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boolger · 5 months ago

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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 ->

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exyzedd · 1 year ago

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cannot stop making textposts😔👍🏼

(pics used aren't mine)

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luvfy0dor · 10 months ago

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“You Know That I'm Obsessed With Your Body ♡⁠˖” BSD Men x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Chuuya Nakahara, Osamu Dazai, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, H.P. Lovecraft

Warnings; Suggestive, kisses, hickeys, bite marks, allusions to self harm (Dazai), sh scars (Dazai), prolly a little ooc

Description; BSD men and their physical attributes

A/n; CAS lyric title!!! But I cannot bring myself to write reqs RN so............but guys i actually talked to a guy OMG never thought I'd have big enough balls but I got his ig ^w^

⑅Chuuya Nakahara⑅

Chuuyas arms are beautiful to you, they're not insanely buff and they're not thin, but at a perfect equilibrium. They're decorated with intricate tattoos and beautiful colors, and sometimes small dotted lines left by your teeth or maroon spots formed by your love and passion for each other. You loved feeling them wrap around your torso or waist with him leaning his head against your back, letting all the thoughts in his mind flow from his mouth like a waterfall. Other times, he'd hang his arms over your shoulders, letting you feel his biceps against the nape of your neck, ghosting over the baby hairs on your skin. His arms can carry you too, no matter your weight. If it'd make you feel better, he'd use his ability to help and reassure you that he won't drop you or let you get hurt.

“There we go, darlin', see, I told you I wouldn't let you get hurt. Literally not even the strongest gust of wind could knock me over with you right now, so quit worrying.”

⑅Osamu Dazai⑅

Dazai has such a gorgeous torso, bandaged or not. His skin is soft on contrast to the rough and volatile life he's always lead. The only patches of skin that aren't smooth are the ones that are littered with past scars, whether self inflicted or from other people. When Dazai trusts you enough, he'll ask you to help him take off his bandages before bed, letting your fingers brush over the rigid bumps and sharply inhaling while adjusting to your sweet touch in a new, naked place. He lets you kiss the scars and it helps him feel a little relaxed receiving your acceptance through soft kisses and affection instead of being pitied or shamed for his past. It's not like you encourage it, but you don't waste your breath on lecturing him on why he shouldn't have. It's in the past, so instead you'll offer your support for him now rather than dwelling on what you can't change.

“Mmnn...your lips are so soft on my back, baby...keep going, sweetheart, you know how much I love feeling your kisses on my skin...”

⑅Nikolai Gogol⑅

Nikolais thighs could resurrect a dead man, and you couldn't help but feel the same way every time you had your head between or against them. Occasionally your hands would hold them apart and squeeze or grope at them, feeling the firmness beneath the palm of your hand. The pressure from your fingertips leaves temporary pale spots with every pinch and your teeth and tongue leave red ones in your wake as you kiss, suck, and bite all over his thigh, and he loves it. Nikolai loves the harsh feeling of your teeth clamping around his skin, making him gasp and giggle in excitement with a hand on your neck encouraging you to continue. He's got a higher pain tolerance, so if you like to give lovebites, especially on thighs, he's your guy.

“Ah-! Oh, don't worry dove, it doesn't hurt. You know I have a good pain tolerance! You can keep going, hehe, I don't mind it.”

⑅Fyodor Dostoevsky⑅

Fyodors hands are thin and pale aside from some select spots with higher blood concentration. His nails are bitten down to the quick almost always and his fingers are bony and thin. They rest gently on your hips when you sit on his lap while he types or just relaxes with you, his thumbs rubbing circles into the fabric of either your top or bottoms. Sometimes they'll travel upwards, resting against your midsection and making you shiver from their low temperature. He'd laugh under his breath at your reaction and slide them further up, loving the idea that he has you squirming in his grasp. Otherwise, he'd keep a hand on your thigh, rubbing it out of habit modestly. In public he keeps his hands to himself, but in private his hands have a mind of their own.

“Are they that cold, Moya Lyubov? You'll get used to it eventually, unless you'd like to find your own way to warm my hands up?”

⑅Sigma⑅

Sigmas jawline is so defined and Everytime you look at it, an overwhelming urge to kiss along it bubbles up inside of you. Sigma doesn't dislike it, but he'll act like he does, always squirming and playfully grimacing. Eventually he'll give in though, holding your hand while you pepper soft pecks along his skin. He'll return them all over your cheeks and nose, tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can't help but watch Sigmas fingers trace over his jawline while he's deep in thought about this that and the other, admiring how perfect it looks on him.

“H-hey, knock it off, I'm in the middle of fillin' out papers! I said quit it- huff...fine, just a few though! You're really distracting, you know that?”

Bonus; ⑅ H.P. Lovecraft⑅

His hair is so long and luscious- how could you not want to run your fingers through it while your sleepy boyfriend lays his head in your lap? The upper half is smooth and straight while it changes into silky curls towards the bottom, though they're not the tightest and allow for your fingers to brush through them with minimal effort. He loves the feeling of your hands against his scalp, giving soft hums and groans of a relaxed pleasure. His face has his usual neutrality regardless of how nice it feels to get his head massaged by his lover. He frequently lets you pull it into a ponytail or put it into braids or whatever style you please. He lets you brush it, too, as long as you start at the bottom instead of ripping the brush through his hair.

“Mnn...that feels nice, dear...don't mind if I fall asleep on top of you, I can't help it.”

A/n; I feel so bad for not getting to requests, something like this was the easiest thing to do this week though because I had mock trial comp right after school so i couldn't write anything from 8am-7;30 pm some nights and it was the end of the quarter so i had to focus more on school work.

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gloomwitchwrites · 2 months ago

Note

I would LOVE to hear more of your thoughts on Nikolai with a Daddy kink because I'm stupidly weak for big scary Russian dudes and you do the words well

Nikolai is only big and scary when he needs to be. (And I do do the words well, don't I?)

mdni (gn!reader)

Loves a good power dynamic, especially a consensual one. It's simple and to the point. He loves it when his partner is completely submissive, but a little bad behavior doesn't hurt either.

Not entirely into the full roleplay aspect, but does enjoy hearing you call him "daddy" as much as he enjoys calling you his "baby" or "little girl/boy." Pet names are a must for him. And just imagine him calling you a pet name with that accent...*swoon*

Obey him, and he'll reward you (sexually and financially). Disobey, and get a punishment (or two)

An absolute soft dom. He prefers to praise over degrading you. As much as he wants to be dominant, he also wants you to feel protected and safe with him. Also, he's Russian. He firmly believes it is his responsibility to look after you in all ways.

Totally open to using toys and props of all kinds.

Very verbal in and out of the bedroom. Behind closed doors, he's telling you how good you are while giving him head and how pretty his cum looks dripping out of you, to complimenting your choice in outfit. The man has many talents.

A big ole' tease. He loves building the anticipation of sex, especially threatening to withdraw sex when you're being naughty. It pushes the boundaries of control, and you both get off on it.

Will completely take care of you financially. Want new clothes? A wax? Hair done? Whatever. He's covering it. No problem.

As much as he pays your bills and buys you things, he also cares about your well-being.

Aftercare is perfect. Every. Time. No notes.

main masterlist

#cod nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai cod #nikolai call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod fanfiction #cod fic #cod fanfic #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #nikolai x gender neutral reader #nikolai x gn!reader

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siddyyyyyyyy · 6 months ago

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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

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ilovechuuy4 · 4 months ago

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₊˚⊹♡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.

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stoutguts · 4 months ago

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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

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years ago

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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

#nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bones x you

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local-crying-boy · 4 months ago

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🄽🄸🄺🄾🄻🄰🄸

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 - 𝔻𝕒𝕪 6

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝: 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙵𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔(𝚒𝚜𝚑) 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 + 𝙽𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚒 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝙴𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚕 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚝…?

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.8k (𝙸 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Translations:

любовь - Love

моя девочка - my girl

Да - yes

это то, что тебе нужно? - is that what you need?

высказывайся - speak up

я так долго хотел тебя - I’ve wanted you for so long

конечно - of course

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Nikolai, a talented pilot and a friend of your Captain, was a good friend of yours. He was kind and funny, caring but still stern sometimes. He was a perfect mixture of an amazing friend and a hardened military man.

When you had first met him, you were meeting the pilot you were going to be the co-pilot of. You were nervous to hell, your hands were shaking and you were terrified that you were going to stumble over your words in front of a complete stranger that you were going to have to work with until the foreseeable future.

You, thankfully, did not stumble over your words and did not make a complete fool of yourself in front of this stranger. Which, therefore, meant that you and Nikolai started to get closer and closer.

You wouldn’t necessarily say that you two were ‘together’, but some people did comment on how the two of you acted like a married couple, or whatever.

However, you couldn’t deny that the two of you did have a ‘relationship’ of a sort.

You slept together, from time to time.

It was a type of ‘friends with benefits’ thing, it it was mostly a thing the two of you did when you were both basically black out drunk. Which, to be fair, didn’t happen often because he could handle his drink, while you… well, could barely keep up with how much he drank.

You were able to remember exactly how the first time played out, a silly half-drunken mistake that you both made that ultimately led into something bigger.

A comment there, a laugh here, one or two innocent touches.

Then you were stumbling through the door of his apartment, trying to claw each others’ clothes off, barely taking a moment to pull away from the sloppy, needy kisses the two of you shared.

“Jesus, Nik…” you breathed out that night as he pushed against the wall, a temporary thing so that he could feel your body close to his as soon as he could.

“I couldn’t help myself.” He muttered against your lips, his hands running up your sides, referring to fact that he had you pressed up against the wall so quickly from closing the door.

Your lips had clashed against each other’s again, resulting in a desperate, messy make out session, his hands slipping under your shirt as his rough hands felt up your soft skin. His other hand was resting on your hips, though you were convinced he was slowly inching downwards.

You were quick to match his pace in the whole thing, your hands running up his chest, you could tell how toned he was even over his shirt, then your fingers started working on taking of his brown jacket.

A low rumble of a laugh met your ears, his lips near to your ear as he bit lightly on your earlobe. “No patience, hmm? You want to get right to it?”

You couldn’t help but shiver at his low, rough voice in your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin only causing shivers down your spine. His accent too, God, his accent. You could practically feel your legs start to turn to jelly at how heavenly his voice sounded, especially right by your ear.

“Fuck, Nik…” You had breathed out quietly, breaking from the kiss to lean your head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he whispered quietly, his hands moving back to your waist as he squeezed them lightly. “You want to get taken care of? I’ll take care of you, любовь.”

Before you knew it, he was picking you up. You let out a shocked gasp, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist so that you didn’t fall right on the floor.

Then, just as fast as you were off the ground, you felt your back hit something softer. The sofa. Clearly Nikolai was too impatient to take you all the way to the bedroom, wanting you here and now. Though, you had to admit, he was gentle with your body, planting you softly onto the sofa, not simply throwing you down onto it.

You were looking up at him, now noticing how large and muscular he actually was now that was on top of you. He had to admit, as well, that he was somewhat shocked at how small you looked now that you were under him. Not like you were a particularly small person, it just was a different perceptive. One that he loved, too.

Nikolai was quickly to remove his jacket and his shirt, leaving you gazing at his massive pecs and the hair covering his chest. He ran a hair through his tousled hair - thanks to you messing it up during one of many make out sessions - then leaned back down so that the two were of you were face to face, pressing his lips against yours once again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when he was closer to you, a hand grasping the back of his head, fingers entangled with his hair, no doubt messing it up more. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, causing a faint moan to leave your lips, only to be swallowed into his mouth.

“Nik-” you breathed out when you finally were able to take a breath, you felt the ever growing need in between your legs grow and grow the longer the two of you were in such close proximity.

“I know.” He whispered again, his forehead pressing against yours, breath hitting your lips. “I’ll give you what you want in a minute.”

You let out a quiet noise, one unrecognisable to your ears, when you heard him speak again. You were one to hear the differences in others voices, and you noticed the speaking patterns with Nikolai. However, now, with his breathlessness and low tone, you were finding yourself getting wet at his voice.

“What’s that, hm?” He mused quietly, a grin pulling at his lips. “I’ll make sure I’ll pull out all those noises from you, I’ll hear it again…”

His hands moved under your shirt again, pulling it up slowly to reveal your abdomen. “Move your arms.” He whispered, and you obliged without a second thought.

Your shirt was quickly discarded and thrown someone where in room, Nikolai’s hands were soon back on your sides, running upwards to your bra.

“Can I?” He muttered softly, looking you in your eyes, one of his hands moving to the your back to idly fiddle with the strap.

You nodded slowly, looking up at him as your heart raced out of your chest. You were really doing this, sleeping with your co-pilot, your friend.

Your bra was soon discarded after your nod of approval, Nikolai’s mouth attaching to one as he started to plant sloppy kisses over the bud on your breast. He was only encouraged to keep going after you started letting out a small noises of pleasure.

One of your hands moved down to his jeans, fiddling with the button as you tried to undo it with one hand and without looking. He only let out a muffled laugh around your tit as he felt your struggle.

He parted with your skin for a moment, muttering. “Let me help you with that.” Before he undid his jean button and unzipped his zipper.

Just like his shirt and jacket, his jeans were thrown someplace in the living room, living him in his boxers. Even through his boxers, you could tell he was big, and it only looked bigger with his growing erection.

Nikolai leaned his head down again, planting kisses across your chest and collarbone. His hands went to your sides, feeling up you up before he decided on removing your clothes on your lower half.

You pushed his head back up to yours with your index and thumb on his chin, quickly pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss, your hand that had moved his head wrapped in his hair again. You were able to slip out of the shorts you were wearing, a fete proven difficult while you were desperately pushed your lips against Nikolai’s.

The situation was moving so quick in your eyes, one minute you were drinking happily with your co-worker, the next the two of you were laying practically naked on the sofa together. Had you been not so preoccupied with the situation at hand, you would have laughed about the whole thing.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, моя девочка…” he whispered quietly, his nose brushing against yours. “We should have done this long ago…”

You let out a small hum, god, his voice sent heat straight down in between your legs. He was going to start catching on soon, you were sure. Your underwear was sticking to your pussy so much that it was uncomfortable now, you could feel the wetness every time you shifted, even slightly.

“Damn it, Nik…” you whispered quietly, you breath with shaking with anticipation. “I need you so bad right now.”

He let out a huff of amusement, looking down at you with such a stupid, smug grin. “Да? You need me?”

You quickly nodded, you breath hitching quickly when you felt his hand travel down your abdomen, no doubt inching towards your soaked pussy.

“You want me to touch you? Is that it?” He asked with a hushed, husky voice. “Want my fingers inside of you, это то, что тебе нужно? My fingers?”

You nodded once more, shivers running up your spine as you felt him slowly pull down your underwear, down your thighs and then off over your ankles.

He let out a small chuckle when his gaze fell on how wet you were. “You’re this wet already? Just from us making out?”

“You can’t blame me.” You joked with a laugh, looking up at him. Though, you couldn’t blame you could feel your face flushed with embarrassment.

He made a small movement with his shoulders, nodding slowly. “I guess I can’t.”

His forehead was pressed against yours again and he found you in a softer kiss than before, his hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. “You must really need me, though.”

The sound of his voice sent a familiar shiver down your spine, a small breath escaping your lips, Nikolai no doubt being able to feel it.

“Do you like it when I talk?” He asked faintly, his lips unhurried down your neck. “You always have a little reaction when I speak.”

“Nik…” you whispered out, he was so close to where you desperately needed him and he was taking his sweet time moving his hands.

“Yes, yes, любовь.” He chuckled quietly. “Where’s your patience, hm?”

His eyes were fixated on your expression as his first finger slowly slipped into your folds, an amused smirk on his face as he watched your mouth open, a quiet moan escaping your lips.

“Да, you like it, hm?” He mused softly, his lips pressing against your neck, planting wet kisses on your skin.

He found your faint moans beautiful, the way you were still only quiet from his slow movements, the way you only let out soft breaths.

“Oh, you’re so wet.” He whispered quietly, easily slipping in a second digit steadily inside of you. “See how easy I can slip in?”

You let out a gentle mewl as he slowly started to scissor your soaked pussy, your hand travelling up to grasp his forearm as your head leaned comfortably on one of the pillows on the sofa.

“Nik…” you moaned out, head leaning back as your eyes fixated on his as he looked intently down at you.

“What?” I asked with a chuckle. “Go on, tell me what you want, don’t be shy.”

You didn’t answer straight away, simply just relishing in the small amount of pleasure he was able to give you while using his fingers.

“C’mon.” He encouraged quietly, his lips moving up to your ear and lightly biting on your earlobe. “You can do it, speak up, высказывайся.”

“Fuck…” you whimpered, screwing your eyes shut for a split second. “I need you to fuck me, Nik…”

He was content with your bluntness, easier than beating around the bush. “Okay, любовь, okay.”

And with that, he moved his fingers out of your wetness, his index and middle finger coated in your slick. Before he even moved to take off his underwear, he placed his fingers in his mouth and licked off the sticky coating, a soft noise escaped his lips when he did so.

“Who knew my girl would taste so good.” He said with a rumble of laughter in his chest. “моя девочка… all for me.”

Then he started to finally get fully bare, his boxers joining the rest of both your clothes that were previously thrown off. His member stood erected, the size intimating you more than you thought it was, but maybe that was just because you were intoxicated.

He leaned down and gave you a long, passionate, reassuring kiss on your supple lips. His hand on the back of your neck as if to stabilise you.

In a couple of shifts in position, his cock was comfortably resting in between your thighs. You could feel the tip of his shaft just by your aching pussy.

“Are you ready…?” He asked quietly, his hands now moving to your waist, just so he had something to grope and tightly grasp as he fucked you.

You nodded quickly, your breath heavy with anticipation. “Yes, yes…”

The smirk on his face hadn’t ceased, your eagerness and need for him only amusing him throughout the entire affair. Though, even he couldn’t deny how much he wanted you too.

He pushed himself into your soaked, aching pussy slowly, a low groan escaping his lips. He pressed his face to your shoulder, kissing up it to your neck, mostly to get you some type of relief as you got used to his size.

“Oh, God…” you muttered out quietly, inhaling quietly as you felt his cock start to stretch you out, slowly. “Nik, fuck…”

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, a hand slowly moving to cup your face, causing your eyes to open again and lock onto his.

“I’m okay…” you breathed out quietly, nodding as you spoke. “I’m okay… you can move.”

He whispered out a small ‘okay’, his hand quickly moving to move his overgrown hair out of the way of his sight. A low grunt being heard as he started to move himself steadily out of you, before pushing himself back into you.

The two of you were swift to get into rhythm, finding a pace that was fast enough to finally get that pleasure that was building up and was slow enough to let you get used to one another.

His hands eventually moved to your sides, caressing up and down your skin as if he was savouring the moment (which he definitely was). Faint groans and gentle moans filled the room, Nikolai on top of you as he rocked back and forth.

As you started to grow comfortable and used to his size, Nikolai heard the small ‘you can go faster’ escape your lips. He hadn’t hesitated to pick up his slow movements into quicker paced ones, feeling how his cock twitched when he heard your moans pick up.

“Oh, Nik-” you moaned out, eyes fluttering close. One of his hands travelled to your hand, quickly intertwining yours and his, you gladly took it.

“I know, любовь,” he whispered, his lips pressing against yours for a few moments before he started to trail his lips down your neck. “God, I love how you feel around me… you feel so good…”

You felt a shiver run down your spine when you heard that husky, deep voice so close to where your ear was. Nikolai surely noticed how you pushed your hips a little closer to his when you heard his voice.

“You feel so good.” He repeated, his lips going up to your earlobe, his teeth grazing against the skin there. “я так долго хотел тебя, wanted to have you moan under me…”

He loved how, mixed in with his cock thrusting in and out of you, his voice made you moan and shiver in his arms. His free hand moved down to your chest, feeling your breast and playing with the nipple.

“I love how you feel.” He muttered, starting to get a little breathless now. “Love how you feel so much… I want to touch you all the time…”

“Nikolai…” you moaned out quietly, your hand going to cup his face to bring him down into another long kiss.

“What is it?” He asked, kissing your cheek and then your jaw. “Tell me…”

“I… need you so bad…” you whispered, even though he was already deep inside of you, even though he was already touching you, even though he was already kissing you.

“You already have me.” He whispered, continuing pressing kissed all over your skin.

You let out a quiet whine, shaking your head slowly. “Need you to cum in me… fuck me…”

Nikolai let out a chuckle, mostly at the little whine that escaped your pretty lips, he loved how he could make you feel so desperate that you would resort to making such noises. “конечно, I will…”

It was safe to say that that one drunken night had paved the course that you and Nikolai would go down for a long time. It seemed so frequent that the two of you would continue this drunken pattern.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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boolger · 3 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 5

<-former chapter -AO3 link -next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi, Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.3k

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, it dies later on, 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

MDNI. MDNI. Dead dove do not eat.

Authors note: do note there will be the use of prong collars in this. Just like all the other fucked up stuff in this, i don't support that irl, but this is fiction. On a different note, it will probably be at least a week before I can give you another chapter lol, shit is happening, my sinners and im holding on. Also thank u to all the nice asks and comments ive been sent. means a lot <33. ENJOY!

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You could only stay in the farmhouse for so long; even though you desperately wanted to stay inside, Price dragged you outside, talking about fresh air and enjoying nature.

To you it was nothing but lies and the smell of animal shit.

There were no pavements, no cars flashing by, no advertisements or shops, no scents of food or sweets trying to lure you in. There were no hybrid clothes shops, where John would play dress up with you for his next party. Show him how the lingerie set he picked out looked against your tail.

He would make sure your nails were always perfect and manicured. Without the claws, he made sure you knew you were loved anyways, your nails adorned with expensive nail polish and gemstones. Anything that his Daisy, his princess, his darling, his puppy wanted, she always got.

Now you were here, following him into the stables, to see how far Nikolai - who had forced himself into your life - was with the tractor.

Warily looking out for the hybrids, staying close to your owner.

The stitches were gone and everything was healed all nicely - that didn’t mean that you wanted to start over and get more bites that would need stitches. Once was enough. Hopefully Price and Nikolai understood that too.

Also, you didn’t want to get fucked dumb by those mutts again; they didn’t deserve your pussy. Especially not Ghost or Gaz. Not really Soap either, he had just been nice because he had to. You were sure. They were nothing but stupid working dogs, who didn’t know how to behave.

Your owner, John Price, looked in love; he was watching Nik just as much as he was watching the tractor. The stress that had sometimes followed him home when you lived in the city was no longer visible. It had left his bones, made him happy and pliable, clearly blossoming in his new role as a farmer. You loved him but what the fuck were you supposed to do with this whole situation? Pretend to be happy?

You were a pet, so it wasn’t like you had any options. And your attempts at persuading him to move back to the city hadn’t gone well. Resisting your ever present urge to let him fuck you, would probably not do you any good. Earn you a spanking from both him and Nikolai. They might even throw you to the hounds.

One of those said hounds were getting closer to you, the hybrid making you tense up a little.

“You’re looking good, princess,” Gaz said casually, shooting you an awfully charming smile, his tail wagging while you tipped your ears backwards instead of replying.

“Feeling better?”

You didn’t reply, merely stared at the tractor, boring as it was. Maybe if you ignored him, he would go away. He stepped closer to you, his dark gaze resting on you, while you stepped closer to John, growling as a warning.

“Behave,” Price said over his shoulder, clearly more interested in that Russian man of his, than your safety.

It only took another step and Gaz’s teeth a tad too close to you, to send you bolting out. Back inside it was then, you concluded, enough farming bullshit for today.

Only to meet Ghost in the way, his scarred face grinning smugly, ears tipping towards you.

“‘Ello pup.”

Nah, you weren’t fucking with that today. You managed to see the shadow of Soap before you bolted again.

Running still wasn’t your best talent; so though you knew it was stupid, you decided to do what you weren’t allowed to anyways. You crawled the wooden fence, ignoring the male hybrids' shouts and barks — as well as the fence’s slight squeak - and landed on the other side with a grunt.

The corns were tall and you took a breath, looking over your shoulder, only to see a worried looking Soap being the closest.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“Dinnae lass,” he warned, a softness in his voice that you recognized from your moments inside.

You would deal with the consequences and the punishment that Price would give you for leaving the ground. It was better than getting your shoulders bitten to pieces - so you got up and rushed into the tall corn field. Abandoning the male hybrids.

Stupid. They were all stupid.

Maybe this should be your new go-to hiding spot. You could hear them bark aggressively but not getting nearer. They weren’t allowed to leave either. You felt your chest swell a little with pride over the idea. You wouldn't be gone for long, just until they lost interest in you.

It was several seconds before you stopped, panting with your tongue out. You couldn’t see the fence or the farm from all the corn by now, which finally meant some peace. Your tail wagged and your body relaxed, a soft wind playing with your fur for a moment, making the corn move around you, like waves in the ocean.

However, that peace didn’t last long.

“My my,” the voice almost appeared out of nowhere and you turned slowly, unsure but still afraid of what you would see, “what are you doing here, perrita? On my property?”

You knew Alejandro and Rodolfo had gotten a hybrid, but you had been too swept up in your own nightmare to ask about her; now, as she towered above you, seeming more wolf than dog, you would rather have one of the mutts on your own farm. A scared little whimper escaped you.

“You must be Price’s precious lapdog, no?” She asked, slowly moving in between the corn with ease, as she circled around you, fear making you stay still, “a little city puppy, forced to be out on a farm. How sad.”

There was no trace of sympathy in her voice. It took you a moment to swallow some spit and another moment to take a proper breath.

“I’ll go home again, I’m sorry.” You tried your best to seem submissive, leaning forward a little, tail tugged along your leg. You at least had your owner at the farm - but here? Here, with this new, wolf-like hybrid, you didn't have anyone. You weren’t even supposed to be here, weren’t allowed. Sure, you knew Alejandro and Rudy, but they also knew you weren’t supposed to be there.

“Hmmm,” she answered in a rumble, licking her teeth slowly, casually showing off her fangs, “what’s your name, perrita?”

She screamed danger. Her energy screamed ‘I can make worse wounds than them’ and you certainly didn’t feel like testing that. In fact, you would rather get as much distance between you and her as possible.

“D-Daisy.” It was the name Price had chosen, not that you were really called it. But you weren’t going to tell this hybrid woman who looked like she could swallow you whole, that you were usually called princess, pretty girl, puppy or sweetheart.

“I’m Valeria,” she replied, finally stopping her circling, only to step closer to you. She wasn’t really that tall, but her energy was as if she was, she had strong arms and legs; scars littered her too, her hair short, ears big and tipped forward without a care in the world. Her collar was thick and sturdy, opposed to your own fancy one.

You almost wanted to point out that yours was prettier. That you were a lapdog, not one of the working ones, that you were not made to be played rough with. That you were no threat.

You could hear barking in the distance. Voices calling out for you. Even though you hadn’t met Valeria for more than a minute, you already knew you wanted to get a good distance between you and her.

“Uh nice to meet you, but I better get back home, sorry-“ you turned around quickly but before you could even think to bolt, strong arms were around you and the other dog hybrid pulled you close to her chest.

“Eres tan linda e ingenua,” she almost lovingly growled into your ear, and while you didn’t understand what she was saying, you were much more distracted by her tongue. She licked your cheek a couple of times, slow and wet strokes; you got the feeling that she might eat you raw without regret and you twisted a little in her grip, letting out a louder growl. She laughed, one of her hands pawing at your tit, claws sinking into the fabric. She smelled of danger and lust; like the mutts at home when they first got their dirty paws on you.

“I’m gonna enjoy me—“

“VALERIA!” Her name echoed through the fields, making both of you freeze. Like a warning rushing in between the corns, her name couldn’t be ignored.

She growled deeply, seeming annoyed with the disturbance, while you wanted to kiss whoever of your neighbors it was. She rolled her hips, humping your ass twice, before she was interrupted again.

“Valeria!” It was Alejandro, you realised then, who yelled once again, “ sé que la tienes! Let her go!”

With one deep sniff of you, while you whimpered, the wolf-looking hybrid finally let go of you.

“I won’t be as nice next time, perrita - now go, before I change my mind and take you from your boys.”

You didn’t need to be told that again and didn’t want to argue that they weren’t your boys - the moment she let go, you bolted towards the way you came.

How they knew that she had gotten a hold of you wasn't clear, but it wasn’t like you were gonna turn around and ask Alejandro or Rudy.

The answer came to you anyways; one angry looking John Price stood with crossed arms, phone in hand. A grinning Nikolai next to him and three growling hybrids moving back and forth along the men and the fence. Every single one of them stilled and stared at you as you sheepishly walked to the fence, tail between your legs and ears tipped down.

You stood, just for a moment, with the fence in between you and the others. Considering staying there, as if that would be a good solution.

“Get your arse over here,” Price snapped, his voice stern and dark, as he put his phone in his pocket, marching towards you.

You hastily and in a rather inexperienced manner, climbed the fence and got to the right side. Instantly, tears welled up in your eyes and you let out a whimper, almost ready to tell about the horrors you had just been through - only to bark loudly at the hybrids as they all charged towards you, hands touching you, only stopped by a sharp whistle.

“Nyet,” Nikolai called harshly, “off her. Now.”

Soap and Gaz instantly let go, stepping back as John reached you, but Ghost didn’t move. His hand rested on your neck, pressing your collar against your skin, his nose almost fully pressed against your temple.

“Let go.” Price’s voice was sharp and you let out a little whimper- not sure who of them you would rather deal with right now.

“She smells wrong,” Ghost replied, not moving, but his voice not as harsh as it could be, “smell of her.”

Her. You didn’t know whether Valeria would be in trouble over this or not. You had been the one to step into her territory anyways. She wasn't the one who had jumped a fence after all.

“We will fix that.”

Ghost let out a grumble but after two seconds of staring at each other, the hybrid finally let go of you, earning himself a swift “Good boy.”

Then Price grabbed into the ring in your collar and pulled, ignoring how you instantly broke into tears, excuses and explanations spilling from your lips like a waterfall, desperate to avoid punishment. You didn't want to stay with Valeria, but you didn’t want this either.

You were dragged past Nikolai who shared a short glance with Price - and they gave each other a short nod.

“C’mon boys,” Nikolai then called, the hybrids instantly moving to him, even though you could feel them staring at you, “we’re gonna join them.”

They were what? You cried harder, tugging at John’s arm, your owner ignoring your pleads and cries.

“I’m sorry sir, I got scared, I didn’t mean to run away,” you babbled, every second word followed by a small sob or whine, tail between your lets, almost making it hard to walk normally, “ they scared me, I was gonna come back, I’ll be good sir, I’ll behave! I wasn’t running away!”

There was no mercy from your owner, who just marched you towards the farmhouse that had almost become home by now.

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be a dog on a farm by now, surrounded by working hybrids, you would have laughed in their face. Loudly and impolitely.

You? Pretty lapdog living in the city out on a farm?

You weren’t even at the house yet, somehow crying harder because you felt so sorry for yourself in general. You were such a perfect lapdog, such a perfect being, forced to be out here, in the cold countryside. A tragedy.

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The prong collars looked like they would choke too and you wanted to scream merely at the sight.

“I’m not running the risk of having my darling all bitten to pieces again - this will hopefully help you to remember.”

None of them seemed too happy about it; you couldn’t blame them, you wouldn’t want those either, but you were horrified by the idea of getting bitten as harshly as they did last time. If both Price and Nik hadn’t been there, you doubted it would be possible to get the collars on them.

You were still crying yourself, from the shame of having jumped over the fence and creating chaos, only resulting in this.

The moment they were allowed, they were on you, ignoring your whimpering and fingers trying to push them off - Soap was the nicest, helping you get your clothes off instead of letting the others rip them, even if all of them were obsessed with your smell. Or well, with how you smelled of Valeria to be exact.

Soap licked your cheek and you growled at him, tipping your ears back, trying to push him away, fingers against his chest; but he didn’t move, only pressed himself closer, growling back to prove he was stronger than you - that you were supposed to be submitting to him.

“They shouldn’t be this aggressive,” you heard Price point out to Nikolai, but you were too distracted by Soap grinding his still clothed crotch against your poor, exposed cunt - you whined his name, but he didn’t stop.

“Gonn’ mark ye, hen,” he promised in a murmur, teeth sinking into your jaw for just a moment - a warning tug in the leash made him let go almost instantly, instead licking the spot a couple of times, “gonn’ make ye smell all bonnie again.”

Both Gaz and Ghost were barking, but they were both held by the collars by Price and Nik, kneeling next to them, clearly antsy.

“-are working dogs-” it was hard to hear them, over your own mind buzzing so much, over the barks and the pleasure that you hated, “-hierachy is importa-”, one of Soap’s hands disappeared and a moment later, you heard his fly get tugged down, “show them where the line is, so–”

You howled in a high pitched tone as he forced his cock inside you, making you twist and try to push Soap okay. The stretch was intense, burning despite how wet you felt. “It's okay, bonnie lass,” Soap growled, forcing his cock a little deeper into you, nosing at your shoulder, near one of your scent glands, his hands moving to grab onto your thighs, “we’re nae gonna hurt ye.”

You both knew it was a lie - but you at least trusted Soap a little more than the two other mutts who were watching, knowing he could control himself. They were barely able to sit still, tongues out, almost drooling, while their eyes were dark in a way that reminded you of that time in the shed.

He forced his cock deeper, the knot finally reaching the opening of your poor, stretched cunt and you let out a sound at the fear of it sliding inside you. The scent of Soap was already beginning to overwhelm the scent that Valeria had left behind against your will - a part of you wished you had fought her more, had attempted to hurt her more.

The cry that left you was pained and afraid - his fangs almost having forced its way through your skin; you were only saved by John, who pulled Soap back by the collar, the prongs digging into the hybrid’s skin.

“Behave, boy,” John snarled while a mixture of a whine and a growl left Soap, as he helplessly pawed at the collar, “No breaking skin - already told you.”

“‘m sorry, sorry,” he promised, a pained tone to his voice, “dinnae mean tae.”

You doubted it was true; there was a darkness in the air despite the way your owner tried handling them.

He was let go off and the moment the prongs didn’t painfully dig into his skin, he was on you again, tongue on the indent he had left, his cock pressed into you again, his tail wagging.

“‘m sorry,” he barely managed to say in between his licks and moans, before his hands were back on you, his moaning louder, as he ignored your whines of slowing down. Your own hands grabbed onto his mohawk and ears, but the hybrid did nothing but moan even louder, moving his hips a little upwards and fuck - he hit the perfect spot, grinning like a feral hound when he noticed and heard your sounds.

You came against your will, crying out and spasming around him, his hands grabbing harder onto your thighs, claws teasing the skin.

He was panting and moaning like a hound, mounting you like there was nothing in his mind but the feeling of your cunt.

“Gonna fill ye up,” Soap promised, words barely escaping his mouth, drool dripping down on you; not like you cared, too gone yourself to really do so.

“DON'T knot her,” Price’s word cut through the air like a sharp knife, slicing into your mind; you wanted him to knot you, a part of you realized, no you needed him too - while another screamed in delight of not having to be stuck to him.

“Nnngh,” his hips were going so fast it almost hurt as they clashed against your skin, “please sir, please plea—“

“No.”

The hand that appeared made you shudder - and then a second later, Soap came, almost a guttural scream leaving him; you could feel Price’s fingers near your cock, stopping him from sliding his knot into you.

“Later,” Price answered, then pulling Soap back by the collar and hair, your own hands slipping easily from him, “we don’t have the time to wait for all of you to knot her right now.”

The moment he was pulled away, you moved, whimpering and curling to the side, wincing as cum slid out from your pussy; it wasn’t John’s, you wanted it to be your owners. You barely had time to breathe before Nik released one of the others. Gaz pushed you onto your stomach - one hand on your neck to keep you down as you snarled.

“Wait,” you barked, ears tipping down “lemme breathe, for fucks sake—“

“Need you, puppy,” Gaz merely replied, grabbing onto your collar and tugging, his other hand pulling on your tail, ignoring your yelp, “gonna make it all okay again.”

“Nothing happened-“ you snarled, trying to make him let go, but you separately rose to your knees in order to levitate the pressure on your tail.

“Why did you smell like her then, huh?” He all but snarled, finally letting go of your collar, to push down his own pants, “stinking of her lust!”

You tried twisting to grip onto his ears to tug at them, hoping it would make him let go of you but he merely let go of you fully for a moment - your wrists were caught by his hands and he slammed them against the wooden floor.

“Be nice, собака,” Nik warned him, “I’m in no mood for broken bones.”

You barely heard him nor Gaz’ aggressive reply; you were too busy, having a realization.

They were jealous ; you weren’t sure why it had taken you so fucking long to realize. The three mutts were jealous somebody else, somebody they didn’t know, had touched you and hadn’t you been so fucking upset, you might have laughed.

Instead, you felt a cock forcing its way into your cunt, making you howl in pleasure against your will; the slide was easier this time as Gaz fucked you, as you were already wet from the round with Soap - and now with his cum as well, Gaz fucked you almost smoothly. If not more aggressively than Soap had.

It didn’t take long before his teeth sank into your skin, the first two seconds it was nothing more than an extra grip, his cock roughly thrusting into you as if attempting to move your organs, his drool sliding along your skin, mixing with your sweat. His claws were digging into your skin slightly, but even more into the floor - while you were a mess, panting and attempting to growl in between your pathetic moans, barely able to see straight.

The pressure he bit you with changed quickly however and suddenly you were whining in pain, so loudly that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice.

Apparently Gaz had tried to bite Price in aggression over being ripped away from ‘his bitch’ as Nik called it, and you heard the harsh words and slaps, while you sank down a little, your tits pressed against the cold floor, your cunt empty.

He was back as soon as he disappeared though, pulling you up again, only to almost instantly try to bite you again – halfway pulled away once more. You looked over your shoulder, seeing how the prong collar dug into his skin for a short moment until Price let go of him again.

The moment he was back, you turned however, using the moment to grab onto one of his long, dark ears and tug; it was almost a squeal that left Gaz and you heard both the hybrids bark and growl, Nik saying something – but it was the harsh spank from the leather leash that made you loosen your grip.

“Behave, Princess,” John was squatting down next to you, strong hand on your pretty collar; it stood out so violently when compared to the others’ current prong collars, “or I’ll get you a collar too.”

“They’re mean!” you whimpered, giving him your best puppy eyes, before sending Gaz an angry look, as he was barely held back by John.

“Well you’re not quite playing nice either, eh?” There was a slight amusement in his voice but you didn’t get to comment on it, before he moved again.

Price gave Gaz more leash and the hybrid was instantly on you again, but this time Price didn’t let go of the metal ring in your own collar, keeping you in place, as if to remind you to behave; to remember he was right here, calling the shots.

“Yeah, Princess,” Gaz mocked, pushing into your cunt again with a moan, the movement in his hips exposing the fact that he was wagging his tail, “Behave.”

“Shut up!” you hissed angrily, a tug in the collar reminding you that Price was right there.

Gaz’ hands were mostly on your hips - he nuzzled against your back and neck, licking your shoulders and in between your shoulder blades - he bit you a couple of times, but they were barely anything more than nips, a gentle tug on his collar reminding him to behave.

Then one of his hands moved, almost catching you off guard and making you whimper - it slid beneath your stomach, pawing at it for a moment, before it found its way to your cunt where the two of you were still connected, his thrusts still hard; he touched your clit without hesitation, snarling out words you could barely recognize. Mercilessly forcing you towards another orgasm.

Price let go of your collar and you let your head slumber down against the floor, wincing at the small pool of drool that had been created, hating how you pushed back against Gaz, the dual pleasure of his cock hitting that right spot and the fingers on your clit, so good you could barely breathe.

You barely heard Price’s command of not knotting you, from the mere tsunami of pleasure that overtook your body as you came, a howl that barely made any sound, snapping of your teeth and the pawing at the floor. You tightened around his cock, the knot having been so close, oh so close to being forced into your over oversensitive cunt - but then it was pulled out of you, almost making you sob.

Cum spurted on top of your lower back and ass cheeks, before Gaz willingly went - you could hear the almost instant sound of him and Soap making out with each other. And there was only one person back, which meant you had to go now.

A hand grabbed onto your ankle, dragging you backwards as you managed to crawl forwards a few steps - you turned around, back on the floor, raising your opposite leg to kick Ghost in the face, but the other hybrid caught it easily; grinning at you, almost feral-like, lust heavy in the air. Sometimes you forgot they had been in the military for so long.

Leather connected to your skin once more, this time on your raised thigh, a whine leaving you, your eyes flickering to look up at John who stood with the leash curled in his hand, ready to spank you with it once more.

“behave,” John hissed at you, while Ghost chuckled. Idiot.

You didn’t have much time to argue, Ghost letting go of your ankles, just to grab onto your thighs and pull you closer; he was kneeling, almost pulling you into his lap, that feral grin still there, fangs exposed.

He leant over you much quicker than you had anticipated, ignoring your growling and snapping with teeth - one hand resting next to your head, the other pulling down his boxers, pants already open.

Was his cock this big last time? It was like you couldn’t remember the last time right now, you could barely think, in fact, your mind was overwhelmed with so many things. Pleasure, oversensitivity, pain and anger - his dick seemed inhumanely long.

“Not so snappy now, huh?” he crooned, voice low, his free hand grabbing onto your plush thigh, fingers digging into the fat, ears tipped towards you as he spoke, “cockdumb already?”

“nnngh,” you tried pushing at his clothed chest, twisting in his grip, but it was no use; it was like the cock inside you kept you from doing anything. Somehow you managed a small “shutup” and that was enough to set Ghost going.

“Gonna teach you to not go whoring again,” Ghost snarled against your skin, tongue sloppily leaving a wet trail of spit over one of your bouncing tits, simply ignoring your hands trying to push his face out of the way, a plethora of moans and small yaps leaving you as he didn’t stop fucking you with that monster cock of his. You knew you were being watched, both by your owner and his boyfriend, as well as the two other hybrids, it only added to the humiliation of being turned on.

“Belong to us,” his words were barely audible as he growled them, the wet sounds and rustling of his clothes seeming to overtake it, “not her.”

“I won’t, won’t go, won–” you were barely aware of the words slipping from your lips, the volume rising as you felt his teeth scrape against a spot on your shoulder over your right breast, “nonon, please, I wont–”

“Ghost–” Price’s warning was stern, the little tug in the prong collar making him grumble, licking over the spot a couple of times - your eyes met.

Ghost’s eyes almost seemed like they wanted to own you too; as if it was no longer John who you bowed to, but the pack that you didn’t want, on a farm you didn’t want to be. His thrusts quickened and then his eyelids lowered together with his head – biting down into your skin.

Despite his fast attempt at breaking your skin, mauling your flesh into his, Price was quicker – pulling him back by the collar. He held an extra grip on his hair and you managed to look up, see through the tears.

It was like there was a flood in your ears, Price looking mad, Ghost’s ears tipping backwards as he spoke.

Fighting to get some air into your lungs, you panted and tried wiggling free. Ghost’s fingers merely dug deeper into your plush thigh even though he was currently pulled back by the prong collar, the tips of his claws pressing against your skin as a warning.

The moment he let go, Ghost was back at it, staring down at you with a dark smile, grunts and small moans even leaving him. It took a couple of moments before Price let him have enough leash to bend down over you again and this time Ghost growled into your ears instead of your skin. Licking your furry ears while you whimpered at the feeling and the words.

They owned you; were going to breed you, use you, keep Valeria away, and do whatever they needed to keep you. You were theirs. The moment you let us, he had panted, we will love you.

There was an odd feeling in your stomach, almost as if you were going to piss yourself, but with no mercy from any of the men, one of your hands dug into his short hair and the other grabbed onto his shoulder as you screamed.

It had been a while since you squirted and it took you by surprise, just as it did the others. There were several barks, voices but then Ghost was fucking you even harder than before, bordering on painful, forcing his mouth against yours. You came a second time, this time not squirting but it almost felt more intense.

Ghost came just a moment later, perhaps caught by surprise himself, but he made sure not to knot you.

The world was spinning around you. There were teardrops in your lashes as you squinted up at the hybrid, who was still pushed inside you. Price’s hand petting him shortly on the head before pulling him back.

There was speech but you barely noticed - then strong hands pulled you up into a lap. The overpowering scent of leather and oil told you who it was and despite your slight hate for Nik, your tail wagged as he pulled you into his arms, cooing at you.

“Such a strong puppy,” he praised, one of his hands drying away some of your drool, caressing your cheek as he sat on the floor with you on his lap, cum no doubt dripping onto his clothes, “you deserve treat for being so good, da?”

Compared to the first time you had met Nikolai, you didn’t want to bite his hand anymore - he clearly didn’t fear you doing so either. You snuggled into his hand, nodding as you squinted up at him, a small “uh-huh” leaving you.

His hand disappeared and then there was a faint rustling of plastic - even without seeing it, you smelled it. It was that mouthwatering scent that made you weak in your knees that first time and your nose instantly sniffed, almost trying to sit up further to get a look of where it was - to get it before the boys did. Nikolai laughed, letting out a “there you go, milaya,” letting you grab the piece of jerky from his finger, instantly sinking your teeth into it with a pleased sigh. Your tail wagging a little again as you heard Soap whining over not getting a piece.

You even had to take a bath with them afterwards. Your life was officially over - you made sure to tell Price that, who just huffed and rolled his eyes. Sure, you weren’t the biggest fan of showers, but you wanted the cum off and you wanted a bath in the tub… alone. That was your thing.

“- ‘nd they’re gonna use up my shampoo and my conditioner -” you continued overdramatically as Nik carried you in front of John, the russian man merely snorting at your pitiful complaining.

“We’ll buy more-” John tried to point out, but to no avail, life might as well be over for you right now.

“- ‘nd my brushes - all my nice brushes!”

“I will be sure tae use yers, Mo ghràdh,” Soap happily proclaimed, sending you a wink, fully naked as he was, his usual collar back on, small red marks on his neck from where the prongs had been, “I will use theim the wrong way. Just fer ye.”

Gaz snickered and even Ghost let out a chuckle.

“Jooohn,” you whined, only struggling a little as Nik sat you down in the tub, the water already nice and warm, your poor body having needed this, “I’m gonna need new brushes.”

“I doubt that, Princess,” he cooed, petting your hair, “Now who wants to join in th–”

Soap was in the tub, sliding in behind you before John could even finish his question, happily ignoring your pout and growl.

“Dinnae be like that,” he crooned, “where is yer special shampoo?”

This day had been awful.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Princess.”

You almost jumped as the voice called for you and you turned, squinting slightly in suspicion at the sight. Gaz stood in the doorway, all calmly, looking at you, playing a little with his gloves. He didn’t look aggressive and didn’t smell turned on; in fact, he looked pretty harmless, his tail wagging ever so slightly, ears turning towards you and an almost shy smile.

“What?” you asked, sitting up in the dog bed, crossing your arms, not caring about sounding nice, looking him over for a moment before adding, “you’re dragging in mud.”

He looked down at his shoes, letting out a little ‘oh’. They weren’t really supposed to be in here, so you didn’t really understand why Gaz stood there. You didn’t really care either.

The other might be beautiful, but he was still not one of your favorite people.

“I - want to show you something,” he finally said, one of his charming smile appearing, though it was a little more careful this time, “Soap said you would probably like it.”

“What is it?” You didn’t sound too impressed.

“It's a surprise,” he smiled a little more.

“If it's your knots, then you can–”

“Jeez,” he rolled his eyes, as if they weren’t fucking you silly on the livingroom floor the other day, “it’s not. Nothing like that.”

“Promise?”

“I do,” he answered, wagging a little more than before, “Swear on my tail.”

"Hm. Where is it?”

“In the barn.”

You scrunched your nose at the mention of the barn, the idea of being stamped to death by a horse already scaring you.

“It’s nothing scary - I wouldn’t bring you if it was.”

You let out a sigh, before getting up - he went to the hallway again and you followed, stealing one of John’s jackets as well as a pair of his boots, before following Gaz outside.

“Some air would do you good once in a while, ya’ know,” Gaz said after a few moments, “we’re not that bad all of the time, Princess.”

You huffed, wondering for a moment if you should just turn around and go back. “You haven’t really proved me otherwise.”

He let out a hum that almost sounded agreeable but opened one of the doors to the barn, ushering you inside.

“It’s all good, I promise,” he said once more and you reminded yourself, that if he tricked you, you were going to snap off his tail. Pretty as it was.

He steered you to a booth where you noticed the heat lamp at first, more than anything else - but then you saw them, letting out a little gasp.

Tiny baby goats, all snuggled together in the hay beneath the lamp. A few of the mothers stood nearby and one of them came to the door of the booth, sniffing at Gaz’ hand, before letting out a bleat - then turning around again.

“They’re adorable,” you whispered, looking back at the babies, some of them looking at you, others sleeping with no worries in the world.

“Aren’t they?” Gaz asked with a smile, “They were born yesterday night. Come.”

You let out a scared sound as Gaz opened the door to the booth.

“Won’t the mothers attack us?” you didn’t like how Gaz chuckled to your genuine, fearful question but he shook his head.

“Nah, me ‘nd the others hang out with the animals all the time.” He explained, petting one of the mothers who came to greet him for a moment.

It was cute. You had to admit that, even with your limited love of the farm animals.

“But I don’t.” you pointed out, still standing in the door of the booth, afraid to step into the hay and join the other as he sat down next to the baby goats.

“No, but the mothers know I won’t let a predator near,” he explained gently, “Not at daytime and not during the night.”

“Oh.”

There was something special over this that you could not explain. You didn’t want to explain it. You sat down next to Gaz as he patted the spot, still a little unsure about the momma goats - but none of them battered an eye as Gaz took your hand and made you gently pet one of the babies.

“They’re so tiny,” you whispered, almost to yourself, for once not hating or fearing Gaz. At least for right now, you were just in a moment together with him, doing something that you hadn’t expected would be that nice.

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exyzedd · 1 year ago

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;)

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luvfy0dor · 6 months ago

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“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

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mrsrookhunt · 2 years ago

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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.

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siddyyyyyyyy · 6 months ago

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You're Only Sixteen

wc: ~4.6k

summary: child soldier joins task force 141 part THREE; part two, part one; part four

warnings: brief flashback, blood, violence, nightmares

a/n: I'm genuinenly happy how well this is going so far, I'm going to update the parts a bit more slowly for now, but I'm pretty sure I won't take too long on this. Probably. Enjoy!

This time, Ghost is leading the training for today. That just means they're no fun games like last time with Price, not that you were looking forward to it. Starting at the shooting range is like a warm-up for you, landing all shots while doing everything casually. Your reload is fast and precise, your aim is almost always perfect, and your technique couldn't be more clean.

Sparring was similar to the last time, but now you're paired up with Soap. You're both getting in your stance, knees slightly bent, one leg forward, and abdominal muscles tense. Both ready to fight, but this time without any weapons. Ghost specifically told him to strike first, wanting to see how long you can last or even win against Soap. It shouldn't be a big deal for you, even though he is quite a big guy, full of muscle, and slightly taller than you. You've mostly had opponents your size or bigger in field, and you never really had a problem winning or lasting long. Well, besides one person back in camp.

Soap strikes you first with a sharp jab to your side, but you dodge it quickly, hitting him back. You focus on your technique instead of winning, wanting to be strong against him. He seems to be focussing more on his technique as well, noticing how fast he works and his reflexes are. Your fighting styles are similar; the only difference is how you two use it in practice. While he's using more strength and power, you're trying to be quicker than your opponent and trick them.

You kick against his knee, and land some hits against his weak points, it's hard for him to stay balanced or focused. He huffs and stumbles back, only to rush to you quickly and try to tackle you down. With his amount of strength, it's difficult to actually stop him or dodge, having to think quickly. With a small grunt, however, you're down, with him trying to keep you like that. Your heartbeat speeds up and your eyes widen, your breath hitching in your throat. The position you're in is too familiar; trying to get out of it as quickly as you can. Soap is oblivious, just training with you and having tackled you down, keeping you pinned on the mat. Your brain is quick to handle, pulling out the same moves you did in camp. Soap doesn't even realise he's getting into a headlock by you at first. His back on the mat with your arm holding him tight around his neck, feeling how you're only squeezing him more and more with your bicep. He grips your arm and tries to relax, not wanting to get hurt. Luckily, that's all it takes for you to snap back to reality and let go. You sigh out heavily and stand back up, calming down.

»Ye alright?« He asks you even though he should be the one getting checked up on. You give him a weary nod, clearing your throat.

»Yeah, sorry about that.«

You mumble back and focus on not thinking back to the time in camp. It's almost confusing you now, how similar and suffocating it felt. But you know better than to think back to a time like that and distract yourself in training. Soap tilts his head with a confused gaze.

»What do ye mean? The headlock? Nah, that was sick.«

He encourages you with a thumbs up. You nod, unsure of what to say back. The training continues with trembling hands and more focussing on your breathing than technique, feeling on edge the entire time, thanks to the small trigger. Of course, no one has noticed these signs from you, or at least no one has said anything about it. On the other hand, you're glad no one has noticed your trembling hands and more or less distracted mind during the time.

Once it's over, you're headed to the showers and straight back to your bunk. That was more off-putting now that you're alone in your small room, thinking quietly to yourself about what had happened. You shouldn't feel this way, having thought you were over it a long time ago. Maybe it was something else that triggered you, or maybe you really aren't over it yet. Getting in a pin on the ground was one thing your past rival used on you as much as he could. You don't know the real reason behind his technique, but all you do know is how weird and creepy it felt like.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips once more, slumping down on your bed with no energy. Today's training was longer but not as exhausting as the one at camp. But you still feel very tired for no reason. You close your eyes and try to shut your brain off; instead, a lot of thoughts appear about your rival and that god awful training. You don't know why he's all of a sudden back in your mind. You don't know why you're thinking so much about it, and you don't know why you can't stop thinking about him. He was such an annoying and unpleasant person that you tried so hard to forget about, yet he can't seem to give you peace. Even when you're finally away from him.

After spending most of your day inside your bunk, trying to get your mind off old memories, it's time to actually try and do something about it. With slow steps, you make your way back to the training hall. It's dark out already, forcing you to walk cautiously around and not wake anyone. Eventually, you made it in and looked around for a punching bag… and something to wrap your knuckles with. You don't want to injure yourself after all.

It's dimly lit in the training hall, making it seem more cosy and relaxing. Especially with no one inside beside you. There are five punching bags to use in a row, but unfortunately no bandages or gloves for your hands. It is what it is, and you walk up to one of these punching bags to release some tension and stress. After getting into the stance, you land a few softer punches to get used to the feeling again. Maybe it's because you're alone in here, but it already seems too loud for you. Checking behind you, the double door is closed, so there's no way someone could hear you from their bunk.

You start again, using proper technique, and gradually become faster and put more strength into your punches. The punching bag suffers through your hard punches, taking it like a champ, all the while your mind zones out. Zoned out, all you can think about is your past rival back at camp. You don't remember his name; didn't even bother asking for it back then. But you do remember how creepy and annoying he used to be to you, for no reason. And that's enough for your punches to grow heavier and even quicker, the punching sounds are growing louder through the hall. Maybe your knuckles are hurting at this point, but you don't care. That bastard had no reason to treat you like that, leaving you confused, hurt, and probably traumatized.

It's only then when a gruff voice calls out through the hall, speaking to no one other than you.

»Didn't you have enough training for today?«

You stop in your tracks and turn around, seeing that familiar shadow again. Ghost.

Glancing down at your knuckles, you notice how red they look just from how hard you've been punching that bag for… how long already? You didn't keep track, but it seems like more than ten minutes, judging from your aching knuckles. Ghost has crossed his arms, glaring at you with tired eyes.

»Go back to bed, 's way too late for this.« He adds with a more weary tone and leaves no room for arguments, cocking his head slightly to the side. You sigh out rather disappointed, knowing you shouldn't talk back, but you also can't stop just now.

»But I just started...« You mumble and trail off at the end, already smelling how annoyed he is with you. He shakes his head, being as serious as before.

»I won't tell you again. Don't overwork yourself and go to sleep. Let your body rest. We've got trainin' tomorrow, too.« Ghost is not joking with you, probably being more stern than he needs to be. But he knows better than to let you work too much or stress over something for no reason. In his eyes, you're just a poor child who happens to have this fate and is forced to get along with it on your own. Too much alike himself. Eventually, your shoulders drop in defeat, and you nod in understanding.

»Fine. Sorry about that.« He doesn't respond back and just leaves, most likely going back to sleep, too. After considering his words and contemplating if you should just stay longer in here, you walk back to your own bunk like promised and fall against your bed. It's comfortable and quiet, dark as well.

But you notice a small med kit on your night stand, bandages and a cream for sore muscles beside it. You blink, thinking it's just your sleep catching up on you, but there is indeed stuff for you on that small table. Eventually, you apply the cream on your red knuckles and wrap them up, laying back on your bed. Maybe it really is just a normal base and rather peaceful. Maybe you could get used to this some time.

Having no energy to think any more about that, you fall asleep quite quickly this time. Even if you fell asleep quickly, it wasn’t a good sleep. A nightmare plagued you, most likely because of the trigger from earlier. A grey room with no windows, similar to your old training room in camp, several people around you, and loud noises everywhere. It’s incoherent nonsense, but you still understand everything clearly. The room is cold and rather dark for some reason; it all seems too much, but there’s nothing at the same time. Your body feels numb, and you’re wearing your bandages around your knuckles, some dried blood decorating the usual whiteness of the material. You notice it too late, but Mike has you on the ground already. The ground is even colder against your back, and you can’t do anything but lay and watch. He’s on top, which he often tried to do on you, and has your wrists and legs pinned tightly beside you.

Everything is so loud but also so quiet, it makes your ears ring. There’s a horrible stench of blood and sweat around the air, which makes it hard to stay still and fight back. Your moves are too slow, having no other choice but to stay like this. Your rival, Mike, slashes quickly through your throat, staying on top in a mocking way. It’s hard to breathe, you’re chocking on your own blood and squirming under him helplessly. The whole dream feels like a flashback, but worse. Too quick, too real.

You don’t remember much of what happened next, because the next thing you know is how you’re trying to control your breath and get rid of the sickening feeling from the nightmare. It’s not unusual you get dreams like this, but never to such an extent of being unable to breathe normally.

The digital clock on your nightstand tells you it’s time to get ready for the day. You couldn’t be more thankful for Ghost to lay the training into early afternoon instead of early morning. Because you know they’d notice if you showed up like this to the hall. Still on edge and tired, feeling as bad as you look right now. You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s normal to feel like this, hoping it’ll pass soon. Deciding to distract your mind, you go out to the park with your small sketchbook in hand. Maybe you will feel better in the fresh air while sketching something down that comes to mind.

But, of course, you never have a few minutes to yourself as a familiar figure comes by and stops in front of you.

»Drawing?« Gaz seems curious and tries to secretly subtly into your sketchbook.

»Sketching.«

»Ah. What exactly?« He carefully asks, knowing not to disturb a teenage girl when they seem peaceful at the moment. Gaz has past experience from his own family and friends, knowing how moody some are.

You hesitate to show him what exactly you’re drawing, and you just shrug in response.

»Just… anything.« That was a boring response to anyone, and he still wasn’t done disturbing your peace. He politely asks if he can sit by you for a while, sitting down on the same bench after you accept his kind offer. Gaz isn’t one to pry or mind someone else’s business, but today he’s really curious. Probably, because it’s been three days since you’ve been here and no one got to know you properly. Maybe they should work on their social skills instead.

»You sketch often?« Finally, he’s asking you about your hobbies. And finally, a normal question after years.

»From time to time.« That’s not true, you’ve been drawing since you remember and ever since. Drawing to kill time? Three pages full with doodles. Sketching something pretty? Two pages full with only that beautiful thing you saw earlier. Filling some pages to get rid of the anxiety? Done.

Gaz doesn’t quite believe your answer as well, noticing there’s only three pages left in there. Instead of prying more into it, he changes the topic slightly.

»So, what’re you drawing then? People?«

Without another word, you hand him your sketchbook, deciding it’s easier and probably faster this way. He takes it wordlessly and flips through the pages carefully. His eyes study the way you drew random people and objects, not having expected how good you’re at this. He glances at you before flipping another page, recognising the person almost immediately.

»Soap? You drew Soap?« You look down to his hands as he’s still holding it, seeing he found the first sketch of his teammate.

»I guess,« There’s no way out of this now, seeing he’s actually quite amused about it, »There’s more, actually.«

His smile widens, not having expected to see realistic drawings of his teammate. And there’s more? Today couldn’t get any better.

»More? You like drawing him or somethin’?« Gaz stops talking once he goes some pages forward, seeing some doodles of himself and Price. Even if it’s just some sketches or doodles, they look surprisingly well-made and semi-realistic. He looks towards you again, holding up that book of yours slightly.

»Can you draw Soap with a moustache?« Out of all questions he could’ve asked, he chose this one. Always picking the important ones. You need a full second to process what he’s asking before you find yourself speechless.

»What do I get for it in return?« Now, he’s the one without words. He considers for a moment as he tilts his head to the side.

»Depends on how well you draw.«

It’s then, when he can’t take himself seriously and chuckles.

»All jokes, I’ll get you a new sketchbook. Seems like this won’t do in a while.«

That’s a deal well struck with him. You can’t deny such an offer and start scribbling down a rough sketch of Soap, added with a moustache. Gaz watches the lines on the blank paper slowly resemble his teammate, grinning at the extra facial hair above his lip. It’s a sight to behold, being glad he could make someone draw a silly pic of this even more goofier SAS soldier.

Once you’re done, you show the page fully to him, and he can’t help but laugh at the drawing. Not because it’s ugly, but because it looks so much like him, and a moustache looks rather silly on his face.

»We gotta show it to him later.« You don’t see why not and nod, already seeing how absurd the situation will be later on.

After the more eventful interaction, it’s time for the usual training. This time, there wasn’t any difference in sparring, only feeling more tired than usual because of the nightmare last night. All you four did, was practice in the shooting range and go about sparring with Soap, leading with him improving your technique and showing some tricks. Of course, like no other time, you all went to the mess hall to eat dinner. You would have forgotten about the silly sketch of Soap if Gaz hadn’t reminded you beforehand to bring it over for dinner.

Sitting in front of the two teammates, Soap is laughing so hard that he’s clutching to his stomach. The drawing was really worth it, being amused at the sight in front of you. At least now, you could eat in peace without one particular person trying to get to know you better.

A familiar shadow appears in the corner of your eye, and you instinctively glance over. Ghost is approaching the table… with a Capri Sun? You look over once again, needing to take a double take to reassure yourself of what you’re seeing. And right, there he was, the scary-looking goth with a Capri Sun in hand.

It’s then that Soap also notices Ghost. Eventually, he stays standing next to the table and places the smaller but sweet drink on the table.

»Oi, what’s that?« The still amused scot questions him, as confused as you and Gaz. Ghost clarifies, finally not being an intimidating tree.

»Shitbox got me this instead of wa’er. Some of you can have it.«

Oh, so he can’t deal with a vending machine. If he weren’t your lieutenant, you would have made fun of him. Gaz nods and looks over to you after noticing you shift in your seat slightly. To him, it’s clear who wants it most. He wasn’t the only one noticing it, and Ghost shifts the drink towards you, mentioning it to you. Or maybe he just doesn’t think the two blokes deserve such a sweet drink and let’s you have it instead.

»You can have it.«

He grumbles before leaving for wherever he needs to go. It’s a bit weird to just receive something like this for no reason, especially from someone like Ghost. Glancing around, the two others seem normal about it, or they’re just good at hiding their real surprise. Eventually, you take the Capri Sun and draw in the orange straw into the packet. Oh, it’s cherry-flavoured. Your favourite.

Even when you thought your small happiness wasn’t so obvious, it turns wrong once Gaz speaks up.

»Taste good?«

You nod back in response and relax your expression as well as you can, not wanting to come off as too giddy for a sweet drink as such. They both grin quietly and continue eating with Price joining in after some time to eat beside you three.

----

It’s been a week there, and it feels less awkward now. You train and practice every day, sometimes sneaking in late at night to punch some bags. Capri Sun is something you get more regularly at lunch because Ghost can’t seem to figure out how to use the vending machine. In reality, he just likes to give you a small treat and see your eyes light up for a split second. It’s his small way to befriend you; it doesn’t matter if it seems silly or stupid, you appreciate it, and there’s no harm to it. You could compare it with an attempt to befriend a cat with treats, and it works well. Consider Ghost as a harmless guy who gives you your favourite drink- just because.

Gaz talks to you the most from the others, occasionally checking up on your new drawings and sketches, promising to get you a new one as soon as he can. He likes your drawings after all. He’s easy to talk to as well, having light conversations with you and a few jokes. Gaz is the most friendly and easygoing of them all for one. At least that’s how he is with you, but you’re sure he can be different too. Soap is as friendly as him, but for some reason you feel like you need to be careful around him.

The problem isn’t him, it’s no one’s fault, really. You know he’s just as nice and supportive, but it seems like the pin he did on you is still in your head. They can always out win you in a fight if you don’t pay attention, and the thought of it makes your skin crawl. Ignoring it most of the time, you trust them all equally. It’s better here than back in camp. If you can still call it that anymore.

Being here, made you realise how toxic it was back then. They don’t judge and punish you for making simple mistakes; they won’t even look at your scars twice or ask about them, and most importantly, no one forces you into something uncomfortable.

You feel safer.

Pushing the constant nightmares and headaches away, it really is more safe and peaceful here.

Today, after training, you cross paths with Ghost. You immediately notice that he’s carrying an almost comically large bag in his arms. Taking a closer look, you see it’s dry dog food. Dog food? Why would he need that? You never took him as someone with pets, and you never saw dogs around on base. Thank God you didn’t.

You nod briefly at him and can’t help it but approach him out of curiosity.

»Do you have a dog?«

He grunts, side eyeing you for a moment.

»Just gonna feed Riley. A K9.«

So, they do have military dogs. How come you never saw them? Back in the old camp, the dogs could roam freely on base. But they also weren’t really nice dogs, always barking and ready to attack anyone. Even you were once chased by a large German Shepherd, almost getting bitten if you weren’t fast enough.

You simply nod back, not sure what to answer to that. Of course, he could sense your shift into uneasiness and nudges your shoulder lightly while walking down the base with you.

»You should get to know some. They’re not scary, don’t worry.« That makes it better only for a moment before you fully process his words. There isn’t really a way you can deny his offer and nod slightly, following him wordlessly. He isn’t as talkative either, but you don’t think that’s a bad thing. You’re lost in thought once he speaks up, shifting the big bag of dog food into his left arm.

»Ever met a big dog? Anything?«

You’re standing outside his office as he asks, opening his door with a key while he waits for your answer.

»Kind of. Got chased by one.« He can’t help but pause for a moment at your blunt answer, eventually getting his door open and stepping in. You follow him in and close the door behind you, noticing a bigger German Shepherd sitting up on the ground. It’s tongue sticks out and seems to be happy about seeing you both, judging from it’s wagging tail.

The dog stays silent though, patiently waiting for their owner to give them some sort of permission. You stay standing near the door, watching the two silently, hoping it won’t do anything. Ghost puts the large bag down against the wall and steps closer to the dog, kneeling down as it happily walks to him and enjoys the few hat pats he gives. You watch them both interact, visibly relaxing slowly as long as the dog is near Ghost and gets fed, getting a few more pats from its tall owner. He turns to you and introduces you to the dog, his hand staying on the dog’s back.

»That’s Riley. A sweet girl- will be joining our next mission, as far as I know.«

That’s totally great. Yeah, sure, you could work with a big dog while having a fear of them. You nod either way, shifting on your feet as you watch the dog from the closed door. Riley munches on her food, seemingly content.

»She seems… nice.«

He can see how unsure you are about the dog, and he guessed he would need to get you used to dogs somehow. Ghost sits down beside Riley, nodding towards her.

»You can pet her. She’s friendly, won’t bite.« He is trying to loosen the tension with a small joke, only seeing how you glance at him before looking back at Riley. Eventually, you approach her with silent steps, being cautious of the still-eating dog. You kneel down beside Ghost, firstly just watching her with anticipation in silence. Riley is quick to realise you are close now too and lifts her head off the bowl of food, trying to get to know you eagerly. She takes a step towards you, and you stay still, not wanting to accidentally make her angry. Ghost beside you can’t help it but feel amused watching you be so stiff while also watching Riley to make sure she won’t make you even more scared.

Riley sniffs around the air shortly before leaning towards your hands on your knees, taking a sniff at them. Before you know it, she’s licking at them. You cringe at the feeling, leaning a bit away from her.

Beside you, Ghost grins under his mask, glad that you don’t seem to be scared and more amused at how you react to Riley’s sudden affection. Suddenly, the K9 is trying to lick at your face, but you turn away with a small groan. Ghost pets her on the back, commanding her to sit down for now.

It takes a moment for Riley to fully calm down, her tail still wiggling back and forth. Ghost hands you some treats and wants to show you what tricks this joyful dog can do. Riley follows his commands flawlessly, rolling over, laying down, playing dead, able to stand on her back paws for a few seconds.

You extend your hand to give her a few treats- the small cookies in shape of bones in the palm of your hand. She eats it out of there happily, probably having a blast right now.

Riley is a good dog, even when she wants to give you affection through licking your hand, which mostly feels weird, but overall she doesn’t overwhelm you like the past dogs in your life.

Ghost also seems to be satisfied with the end result, however, he couldn’t let go of your words earlier. Normally, he would mind his business, but this is a sixteen-year-old we’re talking about.

»So, you were chased by one?«

You glance at him shortly, unsure of how to explain it to him now. You try it out, explaining it to him as shortly as you can.

»We also had some K9’s on camp and I was chased by one because I wasn’t careful enough.« You don’t realise how shocking that sounds before he gives you a look of disbelief. He asks again, gently petting Riley behind her ear.

»Your own camp had dogs, and one chased you? Why’s that?« You only shrug in response, not sure yourself. The dogs were mostly trained to be aggressive and were held rather roughly.

»I believe they got extra trained to be as aggressive as possible.«

He only hums out in acknowledgement, letting go of Riley and standing back up. Every time he hears more about your camp it is when he loses five years of his life. You follow right after him, standing up and getting a last glance at the sweet dog.

»Go, get your shower.« He mumbles, reminding you of taking your shower since you joined him after training, finally able to rinse off your sweat. You nod and leave without another word, taking a quick rest before eating dinner in the mess hall.

a/n: Hope you had fun reading this, it was a bit longer than the last part. The next one is probably going to be just as long. I hope you enjoed it!

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