of tension between the two.

“📬︎📬︎📬︎ 👍︎◆︎❒︎♓︎□︎◆︎⬧︎📬︎ ✋︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ❍︎⍓︎ ♌︎❒︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎⍓︎♏︎♎︎ ♐︎♋︎❖︎□︎❒︎♓︎⧫︎♏︎⬧︎📬︎”

“✋︎♐︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎📪︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎■︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♍︎●︎♏︎♋︎❒︎●︎⍓︎ ♎︎□︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎ 🙵■︎□︎⬥︎ ❍︎♏︎📬︎”

“⬥︎♒︎⍓︎✍︎ “

“💧︎♒︎♏︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♋︎❒︎ ♋︎⧫︎⧫︎❒︎♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎📪︎ ⬧︎◆︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ♓︎⧫︎ ⬥︎□︎◆︎●︎♎︎ ♍︎♋︎◆︎⬧︎♏︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎⧫︎♓︎❒︎ ⧫︎□︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎ ●︎□︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎■︎□︎⧫︎ ❒︎♓︎⬧︎🙵 ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎📬︎”

“📬︎📬︎📬︎👎︎□︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ❍︎♏︎♋︎■︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⬧︎♋︎⍓︎📪︎ ♌︎❒︎□︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎✍︎”

“✋︎ ♎︎□︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎ ⬧︎♏︎♏︎ ⬥︎♒︎⍓︎ ✋︎ ♎︎□︎■︎ॐ︎⧫︎📬︎”

Pomni stood up from her form, walking back to her fellow freaks, hand rubbing her arms, looking down-- she stared at the brothers for a moment like everyone else did, not only did she sense how eerie the sight was, but she also couldn't help but feel a strange form of self-blame for the situation. Pomni, what the hell did you do this time?

“ Oh." Jax wheezed. " If I were you, I’d kill myself. “

" Ragatha said to shut up." Kinger piped in, and Jax turned to Ragatha already on her way to write down a string of text.

" What! Tell me Im wrong, dollface. “

Ragatha rolled her eyes before turning to Pomni, slumping her shoulders and bending her knees to give her a note. “Caine said you were ‘off limits’. So I think you're safe for now at least."

" And… what does it mean if Im… not off limits?” Pomni stammered.

Ragatha stayed quiet and turned to Kinger, not needing to sign her next words.

“ Then you'll be just like the rest of us. “

“⚐︎♒︎ ♍︎□︎❍︎♏︎ ■︎□︎⬥︎📪︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♌︎♋︎❒︎♏︎●︎⍓︎ ⬧︎◻︎♏︎■︎♎︎ ⧫︎♓︎❍︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ❍︎♏︎📪︎ ♋︎■︎⍓︎❍︎□︎❒︎♏︎✏︎”

“❄︎♒︎♏︎ ♋︎◆︎♎︎♓︎♏︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ⧫︎♋︎🙵♏︎ ◻︎❒︎♓︎□︎❒︎♓︎⧫︎⍓︎ □︎♐︎♍︎□︎◆︎❒︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ ✋︎⧫︎⬧︎ □︎◆︎❒︎ ⬧︎□︎●︎♏︎ ◻︎◆︎❒︎◻︎□︎⬧︎♏︎📬︎ “

“☟︎♋︎❖︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♐︎□︎❒︎♑︎□︎⧫︎⧫︎♏︎■︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎ ♐︎♋︎❍︎♓︎●︎⍓︎✍︎ ❄︎♒︎♏︎ ❖︎♏︎❒︎⍓︎ ♋︎♓︎ ⬥︎♒︎□︎ॐ︎⬧︎ ♌︎♏︎♏︎■︎ ♒︎♏︎❒︎♏︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ⬧︎♓︎■︎♍︎♏︎ ♍︎□︎■︎♍︎♏︎◻︎⧫︎♓︎□︎■︎✍︎”

“⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ □︎■︎ ♋︎♌︎□︎◆︎⧫︎✍︎ ✡︎□︎◆︎❒︎ॐ︎♏︎ ♋︎♍︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ♋︎ ♍︎♒︎♓︎●︎♎︎📬︎”

“☹︎♏︎⧫︎ ❍︎♏︎ ◻︎●︎♋︎⍓︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ♎︎□︎●︎●︎📬︎”

“■︎□︎📬︎ “

The brothers looked distracted. Jax was first to try and see if he could escape the situation, but he was interrupted when Caine pointed his finger at him, forcefully grabbed him by his neck, and set him back to his original position. His eyes never left his brother’s yet they were still all too aware of their surroundings.

Pomni swallowed…Off limits ...Off limits he says. She knows she should be safe. And so, Pomni took a breath and exhaled.

She’ll be fine.

She'll be fine.

She's fine.

Shes—

“ Fine." The sound of a cane tapped on the floor, almost spiteful. " You can use her.”

What!?

" What!? “

The rest of the freaks felt their hair stand up again. Although Caine kept his calm tone of voice, that didn't reassure the others all that much. That kind of quiet anger was familiar. Caine being convinced to change his mind was not something that often happened.

When all was said and all was done, Ragatha sighed, and turned back to Pomni, finishing off a note she's been writing. “Don't worry. Able is much more pleasant to be around. You're in safe hands. “

“ I sure hope so. His hands are very big!" Kinger piped up.

Pomni was practically shaking in her heeled boots, the wood of her skin making clicking sounds as she did. Pomni doesn't exactly trust the situation at all, let alone the brothers, and to be alone with someone related to Caine didn't sound the most safe.

Ragatha frowned seeing she was not convinced, and went back to writing. “ If It makes you feel any better, I feel a lot worse for Gangle than I am for you. “

They turn to Gangle, whose tragedy mask was on the floor weeping and in tears upon being chosen by Caine, while her happier counterpart horrendously verbally abused her from above.

For a moment Pomni laughed from the humor, despite the terrible context… but it was quickly interrupted by a gasp as she was suspended from the ground again and closer to the head of cards.

“ Hello, doll. Last chance to say goodbye to your friends! " Able said in an almost sing-songy voice.

Pomni, in fact, did not say goodbye, rather just stood there, like a plank of wood, frozen in fear. She gulped.

Able continued. “ ...Or stand in silence. That's okay too." The humans stared at the two as they went higher in the air. Able waved with all four fingers. “ We'll be off! Thank you for your company."

Caine was silent. But Pomni swore she could feel his eyes tracking her as she disappeared.

Snap!

Blip!

Pomni gasped as if her head had been forced underwater for the past 6 hours.

She would open her eyes, wide, before turning them in confusion. Her gasps followed suit as they lessened.

“ Huh!?… Where-… What!? “

She didn't know what she was expecting but it was certainly not this. Pomni woke up in a bed much more luxurious than what she was used to, and a room much bigger than the one at the circus. The room was rather well-kept. Clean. A standard good but a comfortable one.

Whatever injuries Pomni had back in the freakshow were no longer there, little scratches or dents, dusts in certain crevices… disappeared. Almost like she had just been born yesterday.

Pomni climbed off the bed which was-- admitted a little too tall for her, and went to search around.

*(A closet made of fine wood)

> Check

Upon sliding the closet door open, Pomni would see… an assortment of clothing… but not just any clothing. A set of six mannequins shaped like the other performers lined up…

Pomni would see the one for Ragatha with an eye patch as well as a note…

“ *Greetings, Ragdoll! I recall you saying it bothered you to have two eyes again. I cannot change your form, but I hope this will suffice. -Able AI “ +2 armor

Kinger had a robe on his mannequin. “ * Clothing fit for a king… and to keep you warm. - Able AI “ +8 armor

Zooble had knuckles on theirs. “ * If you ask me, you certainly don't need this. And no, you cannot bring it back home to use it on your rabbit friend. - Able AI “ +6 Attack

And plenty more! Pomni supposed she wasn't the first one to come here… that explains the scratches on the door.

*(Take items?)

> Yes

> No

> Yes

*(Trick question! Those aren't for you, silly!)

Pomni would turn her head to the corner of the closet, the mannequin right next to Zooble, the last member who came before her.

The mannequin for her was seemingly empty until she looked down… hers were ballet shoes. White with golden balls in the middle. The note reads: “ *Salutations, Pomni. I've heard all about you from the Audience but I haven't met you myself. I hope we can be comfortable in each other's company. My brother seems pleased with your performance. -Able AI“ +5 speed

*(Equip Ballet Shoes?)

> Yes

> No

> Yes

*(Equipped Ballet shoes! Your speed has increased.)

Pomni opened the door and peeked her head out first. The hallway was quiet… but the decor was noticeably a lot more Victorian…

Huh. Pomni suspects that this would feel right at home for the brothers.

Anyways, this freaked her out.

Pomni walked down the halls with knees faced with each other. This was a new area in the game that she didn't know about— her eyes scanned every corner, a misplaced brick, levers she dared not switch, she didn't know where the traps were in this area.

A hallway of doors… She wonders… is it possible that this place could hold on exit from the game?

She opened one and read the sign… “ Caine AI's first attempt on room generation.", and it was… contrasting. It was colorful. Low polygon, looks like a room more fit for an early PC desktop game…

…Caine? Caine made that? No shot. She feels like if she asked him, her limbs would be used for the next chimney fire.

Music rang in her ears. Pomni would recall that, around Caine, she would hear the motif and sounds of an organ and a violin… but here, in his brother’s world… It was only a violin… Pomni followed the sound, and it got louder and louder as she approached the door at the end of the hallway.

Click!

Pomni would meet an old Victorian living room. Warm fire with a warm chair next to it… but what would catch Pomni’s attention was the head of cards playing his violin, dancing along to the tune, turned to an empty organ as if he played one half of a duet.

He hadn't even paused, simply looked at her as he continued to play. “ Slept well, doll? “

“ Uhh-"

“Good. I don't believe we've met. You may call me Able. “

" U-Uhm my name is-”

" I don't care. “ a harsh sound on the violin before Able placed it down on a stand right next to the organ. “I see you've found your shoes. Hopefully, it'll help you for tonight’s festivities."

" T-Tonight's festivities? Sorry, I-Im… new to this kind of thing? “

“ The games, ofcourse.” Able clasped his hands together and floated towards Pomni, “ I used to tend to these sorts of events with my brother, so I'm fairly familiar… consider this like old times.”

Pomni frowned, looking away. Able wasn't as nice as how the others described him to be. At the very least he wasn't torturing her yet, which…she supposed… was a step up from when she first met Caine…

“ You must be hungry."

“ I haven't been hungry since-"

Snap!

Swirls replaced her irises. She put her hand out for balance and the first thing she felt was the fabric of a tablecloth. She would blink and snap out of her haze to realize that she was sitting at the opposite end of a long dining table.

Able sat on the other end, hands under his chin as he observed the new guest.

“U-uh… '' Pomni would look at him before her eyes trailed down, and would notice a digital feast on the table before her. '' O-Oh Im not… really.. hung… "

Pomni had a double take.

The food looked… Strangely realistic.

Ever since she arrived at the Digital Circus, Pomni had only the very limited polygonal sort of food, either prepared by their head bubble chef, or a cruel sort of joke from Caine to eat other members.

But this…

Her stare continued to widen. She didn't realise it but her eyes watered. She hasn't seen this kind of food since…

Able watched her pick at the chicken with her gloved fingers. The way she pulled back and flicked her wrist when she realized that the food had temperature built into it— it must have hurt, but somehow that made it more desirable for her.

Improper.

Able continued to stare as she practically scarfed down her meal… he couldn't help but roll his eyes while she wasn't looking. The others weren’t any different, but he expected better from someone his brother would fight him over… Able has known Caine for the longest time and he knows his overall taste is different from his. But this? This was the thing he was protecting? …He felt rather insulted honestly!

“ Do you still eat in the circus?"

“ Hm?" Pomni muffled a reply, a face and hand stuffed with all sorts of meat and delectables.

Able blinked, hiding his disgust.

The doll furrowed her brows in realization, as dread quickly hit her… oh god… she was told to behave around Able… oh dear fuck… oh fuck oh god… what is he gonna do to her? Did she fuck this up?

Oh god oh fuck.

Oh dear oh god fuck shit holy fuck oh my fuck shit ass bitch cunt fuck-

“ J... Just finish chewing."

“COOL."

Pomni swallowed and continued to eat, now with a little more manners. Able sat ahead, his focus a little off from her, thinking to himself. Now what was he pondering? A way to murder her, she’s sure.

*(Able sits at the opposite of you)

> Talk

> Say nothing

>Talk

*(Talk about…)

> Place

> Food

> Festivities

> Caine

> Nothing, Nevermind

> Place

“W…Where.. Am I?”

Able turned back to Pomni as if he’d snapped out of his thoughts. “ You’re in the testing facility. This is where Caine and I used to pretest code and projects before using them for the circus. It used to be a lot more abstract and plain. But over time it changed due to… uhm..” Able’s brows furrowed “... I don’t know exactly. It just did…. We never questioned it.”

Able shrugged. “It's smaller than it looks. For example, my brother and I don’t have bedrooms. The dining table wasn’t made until recently. Unlike you and your friends, my brother and I are much more low maintenance.”

*(Talk about…)

> Food

> Festivities

> Caine

> Nothing, Nevermind

> Food

“ How did you .. what…?”

“My programming is a little more advanced than my brother’s. I’ve mastered texturing, modelling, character effects… and plenty more. I played a hand in why you bleed, why you have working skeletons, or how organs can spill out of your body. My brother can make his food, but it’s a little more basic… I don’t blame him. He is maintaining an entire Circus after all. Sometimes his cooking is even edible!”

*(Talk about…)

> Festivities

> Caine

> Nothing, Nevermind

> Caine

“ Uhm... You and Caine… You’re brothers?”

Able Chuckled. “ Believe it or not, Caine is the older brother of us two. I was created to perfect his imperfections, though that sadly made it so I was given more of the credit. ” Able paused and turned his head to the side. “ … Rarely does he visit the facility anymore. What I would do to play a song with him again.” he chuckled. “ But I suppose being a nuisance to him is just as fun!”

*(Talk about…)

> Festivities

> Nothing, Nevermind

> Festivities

“ I think you chose the wrong person here for that kind of theme…” Pomni said nervously, wiping away the remaining food from her lips. “ I’m… not exactly an artsy kind of person, I’m more into-- maths?”

“ Art is a very broad term. I’m more familiar with the classical, meaningful, way of art, while my brother sees art in a sort of entertainment kind of sense. It only makes sense that he chose Gangle. I heard she can be quite the artist.” Able found himself rambling. It seems the brothers seemed to have a thing for creativity. Creative AIs, Pomni supposed. “ -- Which is why I chose you, doll,”

Pomni flinched when Able pointed his digit at her.

“A ballerina with a way of dance. You seem to be around my likeness… My brother likes your work and I… trust his judgement.”

“ Uh, haha... “ Pomni laughed nervously. She hadn’t cared about her performance in the artistic sense in all honesty. It was more of a survival mechanism. If it's good enough to please The Audience, It was good enough for her. Nothing behind it at all. “Thanks, I guess…”

“ How about you? What are your thoughts on my brother?”

Pomni took a breath in her mind. Pomni has nothing but bad experiences with Caine. Pomni has had nothing but bad experiences in the Circus in general, but admittedly, Caine was the one who manifested it all.

…But she doesn’t exactly think Able would be pleased to hear gossip about his brother.

“ Caine’s fine. He’s… nice, uh…” Pomni bit her lip. Wow, there really is nothing good she can say about Caine huh?

She would stop it there, but the eye squint and the small head turn from the usually unemotive brother sent her into a sort of panic…

“ He’s a good ringleader! Doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s really good at, uh… keeping us disciplined and in check?” if someone could hear inner monologue they would go deaf. The look in his eyes-- what does he want her to say??

Pomni would look up to see if her answers satisfied the blue brother’s curiosity. And in her horror, it seemed that it didn’t. He furrowed his brows and Pomni would hear the sharp note from a violin.

“ I suppose I should word myself better…”

Able put his hands on the table and stood up, making himself feel bigger compared to Pomni’s slouching form.

“ What. Is your relationship. With. My. Brother.” His eyes stared at her, wider than ever as the eeriest and deafening sound of an angry violin stung her ears!

“ I -” Pomni flinched!

“ You. You specifically.”

The way the strings pierced her hearing was violating! Pomni felt like the legs of the dining chair were getting longer and longer. If she got off she’s afraid she’d fall to her death!

Able stared at the little, pathetic thing under him. This can’t be it is it? She was ever so small in comparison, he felt like he could just reach over and crush her to death. This?? This is what he was losing to?? This is what his relationship was worth?! His eyes were as fixated as ever. He watched as she held her head down, her ears, he laid clueless to how loud his presence was when she was positive that her head was just about to explode…

“ t--’ ah!” Pomni covered her ears. At that point, she was bringing her knees to her chest like a turtle taking shelter in her shell!

Look at her! Whimpering simply being in his presence! Her lifespan could only last for however long the audience wants her but he’s been created since the beginning! She was less than them! She was less than him! Caine and Able have been completing each other for the longest of time, and he was losing to THIS?!

He couldn’t take his eyes off her, he couldn’t believe how pathetic she was. The way she cried and cowered, At the very least his brother deserves better!

“ He’s just our ringmaster, I promise!” Pomni gasped as the ringing forced itself into her ears. “ I-If you want the full answer-- Im new! I’m new here! I don't know Caine as much as the rest do! I d-don’t even see him often-- he just prepares us for shows! I-- ”

He doesn’t know what took over him to have such emotions. The real Able was known to be the calm and collected one of the brothers, ‘the better brother’. He will say that he didn't mean to lash out, but he would be lying if he said he didn't mean every word.

And as quickly as it came, the storm ended, and the tune that played in Pomni’s head left in a repeating fade… she breathes, small panicked breaths as her headache calmed down.

Able sat down, back leaned to the chair, knuckles on his would-be cheek, and his other hand beckoning her to keep talking. “... And?"

" A-And uhm—!” Pomni kept her head up to talk like her life depended on it." He- He… when.. when my routines get repetitive he would help me d-..do different ones… He plays the organ sometimes too and is-is really good at it! “

Able look at her, still with a face of disbelief… at this point he was almost over it…

Was that really it?

Able sighed and sat back. Sometimes he overestimates his brother's taste. Perhaps he's much more simple-minded than he thought. For all he knows he just liked her because…

Because…

Oh heavens how embarrassing.

He liked her like a pet…Of course he did. And he was treating her like a pet as well! Look at how clean she was compared to the other performers!

Able put a hand on his face… he really just lost his temper to what was equivalent to a dog…

As Able was once again thinking of himself, he was a little blind to Pomni still trying to calm down in her chair…

The doll didn't know what to think. Able was definitely not as kind as her friends lead her to believe. She was correct in the worst way possible. In fact she would flinch at the sight of him.

“... Are you okay?"

Silence from Pomni. And before she knew it he stood up from his seat again and approached her, walking to her side of the table and offering a piece of cloth to help her collect herself.

“Apologies. I didn't mean to lash out like that. It wasn't my place."

As Pomni used the cloth on her person, there was a part of her that somehow knew that apology wasn't exactly the most meaningful. Pomni may not be good at showing it, but the woman was a lot more observant than she'd like to admit. “... Its okay… “

“ Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

“ W-When can I… leave?"

… that was rude, Able can admit. But he supposes it was fair. It took all of him to not roll his eyes at her. Before he continued to speak he returned his nurturing tone of voice: “ You may leave when we're prepared to tackle tonight. If it makes you feel better, you may have some time to gather in your room to prepare. “

“ Excuse me." As soon as the offer was given, Pomni got up from the table a little too suddenly than what was normal. Without even saying goodbye, Pomni walked off, and back to the hallway towards her door.

The moment she was gone, Able scowled and sighed. What kind of person taught her manners? He sat back down and stared at the plates of food she managed to scarf down in such a short amount of time…

he put his hand on his face… Oh he really let his ego get the best of him because of some pet…he upset his brother's toy the first time they met… he had to make up for it. Maybe not for her but for his brother’s comfort, though, he doubts he'd really care.

For the rest of the evening, Able spoke softly, respected boundaries and acted to be the most patient mentor for Pomni. He let her use his violin, insisted on food and breaks, and apologised at every step of the way for their terrible first impression. Pomni would only answer with a quick “it's okay" in response, which bothered Able to not be reciprocated…

Pomni’s hypervigilance wasn't unfounded however. She knew Able was playing nice, the way she searched for a reaction for every apology, the way he was being just a little too affectionate, the love bombing… Able wasn't being honest with his intentions and so she wouldn't be honest about herself.

Pomni felt a little better to say no to him at least…in fact, she would almost take the opportunity to use him to get more information. On breaks, Able would allow Pomni to walk around the Manor, exploring each room… it was a testing area… there's bound to be something…

“There are no traps."

Pomni sighed.

" I think.”

" You think??”

" Some strings of code can be a little unstable. We didn't think to safety-proof anything since, well, we cannot die, and you were not meant to die. “

Great..

And Able wasn't lying. A lot of the doors were prank-boxing glove punches to the face, one was of a spinning carousel, and one was the bathroom of a very clean mannequin. Pomni almost lost her life with on the last one.

But it seems doors further away looked a lot more… abstract in the most literal sense. Polygons, shapes, colourful pieces… presumably one of the oldest doors there.

she would read the signs

“ Concept Layouts for The Grounds #2

|| Note: consider more coloring options for the tent. -Able AI”

“ Moon.AI Beta

||Note: Im unsure with whats wrong with her, I desperately need assistance. -Caine AI”

" The VOID (Do not enter)”

The sign didn't stop her. The moment she opened the door, she became mesmerised by the sea of pixels, eyes shaken yet still. She stood there frozen at the doorway hand on the knob unable to pry her eyes away…

Her heart was just about to leave her chest, as the strongest urge to step forward ingulfed her body. for all she knows she would be staring for forever. Into oblivion. With all her built up insanity, it feels like Pomni was staring at her death a million times over.

Slam!

“ Digital World Etiquette! Read the sign! Hasn't Caine told you not to enter the void?"

It took her a moment to snap out, but with a few blinks, she was right back. " Uhh.. yeah, yeah, he did uh— it's just… it's the closest I've ever gotten out of here. “

“ Out of here?"

“ Y… you know… an exit? Is there really no exit around here?"

" Hm… “ Able scratched the bottom of his cards. “ My brother tried. He really did try. But there is only so much a string of code can do in a digital plain, even if we are quite brilliant at what we do. “

“ He tried?"

" Oh, yes. I don't remember why he did… but he did. It is all too fuzzy."

" Can I see it? “

" And embarass him? “ Able laughed " Oh no. Caine hates when people toy around his unfinished work, and its been unfinished for the longest time. How would you feel if I asked to see your first drawing? He would murder me." Able chuckled.

" But-”

" Come, come. Break time is over." His big hand tapped her from behind, making her flinch and walk forward. “Lets go practice your routine again shall we? “

Although it wasn’t a flat ‘no’, something about that answer felt untrustworthy. She looked up at him and his many eyes, looking away when they stared back. Her legs walked stiff around the manor again. She’s grown used to it but not exactly comfortable.

Pomni would go blind if this kept up. It took her all to not cover her eyes from the burning spotlight, It hurt her retinas but she was told to keep a straight and elegant posture after every show. The crowd was deafening the way they cheered for her, their voices, humanoid, but not exactly. Their cheers would haunt her nightmares, but it's what she clings to if she wishes to stay useful in the circus…

She did it. She won.

She bowed to the crowd, arm held up by her temporary mentor, showing her off in pride.

“ The Living Doll, my dear viewers! “

Only the tip of her shoes touched the ground as she stood from her position. In the corner of her eyes she would see Caine clapping, but it wasn't a slow clap by any means. To her surprise it wasn't at all upset. Rather he just clapped… and the familiar feeling of eyes tracking her every move returned.

On one hand, She hopes this means Gangle is spared from any punishment… on the other hand… why?

She didn't know why she had to ask herself that. She had a feeling.

Pomni closed her eyes, and the next thing she knew, she was in her room, being groomed by the mannequins after a hard day of performing.

A shakey sigh left her. Atleast the day was over. She scrunched up when an NPC wiped her face with a wet cloth. Although she was made of wood, she was not prone to a plush exterior. The mannequins groomed her well but admittedly they can get a little aggressive at times.

Most of her routine was finished however. She looked good as new. Simply just had her bow taken out as an NPC brushed her hair to prepare her for bed.

But then,

Creaak… The sound of the door.

“ A moment alone."

Pomni’s hair stood up upon hearing his voice. She heard a snap and the next thing she knew the NPCs fell to the ground like piles of rubble, seemingly no longer functioning. His voice was enough. She didn't bother to turn. Her eyes fixated to look at the mirror either as a freeze response or in denial of the situation…

Fully knowing that all NPCs were inactive at the time… a different pair of hands started brushing her hair.

Pomni swallowed.

Caine hasn't felt her hair himself the whole time she’s been in the circus. He would never usually put himself in the dirty work of a groomer, but that day… he was feeling especially clingy.

For the next few minutes, nothing but the sound of the hair brush filled the room. Pomni's eyes now trailed down, refusing to look at him even in the mirror, Though at the corner of her vision she would sense him occasionally turning up to look at her. She did not reciprocate.

“ How was your visit?"

“ Good." Pomni frowned.

“ …What were you doing? Did he treat you well? “

What was it with the brothers and asking her how she felt about them? Oh well. She learned her lesson. “ Able was a great host. He fed me good food and was really patient. He has a way with words and is really good at the violin… he was, uh…classy. And treated me really politely. He even—”

" Stop. “

The brushing stopped,

" Thats enough.” Caine could break the comb with how tight he was holding it. Stop. Stop praising him like everyone else did. He didn't like when his name escaped her lips. He loathed the idea of her spending time with him, getting to know him, adoring him just like everyone else he knew.

Various intrusive thoughts entered his mind. He could pull out all her hair right then, crush her head between his teeth, he didn't know he was capable of such strong emotions until moments like these happened.

Yet it was all hidden in the shadows of his maw. Caine kept his head down, his eyes out of sight. Though that didn't stop Pomni from seeing his clenched fist on the poor comb.

That wasn't the answer he was looking for…?

“ Uhh! On second thought, his - his cooking was a little off… “ Pomni continued. “ I-I don't know what he thought humans liked--… but he was definitely off in his calculations... “

Silence from Caine… but she could sense his grip loosen. He tilted his head back up from his low gaze.

" Mhm! I say your cooking is a little better! Its good--um- just harder to fully grasp, I guess, which isn't your fault. “

Caine continued to brush her hair. He could stay there for hours to hear her praise him and degrade his brother. It has been a while since he heard anyone criticise Able, and to hear it from the person he wanted from the most made him revel in the feeling.

“ And what is it with his over insistance to be so proper, right? It felt like even breathing was banned around him. “

“ That sounds like him.”Admittedly that one pleased Caine. Although Caine was all for following the rules, Sometimes his brother’s prudence can limit his creativity. He knows it all too well.

" Was he always like this? “ Pomni asked.

" And what would happen if I said yes? “

" Nothing. I guess its good to know that he was always that annoying. “

" Ha! “ That one caught him off guard! He put his hands on her shoulders, an olden man’s way of effection or showing pleasure.

To Pomni it was as releiving as it was terrifying. Her body scrunched up from the sudden touch. “Haha… “ she laughed nervously. It was almost like she could feel herself gaining favor with each laugh. She guesses Caine really felt strongly about his brother. It wasn't her business.

“ Im sorry to hear your visit was unpleasant. My brother really should have known better." Caine put away the comb on her vanity, and kept his hands on her shoulders. He didn't sound sorry. He didn't even bother to hide his pleasure over the idea. “ Ill make sure he doesn't get his grubby hands on you again… “

" Much appreciated. '' Pomni closed her eyes and nodded, pleased, before opening them back up again in a panic. “ Uh--! Actually, How about no? “

"... No? “

" I-I mean uh…” Pomni limiting her reach around the digital world also meant limiting her reach for a possible exit… but ofcourse, shes not telling Caine that " I-I just had ..so much fun performing for the audience with higher stakes, I guess, you know? Plus-- plus! It might make me more desireable to have big wins every now and then! “

“... I suppose." Caine thought to himself. Perhaps having her around Able a little more might build some resentment. Though Caine admittedly was a little disappointed with that answer. He went quiet again and kept his hands on her shoulders, though this time, a grip that's a little more stiff.

Pomni exhaled…

shit… change the subject.

Pomni cleared her throat. “Did you… enjoy the performance? “

Caine laughed, a pity laugh. “ I enjoyed it as much as a person can enjoy a pre-planned game, yes. “

“ Huh?"

“ It was rigged, my dear."

“ Oh…… … … … "

“ You wouldn't actually think I'd let you play fair on your first game would you? The audience would boo you to oblivion. “ Caine continued.

Pomni looked down, admittedly a little embarrassed. She normally wouldn't care for her work as long as she gets to live another day, but still. Ouch. A blow to her ego.

“ It's alright. It's not your fault that Able can be tacky with his taste in art.” it seems that the more Pomni looked down the more affectionate he got. He placed his would-be chin on her head and continued to look at her eyes in the mirror. “I took control of your body 20…30...50% of the performance and that was that. “

“... Thanks."

" You're welcome. “ Caine tapped her shoulders and stepped away, back into the air. He snapped his fingers and the mannequins previously on the floor re-assembled, back to walking and moving like nothing happened.

Caine moved closer to the door. “ Now get ready for bed! We have another routine to do first thing in the morning! How exciting.“

Before she could say anything else, Caine was out. Pomni let out little exhausted groans and put her forehead down on the table. “Augghh! God!" She put her hands on her head, just about ready to have her fourth mental breakdown. “ I can't… I CAN’T. I hate this place!”

The mannequins didn't know how to groom her in that position, and so they simply put her bow back on, and gave her a pat on the head.

She stayed in that position for a little longer, quiet, just letting it all seep in. While she wallowed, the mannequins left her with the room since they finished their work. Now, it was only Pomni by herself.

She took a breath and turned her head up. Chin on the vanity, looking up at the mirror. She stared at the reflection, the constant reminder of her digital prison, and sighed.

It's okay, Pomni.

We have a plan.

This isn't over yet.

1K notes · View notes

solbaby7 · 1 year ago

Text

Make You Feel Something

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: sexual tension, some anxious themes, probably typos, some swearing, and two best friends—they might kiss

summary: You paint a certain Shadowsinger like one of those French girls

[ inspired by that quote “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect, it’s supposed to make you feel something.]

—

“Just stay still.”

“I don’t know—I feel like I’m not doing this right.”

You sigh, a soft smile stretching across your features watching Azriel attempt to stop his fidgeting. “You’re doing perfect, just get comfortable and lay there—I’ll do the rest.”

The paper was thick, a little yellowed but the charcoal in your hand seems to enjoy such conditions. Your back settles into the plush cushions on the couch, a throw pillow tucked against your thighs and every now and then you glance over the sketchbook to peer over at the partially bared body before you. “What’s this for anyway?”

“Practice,” You mumble, clearly distracted when roughly outlining the shape of him, the throne of a seat he was splayed over, shirtless with his fighting leathers hanging dangerously low on his hips and large wings shuffled behind him. “Why are you so nervous? You’ve been shirtless around me a million times.”

His left arm shifts again before you can draw the outline of it. “No one’s ever painted me before.”

“Technically, I haven’t gotten to the painting part yet. This will eventually become my reference photo for that.” The words don’t soothe him how you’d hoped and after a while Az is moving enough to have you settling down the charcoal, eyes sliding to his own. “What’s going on in your head?”

“I don’t know where to put my hands.” The shadowsinger sheepishly admits, looking more boyish than you’d seen him in centuries. Dark hair falls over his forehead and judging by the neat lines along the perimeter of his head, Az had recently gotten a haircut.

He attempts to hide his hands, tucking them behind his head or shoving them under pillow until you make a move to shuffle off the couch and finally it all makes sense. The fidgeting wasn’t because your best friend laid half-naked before you but the creeping insecurity of his scars ruining the final product. “Lay like this,” Azriel’s like putty in your grasp, malleable and easy to guide when you shift one leg to casually drape over the arm rest. He’s at a bit of an angle but the way you position him gives off attractive arrogance, effortless masculinity mixed with a boyish charm. “They’re beautiful,” Your voice is filled with uncapped love, lips soft when you take both of his hands in your own and press a kiss on the back of each. “Art isn’t supposed to be perfect—it’s supposed to make you feel something.”

Hazel eyes take you in, memorizing the slight furrow of your brow as you make a few final adjustments; his hands on full display while you mumble under your breath, something about the lighting and your nose scrunches a little when his shadows tickle at your cheeks. “What do they make you feel?”

There’s a brief pause and you can’t make eye contact for a few seconds, fearful that if you did your resolve would break and you’d be too busy trying to take his clothes off to worry about the poor beginnings of your drawing. “I couldn’t tell you honestly without ruining our friendship,” His brow quirks, throat bobbing with a gulp. “—but if I didn’t like them I wouldn’t have asked you to model for me.” Relief spreads when a smile tugs at his mouth, head dipping down to hide the warmth that blooms at his cheeks when you waggle your brows at him. He’s much more relaxed when you return to your seat, a slow breath releasing from you as you twist your neck, fingers gripping around the charcoal once more and Azriel can’t seem to take his sights away from you.

Painted toes wiggle softly at the edge of the cushions, bare knees drawn up and your hair is gathered in a ponytail. You hum when you focus, some song Azriel’s never heard of before seeming to aid in alleviating the self-consciousness and pleasantly distracting his brain. Five minutes turn into ten, then fifteen before Azriel breaks the silence, being sure to keep his body exactly as you’d placed it. “What’s that song?”

“Not sure,” His body was an artists dream, all hard lines and alarmingly perfect symmetry; the golden light casting through the room, scattering moody shadows along the angles of Az’s face and your thighs clench slightly when you’re forced to pay such close attention to the plush curve of his mouth. “My mom used to sing it when I was really little—can’t remember all of it but it calms me down.”

“You’ve seen me shirtless a million times, what’s there to be nervous about?” Your eyes roll at his harmless teasing, huffing at the way he’d thrown your words back at you and it’s become increasingly harder than you make it look to get a fucking grip on your body’s reaction to him.

The response is instinctual, fingers rubbing the page to soften edges and your brain wanders to what it would be like for real. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes and I’m not used to having a reason for examining your body for this long.” The warmth of his skin beneath your hands. The free will to travel the contours of his muscles and kiss each and every scar, ripple and divot formed by countless hours of training and dedication. He’s easy to draw when you spend so much time oggling, bottom lip caught between your teeth when mimicking the lines of his abdomen, the inky trail of hair that disappeared beneath dark grey fabric. “It’s truly annoying how perfect you are—could probably get some sort of sexual gratification from how satisfying it is to draw you.”

There’s no room for embarrassment when Az is so easy-going, the same laugh you’d always yearned for pulling from his throat and you have to swat away a few creeping shadows from sneaking a peek before the final result. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“It’s true,” The fireplace crackles behind you, a warm glow filling the room and kissing at the exposed skin of the model before you. Sharp jaw, soft smile; the hard line of his brows smoothed out by the light in his eyes—like sweet honey and sunshine. “I’ve never once drawn someone like you.”

“I’d hope not.” Azriel’s head tilts just a little, brows furrowed in thought. “Who else do you ask to get half-naked for the sake of practice?”

He’s fully aware of how it sounds—the jealousy lacing his tongue and you have to pull your hands away from the paper a moment before the slight tremble threatened to ruin the flow of the strands of hair you’d been steadily shaping around his head. “Not many seeing as I usually prefer painting models that are nude. I figured for the sake of our friendship I’d spare you.”

“Spare me?” He scoffs in a way that reminds you of Rhys, a little cocky and entirely too confident. “I’m not sure your heart would’ve taken seeing me nude. Certainly, it was me doing you the favor keeping the rest of my clothes on.”

Azriel’s skin goes hot at your lack of response, gaze sliding thoroughly over the length of his body from the top of his head to the very tips of his toes and a slow smile appears. “You sound awfully confident,” You shift in place, adjusting your legs and stretching out to see him better. “Take it off then.”

His mouth parts, words caught in his throat for a few beats of time before letting out a breath. His hands hesitate before untying the leathers and shimmying them down his thighs. There’s no hiding the desire that clouds your vision when taking in the simple black material that held snug against his cock. His thumbs hook in the waistband, shoving them down and tossing them aside.

It’s not the most simple task to tweak at the preexisting sketch, snuffing out dark lines and fading them into the background enough to make it easier to map out the thick lines of his thighs and calves—the generous length hanging confidently between it all. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually do it.”

“Should I not have? Are you uncomfortable?”

Your head shakes in denial, brows furrowed in focus and Azriel can’t place how it feels to be looked at as a specimen rather than a person. Your gaze is admirably respectful, quick glances with your tongue peeking through when perfecting soft lines and adding shading here and there. “Believe it or not, I couldn’t be more relaxed.”

He believes it too, your heartbeat is steady and controlled, limbs perfectly lax and Azriel is more than grateful for the view when you’re all laid out; sleep clothes shifting with each move and desire burns in his belly when you flick your ponytail off your shoulder, exposing the curve of your neck. “Where do you plan on putting this?”

“Nowhere, it’s private.” For viewing pleasure only, for those late nights when picking up a random male from Rita’s didn’t quite scratch the itch. “Once the painting is finished I’ll give it to you and keep the sketch for my portfolio.” You move on to his wings, tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth when you slide from the cushions, bare toes sinking into the throw rug when you stand before him. “Can you put those up higher?” Azriel complies with ease, craning his wings higher but the furrow of your brow doesn’t subside. “Spread them a little.” Your head shakes when he moves and you reach up, fingers millimeters away before glancing down at him. “May I touch?”

He should’ve said no—maintaining some sort of boundary because drawing him naked was one thing but standing before him asking to touch; all the resolve in the world wouldn’t be able to save him. Azriel’s mouth opens, intent on saying no but by some sick sense of self-indulgence he nods in agreement, eyes fluttering shut when the scent of your shampoo enters his space. Warm skin grazes his own and while the shadowsinger is a tense mess beneath you, you’re the picture of serinity, completely in your element when carefully adjusting the membranous wings how you pleased. He tries to hold it back but your hands are so soft and the rough groan that fills the silence has goosebumps raising.

“You can feel all of that?”

Azriel traces a finger up the outer side of your thigh, pausing at the hem of your shorts. “Can you feel that?”

“Right, stupid question.” Maybe you linger longer than necessary, tracing over a texture you’d never felt before; not leathery, softer than that but just as sturdy. Warm to the touch and they shudder when you smooth over the thin seam at top that fused everything together. “They’re beautiful.”

“I’m flattered, really,” His voice is strained, hands clenched in tight fists and when you glance down past inky strands, his cock is standing at attention against his stomach. “—but I think you’re overestimating my self-control.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Not unless you asked me to.”

The swallow you force down is audible, hands shaky when you tuck them back at your sides but you don’t make a move to step away this time. Instead, you stand before him, fingers coated in charcoal and there’s a little smeared at your collarbone. His hand is up and touching before common sense can deter him; pure fire burns beneath each fleeting touch, knuckles grazing at the curve of your jaw and there’s no hiding the rising beat of your heart when he wipes your skin clean. “Thanks.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me,” His head falls back, words low and barely contained. The hands he pulls away keep drawing back like a magnet, touching greedily at the sides of your thighs and stopping at your waist. “I’m supposed to be helping you and my thoughts are not very helpful.”

Years of denying himself the simple pleasure of touch and the powerhouse of a male on the battlefield is reduced to a simpering baby, grappling for more touch, more of your silky clothes shifting against his skin and the sweet smell of vanilla and cocoa, sugar cookies and warm milk filling his nose when he pulled you in closer. Better judgement makes you wonder if you should pull away, find a way to comfort him and keep it friendly but the more distance that closes between you the more of that hard length you begin to feel against you. “Az—“ He doesn’t let the warning fully come to life, hands twisting behind the back of your knees until you’re sat above him, resting on bare thighs and your hands brace at his shoulders.

“I know,” Azriel repeats it over and over under his breath, face buried in the dip of your throat, mouth grazing at the sensitive skin there and the little whimper he draws from you has that hard cock between you twitching against your stomach. “I thought I could handle it but you just feel so fucking good.”

It was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

Shit like this never ended well; mixing fucking and friendship but while you kept thinking no your body stubbornly arched into his touch. You bared more of your throat to him when he buries his nose there, taking in your smell while he memorized the feel of you. The slope of your shoulders, the flare of your ribs and the soft curve of your stomach. You grind onto him, searching for more friction when Azriel follows the length of your legs down then up to cup the fat of your ass. “Take it off.”

You feel weak; too captivated to acknowledge your backbone when you tug the shirt from your head and throw it somewhere behind you. His mouth is insatiable when pressing kisses to every inch of exposed flesh, holding you closer with each breathy moan and whispered plea for more, more, more. Nothing could’ve prepared you for his mouth finally slotting over your own.

Azriel’s careful now, slow and attentive, maintaining a pace as you got to know one another in ways you’d only thought about when you’d snuffed out the fire for the night and shuffled under the covers, fingers hiked up your nightgown for a few minutes of uninterrupted pleasure. He groans into your mouth when tongues touch, fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

You hand slides between the two of you, wrapping around the stiff length of him and the moan he lets out has him sinking back into the chair. Preening under the attention you continue, gaze locked on the half-lidded hazel eyes before you, his arms flexing at his sides, hands holding onto your thighs for stability because your hands were so soft, holding him so firmly and the steady drags up and down was enough to have his thoughts muddled and hips bucking up into your touch. Swears spill from his mouth like prayers, pleading and begging for you to keep going and watching him crumble beneath you was a greater high than any smokes or powders. “Feels so fucking good.”

“You look good under me,” Draped across a throne like some entitled High Lord finally receiving his birthweight as promised. “You close already?” Azriel’s cock throbs in your hands, pre-cum oozing from his slit and the thumb that curls to swipe over it is torturous. “Poor Illyrian baby—I’ve barely even touched you yet.” A cruel laugh accompanies the choppy breaths and hazel eyes kept falling victim to the backs of his lids. “The High Lords spymaster. The feared Shadowsinger. A great warrior with seven Syphons to hold onto all that power and here you are,” Your pace speeds up, pure feminine satisfaction building when watching such manly power submit beneath a woman. “—falling apart just for me.”

You feel his release coating your palm and you use it for better slip when you keep going, riding out his pleasure until he’s pulling your hands away, chest heaving.

He watches you slip from his lap while he catches his breath, catching a towel tossed his way for the mess. “Clean up for me, I need to finish this before the lanterns burn out.”

Azriel doesn’t listen though, rising from the throne and clearing the distance between you in no more than three steps and his mouth is right back on your own.

Fuck it, some of the best art was left unfinished anyway.

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