#nikolai fanfiction

[exyzedd]

cannot stop making textposts😔👍🏼

(pics used aren't mine)

[maisy1111]

me after putting down my physical book deciding it’s enough reading for the night just to start reading some fanfics on my phone:

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 2

<-former chapter ~ AO3 link ~ next chapter-> I will block any ageless blogs. Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 6181.

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: reminder that reader is kinda a bitch at some points, thinking mean, unjustified things about our 141 once in a while. Unreliable narrators, my sinner. Apologies for any grammatical errors , the bad russian and such. So uh, this got waaay longer than intended so here you go. It will be a couple of days before the next chapter, so enjoy this snack for u all, my sinners.

chapter 2: Delivery from the Hybrid's Den!

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“I have a friend coming over for a while,” John softly said next morning, hand resting on your head, fingers stroking your long ears now and again,, “to help us with getting the boys settled.”

You were on the floor, half way beneath the kitchen table, snuggled up against Price’s leg, feeling much more needy, knowing the ‘boys’ as your owner called them, would be delivered later today or tomorrow. They needed to be chipped and Price had asked for a full health check from his vet, as well as vaccinations and dental care. John was a caring owner; the mere fact that he did this from the get go was proof of that. He had done the same when getting you, made sure that any recent wounds or scarring were taken care of - getting your teeth fixed and your nails checked.

You didn’t have much of your fangs left when he got you; your earlier owners had taken those, the memories still haunting you once in a while. They had done it without anesthesia, not even by professionals. Same with your claws, that wasn’t beneath your nails anymore, thanks to former owners as well. Price had gotten the wounds cleaned and fixed up; they had almost grown closed by now. For most of the time that you lived with John, he had made sure your nails were always done nicely, however you wanted them.

John was a good master. You loved him, more than you knew you should, desperate for his attention, acknowledgment and praise. You didn’t want to share him, not with these hounds he had decided to get…

… not with this apparent friend.

You didn’t answer with anything but a displeased sound, tightening your grip on Price’s pants; when he offered you another piece of sausage you were quick to eat it, licking at his fingers while he chuckled. For a moment your tail wagged, eating the food and pressing against his hand.

He couldn’t be serious - abruptly changing so many things? and you were just supposed to accept it? Finally, you replied.

“Do I know your friend?” You didn’t bother to seem excited in any way, your skepticism seeping into your voice like poison. Price took another sip of his tea, not commenting on it.

“You’ve met him before but it’s been years. First year I had you, I reckon. Remember Nikolai?” 

Nikolai. Nikolai. Different faces flashed for your eyes, trying to pinpoint who you had met that bore that name. 

“No,” you finally admitted.

“Can’t blame you, lass. You were a little mess when you met him.”

You let out a huff at his words, embarrassment making your toes curl. It was true, your mind was muddled when it came to the first half year or so together with Price. You had been wary of every single person, desperately acting out and having to wear a muzzle, slowly getting used to the gentleness and rules of John. How he was fair and didn’t change his rules, didn’t punish you without reason.

You heard the front door open, ears peeking up a little, a small bark leaving you on instinct.

“‘Morning,” Laswell called out, making you settle again with a huff. While Laswell was strict and sometimes a meanie, she wasn’t a threat. Only to you and John’s private time.

“Good morning,” John called out, “I’ve made coffee.”

“Ugh if I wasn’t a lesbian I would marry you,” Kate groaned happily, by now so comfortable with John that she simply moved to take a cup in the cupboard, helping herself to the coffee and some food. They had known each other when younger, that was all you knew. Their stories always changed when you asked.

“Morning puppy,” she greeted, leaning over to give you a small pat that you leaned into, tail wagging once more, “are you going to misbehave again today?”

“Hopefully not,” John hummed, picking up his tea cup once more, “Nikolai is arriving in a couple of hours.”

“Ah, your old crush,” Laswell mused happily as she sat down across the table, once again making you wonder how long they had known each other, “going to pull yourself together this time?”

Wait. Crush… crush? Your head whipped up to look at your owner and oh fucking hell, John fucking Price was blushing. You huffed, clearly not pleased at all with this new knowledge.

Wonderful, wasn’t that just fucking wonderful? Now he was going to abandon you fully, to run around being a lovesick puppy and playing with the new hybrids.

“Don’t tease me,” John answered, clearly embarrassed, a rare sight indeed, “that’s none of your business.”

Kate just laughed. You let out a grumble, trying to snuggle even closer to Price, practically clinging to his leg by now. Price returned his hand to your head, petting you once more, looking down at you. You returned his gaze, doing your best puppy eyes, letting out a little whine. He smiled at you, his other hand scratching you beneath your chin.

“It’s been years,” he mused and you were pretty sure that he wasn’t even talking to you, “he had to return to Russia. His mother passed away.”

Russia? A memory appeared in your mind. A small party. Champagne, treats. Praise from Price’s friends and colleagues, attention and love that you had basked in. Other hybrids that sent you longing and lustful looks. A tall, broad man with a loud laugh and a strong accent. Wearing a gold chain. Long hair, rough hands when he scratched you. He would almost make your owner shy with his teasing but he would shower you in love.

“Did I meet him at a party once?” You asked, “big guy, strong accent ? Wearing a gold chain?”

John laughed, “yes, that would indeed be Nikolai.”

Huh. It was not much you could remember about him. You remembered liking him, but despite that, you weren’t really interested in him getting here.

“He is going to help with Soap, Ghost and Gaz,” John then said, almost as if to convince himself that was why he was here. You rolled your eyes at their names. Not that you had any say, you were usually just called different pet names, but you no longer bore the name your mother had once given you. It wasn’t unusual for pets to get their names changed with every new owner. Your legal hybrid name, with John, was Daisy, even though the man rarely ever called you that. He called you so many other names, Princess, Darling, Sweetheart, Birdie and so on. But apparently he had decided not to change these working dogs’ names.

“Sure,” Kate answered with amusement in her voice, taking another sip of the coffee before adding, “whatever you say.”

Price didn’t answer with anything but an annoyed grumble.

“Those are stupid names,” you muttered. A sharp tug on your ear made you yelp, one of your hands grabbing onto his wrist to get him to let go of your furry ear. 

“Be nice, Princess. You’re going to behave, am I understood?” You didn’t meet his eyes, a little whine merely escaped from you.

“She just needs to be shown her place,” Laswell carefully said, John not letting go of your ear, much to your dismay, but he didn’t tug on it - just kept it there as a warning, “maybe they’re better at that.”

“Hopefully they’ll be better at it than me,” he muttered and you whined - the grip didn’t loosen and he didn’t look down at you.

“Nikolai is going to help with that too?” 

“He had ideas, at least.”

Fucking wonderful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Nikolai was the first of the four men that you already hated, to arrive. 

You stayed inside the house, watching John appear from one of the stables, almost lighting up at the sight of the man who exited the car.

He still looked like the old memory you had of him; big, long black hair and a grin on his face. He was taller than John but not by much, Almost seeming completely opposite to your owner. While John wore working clothes, a grey T-shirt beneath his blue flannel, dirt on his pants, Nikolai was wearing a pair of blue jeans, white T-shirt and leather jacket.

Even inside the house, you could hear the booming man that was Nikolai - he greeted your owner with a loud “John!”, before hugging him, even spinning him around. You couldn’t help but stare; John was far from small but the other man had swung him around like he had been a teenage girl. 

John was blushing like one too. The sight made you curious - just like you wondered how he and Kate met, you wondered how this Nikolai met your owner.

You couldn’t help but wag your tail at how happy they looked. Despite how you hated the idea of the man staying here, even just for a little while, you liked seeing John happy like this.

Then two pairs of eyes suddenly looked directly into the window, both staring at you. It made your ears tip back a little. Your tail kept wagging, eating up the attention. 

When they moved, you moved too - rushing towards the entrance, stopping in the doorframe to the living room. 

“My my, if it isn’t the famous puppy,” Nikolai mused, his Russian accent strong, eyes almost twinkling as he looked you up and down, “up to trouble, da?”

You huffed, crossing your arms, though you felt your tail betray you by wagging a little, “I’m never up to trouble.”

Both of the men laughed, making you growl a little. 

“Unruly - just like last time I met you!” Nikolai mused, looking over at John by his side, “you gave up on training?”

John shook his head, “don’t even get me started, mate.”

“You told enough over phone,” Nikolai answered, waving his hand at John while pushing his shoes off with his feet.

Ah. So he had talked about you with Nikolai already? The fact made you scrunch your nose a little. Maybe Nikolai was just as stupid as John when it came to realizing why you were upset.

Nikolai stepped into your personal sphere with no warning, almost backing you up against the door frame, making you panic and growl a little. Tail no longer wagging - you could see John tense up in the corner of your eye, but you were too distracted by the stranger.

“Nik—“

A part of you expected him to hit you - you had met plenty of strangers with your former owners, who didn’t even let you sniff their hand or anything. Some hurting you and —

He offered his hand. It didn’t hit you, but raised to your nose instead. You squinted at him, before taking a couple of sniffs, still not quite sure what to make of him.

“Don’t like you,” you growled in warning, showing your teeth a little, not even attempting to be polite. 

“You don’t like farm life yet, puppy?” He asked, tipping his head to the side, voice demeaning, stupid smile still on his face. You wanted to slap it off his face. “Stupid little puppy.”

Instead you chomped down on his hand, Price instantly scolding out your name, moving to drag you away. But Nikolai didn’t even flinch - didn't move besides laughing again. 

It made both you and John confused.

“If you want to hurt me, you would have to bite harder, Princess,” Nikolai crooned, “now let go.”

You wanted to piss in his shoes and rip his socks to pieces. Maybe scratch up that leather jacket of his. Yet you found yourself letting go of him, your teeth barely even having made a dent in his skin.

“Get your ass into your room,” John hissed, a redness in his skin that you weren’t sure came from embarrassment or anger from your action.

“No harm done, John,” Nikolai laughed; he scratched you behind your right ear, just a tad to the left and it was like your brain melted for a couple of seconds, your body reacted on its own, tail wagging and right leg moving as well, “she just attempt to be dangerous no?”

John let out a small sound that you weren’t sure  what to make of before he grabbed you by the collar and dragged you away from Nikolai, “and that’s the kind of behaviour I don’t want.”

“He was being mean,” you whined in self defense, unable to not follow the hand dragging you into the living room, “he almost dared me to!”

Perhaps an overstatement, but you already knew what was going to happen the moment that Price pushed you over the armrest of the couch, “I bit him to defend myself!”

“You will not, and I repeat myself, not bite my guests,” he pulled up your skirt and down your panties with such a quick movement that you didn’t get to point out that you didn’t care, one hand grabbing your tail; his other hand collided with your ass cheeks, once, twice and then a third time, before he snapped out, “got it?”

A defiant bark left you, because while you knew it was bad behavior, you also wanted to prove that you weren’t afraid of this Nikolai. You twisted a little, knowing your ass and pussy was basically on display for both men. 

The grip on your tail tightened making you cringe with pain, jaw tensing.

“Apologise.”

You shook your head in defiance, ears hitting your face. Price leant over you a little, hissing out, “I would advise you to apologize, princess. Now.”

A part of you knew he was upset because he liked Nikolai. If he actually had feelings for him, as Kate had pointed out and several things pointed towards, you knew he wouldn’t like being embarrassed too much. Your ass still stung a little.

You were the actual victim here, weren’t you? It wasn’t your fault he decided to change everything you loved and then accept that he had his lost love over, who immediately tried to push your buttons.

“‘m sorry,” you mumbled after two seconds.

“Louder.” John demanded, straightening up, so that you were no longer hidden.

"I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment - then the sound of a lighter and as you dared to glance over at the bigger man, who was leaning against the door frame, you saw him staring right back at you, a lit cigarette now between his lips.

“Is okay, Lapochka.” He said, stupid smile still on his face.

With that John finally let go off your tail, pulling up your underwear and your skirt down, ignoring your whine. He didn’t even touch your pussy! Didn’t even give you some love!

You pouted as you looked over at them, sliding down from the armrest of the couch, hands going beneath your skirt to rest against your warm skin on your cheeks.

“Sorry Nik,” John once again apologized - as if it was him who John had just spanked! The audacity! You let out a little displeased bark.

“She usually doesn’t bite people,” he continued as he ushered Nikolai as if you weren’t right there, needing love and attention.

“Is okay,” Nikolai answered with a shrug, casting one last glance over at you, smirking for just a second, “some of it was my fault - wanted to see what she would do.”

Asshole.

“Room, princess - now.”

“But he literally ju—“

“I said now.”

“You’re being so fucking mea—“

“Crate then.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” You might have slammed the door to your room, growling as you plopped down on your big fuzzy dog bed. 

It was about 30 minutes later than you dared to wander from the room to the kitchen again, standing in the doorway, watching the two men talk. Eyes moved to watch you again, as you whined and got on your knees. crawling to the two men, shamefully settling between Price’s legs on your knees - tail carefully wagging, sending your owner a pitiful glance.

“‘m sorry,” you whimpered, knowing John was easy to sweeten up, “‘m sorry, sir.”

A hand moved down to scratch you, though it wasn’t John’s-  you carefully licked his hand, a pleased rumble leaving the guest.

“Smart one,” he muttered, giving your cheek a little pinch, “knows how to be sweet, da?”

“Always,” John answered, looking down at you with his usual loving eyes, “soft lass is hard  to stay mad at.”

“Perhaps you need some more company,” Nikolai pointed out, “I worked with military pets before, they’re much different than you, milaya.”

“We don’t need them,” you whined, having no idea what Nikolai had just called you, “John will forget about me, will be too busy, he –”

John’s foot ever so gently pushed against your stomach, “don’t start that again.”

“Just insecure,” Nikolai suggested, making you huff.

“Am not,” you argued, but you still nuzzled closer to John, starting to move your hands to his inner thighs, moving to look up the best you could, looking from under the edge of the table, sweetening your voice a little, “It’s just a mistake, that’s all.”

“Spoiled, that’s what you are, darling,” John pointed out, but he still reached out to gently pat your head, “however, the boys will be here in a couple of hours and there is nothing you can do about it.”

You whined pitifully at his words, upset that your clear dissatisfaction with them joining the farm wasn’t clear. It was like John didn’t want to realize at all that he didn’t need to stay out on this farm. He needed to go back to the city, to the fancy penthouse apartment, to the parties that lasted out to the late hours of the night, where you could gossip with all the other hybrids.

“Milaya,” Nikolai repeated again, rustling with something in his jacket that hung over the back of the chair he was currently sitting on, pulling a little package from it. You watched curiously, though trying to seem disinterested. That was until he opened it and the most wonderful, mouthwatering scent you had smelled in a while appeared and you instantly moved from between John’s legs to Nikolai’s, making your owner chuckle.

The piece of jerky looking meat that Nikolai held in between his thumb and pointer finger, looked simple but oh the smell of it made it known that it was good.

“You behave and let us look through papers now, da?” 

“Yes,” you said, unable to look away or stop your tail from wagging, “I’ll behave.” 

The moment Nikolai offered you the piece, you were on it, barely missing his fingers with your teeth as you stole it from his grip. Nikolai was chuckling, putting the bag back into his jacket, while you chewed, a pleased moan leaving you as you settled beneath the table. 

Hopefully these mutts would prove themselves too difficult - so that John would send them away again. You would happily wave goodbye to them. 

With the sweet aftertaste of the meat in your mouth and their soft voices discussing fences, you closed your eyes.

You weren’t going to help with the pack settling in - that was for sure.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You barely got used to your owner’s crush, before there were once again new things happening. Kate appeared, greeting Nikolai like an old friend as well. You hadn’t figured out much about the man, other than he had worked with a lot of hybrids throughout the years. And with helicopters. However that all fit together, you didn’t know… didn’t really care.

The big truck that arrived a couple of hours later, stood out against the farm houses; a colorful logo was painted on the otherwise steel gray vehicle.

THE HYBRID’S DEN! helping owners find their perfect hybrid pet since 1960!

You remembered seeing their logos everywhere when you were sold to the auction, years ago. The auction houses and facilities had often felt like an intermission from your former life to your new; never knowing what was going to happen, treated with the minimal care, but kept healthy enough for the auctions. 

The staff wore the colorful logo on their black uniforms, exciting the truck a few moments later. You almost wanted to tell them to ‘get the fuck back into that truck and drive off’ again, but you figured it wouldn’t result in them actually doing so.

You kept your distance, standing on the steps of the front door - strategically keeping Nikolai between you and the closed metal crates that were inside the truck. There were nothing more than a few air holes in the boxes, from where some different sounds appeared. Barks and a growl or two, though they all sounded a little slurred. Nikolai moved, giving you a better look at them, as he joined John who was nodding along to some of the information, while looking through and signing some papers. Though you were mostly distracted by the crates, you could hear some of their conversation, catching words like sedated, muzzles, stressed. Your own trip hadn’t been nice either but a part of you wanted to point out to your owner that this only proved your point of this being a bad idea.

Some of the auction workers helped move the crates to one of the bigger empty sheds that Price had apparently been renovating without your knowledge. So apparently not so empty any longer. Not that it had been hard to do that, you ignored most of the different renovating and building jobs that both John and the helpers did.

Still… he could have told you. God, did your master tell you nothing anymore? It didn’t really help your mood, your growing annoyance clearly amusing for Nikolai if his smiles back at you were anything to go by.

Despite your repeated frustration with this entire situation and these new hybrids’ mere existence, you followed along inside the shed. It was nice… Isolated, with a tiny bathroom, an area padded with mattresses, which was clearly for them to sleep together, pillows, blankets… you wanted that too. Sure, you had loads, but this only made you want more, want more from Price, so that he could prove he still loved you. 

There was a radiator, several windows, lamps and electricity outlets. You scrunch your nose with displeasure. They didn’t deserve that. At least they weren’t inside the main house. 

There was a little notch in the other corner opposite the bed area, almost like a tiny expansion, another door next to it; it was almost like a small horse stall - a deep layer of hay covered the floor. You didn’t even step into the place, but you knew the hay would itch.

You wanted it. Not the itching of the hay, but the entire place, simply for the sake of having it, so that they couldn’t. Speaking of them, you watched from the main entrance as the metal boxes were opened.

The Belgian malinois and German Shepherd mix was the first one to stumble out of the box; he fell two steps later, directly into the hay, a deep sigh leaving him, eyes darting around. You could barely see him from the amount of people inside the stall. 

“It’s alright, Gaz,” Price comforted, while you stayed in the door, keeping his distance to the hybrid, “You’re okay, boy.”

Gaz didn’t answer, just panted a little, ears tipped backwards - his eyes looked a little blown from what you could see.

“When will the sedatives wear off?” Laswell asked one of the workers, but you didn’t look at them, eyes instead at the other hybrid. 

When you had arrived, you had been scared and angry, drugged as well. But you had been alone. While you grew up with your parents, in a nice enough place, you hadn’t seen them for years - and while you had befriended a lot of other hybrids throughout the years, you had never been a part of a “pack”. You were alone — but this Gaz wasn’t and a part of you envied him, even for that.

“In an hour or two,” the worker replied, pulling you from your deeper thoughts, “they weren’t too happy to settle down before we left. It was necessary.”

A small bark left the man in the hay. It was answered by the two other hybrids, who still hadn’t come out of their respective boxes. Nikolai gently tapped on the top of one of the boxes with a knuckle.

“Come join your friend,” the Russian suggested, voice not as loud as earlier.

A moment later the border collie mix, Soap, crawled out of his box, eyes instantly on Gaz, letting himself lay halfway on top of the other. A little growl leaving him, muffled from behind the mask. Not even a second later, Ghost got out of the last crate. The Great Pyrenees almost got on his legs, growling despite the muzzle and swaying from the drugs.

You watched the staff pull back the metal boxes, letting the hybrids get some space. Ghost didn’t stay on his legs for too long, eventually sitting down next to his pack mates, the lower half of his face hidden from view as he looked around the shed.

His gaze stopped at you; you were unable to sense the reaction from seeing you again, if there even was any.

“We’ll let you have some minutes, okay? Then we’ll take the muzzles off.” John gently offered, pulling the giant from the moment, so that he looked away, giving Price a small nod. Your owner was at the edge of the hay filled area but he didn’t step into it.

You stepped back, letting the staff members from the auction pull away the boxes, Laswell and another farm worker helping them. Nikolai looked from the pack, then over his shoulder at you, barely even trying to hide a smile.

Then he winked. You sent him an unimpressed look back, tipping your chin up a little, looking away from the three hybrids in the hay, pretending you weren’t curious about them.

Some more rustling in the hay and then a half croaked, “mah held hurts,” left Soap, voice a little slurred - you couldn’t help but look over at him. His accent was weird. His ears were tipped down, some hay already stuck in his hair. With the pathetic look on his face you didn’t understand how he was supposed to be a big bad soldier.

You weren’t being petty at all.

“It’s the sedatives,” John calmly answered the hybrid, who let out a big breath from behind the muzzle.

“If I take the muzzle off, will you behave?”

“We have water for you,” Nikolai added, keeping his distance - you kept him in between you and the dogs, not risking anything. You trusted the men to be able to defend themselves. But with no claws or fangs, you weren’t a fighter - more a runner. Even if you didn’t like running.

The two muzzled ones, Soap and Ghost, sent each other a look - but it was Gaz, half hidden beneath Soap, who let out a tired “please.”

Ghost gave a small nod then. John stepped into the hay, unhurried as to not spook them, and it was Ghost who tipped his head down first to let Price open the lock with a small key. The moment he was free, he smacked his cracked and dry looking lips. 

Clearly, the man had never heard of chapstick.

Though, much more apparent, where the colony of scars on his lower half of the face. Trailing from around the lips, one over the nose as well - cheeks and chin. As he smacked his lips, you saw he had lost a fang in the bottom of his mouth. It wasn’t just sanded down like yours, the tooth was fully missing.

Price repeated the action with Soap, the hybrid instantly opening his mouth wide with a yawn, his jaw even making a popping wound.

Nikolai appeared with three bottles of water from a little cooler in the shed - you didn’t have your own cooler, which meant you would be demanding one… not that you needed it but still — giving the hybrids each one, that was always immediately opened. Gaz pushed Soap away and sat up too, while John backed away.

“My name is John Price -we met shortly at the auction. I’m the owner of the farm and you will all answer to me. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” For a moment you were impressed with the three hybrids’ synchronized answers. Only a short moment however. They were probably just beasts trained to answer like that. Yeah, yeah, you could do that too, if you wanted. But you didn’t.

“This is Nikolai, my friend, he will stay with me for a while, helping you all to settle in properly. You will follow his orders too - as well as a mean looking woman, Kate Laswell, who will appear at some point.” Humour tipped into the last part making Soap snort and Gaz give out a half-slurred giggle, while Ghost just let out a grunt.

“And this,” Price suddenly turned over to you, looking a little amused from the distance you kept between all of them, “is my pet, Daisy.” 

“Well hellooo, bonnie lass,” Soap said, his tail immediately wagging, grinning at you, as he slurred, “aren’t ye a sight for sore eyes.”

Nikolai and John dared to laugh at his words, his rather pathetic attempt at being charming, while you growled, watching Soap get an elbow in the side from Gaz, while Simon just stared, almost differently than the scot, like a hungry beast. If you were fully inside the shed, you might be able to smell if they were turned on. Disgusting. 

“Come’ere, sweetheart,” John crooned, clearly pleased with the reactions from the men, while you scrunch your nose, tipping your chin up a little - giving it a shake to reject the command.

“Do not be like that, milaya,” Nikolai suggested, “thought you were going to behave, no?”

You just growled a little again, unable to help your tail go between your legs a little; you didn’t really want to be spanked again, but you didn’t really want to become acquainted with these hybrids either.

“My princess isn’t too pleased with you lot being here,” John calmly explained without taking his eyes off you - they were still all staring at you - as John raised a hand, making a ‘come-hither’ motion that had you swallowing some spit, “but she isn’t going to chase away any wolves, are ye, pet?”

You huffed, crossing your arms before stepping inside the shed. The scent in there was nice and clean, even with the vague scent of the newcomers, and you walked to John, stopping halfway hidden by him.

However, as John’s arm snaked around your soft waist in a strong grip, you whimpered as you were pulled forward a little, unable to hide behind him. Both Gaz and Soap were wagging their tails at you, while you tried ignoring the scent of the room the best you can.

“I’m expecting you all to get along - and not hurt each other too badly, understood?”

While the others answered in agreement you just hid your face in his shoulder, twisting a little in his grip.

“No playin’ too rough,” Nikolai added, “Puppy isn’t used to other hybrids.”

“I am!” you snapped, “Just not…”

The shed was quiet for a moment as you mulled over your next words. What to call them. Military dogs. Strays. Mutts, un –

“Not what?” Nikolai almost seemed entertained by your declaration and you looked away, before finally mumbling.

“... working dogs.”

Simon huffed. You shot him a sharp look that he didn’t really seem to be affected by, in any way.

“I’m sure you all will get along,” John just mused, before looking down at his watch, “A certain princess has become too bored now we’re no longer in the city -” he ignored your mutter of ‘have not’, “- and I can’t entertain her all the time. Mentally or sexually.” 

You whined with embarrassment, a little angry growl seeping into it, but Price didn’t really react, barely moved as you twisted in his grip, ignoring the grin of the several males in the house. 

“ - Now, I will leave you three to get acclimated a little. But, there are a couple of rules that I expect you all to follow, if not there will be punishments.”

Synchronized nods. You still twisted, digging your fingers into his arm to no avail - then a hand snagged onto your collar from behind, choking you shortly as you were pulled back, Nikolai pressing against your back. Now free, Price pointed to a little map over the area, that you hadn’t noticed on the wall.

“Your jobs will essentially be to help keep the place safe. We have had problems with wolves and foxes, and so has the neighbors, since there lives a bunch in the area. You three will help keeping them away and Soap will help around my sheeps and goats in particular, given you’re a herding dog–”

Soap nodded, tail wagging, all three dogs staring at the map intensely.

“- I will find other things for the two of you to help with as well, but your main focus will be on keeping the animals - and the rest of us - safe. One of the neighbors got some horses stolen not too long ago. I would like to avoid that as well.”

You didn’t even know that. What you did know, however, was the heat of Nikolai’s body behind you, keeping you close and tethered so that you couldn’t run off.

“Most of the wildlife will go away if intimidated, but at times you might need to attack them. I am not going to give you any firearms yet though,” John looked over at them, his voice  firmer than you usually heard it, “That will come along the way, if needed. We can discuss other weapons later on.”

The mere idea of John giving them any kinds of weapon made you want to throw up - or throw a fit. Had he gone fuckin’ mad?? giving them guns? They were going to shoot everyone, going to kill John and you. You really didn’t want to die.

“My farm includes these - and these fields. You will not and I repeat not, leave my land without a valid reason. There will be punishments if you do - you will all be given collars like another certain puppy–” all eyes watched you for a moment and though, you wanted to hide  your face in your hands, you didn’t, merely crossed your arms, ignoring the low laughter from Nikolai behind you, “that are fitted with trackers, so I will know if you do.”

Great. So hoping for them to run off wasn’t a possibility for now.

“Biting or attacking my staff in any way will result in severe punishments. You will lose privileges if you don’t do as told, without a valid reason. Is that understood?”

“Yessir.” 

“Good boys. Now, these upcoming days you will most likely be following me or Laswell around, while we get you in on all these. All dinners will be eaten in the main house and you will be given keys once I get them made one of these upcoming days. I will give you a couple of hours now –” Price looked down at his wrist watch, “Then call you in, an hour or two before dinner, so that you all can shower. Any injuries, allergies or anything that the Hybrids’ Den didn’t write down, that I need to know?”

They all shook their heads, behaving like synchronized swimmers in your opinion. 

“Good. You’re all free to relax here or explore the farm if you wish so, when the drugs wear off.” 

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

As you entered the farm house, you shrugged off your jacket and abandoned your shoes in the entrance, not caring to clean up after you, ignoring John’s irked huff.

“Insane!” you declared, walking further into the house, “You’ve gone insane! You’re all going to forget about me and those horny knotted mutts will be all up in my business!”

You flopped down on the couch, face first, continuing your ranting into the fabric.

“I might as well barricade myself inside my room - Because I dont have a tiny house!! but guns! SURE ! give them guns!” Your voice was muffled, but you were, perhaps a tad dramatically, loud in your ranting. You could just make out whispering between the two men but you didn’t care… not until you were forced to, quite literally.

“Little puppy,” Nikolai’s accent was heavy - his body even heavier as he settled on the back of your thighs, a fist coming to rest next to your head, that kept his full body weight from you, “Throwing a fit again, da?” 

You could feel the slight bulge against your fat ass, making you swallow - and tail wag, hitting Nikolai against the thighs, making the man chuckle. John as well, who settled down with a cigar in one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. You didn’t even need to look to know that he watched as Nikolai tugged at your skirt.

[luvfy0dor]

“Forgetting Something? ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma

Warnings; I feel bad for writing this out, hardly proofread, kinda rushed, maybe ooc

Description; how do they react to you ignoring their 'i love you's?

A/n; hi chat. If I keep flopping I am going to sell my soul. Like, reblog, and comment on this I pray and plead and beg. I've been havin a rough time guys pls.

Osamu Dazai ★

"I'll be back soon, I love you." He said, grabbing his jacket. Instead of the usual response, all he got from you was silence. He raised a brow and cleared his throat while buttoning up his coat. "I said I'll be back soon, I love you." He says, this time emphasizing his words. You hummed, your nose still buried in the book that your boyfriend had so kindly borrowed from Kunikida to give to you. His mouth hung open slightly and he straightened his posture. "Do you want anything while I'm out?" Dazai asked, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he stalled. "Ehhh, not really. Thank you, though.'" You turned a page, kicking your feet back and forth slowly while you read. "Alright, back in a bit, I love you." He twisted the door handle and waited for you to reply, only to once again hear silence. He sighed in annoyance and walked back over to you, leaving the door agape. "I said I love you, say it back!" He takes the book out of your hands, tossing it to the side without letting you mark your place. "Hey-! I was reading that!" You say with a grin. He tsks and shakes his head playfully, leaning over you and essentially pinning you to the couch to kiss you. "Just say it back." He murmurs against your lips in between brief pecks to your face. "F-fine! I love you!" You finally get out while giggling. "Good, you had me thinking you had fallen out of love with me! Now I'm leaving for real, even though you made me not want to. I love you." He says before kissing your lips quickly and backing up to the door. "I love you too, Osa."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

"I'm headin' out, 'kay babe?" Chuuya quietly said, his voice just above a whisper in the dark bedroom. It was about 5:30 am, and you were still curled up under the blankets, grateful that you didn't have to leave until 7. "Mmmm.." you hummed and lifted your arm from under the blanket to give him a quick hug and kiss before he left. He cupped your cheek and ran his thumb acrossed your skin before he pulled away. "I love you." He says, standing back up. Instead of responding like usual, you just pulled your blanket back up to your shoulders. He stared down at you with his hands on his hips, waiting. "...are you done gettin' comfy yet?" He asks, helping you move the blanket around and essentially tucking you in. "Yeah, thanks Chuu." You murmur before you yawn and close your eyes. He continues to stand there before sighing and grabbing his jacket off the hook on the door. "Alright, see ya when I get home I guess." Slight annoyance was evident in his voice before you peeked open your eyes again. "Mkay, I love you too, have a good day at work." Chuuyas frown almost turned upside down immediately as he came to an abrupt stop. "Jeez, don't take so long to say that next time. Had me worried." You giggled, still curled up. "I will, I promise." And with that, Chuuya was off to work with a small grin plastered on his face and your simple 'i love you too' lingering in his heart longer than usual this morning.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

Fyodor had recently returned from his adventures in Europe, and even after a week passed, you still couldn't help but be overtly affectionate. You were almost sure that 'i love you' and 'i missed you' were your top phrases in the passed week. But what if you just didn't say it? You decided to indulge in your curiosity one evening while the two of you were in bed. He sat, propped up against his pillow, watching some documentary on the TV. You were cuddled up to his side and his arm was draped over your shoulders. Every now and again, he'd glance down at your nearly-asleep form, rubbing his hand on your shoulder and down your back. "Goodnight, moya lyubov, I love you.'" He leaned down to kiss your forehead, smiling as you open your eyes. He waited to hear you say it back, only to watch you close your eyes again. He felt a bit confused, raising an eyebrow. "Have you gotten everything out of your system and won't tell me you love me anymore?" He asks, retracting his arm from its place around you to his lap. "No, Fedya, m'sorry, I love you too. I just wanted to see what you'd do." You say, grabbing his arm and putting it around you yourself. He sighed. "what a stupid thing to to." He mumbles, continuing to hold you, but returning his attention to the documentary. "I love you, Fyodor, I promise." You mumble, kissing his side through his shirt. "Mhm, I love you too." You smiled contently and felt yourself slip off into a dreamy sleep, happy to know that he cared whether or not you say 'i love you' back.

Nikolai Gogol ★

Nikolai, like Fyodor, had ALSO just returned from his trip to Europe, except he was equally as all over you as you were him, not to say Fyodor isn't affectionate. Nikolai would cling to you every chance he got, always peppering your face with kisses and fiddling around with your fingers. "Ah, I'm still so happy to be home, y/n. I missed you so much while I was away! Not that I never knew before, but it really made me realize how much I love you." He says with a smile, sitting on your lap and hugging you, his cheek pressed against your shoulder. "Did it?" Your finger tips ghost over his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they go. "Yeah. I love you a lot." He says. A thought crossed your mind, what would he do if you didn't say you loved him back? Well, I guess we've gotta find out. "Mmmhm!" You hum, resting your head on top of his. "Did you hear me right?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, picking up his head to look at you. "Yeah, you said you love me." You say, looking back and forth between his eyes and lips. "So say it back." He says. You sigh and rub his hip. "If you insist, I love you too, Nikolai. I'm sorry." He grins and kisses your cheek. "That wasn't that hard, now was it?" You run your fingers through his long hair. "No, not at all." He sighs. "Don't let it happen again, or else I'll see to it that it's the laat time." He huffs, returning to his spot resting against your shoulder. You patted his back, slightly amused by his words- he clearly cared. "Alright, Kolya, I'm sorry."

Sigma ★

You almost knew what Sigmas reaction would be before you stopped yourself from responding to his 'I love you'. You had fixed some tea for him and were bringing it into his office, holding the cup and saucer steadily as the sounds of your footsteps echoed in the hall. You knocked on the door and entered once you heard his muffled voice through the thick wood. "I brought you tea." You say with a smile, approaching his desk and handing it to him, which he took appreciatively. "Thank you, y/n, I appreciate it." He gave you a smile. "I'd like to finish what I'm doing by this evening so we can have some time together, or else I'd keep you here to talk for a bit, so I'll just have to see you later. I love you." He said, already redirecting his attention to the papers in front of him. "Okay, that's fine." You turned to leave and as you got about half way to the door, his head shot up. "Are you upset?" He asks, his brows knitted together. "No, why?" You ask, turning to look at him over your shoulder. "You didn't say it back." He says, putting his pen down and starting to stand up, but you put your hands out to stop him. "Oh, no, I'm sorry- I don't know why I didn't, I love you too. I'll see you later, alright?" You blew him a kiss and exited his office, leaving him a bit confused but at least a little reassured. He sat back down at his office as you closed the door behind you, and you felt a bit guilty, but in the end, you were too busy being excited for your guy's time together that night.

A/n: I DIDNT FINISH THIS UNTIL 10 MINUTES AFTER POSTING TIME BUT UH I MADE A STRAW PAGE LINK IN DIRECTORY YAYAYAYYA

[stoutguts]

Even though I'm a Ghoap/NikPrice/GazRoach enjoyer myself, I’mma just say—

PRICEGHOST AND SOAPGAZ ENJOYERS ARE BASED AS FUCK, AND I TIP MY HAT TO THE POLY141 AND ROACHGHOST/ROACHSOAP OR ROACHxSOAPxGHOST etc.

I see y’all, and I love you 😘

Please continue what you are doing, lesser known ships deserve more love fr

[ilovechuuy4]

₊˚⊹♡Kinktober Week Two ๋࣭ ⭑Face Sitting & Cock Rings

Specifically Nikolai x Reader

Warnings; Cock Rings, face sitting, highly nsfw, overstimulation, descriptions of privates being ate out??, etc etc.

A/n; guys i just dont know what yall want any more literally everything i post is just flopping. But like i said, after new year's im taking a long hiatus, ill still post prolly every once a month but again, i wont post as much anymmore cause i have college stuff and schooling in general.

Saying you were hesitant to do this was an understatement. You were scared, petrified even, the thought of sitting on your lover's face wasn't on your "want to do" list. Oh but of course, this clown knew how to talk you into it. Telling you he'd be find and he nor you would get hurt. Hes so kinda and loving but sorta manipulative at times, never in a bad way of course. So that's what dragged you here, hovering yourself over Nikolai's face, thighs trembling from how long you've contemplated if you truely wanted to do this. The white haired man's arms wrapped around your trembling thighs, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs. "My dove, cmon. I promise I won't suffocate or anything!" He teased with a smile, pointy teeth edging through as he continues.

"Besides, I think I'd like it if I suffocate by these pretty thighs." He hummed, he was needy, impatient even, not only cause he wanted to taste you but you were slowly strocking his cock which had a cock ring wrapped around tightly. He hated this, he couldn't cum and you won't let him taste you? Insane! He wouldn't have it, so he took matters into his own hands, like they weren't already. Fingers tightly gripping your hips and pulling you down, a gasp escaped you as his mouth met your entrance. The clown's tongue lapping at your sensitive hole like a dog that needed water. Soft cries and moans leaving you as your hips tentivly grind down into his face. Nikolai groaned, lankey digits digging into your plush thighs.

Your back arched up like a cat's, your own hands cupping over your mouth as you stiffiled some moans. Nikolai continues to work your entrance, tongue delving inside, probing your insides as he groaned, hips rolling in the air. This godforsaken cock ring, it literally cursed him. But as soon as your lover felt your hand wrap around his hard and throbbing length, making his breath hitched. His fingers digging into your skin, leaving faint marks from his grip. He could feel you strock him slowly, his hips thrusting a bit in your hand. Fuck this was too much for him he couldn't bare the thought of not being able to release. So why not just tease his beautiful dove? His digits gripping your ass firmly, squeezing each sphere of flesh 'nd meat in his palms. His mouth pulling away, causing you to let out a quiet whine.

"Look at you, my dove, you're so needy for me, hmm?" He couldn't help but chuckle, biting your inner thigh a bit harshly. "Mhmp.. Cmon this isn't fair.. I'll stop teasing." You grumbled with a slight pout of the lip, but you most definitely were lying. Nikolai knew this much but still dipped back in, tongue finding your tight heat once more and lapping at it with soft groans. "My, my you taste delicious, delectable even." He said against you, tongue delving back inside you, feeling your walls squeeze around his tongue. "Ahh~ it feels good.. Mhmp~" You moaned, eyes closing as you roughly grind yourself against Nikolai's face. Your hand found the others cock once again, pumping it in your hand.

"Mhm, my sweet.." The white haired man groaned once more into your skin, eyes closed as he tasted your sweet essence. Precum was already dripping from his member, but he couldn't have that release he craved because of that godforsaken ring that blocked him from 'freedom'. "I think I'm gonna cum." You gasp as your boyfriend's tongue continued to explore your tightness. Pre filling Nikolai's mouth, a growl escaping him at the sweet yet salty flavor. His tongue starting to 'assult' your insides, your entire being jolting, tears bubbling in your eyes as you finally reach your peak. The other's eyes widen a tad as he felt you finally reach peak, your essence all over his tongue as he swallowed it down.

"Amazing, you did absolutely beautiful, my pretty dove." He soothed you through your intense orgasm, helping you off where you pant on his face. "Ha.. That felt good.." You admitted with a faint blush, you fumble a bit, fingers wrapping around the cock ring around Nikolai's erect. Once it was pulled off he quite literally busted. A thick string of ejaculation shooting from his tip as he painted heavily, face mixed with lust and embarrassment. "Ah.. Alright dove let's get this cleaned up.. You did great." He said between quiet pants, rubbing the small of your back.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Who am I to complain? - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[emotional and verbal abuse, unhealthy parent-child relationships]

SUMMARY: When your parents come to visit, Nikolai finally understands why you've never been keen to talk about them. Being the King and your husband, he isn't afraid to defy them.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?"

Nikolai shakes you awake from being lost in thought. You look away from the insanely interesting skirting board you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He’s watching you with raised eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"I…” you hang your voice. At first, you wanted to just apologize and ask him to repeat himself but then a sense of dread sprouts in your abdomen - one you can’t quite put a finger on but it takes over your entire mind. “I'm sorry, Kolya. Please, don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” you plead, gradually speaking faster.

“I’m not angry,” he states firmly. “But I am growing concerned for you, love. What’s going on?”

“I just keep thinking about my parents' visit,” you confess while rubbing your forehead. “Ever since the letter arrived, I can hardly think about anything else."

"Yes, I've noticed you have been a bit absent for the past few days. I assumed you were going to talk to me when you're ready. Are you?"

"They're not bad people," you begin in a strange tone that makes Nikolai doubt your words right away, "and they've only done their best to give me a good life. Despite that, they have a tendency to bring out the parts of me I've grown to dislike." 

“Isn’t that what every family does?” he jokes in hopes of easing your visible discomfort. But his good humour is gone the moment you look away with a sombre expression stuck to your features.

Nikolai always considered himself exceptional at self-control but something about your sadness makes him gradually abandon reason. As you forlornly stare into the darkness of your shared bedroom, he’s ready to stick feathers to his clothes and pretend to be a peacock just to make you laugh.

“Love,” he calls out softly. His hand rests between your shoulder blades. “You’re the queen. If you want, we can call their visit off right away.”

“That would be a little rude, no?” you ask in a meek voice.

“It’s a lot more crude to make you cry.”

“I will be alright, really,” you reassure him. That miserable look on your face is slowly creeping away. “It’s just three days. Maybe they’ve changed or they’re a lot better than I remember. I’ll be okay.”

Nikolai is unsure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him but he doesn’t push. Despite not believing your clumsy words of reassurance, he trusts you - he’ll step in only when things really get out of hand.

Nervousness and excitement often feel the same and one might even fool themselves into believing that the mortifying tension in their muscles is actually an impatient thrill. Today, however, you don’t even try playing a little trick on yourself. The more you think about your feelings, the more you’re convinced that it’s not even nervousness but fear. Still, you don’t quite understand why exactly your parents’ visit elicits such awful emotions from you.

The door to the throne room opens and a man in a white and gold livery steps inside. He quickly walks halfway to the dais with the throne. 

The servant bows as deep as he can and clears his throat before loudly announcing: “Presenting her most royal Highness’s, the Queen’s, mother and father.”

Only then do your parents emerge from the hall, walking hesitantly through the spacious throne room. Two guards are following them and your father spares them a confused glance every few steps. But the armed men only usher him to keep walking and not turn his back to the king until allowed to do so.

Feeling fear exploding in your chest, you grip Nikolai’s shoulder even tighter. Sitting on the throne, he has to look up to meet your eyes.

“Calm down, it’s going to be alright,” he says quietly. A reassuring smile curves his lips. “You said it yourself.”

As though he is a Heartrender himself, his words make you relax. You take a deep breath and let go of his shoulder. At that moment, Nikolai stands up to greet your parents as their son-in-law first and only then the king of Ravka.

Right then, your mother quickly runs up the few steps leading to the dais. Her face is red and a deep crease now separates her eyebrows.

“I have to wait to be announced to see my own daughter?” She’s barely containing her outrage. “Nonsense!”

“I’m royalty now, mother,” you explain calmly. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

“And I’m still your mother, the one that gave birth to you. Do I not get any benefits from that?”

Maybe some people don’t actually change.

“I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Is this gold?!” your father exclaims in shock as his hand reaches for your heavy necklace. “So because of you most of Ravka is starving?”

Too occupied with the jewellery, your parents don’t notice the palace guards stepping forward to arrest them for such an accusation aimed at the queen. Nikolai spares them a meaningful look, waving them off. In his heart, he agrees with them.

“Actually, this is a gift from a businessman in Kerch,” you say quietly. Suddenly, you remember why you’ve never visited them since your wedding.

“Still, don’t you think this is a little distasteful?”

Your mother places her hand on your father’s shoulder. “She’s always been vain, darling,” she reminds him.

You’re not a queen anymore - at least you don’t feel like it. All of the gold, silk and jewels are gone and you’re back to being a scared, little girl with hay stuck in her hair. Tears sting your eyes.

Whatever you do is wrong. All of your efforts are underwhelming. Maybe they’d be happier if you weren’t there.

"You're crying?” your father asks with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Oh, don't be so sensitive, you know we’re only joking!” He’s still holding your necklace in his fingers, admiring the glistening crystals. Standing so close to you, he lowers his voice significantly to appear inconspicuous but Nikolai manages to pick up his calloused words. “Pull yourself together, this is embarrassing.”

As she usually does, your mother brings the attention back to herself. “She can be a bit much at times, so I hope you’re a patient one!”

The guards exchange questioning looks, silently asking one another if they should intervene this time. Most of the time they follow Tolya and Tamar’s steps but they’re left to their own devices on this day as Nikolai ordered the twins to take a day off. Perhaps it’s for the best - they’d surely escalate this already uncomfortable situation but it’s only because they care.

“I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Nikolai answers, unaffected. Despite his speaking to your mother, he’s looking into your eyes. “I can never get enough of her.”

“For most of her life, I thought she’d never get married!” your mother continues. She’s gripping your arm with much more strength than her appearance suggests. “Men don’t like them independent, stubborn and opinionated.”

Nikolai’s polite smile doesn’t falter. “Three qualities of an excellent Queen.”

Your mother laughs obnoxiously. “Just wait a few years, dear.” She pats his shoulder. The guards look between themselves again. “You’ll be quick to send her off just like we were!”

Both of your parents laugh wholeheartedly while you and Nikolai exchange knowing looks. Now he understands why you have been so uneasy lately. This is going to be the longest three days of his life.

The perplexity continues as your mother suddenly places her hands around your waist, examining your torso in great detail. A sour expression forms on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’ve let yourself go,” she says in a worried tone. Her eyes trail the curve of your physique up until she looks at your face. With a serious glint in her eye, she advises you under her breath: “You can’t get fat and slobby if you want to keep the king.” 

The man who announced your parents appears again but this time he walks all the way to the stairs leading up to the throne, although doesn’t dare climb them. His facial expression borders on emotionless and serious as though he’s more of a marble statue rather than a servant.

“Your most royal Highness.” The man bows deeply. “The room is prepared.”

“Excellent.” Nikolai uses the opportunity to cut the awkward conversation short in a diplomatic way. “Escort our guests to their chamber.” 

“Right away, мой царь.”

When the butler disappears around the corner with your parents apprehensively following him, Nikolai looks at you with a grim expression. 

“Are they usually like this?” he asks, disapproval hiding between his words.

“They’re worse at home,” you answer with a shrug. A lot of terrible feelings and thoughts you were convinced you had left behind are coming back and you’re unsure how to handle that.

“You’ve put up with this kind of disrespect for your whole life?”

“It’s not disrespect, just…” you hang your voice looking for the right expression, “tough love. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Don’t mean any harm?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they are yet to say something nice to you. Neither of them even asked whether you’re doing alright.”

A short, troubled sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers trail the golden embroidery decorating his kaftan. “I’m married to a dashing, handsome king and live in a palace. I think they know I’m doing well.”

His hand gently grabs yours, keeping it against his chest. “As much I like flattery, especially coming from you, you can’t pull wool over my eyes, love. It’s not a matter of knowing but principle. Remember our wedding? The guests kept asking how you’re doing so much, you kept saying you’re perfectly fine before they even got a chance to ask.”

The memory elicits a chuckle from you. Yes, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with making sure you were happy and satisfied. It came to such a point, you yelled at Nikolai’s cousin ‘Yes, I’m fine!’ before she gave you a weird look and asked if you wanted some vodka mixed with your champagne. Truly, the only royal thing about Marina is her ungodly fortune but maybe that’s why you’ve grown to like her a lot - she’s down to earth and easy-going.

Nikolai squeezes your hand in a gentle, reassuring manner. “Just say the word and I will personally throw them out.”

“Kolya!” You gasp at his offer but it quickly turns into laughter. “They’re my parents and your in-laws!”

“They also refuse to show care and respect towards my beloved Queen.”

That mellow, loving look in his eyes nullifies any annoyance you might feel at his stubbornness. You pull your hand out of his grasp and place it on the side of his face. Consciously or not, he slightly leans into your touch. “I appreciate your concern.” Not minding the guards in the room, you’ve grown used to their constant presence, you peck his lips shortly. “But they have just arrived. You’ll warm up to them.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer at first. He only reconnects your lips, kissing you deeper, more desperately. When you feel his hands coming up to your waist, you lean away from him. For a moment, you swear you can see a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face.

“Be decent,” you reprimand him but the wide smile you wear so well rids your words of all seriousness.

“You started this.”

“And I will finish if you play nice.”

Nikolai takes a rather long step back, away from you,  just to make a point. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, an excited grin on his face. “You make an exquisite diplomat, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

The time for dinner came faster than you wanted it to. Anxiety bubbled inside your chest again. Still, you continued trying to soap up your eyes with thoughts that maybe when they sit across the table from a king, they’re going to withdraw their little jabs at you. As they say: Hope is the mother of all fools. And you’re about to learn that.

Nikolai raises his cup with wine. “A toast to our beloved Queen,” he announces in an official tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spares you an adoring look. “Without her, I’d be a lonely, perplexed king. May we not know the world without her.”

To your horror, your father decides to join him. “May she get a grip and come to her senses.”

The dry wine tastes even more bitter as you take what’s supposed to be a celebratory sip. What if he’s right about you? It’s only the beginning of the evening and you already wish you can miraculously vanish or, worst case scenario, just run away. 

You’re about to take a bite of the roasted pheasant on your plate when your mother looks at you with raised eyebrows. She points her fork between you and the plate. “Should you really be eating all of this?” 

You don’t answer her. Whatever you say will only egg her on. Get a grip, you scold yourself and clench your fist to push fingernails into the sensitive skin of your palm. The pain is distracting, grounding.

 "You know, sweetheart, you're not getting any younger,” your mother continues. She always does that - throwing poignancies one after another and seeing what sticks. Now, when she’s literally the mother of the queen, she’s even bolder than before.

“Mother-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She points her knife at you. “All I’m saying is as a wife, especially the queen, you have only one duty and you shouldn’t wait with it. Things will only get more difficult as you age.”

Nikolai gives your mother a bright smile. “Have no worries,” he cuts in. “We’re not waiting.”

You almost drop your fork. Flustering people is definitely one of his strategies but must he really involve your sex life in his word games? Although mortified at his bluntness, you must admit it works - your mother’s face is about the same shade as the roasted tomatoes on her plate. She casts her eyes downwards, poking at the food in front of her.

The air is filled with awkward tension but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind in. In fact, he looks quite proud of himself. You, on the other hand, aren’t as good at putting up a believable front.

“So,” you begin in hopes of easing the atmosphere”, how are things back in…” You hang your voice. You were about to say ‘home’, only to realize that it would be an honest lie. The little town where you grew up hasn’t been home in years. “...Tamboyevka?”

“Oh, you know,” your mother says as she makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “Same old, same old. Cattle and field, nothing interesting to someone of your sort, I presume! There’s never been much use of you anyway.”

Listening to your mother’s condescending words, you push your fingernails further into the skin of your hand to distract yourself from the feeling of shame that continues to grow inside your stomach and pull you down with it. Maybe the marble floor will swallow you whole in the next few minutes and all of this will be over.

Then you feel Nikolai’s warm hand sneak between your palms, breaking up your painful distraction. He leans towards you ever so slightly and whispers:

“I’d much rather you pinch and scratch my hand than hurt yourself.”

You look at his concerned face. Words of reassurance, ‘Don’t worry, I’m alright’, nearly push past your lips when your father chimes in, continuing the conversation.

“But your brother, he bought some land down south,” he announces with excitement.

“More land?” you ask. “Ha barely manages with what he already has.”

The memory of your brother’s tired, grey face flashes before your eyes. Every time you see him, he looks even sicker than before as though he never sleeps or eats, only works in the field. He even collapsed on one July day and your parents kept saying that this is a sign of an honest, hard-working man but you weren’t as quick to call a man throwing up everything he eats ‘healthy’.

“You know how he is, always helping others.” Your mother is beaming with pride as if she’s the one doing the farming. “His crops feed two villages and it’s not nearly enough for him! Said he wanted tomatoes and citruses.”

Then it hits you. It’s not a revelation in any way but rather something you don’t think about too often - most of Ravka doesn’t get fruits in winter, especially the ones growing in warmer climates near the Shu Han border. And you not only can easily get it even when snow covers the grassy fields but you’re essentially fed it. Like that one time, you shared a tangerine with Nikolai while sitting in front of a fire, talking about unimportant things.

Despite your mother sitting right in front of you, her voice echoed in your head as though she’s a phantom haunting your thoughts and not a real person: Selfish. Spoiled. Entitled. Ungrateful. People starve because of you.

You focus on Nikolai’s warm, rough hand that’s still holding your own. The pleasant sensation is gradually grounding you, pulling you out of your head and into the present moment.

“What for?” you ask as casually as you can, not giving in to the spiralling thoughts. It still feels like you’re underwater, desperately gasping for air as your lungs burn. Squeezing Nikolai’s hand, you break the surface of the vicious tides trying to drown you in panic and shame.

Your mother, on the other hand, appears completely oblivious to your plight. “Some child told him they’d like oranges and he couldn’t say no. He’s wonderful, truly. A living Saint! What a blessing to call him my son. You should take a serious cue from him, young lady.” She waves the tip of her knife in your direction again. “But enough about your brother. What do you do when you’re not wasting time? Lay around and smell nice?”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, already knowing that she won’t be satisfied with your answer, “I meet a lot of people, take correspondence, travel across the country or read if I find the time.”

Nikolai must notice the telling crease of disappointment between your mother’s eyebrows. He joins the conversation under a skilful facade of a proud, boasting husband. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Our Queen,” he puts strange stress on the title, “has started a scholarship for disadvantaged children, takes the time to teach young girls sewing, foreign languages and arithmetic.”

“That’s quite useless, isn’t it?” your mother looks between you and your father, not acknowledging Nikolai’s presence. She keeps stabbing the roasted pheasant on her plate with a fork as though there’s still life inside the poor poultry. “Shouldn’t you try harder?” she hisses at you. “If you continue being this lazy, the whole kingdom will fall apart! What will our neighbours say then?”

Nikolai suddenly gets up. He’s still holding your hand but you can’t be sure whether he’s doing that on purpose or if it’s just an unconscious reflex. The candlelight from the crystal chandelier cascades off his face, pronouncing the clenched muscles of his jaw - he’s angry and barely holding it in.

“Our meeting at this table is adjourned,” he announces in a firm voice. “This is beyond unacceptable. I have overlooked your transgressions simply because of your affinity to my wife. Still, I am disheartened and disappointed with the way you address your queen in her own home. The guards will escort you back to your chambers.”

You hear your mother and father trying to argue and protest, saying something about you being ‘too proud’ and ‘forgetting your place’ but you’re so dumbfounded you can’t make out the details. The guards lead them out of the dining room through one of the tall pairs of doors. When they close behind them, everything goes silent - the brick walls muffle any turmoil your parents might be causing.

Suddenly, your throat constricts. It’s hard to take a breath. Has it always been so hot in here? The tips of your fingers tingle, blood never reaching them.

He threw them out and you didn’t say anything. If they didn’t hate you before, they surely do now. You’re a disappointment, not their child. They haven’t done anything wrong, after all. You’re no good, useless, ungrateful, dramatic.

Suffocating with panic, you run out of the room through a different pair of doors, across the dining hall from the ones behind which your parents had recently disappeared. You hear Nikolai’s footsteps behind you but they are muffled by the noise of bloodflow ringing in your ears.

“Hey, talk to me,” he calls out in a soft voice. You turn around to look at him. His hand is almost at the height of your shoulder but it momentarily drops as though he just backed out from touching you. “What’s going on?”

For a man as smart as him, that’s a really stupid question.

“Why did you do that, Nikolai?” you snap at him.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. A gasp of disbelief brushes past his lips - he clearly thought the two of you were on the same page. “They were insulting you over and over again. I couldn’t just sit and listen to that.”

Truly, you should have expected that. He’s been adamant about standing up to your parents from the very beginning. Still, you’re angry that he just had to be stubborn and do the one thing you explicitly asked him not to do.

“What happened to laugh at insults? Isn’t that your own advice?”

“It is.” Nikolai finally finds it in himself to place his hands on your shoulders. “But I found myself unable to remain collected when the bitter words were aimed at you.” His palms brush against your dress and the skin of your neck until they’re cradling your face.

“I can,” you state firmly. “You should have let me handle this, I’m used to this.”

You escape his loving grasp and he lets you. Walking forward away from him, you’re not quite sure where exactly you’re heading. ‘Away’ would be a lovely direction but quite impossible when you’re confined to those four walls of marble and gold.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nikolai calls out after you.

Suddenly, you halt. You look at him around your shoulder. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like this,” he says in a defeated tone while walking towards you again. “They just keep putting you down, humiliating you. You’re not even slightly upset about that?”

“Of course, I am but…” you hang your voice, finally questioning your own feelings towards your parents. “It’s unfair for me to be angry with them. Ungrateful. I never went hungry or cold. They gave me medication when I was sick and made sure I went to school. Every year they’d give me something for my birthday. Neither of them has ever raised their hand against me. They’ve done all they could to give me a good life. Who am I to complain?”

“You’re the Queen,” he drones the word. His hand holds the side of your face again, thumb lovingly brushing your cheek. “People say your name in the same breath as the names of all the Saints. When I don’t know what to do or what decision to make, I always ask myself what you would do. And I’ve never once regretted that. There are important people who have agreed to my invitation only after hearing that you’ll be there too. You change everything. So you get to be angry when someone refuses to see that. I know you can take a few mean words but I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable, intimate silence. Your absent gaze is stuck to the floor as you’re pondering his words. Whenever you’re about to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing something good and important, the voice of your mother echoes inside your head: ‘Vain’. But Nikolai wouldn’t lie to you, would he? At least not in those circumstances.

“Can you keep a secret?” he speaks up quietly, bringing your attention back to him.

“Don’t tell me you put a wild racoon in my parent’s bedroom,” you joke, surprising yourself at your newly-found humour.

He scrunches his nose. “Alright, can you keep two secrets?” The echo of the empty halls carries your bright laughter. “To be honest, I wanted to marry you the moment you argued with me about stealing that merchant frigate in Kerch.”

“I could tell,” you answer with a slow nod. “You had a really stupid look on your face, all dazed and absent. In fact, you wore the same one on our wedding day.”

Nikolai’s lips turn into a playful smile and he’s about to say something definitely smart and smooth but a servant interrupts him:

“Your most royal highness,” she says nervously as she curtsies, “your mother wishes to see you. She seems thoroughly upset, if I may say so.” Judging by her fearful, wide-open eyes, she must have gotten a taste of your parents' hurt ego.

Anxiety once again floods your mind. Maybe you should go, apologize and pray they won’t go on a tirade about ‘raising you differently’. But then you hear Nikolai inconspicuously but meaningfully clear his throat.

‘You’re the queen’, his voice echoes in your head. A queen doesn’t cower and bow her head, does she?

“Tell her I don’t take visitations tonight,” you order the servant.

“Right away, моя царица.” She can’t hide the waver in her voice. Judging by her already fearful demeanour, she can guess quite well what will happen the moment she relays the information.

Yes, you will have to warn your parents that they actually can’t hurl insults at your servants. It’s going to be challenging, yes, but this newfound confidence is a ferocious beast, driving you to own up to the title of the queen - not in the way your mother and father want you to but in a way that you need to.

“Oh, one more thing.” The girl immediately stops and turns around at the sound of your voice. “Make sure they don’t leave their wing until either of us says so. I don’t want them wandering around my home.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

The servant bows again and leaves the two of you in a rushed step. Nikolai waits until she disappears around the corner to let his hand drop to the small of your back. He leans in close, indecently so. “I love it when you get all commanding,” he whispers against your neck.

An airy laugh leaves your lips as he pecks the soft skin behind your ear.

____

мой царь [mo-ee tzar] -> my tsar/king

моя царица [mo-ya tsa-ree-tsa] -> my tsaritsa/queen

[snoopys-tea]

there’s just something so thrilling abt reading fanfiction at night instead of the day, ykwim?

[siddyyyyyyyy]

You're Only Sixteen

wc: ~3.6k

summary: child soldier gets into task force 141 part TWO, things are getting a bit funny; first part, third part

warnings: description of scars, some violance (combat training)

a/n: I'm actually pretty shocked of how well this fic is going, I hope you're all enjoying this so far, and the plot's is going to intesify a bit the longer this goes on.... and I'm talking too much. Have fun!

Waking up to the familiar alarm is hard enough, but eventually making yourself ready for the first training together is harder. You put on your new uniform and make yourself look more presentable, only to stop midway by the mirror. Your eyes move instinctivley towards your neck. There's no material covering your neck area, making you slightly anxious. There is a long scar across your neck; the scar tissue white and stands out a bit. You feel your deep scar across your neck that goes horizontally through your skin with a slight curve up to your jaw. Hopefully no one will notice. But how is it possible to ignore such thing? There will be questions, there will be eyes on you all the time, there will definitely be snarky comments, and... deep breath in and out. It's no one's business, and you don't owe an explanation to anyone anyway.

Picking up your last courage for today, you walk out of your bunk to the training hall. Walking in, you see a few other soldiers training together, and also Price seemingly waiting for the rest of his team to arrive. He notices you almost immediately and waves you over to him.

»Good morning. Sleep well?«

You shrug, answering him. »Yeah, good enough.«

»Great, you'll need it today.« Perfect, so he planned something tough for today, that's for sure. Shortly after, Ghost and Soap arrive into the hall, as well as Gaz, who seems to be in a good mood. Price claps once, having the attention of everyone on him. He announces the morning stretch you'll be doing first and the next exercise has got to be some teamwork exercise already.

The supposed 'morning stretch' was nothing short of relaxing, but lucky enough you're flexible and got along just fine. Afterwards, the first exercise begins, and as Price explains it, the more you start to think he can't be serious.

»Trust falls?« Soap asks again, also not having expected this exercise to be the first one. Usually, they never do something like this together since they already trust each other with their lives. Price nods, hands on his hips and dead serious. »Who wants to start?«

You're stiff, silently looking around while hoping you won't get picked out. Luckily, Gaz raises his hand slightly and volunteers as first for the trust falls. The captain smiles and nods once more, letting him pick a person to fall against. He chose Soap as some might've expected, and they do it naturally. Nothing bad happens, they trust each other, and one catches the other. They repeat it after switching also, nothing spectacular happening. You watch silently, arms crossed and with nothing to do. It's almost amusing to watch these buffed military guys do silly things, like trust falls. Next was Ghost and Soap, then Price and Gaz with the others. It's awkward now for you since you're the last one, having to just fall back and trust the other to catch you. How can you not feel at least a little awkward while doing it?

»C'mon, it's fun. Just trust us.« Soap encourages you before you could say anything in the first place and already opens his arms for you. There's really nothing you can do but accept your fate and do the trust fall, knowing you have no choice but to trust them all as your teammates. You turn your back to him with a small sigh and close your eyes before falling back, feeling how he indeed catches you right up and lets you sink down a little more. He feels strong and big against your back, not that you doubted it. Soap leans you back up, and you stand up straight again. You hate to admit it but it was fun. Maybe you'd do it again... oh, you need to do it again. Trust falls with everyone, remember?

Price wants to be the next one to do it with you, an almost loving smile across his lips and open arms as he steps up to you. You do the same as before and fall, feeling how he catches you the same and lets you stand right back up afterwards. He pats your shoulder lightly and steps away, looking to the others to see who wants to go next.

»Me next.« Gaz states with a raised hand, standing at the same pose as the other two before. You can't help but crack a small, tiny smile at that before turning back around and falling back, trusting them all by now. The last one should be Ghost, and to be honest, it's somehow scary. Maybe it's his height or his aura, but there's no choice but to trust him. Eventually, you fall, back and he catches you just the same as the others, feeling as if he's more careful with you for whatever reason. But that could be just your mind hallucinating at this point.

The next station for this training session is more serious and requires more technique and skill. You're glad, it's something you're good at and won't be awkward to complete.

Knife melee. With fake combat knives. Each gets a combat knife to fight with and a randomly assigned partner. You get to be paired up with Gaz, and he shoots you a soft smile before standing in front of you to test out your true skills. Price is mostly there to watch over everyone and lead the practice, standing not too far off the big mat.

»You go first, I'll try to go easy too.« Gaz tells you with a small nod, waiting for you to attack and see how you'll do. Or maybe he's just too afraid to hurt you, knowing how young you are.

»Okay.« You think for a split second before going straight in, grabbing his right wrist with your left hand, pushing it out while moving the blade close to his neck. Gaz is briefly surprised at your attack, especially with how you went straight at him. But he's strong enough to bend his right wrist slightly and wrap his left arm over to grab his knife with his non-dominant hand. You didn't expect this to happen, being spooked for a moment by the sudden action of him wrapping his arm over you just so he has his knife in his free hand. He presses his knife against your stomach just enough for it to be touching your shirt and is about to swipe your feet off the ground.

You back up, trying to kick off the blade off his hand quickly, in which you fail. You don't want to hurt him, but you also know that it's just training and minor injuries are normal. You know it from the camp, but this feels different. You have... more respect for them. Getting back to reality, you're the one who sweeps his feet off the ground, kneeling over him and pressing your knee against his chest with your knife against his throat once more but not pressing onto him.

»Fine- you win.« He gives up and throws his hands up in defence, looking to you impressed. You get off him and give him a hand to stand back up, feeling like he went too soft on you on purpose.

»Was that all you had?« You ask before being able to think about your words longer, not meaning to sound rude. »What? Of course not. Told you I was going easy on you.« He shrugs with a small chuckle, dusting his pants off quickly before standing straight.

»Want me to attack first?«

»Fine-«

He's quick to land a kick to the side of your thigh, making you wince lightly, but you quickly regain your focus and step out of his way. You quickly kick him into his side instead, knocking out his breath briefly. Gaz realises how strong you actually are and decides to go harder on you. There's a sharp pain on your ribs before you feel the dull slice from his fake combat knife against your arm. You give him a rather irritated look before going in once more, slicing across his chest with your own fake knife before kicking him into his chest. He stumbles back, once more out of breath. It's your chance to get close to him and strike another attack, so you do just that. You step closer to him quickly and jab a few more slices against his ribs before kicking his legs in. He's on the ground and probably more out of breath than you. Gaz looks up to you and catches his breath before standing back up, not giving up yet.

»Where'd you learn that?« He questions almost confusedly and simultaneously thinks of another approach at you for his next attack. You shrug, not giving him an answer as you're studying his stance. He's about to cage you in, that's for sure, with his wide stance. That's got to be the most annoying technique for you, not liking how it feels like to be trapped or pinned by anyone. Moving your eyes back at his, you waste no time to kick against him once more, but he catches it.

He has your ankle in his hand and twists it enough for you to lose balance and fall to the ground. You huff and try to get back up quickly, but he's fast, kicking your knife out of your wrist.

Price watches you both fight, and he must admit you're quite strong. Beating Gaz twice? That's already impressive for him. He watches as you manage to fight yourself out of his pin, having him on the ground instead. You both fight like siblings at this point, at least that's how Price views it. He sees that Gaz is still trying to be gentle with you even though he doesn't need to. You're highly trained and fast, thinking logically as well. Meanwhile, Soap gets his ass beat by Ghost since he's trying to watch you fight but gets awfully distracted that way.

Price keeps most of his attention on you both anyway, being curious about how much longer Gaz will be gentle with you before being sick of losing every time. After losing for the fifth time, Gaz stops fighting for a moment.

»Wanna catch a break?«

»If you say so.« You agree and shrug lightly, having a light coat of sweat but being nowhere near done. You're still full of energy but also can't wait to sleep tonight.

»So, how do you like it on the base so far?« He asks, his tone friendly and voice smooth. His eyes are on you, hands on his hips.

»Yeah, it's... fine. Like a base.« There's just no way you can answer otherwise, not sure of how to answer it anyway. You press your lips together lightly, unsure of how to continue. Gaz is rather talkative, so you're grateful for that as he goes on, seemingly wanting to get to know you better.

»You should check out the mess hall too, the food‘s a bit plain, but it's cosy in there.« That's great information however, you do not know how to respond to that.

»Cool.« With a light nod and a more or less forced smile, glancing away shortly after. Gaz notices that you don't seem to talk much, having a similarity with Ghost on that. He accepts it however, and stretches his arms before suggesting another round which, you also agree on.

You're sweating way more now after the training session ended, Price saying that it's time to have lunch and just have a normal day afterwards. The sun is fully up, it's a warm day outside for once and there are no annoying people around you. Until Soap is approaching you on the way out from the training hall.

»Wanna eat lunch all together? It won't be boring, promise.« He suggests with a friendly smile and waits for your answer, coming off more excited than you.

»Uh, yeah. Where's the mess hall again?« You ask sheepishly since you have no clue how this building is laid out, let alone know where the exit is again. »Oh, you haven't been shown around, eh? Well, I'll just show ye around after lunch. The mess hall's on the first floor, 's pretty easy to find.«

Soap explains to you shortly, having faith in you that you won't get lost on your own. You simply nod back in response and make a mental note of where the mess hall should be, retreating back into your own bunk after taking a shower.

You're hesitant at first, having considered just skipping lunch, but you can't let the others hang. So, you make your way to the mess hall shortly after putting on new clothes, making sure to cover your neck once more. Stopping mid-change, you realise something. No one made comments or even looked at your scar earlier. You expected the total opposite, now trying to remember any moment that was close to some of your expectations, but there were none. Maybe, just maybe, they don't care. Not in the rude way, but in a way that they won't judge you. Well, considering the small but slightly more visible scar on Soap‘s chin, there's a chance they just don't want to pick on you with stuff they also have. Brushing away those thoughts, you enter the mess hall and are shortly after greeted with Soap. He stands out from the crowd with the way he waves at you, seeming to be excited to show you around or just have an addition like you on the team.

»Hungry? I don't know about you, but I am.«

His ways of starting a conversation with you are always a little strange. The way he is more energetic around you and is being overly friendly while trying to use 'modern slang' is slightly off-putting.

Ghost would be greater company at this point. You don't say anything, too caught up in the large hall and all the people around that are patiently getting their food for themselves.

»Well, there's where the food is, the trays and the utensils. Alrighty?«

»Alright.« You answer slightly unsure and look to where everyone is picking up their food, seeing that it won't be too difficult. Picking up a tray for yourself, a plate, and a few utensils, you make your way to the buffet. There's an option between a vegetarian meal that looks mostly... bland and another meal that doesn't look too bad. Soap is before you and loads his plate with the second option, grabbing a glass of water afterwards. You do the same, considering the vegetarian food seems too dry to even look at. Sitting down at a free table where Gaz is already seated, shooting a friendly smile your way.

His teammate sits down beside him and you on the opposite of them, taking a last look around the huge mess hall.

»How was the training for ye today?« Soap starts again while stuffing a bite into his mouth, ready to listen to whatever response you'll give.

»It was fine. Easier than at my camp.« Soap quirks his brow at you, asking further. »Easier? What'd you do at your camp, then?«

Ah, there it is. Finally, the burning question that seemed to have been on their minds since the day you arrived, even though they won't admit it verbally.

»Well, any kinds of things. We had a big variety and did everything a little every day.« You explain calmly, leaving out a lot of things for now and just giving out useful and light stuff. Gaz glances at you while eating his own meal, listening quietly to the conversation between you two.

»Everythin'? What was everythin'?«

God, he's giving you no chance to eat right now, is he? »Combat, shooting, underwater training, hostage saving, medical training... oh, and our stamina.« He nearly chokes on his food while you finally take your first bite, thinking it tastes quite good. For military food, it's actually quite good, it tastes fresh and is warm- »Everyday? Every focking day?«

»Language, McTavish...« A familiar, rough voice is heard from behind him, and he quickly glances back to see his Captain. Price takes a seat beside you, facing the two other teammates.

»Sorry, did you hear what she just said? That's like- that's... that should be illegal-«

»I know, Soap.«

He interrupts him again, giving him a hard look. He's either trying to stop him from saying something that could hurt you or is just fed up for some other reason.

»I'm glad we don't have such hard training here. That's it.« Soap realises that he may have gotten too far with his reaction and tries to be more calm and himself from now on. The problem is now that it's awkward because no one talks for a solid minute or two.

»Where is Ghost?« You speak up for the first time by yourself, not able to listen to the silence around the table any longer. Price answers your question calmly, seeing no reason to keep that from you.

»He eats alone, mostly. Or does some paperwork right now.« So, no one really knows what he's doing at breaks. That's something you could have expected from someone like him.

»Do you think his mask looks cool?« Gaz chimes in and looks at you almost amused, waiting for your answer. Soaps eyes also study you now, waiting curiously on your answer. Unsure of what to say, you answer them briefly.

»I mean, it's not bad.« Gaz shoots his teammate a quick look with a small nod, telling him something without saying anything. Soap sulks a little about your response, having hoped you'd say something more positive.

»Told you...« It's very quiet from Gaz and non-threatening, but you still heard it and now feel curious about what these two jokesters are talking about. Price continues to eat his own meal as he's not fascinated by their usual antics, seeing no reason to dig deeper and find out what they're on. That is until Soap notices your confused stare and wants to clear the confusion.

»We had a bet. I thought you'd find Ghost‘s mask cool, but wha'ever.« He shrugs and now has to pay five pounds to Gaz, having officially lost the bet. You can't help it but be amused by it, seeing how they're all trying to understand you, but know absolutely nothing about you but your age and name. They probably think you're like most teenagers, thinking in stereotypes, and you choose to just watch them trying to figure you out.

»He was actually quite scary at first.« You mumble, carefully trying out talking more to them and letting them get to know you more. It's something new for you to be able to be so open and casual with new people that are much older than you. Even though Soap is about ten years older than you, it still seems a lot. It's a whole decade, either way.

»Well, yeah, Ghost has his way to scare people off. But don't take it personally, he's got a good soul.« You glance at Price saying that, reassuring you about Ghost.

What kind of name is that anyway?

»Hm, depends on how you see it. He's only friendly to people he likes. Like a cat.« Gaz shrugs, adding his opinion on Ghost. You're all lucky he's not there with you right now, considering that he would shoot death glares at everyone. You listen to them, being invested in their opinions and views on him since you know nothing about him. »But he doesn't scratch us. So, that's good.« Price jokes, probably still trying to reassure you mostly and not let you get spooked. Eventually, after some more exchanges, Soap is standing up and wants to finally show you around the base. You accept and follow him out, curious to see the whole base and not get lost from now on. He walks through the building and shows you the important parts first: showers and bunks, training rooms and halls, shooting range, going on about the storage rooms, and eventually making your way outside the base. There's a small park attached to the base, great for taking small walks.

»Wanna go for a round?«

»I don't see why not.« You can't help it but still want to add that respective 'sir' at the end of a sentence. It feels like disrespecting him, but they made it clear how open and friendly you can talk to them way earlier.

Walking besides Soap is somehow calming, not needing to talk much when he does most of the talking. »You handled the surprise attack well, yesterday. Just try to warn us before firing, though.« You nod and look away slightly embarrassed, knowing you forgot to give them a sign before doing something like that.

»Sorry, thought too quick.« »'S fine, I'm actually impressed. Were ye taught that back in yer camp?« Soap can't help but be curious and ask questions, making sure to be careful with his wording.

»Yes, kind of. It's always smarter to be meaner to the enemies, so they don't have a chance.« Soap shrugs lightly, thinking about that statement. »Well, yeah... but aggressive approach is not always the best, you know?« He eyes you for a moment, continuing to walk beside you through the small park.

»It really depends on the situation and enemy, there.« You reply back after a second of considering his words, not realising that you once again impressed him.

a/n: came out a bit floppy, but the next part will most likely be better, pwomise :33

[exyzedd]

;)

[mrsrookhunt]

The BSD men falling asleep on you

Nikolai, Mushitaro, Sigma, Lovecraft, Jouno & Ango

(Is this my unofficial announcement that I write for Ango now? Yes, yes it is.)

Nikolai Gogol

Nikolai had been running on pure coffee and imagination-fueled fumes all day long after a night of two hours of sleep the day before.

Finally, at 11 o' clock at night he seems to run out of jokes, nudging his head into your lap while you read a book he deemed 'stupid and emotional' earlier in the day before you caught him crying in the bathroom, on chapter 4, a few hours later.

He always had the energy of a pack of wild toddlers in their natural habitat, tired or not, so it startled you to find him snoring and already drooling on your lap in just a few minutes.

He had a firm grasp on your arm, snuggling it like a teddy bear, and was otherwise halfway draped across you, in a dead sleep you didn't want to wake him up from.

Instead, you stroked his hair and tried to make yourself comfortable on the couch, pausing the TV and listening to his snores, the quietest you'd ever heard a sound out of him.

It wouldn't be the best sleep either of you ever got, but it would suffice to recharge the both of you for another day.

Mushitaro Oguri

Your dear Mushi, tired? Outwardly? A miracle. When he curls up on top of you during a bubble bath that was supposed to be exclusively yours, excitement courses through you, giggling at this cat-like posture. You tease him for a moment, but when he meets your eyes, you see that he's struggling to keep them open.

His motives are clear; he's jumped in your hot warm bath just to fall asleep on you.

Normally, every night he likes to sleep with his head to your chest so he can hear your heartbeat, but tonight he's too exhausted to even wait until bedtime, which, to his credit, is still several hours away.

You let him rest, rubbing his shoulders and back while he slips into a gentle bathtime snooze.

Kissing his head a few times, you pour a bit of warm water over him and change your posture so that the water laps over his body.

He grumbles, but barely stirs.

"Shh, Mushi, go back to sleep."

He gladly obliges.

Sigma

Sigma is generally exhausted, that's nothing new for him, but today sleep is overtaking him faster than he can prepare for it.

It's not long before he's layed out across your lap while you sit in bed, scrolling through social media, splayed out like a starfish and looking for your attention.

For a moment, you think he wants to cuddle, but it's clear that it won't be a long cuddling session. He just wants you to cuddle up with him so he can sleep properly.

When you put down your phone, he's already reaching out for you, fingertips gracefully sliding down your face. He brings your face closer, guiding you downwards for a nuzzle. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into an embrace, breath slowing down.

His eyes are only lightly closed, but you know better than to disturb him. He's got so much going on; while you've never seen him nap, you want to encourage it. He needs rest and self-care, and those are things that he puts far, far down his list of priorities most nights.

You quickly reach to shut off the bedside lamp and snuggle him tighter, pulling the blankets over you two.

Extra sleep would be good for the both of you.

H.P. Lovecraft

He is the ultimate sleeper normally, and while it takes more than some poking and prodding to wake him up, you still hesitate to disturb him when he drops, already half-asleep as usual, into your lap as you clack at your desktop computer.

He can't possibly be comfortable, body on the floor, with his neck stretched to inhuman heights to reach your lap. You giggle under your breath; his bodily distortions are something you've come to be quite comfortable with, and with minimal effort, you slide a hand down his lengthened neck and tickle him at the base of his collarbone.

He opens his eyes with an unamused snap and a slight furrow at his brow, wondering what the issue is.

With a sigh, you remind him that you're working, and that if he wants to sleep on you, he'll have to wait for a few more minutes.

He groans, rustling to the bed five whole steps away with the apathy of a sloth, annoyed at your rejection.

As much as you like to have him in your lap, he does it so often that it has made you get behind in your tasks many times.

You sense a glare as you continue typing, a little slower in hopes of being quieter so that he could sleep, but it is clearly to no avail, as his gaze is burning searing holes in your head and he is very evidently not going to sleep without you tonight.

You shut down your computer and put on the same relaxing beach-side sounds you do every night to calm your favorite ocean man, and you sweep into the bed beside him, pulling his head into the crook of your neck. He's tall, too tall for the bed, but curled up in such a position that he feels smaller than you.

He lets out a soft, contented growl, happy with your affections, before dropping off into dreamland, expectantly waiting for you to follow.

Jouno Saigiku

He's definitely only doing this because you hinted that you liked it.

Prideful as always, he insists that he's just tired, but you know he just wants you to croon over his actions and give him your undivided attention.

He pretends to fall asleep faster than he actually does, "sleep"-biting your wrist, a little smirk present on his face when you groan.

Always the sadist.

You roll him off your lap playfully, careful to make sure he won't hit his head on the bed posts.

You try to drift off to sleep yourself, certain that he'll keep teasing if you don't.

You jolt as he pulls you by the ear, frowning.

Apparently, he's dead set; he wants to fall asleep on you tonight. In a flash, his much-larger frame is pressed on top of you, and he's got you in a tight, inescapable embrace.

He's asleep in a few moments, just as he said he would be, and while it wasn't the 'cute' moment you were looking for, the cuddles were satisfying.

Ango Sakaguchi

Ango straight up drops, basically already asleep, into your shared bed.

He reaches out vaguely at the surrounding area, looking for you, knowing you're buried under a mound of covers somewhere.

You grasp his hand and pull him into the barrier of warmth you'd created over the course of a few hours.

He mumbles and groans some incoherent words into your chest; sweet things, you're certain, and you'll pretend you know what he said tomorrow.

You rub the base of his head, which feels feverish, as it normally does, and work your fingers up into his scalp to massage that constant throbbing headache away.

He's beginning to snore, and as a last minute act, you ease his glasses off his face and set them aside for tomorrow.

You whisper sweet words into his ears for him to hold through tomorrow.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

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

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

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 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[luvfy0dor]

“His Hands are in my Hair, His Clothes are in my Room ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Nikolais and Chuuyas are hardly proofread, Nikolais was rushed, Nikolais nearly got scrapped, I don't like Nikolais, maybe a little ooc

Description; sharing clothing w the BSD boys

A/n; GUYS OH MY GOD I GOT A 5 ON MY FIRST AP EXAM IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF AHHHHHH IM GONNA CRY also I'm sorry posts are so few and far between. It's so hot and hard to function. I know I said the exact same thing to excuse minimal posts in winter but like. its literally hot as balls and all I got is a puny ass 8yro fan and the occasional sip of iced water.

Osamu Dazai ★

• Dazai likes to take your old T-shirts to sleep in when you lend them to him for the night. After a few nights of having Dazai at your house, you wonder why your sleep-shirt collection has nearly cut in half.

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You unlocked the door of your apartment and pushed it open with your unoccupied hand. The other arm held a large brown paper bag filled with gas station food and snacks for you and your boyfriend, who followed you inside. Once you set the bag down on the coffee table, you retrieved your keys from the door and closed it. When you came back to the kitchen, Dazai had already dumped everything out and was sifting through all the options. "The walk back from the gas station was hardly five minutes and I've already forgotten everything we got." He says with a grin, opening a bag of chips and eating a couple. He offered you some, holding the bag out to you. "Want some?' He mumbled.

"Yeah, let me just change into pajamas first, I don't wanna do anything until I'm comfortable." You said, shrugging off your jacket and starting to undo your belt before you even make it back to your room. Dazai followed suit, bag of chips still in hand. "Can I borrow some?" You nodded before taking off your shirt and tossing it in the laundry hamper, going through your closet to find a shirt for your boyfriend and yourself. "Thank youuu~" He plops down onto your bed, keeping the chip bag upwards so he doesn't get any crumbs or dust on your nice blankets. He watches you pull one of your band shirts over your head, admiring your body from his position on your mattress. He's snapped out of his daze when black fabric comes flying at him, but he catches it before it can smack him in the face. "Thanks, babe, you're so kind."

He switches his work clothes for your old ones, the big shirt nearly swallowing his scrawny torso comfortably. "Alright, I want snacks, come on." You gesture for him to follow you back out to the kitchen where the array of snacks was waiting for the two of you on the counter. There were numerous kinds of chocolate, and Dazai had grabbed a couple bags of gummies for himself. There were a few more bags of chips for variety, and you scooped everything up in your arms to bring to the living room. You dropped them all on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. "Alright, what movie are we feeling?" You ask, turning to the brunette man. "Uhhhhh, how about an action movie. Somethin' that looks exciting." He says, slinging his arm over your shoulder while he munches on sour gummy worms. Eventually, the two of you decide on a Godzilla movie, slumped against the couch with chocolate residue on the tips of your fingers from your candies. Dazai let out a long sigh as the movie came to a close, leaning into you and resting his head on your shoulder.

You ran your fingers through Dazais messy and slightly greasy hair, scratching his scalp and listening to his pleased, quiet hum. "Are you falling asleep or are you up for another movie?" You ask him, watching the credits roll on the TV. "I'm up for another movie, I just think I might be having a sugar crash." He says, groaning as he sits back up. You nod and grab the remote again, browsing through all the film options. Every now and again, your eyes involuntarily flickered over to your boyfriend, and you couldnt help but smile. He looked really cute in your shirt, and it almost made you wanna treat the movie like chopped liver and cuddle up to him.

"You look really cute." You say, playing whatever movie you absent-mindedly started in your daze. "Oh, I know, right?" He grins running his hand over his body. "As a matter of fact, I've never felt sexier." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down with a smirk. You can't help but laugh at him. "Let's get you on a playboy cover." Before you know it, he's standing up in front of the TV. "Scrap the movie, you have me for entertainment instead." He puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pose, making you laugh some more. "You want some attention? I mean, I guess since you asked so politely." You stand up with an eye roll and pull him in, kissing him and running a hand down his side. He keeps one hand on your chin, tilting your head to meet his lips, sighing quietly each time your lips part for a quick moment. Soon, you both need more air then small gasps and have to pull away. He smiles and messes with the fabric of your own shirt. "How about we ditch this mess for now and go to bed, yeah? We can continue comfortably there?" He offers, You glance back over at the piles of snacks, opened or not, scattered acrossed the floor. Normally you'd make him help you clean up before doing anything else, but tonight you really couldn't be bothered and just wanted to follow Dazai wherever he'd take you. "Alright, let's go."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Everyone knows that Chuuya adores his hat, but not everyone knows he's got a decently sized collection of fancy hats on top of his closet. One day while rummaging around and trying to find one of Chuuyas button downs for him, you notice them all on the top rack.

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"Chuuya, you didn't tell me you had so many hats!" You called out to him, standing back and staring at them all. Chuuya was currently in the bathroom, shaving his peach fuzz to keep his smooth face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got a ton." He calls back, washing the shaving cream off of his skin. "They're pretty..can I try some of 'em on?" You ask, reaching to grab the one on the top of the stack. "Go ahead." He walks out of the bathroom with his towel around his waist, leaning against the doorframe to watch the little fashion show you were about to put on. The first one you grabbed was adorned with flowers of various colors. You placed it on your head and turned around, posing with your hands on your hips.

"What do you think? Vogue worthy?" You ask him. He smiles at you and nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "One hundred percent, that's peak fashion." He says genuinely, standing up straight and walking over to the closet. He reaches up and grabs another hat for you to try, switching it out for the flowers one. This one is a dark, reddish brown color. "This one's cute too." You giggle and head over to the bathroom to see for yourself. "Ooo, I'm not sure this kinda hat is necessarily for me." You giggle. "What do you mean? It looks great on you!" He says, following you in and hugging you from behind. "You only say that because they're your hats." You say, grinning.

"I mean, I guess not everyone is destined to look good in them like me." He says, squeezing your hip. "I gotta actually get ready for work now, I'm probably runnin' late." He says, turning around and dropping his towel. He tossed it into the hamper before getting dressed in his usual attire, spotting the button down that you had forgotten about in favor of his hat collection. "Okayyyy." You yawn, stretching your arms over your head and treading through the bedroom to start your own morning routine. You didn't have to leave for another hour, but Chuuya had to get to work within the next 30 minutes. After brushing your teeth, you notice Chuuya searching the bedroom for his usual hat.

"The nightstand." You point out to him. He sees it and lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing it and plopping it on his head. "Thanks, doll. I gotta get going' now, but I'll see ya tonight, okay?" He says, pulling you in by your waist for his daily goodbye kiss. "Yeah, got it." You smile before kissing him sweetly for a quick moment before he backs away. "Alright, I love you, see ya later." He playfully smacks your ass before letting go of you and heading out to the door. "Bye Chuuya, I love you, I'll see you later!" Once you heard him leave, you smiled to yourself and headed right back to the closet. You didn't necessarily have to get dressed just yet, so that gave you some time to try on a couple more hats on your own.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor doesn't mind letting you borrow his cape if you seem cold, or he'll simply wrap it around you and pull you into his side. He prefers the latter, considering it doesn't take much for him to get chilly.

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Fyodor held your gloved hand in his as you both walked down the snowy streets of Yokohama. It was the winter solstice and you both decided to take a walk down one of the most popular roads and do some window shopping. By the end of the evening, the hand that wasn't occupied with holding Fyodors held a warm cup of hot chocolate that you sipped on periodically. "Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Myshka?" He asks you, adjusting his ushanka and gazing up at the sky, noticing some snow start to fall. "I did. Thanks for coming with me, I know you have a lot of stuff to do." You respond, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. He waves his hand dismissively. "That doesn't mean I can't accompany you." His thumb rubs over your knuckles as snow starts landing on his hat and your head, the street lamps illuminating the darkness with a tangerine-colored glow. You nod at his words, leaning into his shoulder and shivering.

"It's so cold, Fedya." You say, your head on his shoulder and your hand squeezing his tightly. He lets go in order to put his arm around your waist, pulling his long cape over your shoulder. "I know, the walk home isn't much further, don't worry." You smile and hold onto the old, worn material to keep it in place. "You're right, thanks." You say, feeling butterflies in your stomach. It never mattered how long you and Fyodor had been together, every affectionate action made you feel like you had just got together. He held you close with his cape still shielding you from the cold and adding a layer of warmth to your jacket. He would peer over at you every now and again, laughing under his breath at all the snow that was getting into your hair. "What's so funny?" You ask him, a smile spread acrossed your face. "You've got a whole bunch of snow on your head." He tells you. "It looks like dandruff."

You roll your eyes and yank the ushanka off of his head, placing it on yours instead. "There, now you won't have to look at it." You hold the fluffy hat on top of your head and try to prevent him from taking it back when he tugs on it. "No, you can get your own, my ears are cold." He says with a smile, eventually pulling it back into his own possession and patting it off. "I will say though, you look better in my hat than Dazai did." You give a proud smirk and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'd hope you'd think so." Your street comes into view and you pull him along as you speed up, wanting to get into the warm, cozy house as soon as possible. "I know running isn't exactly your thing but pick up the pace a little, I wanna get under the covers and cuddle." You tell him, getting closer to home with each passing second.

He picks up speed for you and listens to the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. It's not long before you've pulled him all the way home and you're unlocking the door, nearly spilling inside to get into the warm living room. Fyodor follows suit, unlacing his shoes and hanging up his cape and ushanka. You wait for him in the open doorway that connects the living room and the hallway, ready to curl up in bed away from the harsh cold. "Alright, I'm coming." He says, treading through the hall with you and opening the bedroom door. His hand rested on your lower back as you both walked to the comfortable mattress, crawling under the covers and pulling each other close. "Your cape is really warm and comfortable. You should wrap me in it more often." You say, scooching closer to him and letting his arm drape over your waist.

"Hmm, I guess that wouldn't hurt. You really like it?" He peers down at you, his head propped up on his fist. "Yeah, I might have to steal it, actually." You say seriously, making him click his tongue. "You're welcome to steal it if I'm not wearing it." He says, chewing on the inside of his cheek habitually. "Then expect it to be off the hanger more often then not." He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, laying his head down on the pillow. "Okay, that's fine, but right now you have me and the blanket to keep you warm." He murmurs, closing his eyes. "Well you're not contributing to that as much as the blanket, but whatever you say." You kiss his cheek and brush his bangs out of his face. "G'night Fedya, I love you." You say, resting your head on his chest, ready for sleep. "I love you too, y/n, sleep well."

Nikolai Gogol ★

• You always loved Nikolais outfit and couldn't help but wanna put it in one day. You were sure he wouldn't mind, after all, sharing attire was nothing foreign to your relationship.

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It started with you trying on his blouse for fun, but then you decided the blouse wasn't complete without the vest, pants, gloves, collar, shoes, or hat. Everything fit you a little differently than it fit Nikolai, but it didn't matter, because when you walked over to the nearest reflective surface, you found yourself cute, and you almost couldn't wait for Nikolai to get out of the shower to show him. You just needed one more thing, his cape. You ran out to the coat rack by the door and swung it behind you and then over your shoulders excitedly, grabbing it by the edges and moving it around. You felt really fancy with his cape, swaying your body just to feel the fabric move with you. As a matter of fact, you were so caught up in how good the cape made you feel that you didn't even realize the bathroom door open.

"Oh, wow, dove! My outfit looks so good on you! I've never noticed how much the red gloves pop until now." You turned around so fast, as if you were sitting in silence and all of a sudden a full file cabinet tipped over and crashed onto a linoleum floor. "Wah-! When'd you get out? I mean, thank you, but you scared me!" You say with a nervous laugh. "I thought it looked cute." You murmur, starting to pull off the gloves, but he stops you. "Hey, wait, you should stay in it for a moment, I'm not done admiring you yet!" He tells you, walking over and grabbing your hands gently. He leans in to kiss you, his smile palpable on his lips. You hand falls on his shoulder, rubbing it up and down affectionately before pulling away. "You really like it that much, huh?"

He nods. "Ofcourse! Oh, I'd love to show everyone how wonderful you look. Would you let me?" He asks, squeezing your hands tightly. "Sure, Kolya, go ahead." He quickly skitters off to fetch his cellphone, returning with the camera app already open. "Pose." He says, watching you place your hands on your waist and cock your hip a little bit. "Ah, gorgeous." He says, spamming the capture button. "Okay, I think that's enough." He says, his cheeks a bit pinker than before. He tossed his phone onto one of the side tables and embraced you once again, resting his head on top of yours. "Come on, y/n, I'd like to see you in my whole wardrobe now!" He says excitedly, pulling you along back to the bedroom. You don't necessarily know what you ignited in him, but it was certainly something, and now you were preparing yourself for a god-knows-how-long fashion show for your boyfriend. Not that you really minded, ofcourse.

A/n; another post that was supposed to have sigma and then didn't have sigma because I wanted to watch Jersey shore instead of write. ALSO I WENT TO THE DENTIST YESTERDAY terrible experience I cried but don't tell anyone I said that

[kaorikarma]

( soft)YAN!BSD MEN HEADCANNONS

How they show their love + Act in their relationship

Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu, Bram Stoker, Mushitaro, Jouno x reader

Warnings: Yandere, manipulative (fucking fedya & Kolya 💀), suggestive (chuu toy and Daz),straight up nsfw (Chuuie), PAINFUL AWKWARDNESS (bram)

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Nikolai Gogol

Nikolai... is interesting. His love isn't apparent most of the time. Just like he masks his true demeanor with humor and his eccentric attitude, he masks his love as well.

Even when you begin dating, don't expect him to open up much. Everything stays the same as when you were friends, with the exception of an occasional teasing kiss.

Emphasis on teasing. Part of Nikolai's expert plan (in his mind) is to free you from emotions too, by breaking you down. That occasional kiss is rare- withheld for only when you please him or to give you a rare spot of hope when you begin feeling hopeless about the relationship.

He does love you, but it's begrudgingly; a great source of irritation for him; after all these years of fighting against his "human nature" he is still privy to human weaknesses.

When he does genuinely express his love, it's when he's being serious with you, trusting you with the man under the mask. It may not seem like the best relationship, and certainly not love-- but if you peer between the lines.. you might set your eyes on the shadows of affections.

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Sigma

Sigma is so, so, suffocatingly cautious.

Can you blame him? Everyone either uses him or leaves him. Sigma's expression of love could be just so much deeper-- but he's learned his lesson, he's already half-broken and you're the only one gluing together the edges of deep-running cracks, but leaving the center to shatter.

When you first start dating him, he still doesn't even leave the casino. Doesn't even bother, since it would be better to stay in case something happened, after all what if the power failed, or somebody crucial called out sick, or--

You spend a lot of time breaking him from his anxious thoughts.

He eventually begins opening up to you, laughing with you, letting you listen to his opinions and thoughts with minimal cares. He loves your kisses and dreams of things with you he never once considered in his short life. And about his short life--

He still hasnt told you of his origins.. it's not that he doesn't want to, but he doesn't know how.

He worries sometimes about your relationship, which seems to be going just so well. Will you hate him? You'd leave him, surely!

Worry is the center focus of Sigma's love, and his life in general. Don't expect him to ever stop worrying about one thing or another, from a date night to marriage, his sense of anxiety seems engraved in his bones.

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Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya's love is so aggressive, in more ways than one.

Chuuya's loss of everyone he loved makes him utterly convinced he's going to lose you. You matter more than anything to him, and it is that loyalty that strains your relationship; particularly, your disdain for his membership of the mafia. He struggles with himself, day and night, not being able to choose between you and the mafia. It's like asking him to choose between his family and his lover.

The fights aren't enough to deter you from pestering him about it anyway; he doesn't let you see how badly the topic upsets him. Mentally, he's begging you to drop it. There's always a little bit of tension. Chuuya's short fuse coupled with the (albeit small) problems you have, makes an sometimes explosive bond between the two of you.

Try as he might, he just can't excuse some of the stupid things you do when he's not constantly watching your every move like a toddler. Maybe none of the mistakes you make are big, but Chuuya is annoyed by every little thing, so there's no such thing as a "small" problem.

When the goings' good, however, it's good. Chuuya spoils you with lots of affections, drowning you in his deep - sometimes frankly obsessive- love. Chuuya will come home with flowers, and gifts or whatever details you had that needed tying up if you haven't gotten to them yet. His heart is so big and open when it comes to you, he can't even really hide it. He just loves you so, so much.

(NSFW) Chuuya's sweet, happy love, however, has to be balanced out by the roughness he displays in bed. If you aren't interested in sex for a long time or for whatever personal reason, you might as well call it quits. Chuuya's sex drive is insanely high, and he's absolutely, torturously, wild in bed. He needs you; sex goes beyond simple want for him.

All in all, Chuuya's expression of love runs as deep as his loyalty, so you'd better not betray it.

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Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor is a very manipulative man, and even more so a lover.

If you have something he wants, he bleeds you dry of it- and that could be love or information. It's all the same protocol. Deceive and achieve.

Fyodor's "love" consists of the sweetest phrases and whispers of passion at the beginning, and eventually you find yourself at his beck and call, more of a slave than a lover, a partner, what you long to be with him.

He teases you, brings you to the edge of how much he 'hates' you, and then pulls back the reigns, showering you with love and apologies and the promise of change. Fyodor's real love is rough and cold. You're in a better situation with the fake affections than the real ones.

Give yourself to him. All of you. Let him love you.

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Dazai Osamu

Dazai is all smiles, jokes, passion and cruelty.

It doesn't seem like it, but under the surface Dazai's demeanor is cold, calculating, and cruel. Frightening to you, in a relationship, even though he never physically harms you. But the threats... are enough to keep you in check. Luckily, most of the time Dazai keeps up that happy facade, even with you.

Your relationship becomes strained when he lets that facade down too much, but the truth is so well-hidden most of the time that for the most part you consider your relationship happy and fruitful.

Dazai's affection is plentiful, with many gentle kisses and passionate nights . You often have open conversations, attempting to decode and outwit his high intelligence, which, for the most part, was to no avail. He was just too smart, and always on top of you, more quick witted than you ever could be. He would deflect your more probing questions and problems with a joke, and turn the situation back on you.

Dazai, on the whole would be a great lover, but an even greater enemy.

Should I make a Dark Yandere Headcacnnon post for Daz? Because I feel like this man would hold his own suicide over your head right off the bat, so you would never know he was suicidal to begin with. He gets a 10/10 in the manipulation catagory.

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Bram Stoker

Bram's affection is apathetic.

It isn't his fault, really. It's hard to love on someone when you're only a head and shoulders mounted on a sharp blade, but even when he has an opportunity, Bram feels more jaded about love and getting close to someone than anyone else, and it's hard to get him to open up.

Given your relationship is really just watching movies and talking, you don't get to be as close to Bram as you would like either, but in rare moments he will allow you to carry him, not like fukuchi, but resting his head in the crook of your neck like a hug. He won't admit it, but he adores being held like this. If he had arms, he'd hold you crushingly tight.

Many conversations with Bram are awkward, both because of his conflicted emotions and his lack of modern knowledge. Prepare for some downright painful misunderstandings and embarrassing explanations.

Bram doesn't know how to express his deep love for you, especially in a modern world he has trouble adapting to. He thinks, if he had a body, he would have already taken the opportunity to take you far away from everyone, from evil people he knows more about than you. Lying beneath his polite disdain for many things, he's worried-- fearful of what will be done to you to manipulate him, and he won't be able to protect you.

Bram knows he can't protect you, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try.

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Mushitaro Oguri

Mushitaro's affections are meticulous, almost as meticulous a him. He wants your kisses and affections, don't get me wrong; but not in public, limited in private, and only in certain places, like the couch or the bedroom. He even goes as far as to request that you not kiss or touch him in certain areas, for no other reason than him finding it improper (although you really think he's just being bashful).

His personality, as a whole, makes him very hard to be in any sort of partnership with. He's picky about everything, from the food you make him to the things even you wear.

In a relationship, he's loving, stipulations aside. His love is more protective than you think is normal, at first, but you quickly sink into your normal routine of going everywhere with Mushitaro and only Mushitaro. He doesn't care for your friends but lets you hang out with them on occasion, a long as you are with him and he finds them decent company. After all, your image reflects his as well. You wouldn't want to ruin his image, now would you?

Mushi isn't a hardcore yandere, much to your luck. Eventually, there comes a time where his nature is finally apparent to you, but there's not much you can do about it and not much you would do anyways. You already know, it's simply not a concern that he may go too far; the strength to truly harm you isn't within his reach.

The best thing you can do in a relationship with Mushitaro is to please him as best as possible, love him with all your heart, and settle into your strictly-regulated relationship.

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Jouno Saigiku

Jouno's relationship with you is forceful. He tries to make it feel natural, with fake affections and gifts, but doesn't know how to properly conduct a meaningful relationship; after all, your first "date" was when he showed up to a Café you regularly frequented after you had previously turned him down numerous times, infinitely agitating him.

He often spoke of his association with the hunting dogs, hoping to impress you, although you'd never been overly interested in his stories. It wasn't that you didn't love him at all; you wouldn't have agreed (after much pressure) to live with him if you didn't, but his expression of love feels strained and you pick up on it.

With the lack of affections, you can sometimes become upset, and moreover unbalanced by the rejection of your outright asks for his affection. However, if Jouno senses that he's really, legitimately fucked up, he will probably give you a nice cuddle, and perhaps, if you voice that it's an issue that plagues you, he will kiss you on the cheek on the way out the door each day.

The issue at hand is that Jouno does really love you, but he doesn't know how to balance love, work, and his own sadistic nature. He does care for you a lot, and will show it, but it may be in manipulative ways, sometimes with poorly disguised threats or pressure. It's not that he can't be more kind and caring with you, but part of him won't allow it, so he follows his own warped personality.

Loving Jouno isn't easy, but the sweet moments have unimaginable value, and Jouno will always care for and protect you, in his own cute little ways. Love him, or face the consequences.

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Wow! Hi, thanks for making it to the end. This is the first time I've written in what feels like forever due to health issues but I am so glad to be back and feeding the fires of fandoms again. Requests are open! Love yall!!

-April 11th-14th, 2023-

-Kaori-

[spideytingley]

my april fic recs!

percy jackson & the olympians

luke castellan

true luck’s kiss by @atlabeth

summary: luke is stuck with a streak of bad luck. what better way to get rid of it than with a child of tyche?

twin beads by @supercutszns

summary: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder.

ACOTAR

azriel

a healer’s touch by @bat-boys

summary: as a healer you meet many people as part of your profession but when you are asked to heal a certain spymaster you are unprepared for the connection that comes with it.

eye of the storm (series) by @thesunloveschips

summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.

missed target by @imaginesmai

summary: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.

if it all fell by @pellucid-constellations

summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

notice me! by @heartless-tate

summary: Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

love of choice by @writingcroissant

summary: The Cauldron doesn’t always pick wisely when it comes to mates, but even though Azriel isn’t hers, she chooses him.

bluebird (series) by @acourtofwhatthefuck

let me keep you company by @utterlyazriel

summary: You're studying in Velaris and a certain Shadowsinger catches your eyes in more than one way. It takes a while to realise the shadow keeping you company means more than you expect.

strings that bind us by @parkerslatte

summary: Y/N owns a small bookstore in Velaris. When she struggles to take her stock in, a handsome stranger approaches her and offers her help. She accepts the help and Y/N insists on making him dinner for his help. Azriel originally denies this but he finds himself eventually saying yes for reasons he doesn’t understand quite yet.

wings by @itsswritten

summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.

you don’t get to tell me about sad by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.

marvel

bucky barnes

always you, forever by @pellucid-constellations

summary: Bucky wants to take you away from it all. This time, you might just let him. 

dc

clark kent

handyman by @itsrubberbisquit

summary: Clark has been smitten with his accident-prone neighbor for quite some time. She tracks him down to make a familiar request with an unusual ending.

jason todd

four times red hood blushed because of you, and one time jason todd blushed by @mxtantrights

grishaverse

nikolai lanstov

this is me trying by @criminalamnesia

summary: the last time you saw Nikolai, he told you he never wanted to see you again. now, you’re standing outside his door.

dancing with our hands tied by @criminalamnesia

summary: Nikolai confronts you about unspoken feelings

[hottpinkpenguin]

okay okay but that prompt “give me something to dream about” with steamy/fluff nikolai? yes please

A/n: hear you go anon! Hope you love it. Nikolai is SOO easy to write for!! ♥️

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1622 | Warnings: steam, angst

You watched Alina Starkov’s long, dark hair swish from side to side as she stormed off from Nikolai’s side with an indignant huff. Stupid girl, you thought to yourself as you watched her stomp out of his private map room. You ducked out of the dimly lit doorway that the palace servants used as the girl everyone called a Saint spluttered past you without a backwards glance. She was small in person: short and slender with a youthful face. Pretty, but not beautiful. She had grit, you couldn’t deny her that. Maybe in a different world, and if she hadn’t just been proposed to by the love of your life, you would have been friends.

The door to Nikolai’s map room closed loudly. Not quite a slam, but Alina used just enough force to convey her displeasure. Plunged into quiet, you peeped around the corner at your prince. He was standing opposite the table, leaning on it with his hands splayed along its surface and his head hanging in defeat. For a brief moment, you wondered if he wanted to see you tonight.

“Show’s over, Tiger. You can come out now.”

You shot Nikolai a pouty glare as you came out from your hiding place. You knew he’d known you were there, although you felt sheepish to be caught.

“Come here.” He gestured for you. You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, but also a note of eagerness. He needed you. His usually pristine military jacket was unbuttoned, and in the soft candlelight you could see a sliver of his chest peaking out above the neckline of his white linen undershirt. He raked a hand through his hair, knocking loose a few pieces that fell haphazardly over his brow. You swallowed, suddenly your mind buzzing at the sight of him. If Alina Starkov was a Saint, then Nikolai Lantsov was a goddamn angel.

“How’d it go, Pirate Prince?” You shot Nikolai a flirty smile, winking at him and using the nickname you knew he hated. You tried to keep your tone light to hide the fact that your chest felt like it was a fraction of an inch from caving on itself.

He grimaced at you, stepping around the large table with war maps and heavy tomes of Ravkan history sprawled across its surface. With strong, sure arms he swept you up into a rib crushing embrace, spinning you around and burying his head in your hair.

“Swimmingly,” he replied gruffly. “She almost smacked me.”

You laughed in spite of yourself. You’d not-so-secretly been hoping that Nikolai wouldn’t follow through on his plan to propose marriage to Alina Starkov. No matter how many times he promised you that the proposal was just a calculated political move, you’d never be anything but bitter. You knew Nikolai too well to seriously convince yourself that he would balk at the last moment, especially when the fate of his country lay in jeopardy, even if his heart did lie with you. But that hadn’t kept you from dreaming, hoping against hope.

He must have caught the flicker of sorrow in your eyes. He released you from his arms, hooking a thumb under your chin and gently lifting your face until he held your gaze.

“You know this isn’t what I want, Tiger.” His voice was low, smooth as silk, and devastatingly sincere.

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t argue with him, not again. Not over this. Who knew how long you had to be relatively free with your affections for him. Even though the two of you kept your romance private, that was purely a matter of preference. If (when, you forcibly corrected yourself) Nikolai actually married Alina, you’d have to take extra care to avoid being detected. Maybe to the point of going your separate ways indefinitely. You refused to waste what precious little time you had left bickering over an inevitable.

You tried to push that darkness out of your mind, forcing a gentle smile onto your face. Nikolai’s snow-blue eyes danced at the sight.

“I know, Nikki,” you replied softly. He chuckled, recognizing the pet name you used only when the two of you were alone. You felt his hand press against your lower back, pulling you in closer. You closed your eyes and tipped your head back, eagerly meeting his lips with yours. His mouth was warm and soft, the feel of him so familiar. The kiss was quick - tender with a hint of the playfulness you were both using to glaze over the deeper hurts. But it was delicious all the same. You let yourself enjoy it, twining your hands in the soft hair at the back of his neck and dancing your tongue along his bottom lip. He smiled against you, one hand cupping your cheek and deepening the kiss. You let him, for a moment, before you pulled back. You were teasing him, admittedly, and you could see it in the feral desire burning in his eyes.

“Saints be damned,” he muttered breathlessly, raking his gaze all over you. “You’re going to drive me mad, woman.”

You laughed, tipping your head back as a shiver ran up your spine at the gravel in his voice. Nikolai tucked his head against your exposed throat, laying down a line of featherlight kisses up under your jawline and towards your ear. When he reached your ear, he paused, nuzzling you gently. You ran your fingernails down from his hairline along the back of his neck and out across his broad shoulders. You felt his muscles release under your touch as he exhaled deeply.

“You need a warm bath, my Lord,” you informed him, kneading his shoulders to emphasize the tightness there. He groaned appreciatively at the sensation.

“That sounds nice,” he admitted, pulling back slightly and resting his hands on your hips. “But only if you join me.”

That mischievous glint in his eyes drove you absolutely wild. You could feel a warm jolt of desire begin to burn in your core. Nikolai sensed it somehow, smirking as if he could feel your lust. Something about the way he was devouring you with his eyes made you pause. You knew that, in a few more moments, you’d be lost to his touch and completely senseless with bliss. He knew it too, and he was hungry for it. You both were. But first, you had something to say.

“I won’t be your mistress, Nikolai. When you marry her. I love you, but I can’t do that to myself. To either of us.”

Your words were heavy, but your tone was soft. Almost apologetic.

You felt him momentarily wind down at the seriousness in your voice. The playful smirk melted from his face, leaving behind a somber sadness. He fiddled with the ruffles on your dress’ neckline for a few moments, both of you quiet as he processed your statement. He wasn’t surprised. Nikolai knew you better than anyone. You’d asked him once why it was that he understood you so clearly. We have mirror image souls, he’d said back as if it were the simplest answer in the world. From that moment on, you’d never doubted him.

“I know, Tiger.” His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I don’t think I could bear it if you did.”

You lifted your eyes to him, trying to memorize the way his face looked in the candlelight. He returned your gaze calmly, and you had the sense he was trying to commit the moment to memory just like you were.

After a few moments, you smiled, forcing yourself to loosen the internal grip you had on the heartbreak you knew was coming. He’s not married now, you reminded yourself. Your fingertips traced up his arms until your hands framed his face.

“Now, let’s get back to that bath.”

He grinned, lifting you from the hips until your legs were wrapped around his waist. He clasped you against him, your hands wrapped around his neck as he carried you out of the private map room and back towards the door that connected to his sleeping quarters. He turned around briefly to close the door behind him, shutting out the worries of the future in the process.

He let you slide out of his grasp when he entered the bathroom. Even through your house slippers, the tile floor was cool underfoot. He leaned down, opening the faucets over the large bathtub. Water came cascading out, splashing into the empty tub as he stoppered the drain. He tested the water temperature with his hands as you began untying the lacings on your bodice.

He turned back to you once the water was to his liking, watching your every movement with a greedy glint in his eyes. Once you’d stripped down to your skin, you stepped over to him and helped him slide his jacket off. It fell to the ground with a metallic ting as the medals adorning the jacket’s chest clinked on the marble floor. You started unlacing his undershirt when he reached up, grabbing your hands in his. He tilted his head slightly downward, pouring into your eyes with his own.

“A request, Tiger,” he drawled. You smirked as you continued to undo his shirt.

“Anything, my Prince.” He laughed at your reply, leaning in even further until he was so close you could feel his lips barely brushing against yours.

“Give me something to dream about.”

You leaned in, meeting his kiss, your body ablaze with the intensity of his words. You wanted to make sure that Nikolai Lantsov, the first and maybe only love of your life, didn’t need to ask you twice…