I BEG for Follie x Reader. Let me be smothered by her. PLEASE SPEED I NEED THIS. But for real, 'paint me like one of you French girls' core. Muse reader? Maybe still evil Follie or whatever she has going on right now.
Her Muse
Sorry this took so long, she trapped me in a dead end with sticky ink on the doors.
Poured the voice of a mature lady through the relay intercoms. Some Archimedean as far as anyone knew, but no longer was it their voice, but Follie's. That sickeningly beautiful voice echoed within your mind as you ran and you could swear the walls were beginning to close in on you as most of the corridors were now blocked off with dried walls of ink.
You weren't aware of what strange substance you were carrying on you, some sort of extraordinary ink her paintings required that interfered with your ability to use transference and made you vulnerable to her in your current state. Sure, years of fighting made your human body strong, but not strong enough to face off against her.
"Silly, the paint does not go on us! It goes on the canvas!"
You heard a laugh echo from down the hall - wait no, was it right behind you? Or maybe in front of you? You couldn't tell by now, trapped in here too long for reality to make sense anymore. Maybe that's why you hadn't noticed Follie approaching from behind until you felt sick from the smell of oil, paper and ink, almost gaging if not for the instant fear put into you from a hand being placed on your elbow. A thick inky substance began to form there and spread rapidly, ink weaving into strong threads around your arms and midsection and rendering you helpless as you looked up to see another, and another and another of her approaching you.
"Next time can you try to cooperate for longer than 2 minutes?"
You don't fully remember what happened after that, you vaguely recall falling- no, sinking into the floor and emerging elsewhere, was it this room? You couldn't tell, it was too dark to know which room you were being held captive in anymore. You were propped up on a seat of some sort, still bound by the heavy ink but now without your amp anywhere on your person as your eyes scanned the room. Empty save for scattered equipment and a canvas on a stand facing away from you over a puddle of ink. The mass bubbled as it took shape and Follie stood before you. Her hips swayed as she slowly walked over to you, clearly pleased with her hard work finally paying off. Her hands gently waved and her fingers curled as she coaxed the ink into moving your limbs into a different position before hardening once more, you wanted to speak but something about her presence was keeping you quiet, as if the very idea of talking was energy draining. You watched as she came closer with a paint brush that she raised to your lips and painted over them with ink before pressing her helm into your face, pulling away to reveal the imprint of your kiss on where you assume her lips would be were she human. Even if she lacked eyes you could feel her vision burn across your skin like fire as she assessed your features before leaning back and returning to the canvas.
"Subject stable."
The intercom chimed. But this time it didn't play the full recording, it seemed Follie couldn't quite find the words she was looking for among the Archemedian's recordings.
"My - M-Use"
But you knew Follie by now, not only from experience but also the letters written about her. She was smarter than to let a simple thing such as a lack of recordings stop her now. For years she had been forced to paint lies, false prophecies and ugly, distorted illusions rather than truth and reality. But you had shown her truth - true beauty and true ... 'love'. And for that she cannot thank you enough, even if you seem uninterested and frightful of her, she will paint, and paint, and paint, until you finally understand that you coming here had finally helped her find the muse she needed to keep going.
Follie's hunt has multiple copies of Follie appearing. This could be for gamplay purposes or completely accurate to lore. Either or since Follie hated painting the lies she was told to, wouldn't she like to paint her muse experiencing pleasure? Since love is 'most powerful emotion' and her muse's pleasure is from her love? Which she knows is true. By the way Ssnce Follie was forced to paint lies she most definitely takes consent into the equation, how she asks for it, I have yet to think of.
Picture perfect pleasure
I can't even say something along the lines of "DE doesn't know what monsters they created" since they simp for Follie too </3 Anyways lets get into this.
You couldn't quite describe what you were feeling right now, your skin was burning but not in a painful way, quite the opposite in fact. Your breath was so hot against the air it created vapor clouds every time you exhaled, your lips raw from how you've been biting them for the past… you honestly couldn't tell anymore.
NSFW under the cut - MDNI
Your teeth pressed against your bottom lip in a feeble attempt to muffle your noises from an imaginary audience, as if there was someone other than you and her here in the present moment. But her fingers would always gently coax your lip free before any further damage could be done.
Speaking of hands, you felt them everywhere. Constantly moving, caressing, gripping. Her fingers flexing and relaxing against your skin and stroking your most intimate places. Pleasure sparked through your body, your legs twitching from the sensation. You'd lost count of how many times she'd made you tip over the edge into bliss by now. The looping sound of the music box gave you absolutely no sense of how much time had passed since you'd indulged her request which she asked you ever so sweetly for.
You allowed your head to tip down, flexing your aching neck to look down at what used to be random strokes and spots of ink trying to dry across your skin, its attempts futile as the sweat on your body kept it wet for soft fingertips to spread it across your body into beautiful swirls and paths. The black substance created mesmerizing patterns and unique shapes which you could swear continued to move on their own but you assumed your current state was making you imagine things.
The air caught in your throat as a familiar feeling sneaked up on you. Your vision got gradually more blurry from how good the build up felt, the warmth spreading from your core out through your muscles making the cold air and ink against your bare skin feel oh so welcoming. You let your head lean back as loving hands wiped away your tears before they rolled down the side of your face. Those same hands tilted your head to look in the direction of one of her many clone's face. The warm material of her helm where you assumed her lips would be pressed against your lips before pulling away, booping your nose with a clean fingertip as the other hands exploring you began to slow.
"Ensure the subject is prepared to continue." A familiar elegant voice echoed from the speakers of the relay, the Follies tilted their heads as they looked at you squirming, biting back a whine as you mourned the sudden loss of friction and movement when you were so, so close.
"I'm okay Follie, please-"
You looked towards the 'original' Follie who was stood a small distance away, a canvas angled so she could see both you and what she was painting. Her palms pressed against the curve of her hips as her fingers tapped against her plating in a steady rhythm, taking your words into consideration and nodding a moment after. Her fingers curled around her brush once more and movement from her clones resumed.
She carefully dragged her brush against the canvas, looking up from time to time to properly take in the sight of what state her touch could put you in. Familiar laughter spread like echoes across a corridor through her clones which surrounded you. But it was not the intimidating, forced laugh she put on during her hunts when she became enraged but a relaxed, carefree sound of genuine joy.
You wanted to laugh along with them, your lips curling into a smile but quickly parting to let another moan spill out as your legs tensed up. Your vision blurred once more and your fingers tangled with those of two of the hands exploring you, gripping on for dear life as the rest of her clones supported your weight and movements. You felt their grip tightening and easing as your body began to shake. Your back arched, fresh tears of pleasure rolling down your face for the nth time that night.
When you calmed down, you heard slow, controlled clapping from the one by the canvas. It appeared that she was finished with her project. She set the canvas aside to dry as her clones used old towels to wipe the sweat off of your body, smudging the ink patterns as they tried to dry you off but stains remained. You found it adorable how desperately they wanted to clean you up, your fingers gently traced the side of one of the Follie's helm, guiding her into a smooch.
"Its okay, I like the way it looks."
They seemed to beam at that, looking over the river of marks that flowed over your skin that they had created, taking pride in every little detail as the ink finally sunk into your skin. You were aware you wouldn't be able to transfer back into your warframe until you had completely washed it off but you honestly couldn't care less at the moment as your girlfriend and her many clones held you so lovingly and carefully as if you were a statue of glass.
