#Part 2 coming because of pictures limits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bi-writes · 6 months ago

Text

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon

4K notes · View notes

springismss · 4 months ago

Text

ᱬ ࣪𖤐 more thoughts of rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who may or may not end up becoming rockstar fiancé! sukuna.

continuation of rockstar! sukuna thoughts.

ageless/minors dni. 18+ content scattered below. not limited to p in v, video sex, generalised nsfw. f! reader.

as always, reblogs/likes are always appreciated! enjoy! ᱬ ࣪𖤐

part 2 word count: 1.2k | series word count: 4.9k

links: jjk masterlist | masterlist | part 1 | part 3

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at every given opportunity, will use samples of you in his music - voice, video, photos? all check. after all, he wants to show you off to the world - especially with photos that leave little to the imagination while protecting your dignity.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who has a space for you on his tour bus and vice versa. fuck what his bandmates had to say, he wanted you beside him whenever one of you wasn’t touring.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who at every given opportunity will take photos and videos of you, be that of you writing your band's next hit song or when the two of you are cuddled up in bed after fucking, and every moment in between.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, while fucking you in the nastiest positions you could imagine, marks you in a way he knows everyone out there will see. the thought of everyone seeing exactly who you belong to gets him off.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who spends more time backstage at your concerts, that much so that it would be considered weird if he wasn’t dating you. not that he would care what those losers would say, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who doesn’t show it but he misses you so goddamn much whenever you’re both touring at the same time. he hates spending time apart from you, everything feels so empty.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who makes the most of the private album he has on his phone in times like that. an album that’s full of the most dirty pictures and videos of you. that one picture of you looking completely fucked out after he had you in a mating press? that video of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at an alarming rate? that audio of you moaning out his name as you begged him to let you come? he’s got those and more. after all, he needs to make sure he remembers you in every way possible.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who will occasionally video call you when he’s keeping himself busy just so he can see your reaction when he moans out your name, growling that he’ll be back soon enough and you can make up for all the lost time he’s had to use his hand to pump his cock.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who also video calls you when you’re both touring so he can keep you company when you’re feeling a little down being in another country to him. who lets you fall asleep while on call as he knows it’s the only way you’ll get a good sleep and wake up feeling more refreshed. he’s counting down the days until you're back home.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who’s waiting for you at the airport for your band to land when your tour finally ended. he said it was purely so he could keep the paparazzi off you but in reality, he wanted to be the first person you saw when you stepped through the doors. big smile on your face as you wrap your arms around him, whispers of how much you've missed him making him smile softly.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, despite your protests, takes you out for a meal that night, being sure to wine and dine you because he missed the fuck out of you. who’s also buttering you up so he can be head first and cock first in between your legs when he gets you back through the front door of his apartment.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who might look like someone who doesn’t even know the meaning of the word soft but clearly he does, especially when he has you pinned down under him, thrusts into you soft and slow despite wanting to ruin you again. soft kisses and words as he silences you with kisses. after all, you need to rest your voice after such a long tour. you'll be the only one who will see this side of him, no one else and you love it as much as you love him.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, despite never thinking he’d ever find someone to love cause he truly believed the whole thing was bullshit, cuddles your closer to him, not wanting to let you go. arms wrapped around you and hand stroking your hair as you rested your hand on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart, possibly inspiring a new song knowing you.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who has to make sure everything is perfect, not being on the stage while planning something this big made him more nervous than he expected. give him a big audience and his bad-boy persona - that was a walk in the park compared to this.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who waits for you to come back from shopping before you head over to his place, helping you make some food before you both sit down on the sofa with a notebook in your hand. ideas bouncing off each other as his leg bounced in anxiety. he had to pick the right time.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at the moment you ask him what should go in this verses last line, blurts out “you gonna marry me or what woman?” before taking in your bewildered expression, eyes wide.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who’s suddenly become full blown nervous as he looks at you, throat drying up and heart pounding so erratically it could burst from his chest. who feels like the seconds have begun to drag as he waits for you to respond, that’s if you ever did.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, for probably the first time in his life, becomes deflated and quickly removes his hand from his pocket trying to distract himself, not paying attention to the huge smile on your face before you’re pouncing on top of him with a laugh, arms wrapping around him and you muttered back “I think the new line of the chorus should be of course i’ll marry you, you fucking idiot”.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who looks at you confused as you smile brightly, cupping his face and placing a hard kiss on his lips. who’s still as confused as you pull back, thumb rubbing his cheek as you hum out a quick “i said of course i’ll marry you”.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who becomes rockstar fiancé! sukuna when he finally slips the ring onto your finger, taking a moment to admire the fact you’re one step closer to not only being with him for the rest of your lives but taking his name as yours.

rockstar fiancé! sukuna who, a few days later, posts to his public insta account for the first time in a good few months, with a photo of you and him, hands up showing off the ring you wore while doing your signature poses with your other hand. “who wouldn’t say no to me? future mrs r.s. coming soon @/itsherduh”.

rockstar fiancé! sukuna who smirks at the comments that ping through his phone as he glances over to you lying on the bed, snapping a quick photo, this one being posted to his private insta this time with the caption “here’s to the rest of eternity together, my dove”.

2K notes · View notes

jawllines · 15 days ago

Text

“I think this is the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.” Niall answered, his voice lowered while they sat across from each other in a cafe booth. It was a relatively nice day, the weather was beautiful, so they were planning on doing something – what that would be, they weren’t sure, but they started it with lattes and croissants and discussing something that shouldn’t be discussed in public (but what’s new), “Seriously, like – and I just need to take a deep breath because you’re finally listening to me. I don’t know how to tell you this but I bought you a collar like a month ago because I knew you’d pussy out.”

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!”

“I did,” he nodded, “I didn’t get the rest of all the things because I didn’t know how you’d feel about it,” he swallowed, then shook his head, “No, I’m lying, I wanted you to fully commit to the bit so I ordered everything. Leash, tail. . .I mean, fuck it, I got ears too.”

Y/N likes Harry, and that's convenient, because Harry likes her too

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

(8.4k+ words)

vi.

Y/N has never been very good at science.

Life sciences, like biology, she could figure out easily enough if there were pictures, and chemistry, she could fumble her way through after spending at least an hour screaming into her pillow about how much she didn’t want to do it. Things like physics, though, always zipped right over her head. With a limited understanding of whatever the hell Newton and Einstein were talking about also came a limited understanding of anything that may have to do with space. It was interesting, but actually learning about the concepts that shape their whole universe? Terrifying. Y/N would rather not know how big the galaxies are, because then she needs to start considering the existence of extraterrestrial life, and she feels like as soon as you go down that rabbit hole, you’re asking to get abducted.

But she does know about supernovas. Only because of a song that she really liked mentioned them, and she had to see what it was. There was a long, intricate explanation as to why they happen, but what Y/N took away from it was that they were an explosion, and it was so bright, it could outshine galaxies. Beautiful colors emerge, blues, purples, pinks, greens, oranges, impressive and intense.

Whatever is happening in her chest right now, Y/N thinks is close to a supernova. It feels just as colorful and complex. As bewitching, and as dazzling. As captivating, and as terrifying. Her heart races with it, confused, excited, overjoyed, hopelessly giddy. She probably needed a moment to sort through all the thoughts spinning around in her head, but right now, she knew she wouldn’t get one. She didn’t mind that either – not right now. Not when this is a version of Harry that she’d never been privy to. One that she’d never believed she’d ever get to witness.

Harry, from the moment he’d stepped through her door, was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him. And she’d seen him with his cock out and everything, consumed by lust, his bare bum walking to her bathroom – all pretty vulnerable positions, she’d say. Like, he definitely wouldn’t want to be caught by a bear in that state. But this emotional vulnerability was something else entirely for such a typically emotionally guarded, closed-off person. The impassive and at times apathetic man that she had come to know had been dipped in honey and set before her. Or, better yet, maybe dipped in an acid, to erode the outer shell and reveal the honeyed center beneath.

He’d taken her to the sofa immediately, sat down across from her, his hands held out with his palms facing upward, and Y/N wasn’t sure if it’d been a silent request or a silent offering. Maybe both – she took it, no matter what it was, and slid her fingers between his own. Their hands were tight around one another's, as Harry curled his over her knuckles, his thumb stroked her where it lay.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Harry started, measured and sure, despite the way his cheeks flamed hot and fiery with what she could only imagine was immense embarrassment. Not that she thought his reaction was anything to be embarrassed about – had roles been reversed, she probably would have cried the moment she saw him then tried to crawl up under his shirt or something. But she knew that Harry wasn’t used to expressing himself or his feelings this intensely, so she understood the nerves behind it. “I should have warned you that Maren would be there, but I wasn’t sure how. . .how to explain why I was telling you? I guess that’s the easiest way to put it. And I really didn’t think she’d be a problem – she’s always been a thorn in my ass, but she usually isn’t so pointed with her advances.” He shook his head with a soft sigh, “But that’s beside the point. You mentioned me not messaging you as much?” Y/N nodded, and Harry nodded with her, “That had nothing to do with Maren,” he explained, “I was. . .if I’m honest, I was worried that I had been too overbearing while you were out for that week.”

Y/N tilted her head, “Overbearing? I didn’t think so.” She shook her head, “You really took care of me. If you want to see overbearing, you need to meet Ni’s aunt – she checks his forehead like 5 times in the span of 10 minutes to make sure he isn’t too warm.”

A small smile wormed onto his mouth, warmed and soothed the worry off of his face, “That’s good to know,” he replied, “I suppose I got into my head too, about it all. Especially when you didn’t want to talk to me.”

With a grimace, Y/N explained herself, “Yeah, that – I didn’t handle that well, I don’t think,” she swallowed hard, “I just – um. . .like I was – I kind of thought I walked in on you two kissing?” Then she hurriedly adds, “Which is within your right to do! You aren’t not allowed to do what you want, I just didn't –” she huffed a sigh, unsure of how to articulate it beyond the easiest way, which happened to be the most humiliating, “I know we aren’t technically together or anything, but it made me jealous. I was jealous, and petty, and wanted to ignore you until I could sort myself out. I get it if the whole jealousy thing makes you uncomfortable, and like...I mean, I want to promise that it won’t happen again, but I don’t know if I can.” She swallowed even harder, chin tipped down, staring at their hands. Even just two weeks ago, Y/N would have rather worked with notoriously difficult Chhurpi cheese than tell Harry that she was jealous. To even allude to the fact that her feelings for him might be beyond what they had started this with.

But tonight, it didn’t feel so hard. It took her a while to spit it out, sure, but she still was able to get there. Part of what encouraged her was the way his hands felt against hers, the expanse of their palms pressed together so warmly that it thaws out her usually cold fingers. Another part was the blatant, and unremitted display of affection he’d doled out to her as soon as he stepped through the threshold of her flat, as if he didn’t peck her face with a hundred kisses, she’d disappear in a puff of smoke. And another – the way he was looking at her. His eyes were softened in a way she only vaguely recalls after they had sex, when she’s only a couple of minutes from passing out, pressed tightly to his side.

“When I called you the other night and you were with Youngjae, I was so jealous that I could barely see straight,” he admitted suddenly, honestly, “Surely, you realized that? I threw a fit, practically – covered you in all of those marks. Even before then, when he’d only just complimented your meal, invited you to practice under him, and I was just so mad that he’d asked right in front of me. So I took you home and I fucked you that night. Don’t you remember?”

Y/N nodded, but still, she considered his words, “I kind of figured. Or, well, at least Niall kind of figured and then told me that you were jealous.”

“Niall is smarter than he looks.”

“But I guess I just wondered what it was you even had to be jealous of? I mean, you and YoungJae are kind of carbon copies of each other, only he’s Korean!”

Harry clicked his tongue, “No,” he disagreed, “That’s not the only difference. He’s more personable, more gentle, he seems sweeter, and more patient. Adam told me you had a dedicated crying corner to go to when I yelled at you. It’s different,” he seemed stressed, remembering it, “He’s different than me, and I figured that you’d go and realize that you could learn with someone nicer, who was attractive, and probably had a crush on you.”

“A crush on me?” Y/N gaped, then sat up straighter, “What the hell? What made you think that?”

His eyes go wide, “What, you don’t think he likes you? He looked at you like you’d given him a star or something. It was so irritating.” Y/N couldn’t help it when she snorted, a giggle bubbled from her throat, and she had to slip one of her hands from his to cover her mouth, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not!” She bit down on her lip to suppress it, but it still slipped free, “It’s just – Harry, he looks at everyone like that! He even looks at you like that – actually, he looks downright dreamy when he even thinks about you.”

Y/N has never seen Harry truly, genuinely pout until tonight. His bottom lip jutted out, and he still looked grumpy, but Y/N wanted so badly to slip her hands onto his face and pull him to her mouth. To dig her teeth into his lip and nibble and pull at it until he whines, too. She took his hand again, then chanced pulling his hand up to her face, running her cheek along his knuckles, “You’re just saying that.” He muttered.

“You’re so silly,” Y/N replied. This is such a refreshing development, she thinks. Never would she have expected this from Harry – this pouting, jealous, slightly insecure version of him that thinks she’d run off with Youngjae because he was nice to her. She doesn’t even have time to consider being mad at Niall for exposing her crying corner to Adam, because all she can think about is how upset Harry seemed that it even had to exist. There was a guilt clear on his features, but whispered between his words. Honestly, Y/N hadn’t even thought about how Harry used to yell at her for a long time. “I’m not just saying it! He didn’t give me any vibes like he might like me.”

Harry tipped his chin up and looked to the side, and wow, she wondered if she reached out and touched his ear, if it’d feel as hot as it looked, “Well, I don’t know how much I trust your detection skills, if I’m being honest.” He mumbled, “It seems like Niall has to do most of the ground work.” Still, despite a grumbled reply, he flipped his hand around so that he cradled her cheek instead, resting it against his palm.

This giddy feeling that overruns her is nice. It’s fun – she likes it, after so long of being so upset and confused and distraught. She thinks she’s finally starting to understand, though. . .that she’s finally getting it. What Niall had been seeing this entire time.

“Harry?” She inquired, and he hummed, eyes following Hazelnut as she sat across from them, and looped her tail around her bottom paws. When she doesn’t say anything to immediately follow it, Harry turned to look at her, his green eyes bright, “If I asked to see you and we didn’t have sex, and we didn’t cook something. . .would you be okay with that?”

Harry answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

“And if I. . .if I said that I only wanted you to do stuff like this with me? Sex, and…and seeing each other outside of it?” The nerves almost stop her from saying it, threatening to clog her throat.

“Then I’d tell you that it’s been like that from the start,” he replied again, immediately, “I’d tell you that you’re the only person I want to see. The only one I want to sleep with. The only person I’d like to be with.”

Y/N grinned. She scooted across the sofa to wrap her arms around his shoulders, and Harry slid his arms around her waist. It was warm — Y/N wondered when the last time they hugged like this was. If they’ve ever even hugged like this. There’s so much that they have done together, but still so much they hadn’t, and if this was them opening the door to all of that, she was more than enthusiastic.

With her chin hooked around his shoulder, Harry’s face is dipped into her throat. He takes a deep breath, then a slow exhale, “This is a lot, for me,” he told her, “I wish that you could just siphon information from my brain instead of me having to say it.”

“Ah, you might need to get used to saying it, though. I’m kind of dense – Niall says so at least.”

Somehow, they had ended up in her bed. Nothing crazy, nothing sexual, just the two of them tangled up in each other’s limbs, and for the first time, Harry falls asleep first. He had all but demanded that she let him spoon her, so she didn’t get to look at his face, but with the way his breathing had slowed and how heavy his arm felt around her waist, she knew he was resting. This is a sort of content that she seldom gets to feel and still be all in her head to truly enjoy it. Harry’s body is pressed warm against her back, he sounds sweet with little snores, and Y/N can’t help but melt into him entirely.

All the vulnerability must have tuckered him right out. Y/N smiled to herself, stretching her arm over his, her hand resting over his hand. Even in his dreams, he raises two fingers for her to curl around. Twists his fingers up in hers.

Her insides feel bright, wicked, an ebullition of colors that rival a supernova.

. . .

The thing is, Y/N feels bad.

Listen, she knows she shouldn’t! She and Harry have discussed their feelings, and they’ve communicated relatively decently about the entire situation and how to avoid it in the future. Harry only implores her that if she has an issue, she bring it to him directly, no matter how intimidating she might think he is. Whether it be work-related or not, Harry is not the type to let issues fester. He’d like to nip it in the bud immediately, as soon as possible, even if he’s the one who is upset.

So they’d discussed it, and they’d apologized for the misunderstandings, and it should be in the dust by now. Just something they had learned and grown from – something in the past.

But Y/N replays how Harry had walked into her flat, how he’d cradled her face, kissed her a thousand times, told her to never completely ice him out again. To never not speak to him, to leave him in the dark, and it’d only been a few days – barely.

She feels bad, though. He’s told her dozens of times that she shouldn’t feel bad, because it wasn’t her fault – the situation was just an incorrect interpretation of the other’s thoughts and feelings at the time. That he wasn’t upset, to stop apologizing, that if she said sorry to him one more time, he would get upset.

So she has an idea. And she takes her idea to Niall, because he hadn’t steered her wrong at this point, and he would let her know if it was stupid or not. If she would look ridiculous doing it. If she should just make him a meal or something to quell the ache in her chest.

Y/N’s mouth falls open, jaw loosened, “Ni, you did not!”

“Niall!” She exclaims, but he pulls his phone from his pocket and quickly drags up the link from an email, “How much was – why am I so shocked?”

Niall clicked his tongue. “I don’t know why you’re shocked at all, actually, I told you I was going to,” he spun the phone around, sliding it across the table, “S’crazy right? It wasn’t that pricey, consider it a birthday present. So, I’ll kind of guide you through this because I know you’ll get in your head and freak out. I was actually intensely into pet play like three years ago, so this is perfect.”

That’s how Y/N ended up here, after extensive teachings from Niall, examples, and demonstrations that make her face feel so hot it might melt off. It all led to her inviting Harry over to her flat on their day off, with a medium-sized collar around her throat that had his name stitched into it. A leash was clipped to the metal clasp at the back of it, which she looped around her wrist while she moved around so she didn’t get tangled in it. She had a set of ears clipped in neatly on her head, flopping, similar to her hair color, but stuck out enough that it was clear what they were. The most shocking of all, however, and the most time spent between her and Niall, was him teaching her how to open herself up for a plug.

He showed her how to on his Fleshlight, which looked like a bum, and he’d promised her he’d cleaned it out before he pulled it out for their “fingering-lesson” as he continued to call it. Y/N thinks that if she had said it was okay, Adam would have been on the phone guiding her as well, but she was feeling way too bashful for that. Hell, even talking about it with Niall was a lot, as he described how much lube, the depth she should start with, how many fingers, but even before that – her diet and how to clean herself out to prepare for it. Y/N doesn’t think she’d ever stared so hard at a fleshlight in her life, as she watched him spread it open, talk about the right and wrong way to do it.

So, spreading her open, a plug with a tail fixed to the end of it caressed the insides of her thighs every time she moved. It was insane, all of this, but they had talked about it before – briefly. Discussed what they wanted to do, how he wanted her to be a proper puppy, and Y/N wanted that too. She just wishes she could skip to the part where she was so cock dumb and empty-headed that she didn’t feel all the anxious, jittering nerves inside of her.

Because what if Harry was just saying that as pillow talk? What if he’d just been trying to work her and himself up, but the actual thought of it he didn’t want. Maybe they needed to sit and have a proper chat about it, before she just balls to the wall went all in and dressed like a fucking dog then invited him over to her flat. This is actually insane work, honestly, and yeah Niall is right about most things but he’s also a horny freak who typically has partners equally freaky and horny as him. She doesn’t think he’s ever not thoroughly discussed a scene before he did something new with someone either, so when Y/N had mentioned that they’d spoken about it, he probably thought she’d meant actually discussed it. Like sitting across from each other, going through hard nos, dos, and don’ts, and not when Harry was twisting a hand around his prick, and she was a hairpin trigger away from cumming untouched.

Y/N has nearly completely talked herself out of it by the time she hears her front door open and completely stills. She was sitting on her bed, feeling stupid, silly, and a ton of other negative adjectives that did not instill any confidence in her before something she probably needed a lot of confidence for. She was trembling, her stomach turning, her heart kind of felt like it might be thudding in her throat, and her blood roared through her ears when Harry called for her. First, just her name. Then, “Baby?” Which is a new development – a welcomed one, but one that gets her all fuzzy inside, no matter how many times he’d begun to casually refer to her as such.

Eventually, she hears his footsteps get further inside. The floorboards shift at the beginning of her hallway, then again right outside of her door, and his hand presses against the wood as he swings it open quietly. He probably thought she had fallen asleep waiting for him or something, which would explain why he was attempting to be so quiet. Instead, he is met with her, sitting on her knees, her hands were supposed to be in her lap per Niall’s instructions, but instead they were curled up in the blankets at her side.

Harry’s gaze falls upon hers. He blinks a couple of times, like he might be trying to adjust his eyesight to the lower lighting of the room. Or maybe he’s just trying to make sure that this wasn’t some elaborate hallucination that he’d suddenly uncovered. When he stops blinking, the image of her stops disappearing and reappearing before his eyes, and there she still stays. Did he think this was embarrassing? Maybe he was experiencing the world’s greatest second-hand embarrassment – so bad that they could put it in a world record book. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh at her. She probably looked ridiculous, didn’t she? She’d barely looked herself in the mirror once she put the ears in – just enough to make sure they were level with one another before she fucked off into the bedroom. There’s no bra, there’s no underwear – she’s stark naked, just sitting, waiting, like a dog would. Like a puppy.

“Ohhhh, I see,” his voice is careful, as he takes a step forward, “My baby isn’t here, hm? I just have a sweet little puppy instead.”

Y/N swallows hard, dipping her head down and lowering her front half against the mattress. When Harry outstretches his hand, she rubs her face into his open palm; her cheek, her nose, her mouth. It felt good, especially when he curled his fingers up in her hair and scratched gently at her hairline, caressing upward through it, to stop at the ears. There’s a soft tug, and her head jerks with it before she settles again, letting his hands explore and move around her new accessories.

It’s when his fingers dance from her head, along her human ears, down to her neck that the pads trace around the collar. He follows the border of it, the threading, slips two fingers between her throat and the leather. It’s tight–not so tight that it’ll choke her, but it’s definitely a weighty presence–one that’s hard to ignore. That must be when he sees it, though, as he strips around the material, because he pauses, he reads, his breathing hitches, and –

– he moans. Something loud, a little whiny, erupting from the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he mumbles out, dragging his thumb along the embroidery, “Oh my fucking god.” YN lets him continue to pet her but shifts forward, nudging the back of her head against his hand. He slides his fingers to the front of the collar again, twists the thin leash around his knuckles, and gives a soft, gentle tug, “C’mon, you know better. No puppies on the bed.” He helps guide her down, on hands and knees, carefully dismounting from the mattress in the most awkward, limb-filled way she could have. Eventually, she is on the floor, the carpet digging into her nails and into her knees, her face flaming hot when she rubs her cheek against his calf, which may be more of a kitten thing than a dog thing. Niall told her that it could be interchangeable a bit, because typically, all the non-geared-up person in the dynamic cared about was that the other person was giving in to base desires and acting like an animal.

From this angle, he must be able to see the tail because another murmured curse slips from his mouth, before she feels the same gentle, prodding fingers that usually nudge at her lips, move around her bum. The rim is stretched and messy with lube, so when Harry carefully pushes into it, Y/N whines and lurches forward. Her skin is sensitive, where it’s soft and slick, and he goes from moving around the plug to letting his fingers drag through the tail, “Such a filthy fucking thing. Where did you even get toys like this?”

Y/N doesn’t answer, because she’s a dog and dogs don’t speak. She does shake her bum, though, move her hips from side to side so the tail swings and tickles the back of her thighs. It’s humiliating in a way that she can’t describe but the way Harry is looking at her, the heat that flurries through his gaze, the lump in his trousers where his cock is pressing up against the zipper. It’s worth it. It’s well worth the way part of her wants to crawl her way right under the bed and not let him pull her out until science can figure out a way to wipe her memory clean.

But it also feels. . .good. Kind of, she doesn’t know – she needs to stay like this for a little longer. To really get the feel for it. Really see how deep into puppy space she could get.

Y/N, let’s Harry guide her out of the bedroom. He leads her carefully, doesn’t tug or pull, and Y/N appreciates it. Since they weren’t able to sit down and discuss every avenue of this, she could tell that Harry was approaching it cautiously. He doesn’t just automatically start tugging her around because he doesn’t know that she’s okay with that yet. Doesn’t start spanking her and fucking her with her plug because he doesn’t know that she’d like that. Doesn’t shove her nose into his crotch and make her mouth at him wetly, because he has no clue that the thought makes her want to start drooling.

He guides her to the sofa, and when he sits down, Y/N sits pretty beside his feet. Harry pets her head like she really is a puppy, cooing at her sweetly, “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hand sliding down to her jaw, his fingers caressing her skin, “Knows exactly how to be a good puppy already, don’t you? Might not even have to train you.” He hums, “But if my puppy wants to stop this at any time, all she has to say is Duck, okay? And if you can’t talk, then just squeeze my hand three times.”

Y/N nods and shudders, dips her face against his knee, and nudges against him. Harry chuckles, grabs a pillow off her couch, and sets it on the floor between his spread feet. Once again, he gives the leash a little pull and coaxes her with sweet words, “Knees on the pillow, Pup. Why don’t you rest your head on my thigh for a little bit?”

That’s easy enough, Y/N could do that. Niall had told her the brunt of this – what makes this all so sexy – is the complete control that Harry would have over her. If he told her to bark, then bark, if he wanted her to pant with her tongue hanging out and drool all over his cock, then she’d do it. Of course, she doesn’t think they’d get too intense tonight, because Harry is – above all else – a good, dominant partner in the dynamic. He knows when to lead and when to step back, how far to take it, and what to relax with.

So she trusts him implicitly. Even more so when his fingers press against her lips, Y/N opens them eagerly so that he can feed them into her mouth. She sucks on them, licks around his knuckles and sighs contently – it’d been a while since he’d had his fingers in her mouth like this. Y/N forgot how much she liked it; the weight of his fingers against her tongue, the scrape of her teeth along his nails, the salty taste of his skin. She likes how full she felt with only two of them in there. Even more than that, she likes that two of her holes were plugged, and wondered how it might feel to have all three of them. The thought alone makes her shiver.

They stay like this for a while. Harry turns the telly onto something, but she can’t tell if he’s really paying attention or not. Just feels him stroke the top of her head, fuck his fingers inside of her mouth every so often, stretch them against the inside of her cheeks. It’s mind-numbing in a good way, lulling her somewhere else–somewhere sweeter and softer, as the insides of her legs get sticky from how much she’s leaking down between them. Y/N had been good at first, perfectly still just sucking on his fingers, but she starts to wriggle more. Adjusting her hips, pawing at his calves as she slowly began to get restless.

Y/N doesn’t realize she’s whining until she feels her throat vibrate with it, and Harry clicks his tongue softly, “What is it, puppy?” He inquired, and Y/N’s brain is full of cotton and clouds when she looks up at him. There’s drool building up at the corner of her mouth, dribbling out of the sides that Harry drags away with his thumb, “Hm? Are you feeling needy?” He pressed down on her tongue before slipping his fingers out of her mouth entirely. Y/N whines, chasing after them, but he uses his grip on the leash to keep her in place, “You can talk, Honey. Can my dumb puppy speak?”

She opens her mouth, “Please,” her voice sounds wrecked already, “Please, I want – I need it, daddy.”

There’s a flash in his eyes that has her clench around the plug, only making her more painfully aware of how empty her pussy was. “Yeah, you need it?” Harry repeated, biting down hard enough on his lip that the flesh blanched around the indents of his teeth. She swears she saw his cock twitch in his bottoms, which were doing very little to hide how worked up he was. “Okay, baby, show daddy how much you need it, hm?” But when Y/N starts to lift her hands toward his thighs, Harry grabs for both of them, curling his fingers around each one, “Mm, no, no, Sweetheart. Remember, puppies don’t use their hands.”

Y/N nods, swallowing hard, not even worried about it. She could do it without her hands – she didn’t need them. All she needed to do was stretch forward and rub her face into his crotch, which should be more embarrassing than it feels right now. The way she buries her nose against him, breathing in deep, mewling when the pure scent of Harry slithers through her. Her mouth is wide open, tongue pressed out against the fabric of his thin linen trousers – the lavender ones that she was fond of – and soaking it around his cock. How he’d had it trapped against his body had made it hard at first, but the harder he got, the easier it was for her to find the head, to lull her tongue around it. She whimpers, brows curling, lips pursing at the tip and suckling through the fabric like it was all she knew how to do.

Her hands are slid beneath the sofa cushion, so she really wouldn’t use them, but her neck and jaw start getting a little tired from how she has to move without any support. Harry must be able to tell because he tucks his fingers around the back of the collar where it lay against her nape and pulls her away. He laughs when she whines at him, her tongue hanging from her mouth, drool spilling from her, “Wow,” he murmured, “I thought it might take a bit more to get you into a sweet little spot like this, but I forgot how easy you were for it, hm? You trust me, baby?” Y/N nodded – she trusted him more than anything, “Yeah? G’na let me make you feel good?”

Again, she nods, leaning forward when he slackens his grip and runs her tongue over his cock several times, in wet, long strokes. The fabric’s taste isn’t what she wants, though, and Harry lifts his hips and pushes the bottoms down so that his cock is out.

He’s hard. The tip is red, leaking already, and it sways a little with the motion of him pulling it free. Y/N barely waits for permission to get her mouth on him, and while she thinks on a different day, when Harry was more prepared for a scene like this – he might have scolded her. Instead, today, he just lets her do what she wants. Laughs through his nose and strokes the side of her head as she mouths out at his cock, which feels bigger right now for some reason, than it usually does. Especially when she can’t use her hands to help guide it, she just has to part her lips and chase after it. She thinks she probably looks dumb, but she doesn’t care. She wants him in her mouth – needs it, actually.

“Ah, maybe I will have to train a greedy puppy like you after all,” he hums thoughtfully as she slurps around his cock, taking him deep, deep, deep until it touches the back of her throat and it convulses around the intrusion. Y/N slips off, takes barely a breath to compose herself, then goes right back in, “But it’s your first time being my puppy for real, isn’t it? I’ll be more lenient now than I will in the future,” he murmurs and it sounds a little like a warning, when she drools over his cock, down to his balls, lapping at them. He groans, wanton and loud, needy as she was, “God – fuck, c’mon, g’na take care of you. Bet that pussy is so messy, isn’t it baby?”

There’s some maneuvering involved, but Harry ends up on the floor with her, slipping out of his trousers the rest of the way. When he pulls his top over his head and tosses it to the side, Y/N reaches out for it, grabs for it – she doesn’t know why, but she wants it near her, kind of. Lays it next to her head so she could smell him some more, and if she were more in her head, then she’d realize how very omega-like of her this was, and how prideful Niall would be if he realized she’d done this. But she’s nowhere near that level of conscious thought right now. She’s swimming somewhere so beautiful and brainless that she doesn’t even feel shy to press the fabric to her nose and breathe in deeply. Smell his cologne and his sweat from the day.

Harry’s cock twitches when he watches her, and he splits her thighs and looks between her legs. She probably is messy right now, lube and her arousal dripping all over the place. Y/N had been worked up after stretching herself open and sliding the plug in, imagining what Harry’s reaction would be to her, and how hard he might fuck her made her touch herself a little bit too. She’d only gotten to two fingers and only did enough to get herself a little more needy, so she feels deprived and restless right now.

He starts with one fingers, and when her hole sucks him in greedily, he gives her two, right down to the knuckle, “Always so ready for it. Slutty fucking pussy,” he is tentative as he preps her, and with the plug in her bum, it somehow feels more intense. There’s more pressure everywhere, so much so that three of his fingers feel like four, and four of his fingers feel like five. Still, Y/N moans, keens, whines, whimpers – does every sound but bark for him – as he splits her open. It’s so good, she feels so fucking good right now, but all she wants is his cock. Wants him to fill her up and fuck her dumb, even stupider than she is right now. Wants to drool, wants him to fuck her hard and deep, and split around him, and feel the head nudge against her g-spot. She wants to squirt on him and get him messy. She wants him to keep going even when she’s too sensitive and is wiggling away, she wants him to drag her right back to him.

Y/N starts fucking her hips down into him, her arms slung beneath her knees to keep them spread but her hips moving tirelessly. Harry places a hand on her thigh, fingers stretched wide, but he doesn’t stop her from moving. He almost seems amused by it, above anything else, his eyes watching closely, his lips curled into a smile, cooing little encouragement like, “Yeah, there we go, baby, that feels good, doesn’t it?” She nods helplessly, and he curls his fingers relentlessly as her legs tremble, getting tired, “Why don’t I give you something a little bigger, hm?”

This time, she nods as enthusiastically as she can. As soon as his fingers slip from her, she rolls onto her belly unprompted, lifts herself onto her knees, and presents herself for him. Years of omegaverse lore aid her subconsciously as she rests herself on her shoulders, reaching back and pulling herself apart to show him where she’s wet and needy for him. Nobody can ever resist that, and at the end of the day, Harry is only a man. He makes a sound kind of close to a growl behind her, cursing beneath his breath when his left hand covers hers to keep her steady, and his right hand guides his prick to her hole. Even though they both knew she was more than ready enough, Harry is still slow about sliding into her. Makes sure she feels every single inch that slides inside of her, stretches her out further. Y/N wonders if it feels tighter because of the plug inside of her. Harry does show an interest in the tail, smoothing it out of his way so that he could look at her again, where she’s stretched taut around the plug.

“Can’t stop thinking about you getting ready for me,” Harry grinds inside of her deep, and Y/N cries out, her fingers digging deeper into her flesh, “How did I find such a naughty, greedy puppy, hm? Fuck, you were made for this,” he prods at the skin around the plug, threatens to dip his thumb in too as his he slowly starts to build up a rhythm. Y/N wishes she could see him – even if she craned her neck, it would do the view no justice. She wants to watch him from the side, from the back, from between her legs – wants to see how big his cock is, how far it stretches her, how his balls slap against her with every stroke he bottoms out in.

She can feel herself drooling, and later on, she would cringe about it, and how it smears against her cheek while her face rubs against his shirt. Oh! His shirt, she’d forgotten – she slides her hands from holding herself open and curls her arms around his shirt. Presses her nose into it and breathes in so deeply, taking in every lick of Harry’s scent that she can from it. For some reason, it made Harry’s hips stutter behind her, his fingernails digging into her skin as he paused deep inside of her. Y/N whines, and he must be able to feel that she’s going to move her hips again because he tightens his grip, “No, just – fuck, just give me a minute. You almost made me cum.”

“Want it,” she whines, “Want it, want it, want it –”

Harry stretches himself across her back, slips his fingers into her mouth, and muffles her mid-beg, “Shh, dumb puppies like you don’t need to talk or think,” he groans as he slides out of her, slowly rolling his hips, wary to start where he left off right away, “God, you love being my little doggy, don’t you? You’re so fucking wet,” Y/N quivers, holding his fingers uselessly in her mouth, unable to suck or lick or bite, just pant and drool around them, “You wanna cum for, Daddy, Sweetheart? Get me all nice and sticky with it?”

His pace picks up again, the slide of it easier as he makes more space for himself inside of her. It’s much more intense with Harry pressed up against her like this, and it doubles when his fingers slip between her thighs and swirl around the swollen bud of her clit. It flicks beneath his touch, stiff and engorged, and just the press of his index and middle finger pads against it makes her cry out. The ears are flopping against her head with each thrust. Her legs want to close, but there’s no easy way to, and her back arches against him. But her mouth is full, her clit is being played with, the plug still sits inside of her and Harry rocks his hips into her like he’s trying to make sure the shape of him never leaves, hard and deep, an impression of himself in her insides.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she sounds around his fingers, and it’s muffled, a staccato sound with every collision of their hips together. Words escape her; she just feels, and she feels everything so intensely right now.

Her whole body shakes when she cums. It starts with her thighs, shaking hard, making the rest of her legs tremble, and the heat of her arousal swells into a tight balloon that expands rapidly, the latex filling out until it pops, and the warm wave of water that was inside of it flows through her. Washes over her whole body as she pulsates around him, milking him, and Harry fucks her through it, despite how difficult it gets when she squeezes so tightly around him, “Yeah, that’s it, that’s my girl,” he murmured, “I’m not g’na stop, baby, not unless you say your special word.”

Duck, Y/N remembers, or to squeeze his hand three times. Both are far away from her now though, even as she comes down from her first orgasm, she feels oversensitive as he fucks into her but not in the way where she’d need to shove him off. So she starts working her hips back against him again and Harry curses beneath his breath, then starts fucking her earnestly again.

She’s unsure for how long it goes on, or how many times she cums. She just knew that around her fourth orgasm, Harry had flipped her around so that she was facing him and had pulled her nipple into his mouth. And she knew that he had started fucking the plug in and out of her bum too, and Y/N felt a bubble in her belly that popped, forcing Harry out of her body when a swell of liquid followed his cock’s exit. He’s made her squirt before, and Y/N had wondered if it was just a one-and-done type of thing, but clearly not. It’s fully within his capability to do it, and leave her breathless, shaking, gasping.

This time, Harry isn’t able to slip back into her. He peels the condom off, slips his hand through the mess of her pussy and uses that as lube to fuck himself with. Y/N watches through lidded eyes as he strokes his cock, “Yes, yes, such a messy fucking puppy, so perfect for me,” he rambles, “So good, and fucking perfect, made for me, shit – only me,” before he starts to cum, all over her belly, in thick spurts that land heavy on the skin. Some of it even reaches her neck, and the knowledge of it makes her open her mouth, let her tongue hang out in hopes of catching more of it. None comes organically like that, but Harry does smear his fingers through the mess on her belly and feeds it into her mouth. Y/N licks it away, the taste heady and Harry, and so good because of it.

Y/N can barely move. Her muscles are kind of achy, and her head is so feather-filled she might as well be a pillow. Harry, above anything else, drops to her side and pulls her into his body, not caring about the sticky, drying cum on her skin when he pulls her into him. Rolls her over and maneuvers her limbs until she’s lying on top of him, running one of his hands up and down her back, “That was so beautiful, baby,” he says it so gently, Y/N almost wants to cry for some reason. She feels emotional and exhausted and like, maybe in love, a little bit, she doesn’t know – maybe it was just post-orgasm endorphins or maybe Harry was actually her soulmate, who could tell right then. “Did so well for me, for your first time. So perfect.”

As he is with all things, Harry is more than careful as he removes the floppy ear clips from her hair, unbuckles the collar, and slowly slips the plug out of her bum. For a moment, one of his fingers does slide around into the little gape that was left, and when she twitches and whines, he kisses the side of her head, “Sorry, Honey, couldn’t help myself,” before slipping it away, “We’ll have to play with that pretty hole too, it was getting jealous.” Y/N manages a laugh, though it’s just breathless and soundless enough to sound like a puff of air through her nose.

They stay there for a while, until Y/N feels like she can move, but even then, words haven’t come back to her yet. This was the deepest into subspace she thinks she’s ever been, but she isn’t scared of it. Y/N revels in it. With Harry there, she feels safe, and cared for, like she doesn’t need to worry about a thing at all. And she’s right, because he takes her to the shower with him and they get clean together. Harry wipes her down first, tenderly, slowly, and goes quickly for himself so that she isn’t standing there for too long. He coaxes water into her, too, at least half a bottle until she’s pulling her face away. Eventually, they find themselves in her bed, Y/N in a big shirt, her favorite band’s last album cover on the front, and Harry in one of her big shirts with a bunny on the front. He slid her underwear onto her, tucked them nicely around her hips, and then brought her up under the covers. Harry rubs her elbows and knees for a little bit, where they were rubbing against the carpet kind of hurt, and the skin was irritated. He pushes kisses to all the spots that seemed sore.

“I liked that,” she finally spoke, after what might have been 20 to 30 minutes of silence. Harry doesn’t seem startled, and she wonders if it usually took her a while to start talking anyway, “A lot.”

“Me too, Sweetheart. You play the role of a greedy puppy very well,” he rubs up and down her arm, where it’s stretched across his chest, “And you were very cute. I’ll probably touch myself to that for weeks.”

Y/N makes a noise in her throat and tips her face into his chest, “Shut up,” she grumbles, then continues, “I – um – like you a lot,” she sighed out, her lips rewarming, preparing for a ramble that she just knew was going to happen soon. Not that she had anything in particular to ramble about, except the fact that she’d seen a really pretty garden today, before she’d puppy-fied herself.

Harry, who had begun to play with her fingers, seemed delighted. “Is that so? That’s convenient, because I like you too.”

“Yeah, and we should probably plant a garden together,” she rumples her lips, “But neither of us has any yard to plant a garden, so we’d have to steal someone’s yard or something. Or buy like a little patch of dirt on someone’s property. Do you know anyone who has a yard?”

“I’m sure I could find someone,” he replies, amused, “You like gardening?”

“I’m so bad at it, actually, but you seem like you’d be good at it, so that’s why we should plant together. Are you good at planting?” Y/N feels him nuzzle his nose against her temple, “I feel like you’re good at everything.”

Harry hums, “No, m’not,” he murmured, “I’m actually not great at folding laundry.”

“Really?” She tilted her head to look at him, “Like – how?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, it always looks messy though. You haven’t seen my drawers?”

“No, was I supposed to see them? Should I be looking through your drawers?”

“If you wanted to, you could,” he offered, then immediately took it back, “Actually, no, I want you to pretend I’m good at everything still, I don’t need you to see my folding.”

Y/N laughed, then nestled close to him again, “You’re silly,” she murmurs, sighing again, letting sleep weigh heavy in her bones, “I’m glad I was delusional enough to think that you were obsessed with me.”

Harry squeezes her close.

“It’s not delusional if it’s true.”

#OMGGGGGGG #OKAAYYYYYYY #I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTTTT #REAL SMUTTY #MOSTLY SMUT HONESTLY #BUT I HOPE YOU LOVE #I LOVED WRITING THESE GUYS SO MUCH #WRITING #HARRY SMUT #WOOOOO #YAHTZEE #HARRY STYLES SMUT #OKAY YAY #LOVE YOUUUU

1K notes · View notes

thebibliosphere · 3 months ago

Note

Wait, PMDD and GERD are connected to MCAS? Because I have both of those. Would you please talk a little more about that?

They can be connected to MCAS, yes.

If you google it, the current AI answer will tell you that mast cells are present in the esophagus, which is true, but only because mast cells are present in every part of the body.

What would be more helpful to say is that the esophagus is lined with histamine receptors, and when these receptors are activated it leads to chronic inflammation caused by several mast cell mediators which can make you more prone to acid damage.

Mast cells also release chemicals that can cause the stomach to overproduce acid, as well as relax the esophageal sphincter, which makes it easier for the acid to wash back up into the esophagus, causing further damage.

This is why some of the treatment aimed at GERD is actually antihistamines like Famotidine (Pepcid), which are type 2 histamine blockers, though I’ve yet to meet a GERD patient whose doctor has explained to them why this antihistamine works to relieve their GERD. The answer is mast cells.

(Note: MCAS is a multi system spectrum disorder that requires multiple factors to be present. Having some mild form of mast cell instability is actually far more common that is actually realized even by the broader medical community, with mast cell dysfunction now being linked to things like fibromyalgia, IBS, endometriosis, etc and I suspect in the next few decades, research is going to pivot drastically to focusing on mast cell treatment as a form of prevention instead of treating these disorders as things with no known cause and only symptom management.

My point of this whole section is to say: if you have GERD, that doesn’t automatically mean you have MCAS. You might have some form of mast cell instability that is causing issues, but so does a significant chunk of the population. It just isn’t discussed or recognized by current medical literature, though that is thankfully changing. Slowly, but the change is there.)

For PMDD there’s unsurprisingly a limited amount of research but the EDS clinic page on it is fairly comprehensive. Basically, hormonal fluctuations linked to the pre-menstrual stage of the menstrual cycle can prime mast cells to overreact, liberating several mast cell inflammatory chemicals but chief among them histamine which has been shown to have an effect on pain perception but also mood stability. There’s very little official studies related to histamine and PMDD, but looking at other studies such as the effect of histamine on major depressive disorder, you can sort of cobble together a bigger picture of how mast cells affect mental health and how hormonal fluctuations may impact this. Among the mast cell syndrome community you’ll sometimes see people talking about ‘masto rage’ or ‘histo rage’ and that’s because excess histamine in the brain can lead to extreme anger that can seem to come out of nowhere.

For me, this primarily happens with my PMDD and it feels like someone dropped a match into a barrel of napalm. My entire brain becomes a fucking mess that has gotten better with mast cell treatment, but not entirely eradicated.

This may be why some individuals who experience PMDD are self reporting relief from taking a histamine blocker like Famotidine during the luteal phase of their cycle.

Again, having these conditions doesn’t mean you have MCAS, but it can be an indication of some mast cell fuckery, especially if you have multiple things going on at once.

It wasn’t until I got diagnosed by my specialist that all these seemingly random unconnected disorders that I struggled with for nearly my entire life made sense because their primary instigation in my body was my untreated mast cell disorder. Everything from the chronic acid reflux that started as a child right down to my interstitial cystitis which started the moment my menstrual cycle kicked in at age 11.

Honestly it’s all been down hill since then.

Anyway, I hope this was useful.

#chronic health tag #MCAS #long post

868 notes · View notes

choerypetal · 11 months ago

Text

Hide and Seek / Homelander

(pt 2. of Meet and Greet)

summary ; In part two of the meet and greet, Homelander's obsession reaches new heights, leaving him unsatisfied at his core and willing to do anything to make you his.

!! read part one first! ; !!

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes, xo' (as it will be eventually corrected if needed)

tag list; @private-eye-on-you ; @lins-shenanigans ; @horrorxgorewhore @siredtom ; @certain-tragedies ; @hotchners-wifey ; @naelis-open-sea

enjoy xo'

Homelander's comment, 'You look lovely in the costume,' lingered in your mind for a week. You couldn't escape his presence. His silhouette, his maddeningly perfect face seemed to follow you everywhere—from your usual coffee shop to the special limited editions of The Vought, and even as you continued watching the show for longer periods of time. From Deep's special cupcakes to the coffee most loved by Homelander, his influence was everywhere, not just keeping the city alive but himself as well.

Although you didn't realize it, Homelander had become just as obsessed with you as he was with seeing his own face on the cup you were holding. From a distance, he watched your every move—the way your plump lips touched the cup, how you drank your coffee, and even how you covered his image with your hand. Despite finding your behavior an offense, he knew he’d eventually have to tease about it. The sadistic man that he was, wasn’t afraid to even acknowledge it. Especially during their weekly Seven meetings.

"So, I suggest we review some new recruits," Ashley said, her nervousness palpable. She wanted to please not only the public but, most importantly, Homelander. This was no easy task given recent events and the current situation. Homelander's obvious boredom showed his lack of interest, and Deep, poor thing, was just as disinterested, staring blankly at the screen and agreeing with whatever Homelander mumbled. However, Deep was secretly relieved not to have any of John’s powers. Especially right now. Because, at that exact moment, it was your face, and your face alone, that occupied his thoughts. Murmuring your name under his breath, he was fortunate not to get caught up in the moment. That of course, when a single cough from Ashley’s mouth was enough to slip his mind elsewhere.

"You know, Ashley, just pick whoever you think will fit for now. Sign their papers. My brain is going to fucking explode from this hell hole," he said, standing up without even glancing at her. Not even Ashley's whiny complaints about the complications it might cause could stop him. He paused, considering for a moment that she might convince him. "Don't come to me for the next 24 hours," he snapped, his piercing blue eyes conveying a clear threat. When wasn't he a threat, anyway? "Or I'll personally fuck up every single one of you." That was enough to make her quickly nod in response. Poor thing, she only wanted to make him proud. A satisfied grin played on his lips, mirrored by Ashley's, though hers was a little more nervous. His, however, was genuine.

You, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough not to see Homelander's face for a while. From the bookstore you frequented to the coffee shop, his presence seemed to pervade your life. Your mother didn’t help either, as she insisted on framing a picture of you with him in the living room—a gesture Homelander found endearing. On some nights, he would see you through the window, dressed in your pajamas, reading whatever caught your interest, with that picture always in the background. Unlike Homelander, it haunted your dreams.

Deep down, Homelander struggled to resist the urge to invade your personal space, not wanting to frighten you. However, when he saw your forced smile at the meet and greet, he was reminded that a smile meant nothing to him. To him and you alone. It was your scent that drove him wild. At first, he considered going undercover, posing as one of your father’s coworkers, but he realized it would be futile. Why cover his own shame, when he could let his ego take it over?

So, he waited until sunrise. When he could finally entered your room, imagining you in your shortest pajamas, which hugged your curves so perfectly, he had to bite his bottom lip to control himself. Just by the thought of his fingers sinking into your flesh as you leaned toward him for more...

"Goodbye, Mom!" Your voice echoed in Homelander's mind as he realized he'd been lurking around your house since last night. He had been trying to dismiss, the missed call records provided by Ashley, however, unable to ignore them. Fortunately, he was hidden well enough that you didn’t notice him as you exited the house.

Your hair meticulously washed, your skin fresh with makeup, and that dress. Never in a thousand years, aside from his own enemies, did Homelander think he would become so obsessed with someone. He wanted to chuckle to himself at the irony, knowing he wasn’t being the most subtle superhero. When your gaze shifted toward his hiding spot, he quickly concealed himself behind a tree, exhaling in relief when you shrugged off the feeling of being watched. You then left for work, something Homelander knew all too well. This also meant he could meet your mother, who, after all, was his biggest fan.

Fortunately, you managed to get through the day without a single client yelling at you. However, what you didn’t expect was an unexpected visit from the man himself. As you approached the door, you overheard some mumbling. Did your mother have a visitor today?

And then it hit you.

Hearing the all-too-familiar voice say, "Oh, these look lovely," with a genuine smile, you froze in your tracks. Seeing your mother so happy, even more thrilled than a fangirl, like she’d seen god himself. She noticed you immediately. "My dear! Look who came to visit," she exclaimed, taking you into her arms for a hug. Before you could greet the guest, your eyes met his—Homelander, in your own home.

"No need for theatrics, ma’am," he said with a casual chuckle, hushed by his own hand as he munched on the cookies your mother had made, casually wiping a droplet of milk with his thumb. Your mother giggled and said, "Mother is the name. We don’t have to get formal, right darling?" You blinked twice, hardly believing what you were hearing. Your mother was genuinely making Homelander feel comfortable, right inside your home. Given what you knew from your coworkers and the constant rumors, it was hard not to be creeped out by the thought that he might have done more than just a knock on the door that evening. Yet, you shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps playing the same game he did might be what he wanted after all. Like a cat and a mouse.

There was a brief pause, then an idea sparked in your mother’s eyes as she looked at John one last time. "Why don’t you stay for dinner? Tonight is roasted chicken and mashed potatoes." How could he refuse? Spending more time with you was just the beginning of his obsession with protecting you and never letting you out of his sight. He smiled, his grin seemingly bigger than before, and nodded. "If Y/N doesn’t mind?" he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more serious expression. You gulped nervously, knowing you couldn’t just say no. "Yes—yes, of course," you stuttered. Oh, how adorable you looked.

“Then, make yourself at home dear.”

Dinner was only just a few hours from now, with your father now back from work had asked for a personal photo with the Homelander, and a talk John appreciated more. Considering his own father exiling him completely, it was a breath of fresh air for him, especially when he’d be glancing a few times at you, doing whatever you had in mind before the dinner. “My daughter is going to be working for us,” your father would be saying proudly, Homelander could only nod listening actively. “She’d do a great addition I am certain.” his gaze now meeting yours immediately, when you gaze up from your book, he could notice a light shade of pink coming your cheeks. Cherishing it a little too much when your father’s voice then abrupt his mind, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he’d said a little too proud.

She is indeed… Homelander thought to himself that same night. Just by how attentive he was with you. Even if it wasn’t much of a conversation shared, the glances were enough to please him alone. Which during the dinner, he was not afraid to show.

Dinner had passed rather quickly, you were glad it did. Considering you listening to whatever nonsense Homelander had to offer to keep your mother so relonctent toward him. Let alone, praise him as a her own god. Boosting an ego, to whom you couldn’t comprehend yourself, and that Homelander was sure to make it seem tonight.

"Thank you so much for dinner, truly," Homelander said, wiping the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving you. Your mother’s gasp was enough to momentarily distract him, and he asked if everything was alright. She quickly assured him it was and invited him to stay until her cake was done baking. Naturally, John didn't decline the offer. "Y/N," your mother called your attention just as you were about to excuse yourself, "how about you give a little tour of the house? I'm sure Homelander would appreciate it." The formality of his name seemed daunting, but John quickly corrected her. "John it is. No need to be formal, now, do we?" A shiver crawled down your spine as your mother’s eyes gleamed with hope, her slender fingers clapping together. "Oh, well, of course! Now, Y/N, make yourself useful and make John feel at home."

A sigh escaped your lips; there was no way to avoid this, was there? "Yes, of course. Where do you want to start?" Your eyes never left his, feeling yourself getting lost in them, becoming his little mouse to play with. "How about..." he began, his eyes wandering as if he couldn’t be bothered to think. "The bedroom," he finally said. You blinked twice, a third time to fully process his words. "What?" you replied, incredulous. He chuckled, amused by your reaction, and shrugged off the question as if he hadn’t meant it seriously. "Nah, kidding. Lead the way," he said.

So you did. You felt his shadow hovering over you as you both walked through the house for a little tour. John was no longer hiding his presence, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his breath. By the time you reached your bedroom, the tour was complete, and your mother’s cake would be ready. However, John had something else in mind, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. “And this is the bedroom,” you said nonchalantly, hearing an obvious scoff from him.

"Funny, isn’t it?" he said, this time his tone serious enough to make your muscles tense. His back was to you as his fingers touched the doorknob, ready to close the door. And he did, pausing momentarily. "Finally, we meet again." His remark made you tilt your head. Meet again? As far as you knew, he had been stalking you all along. But knowing who he was—Homelander, with his omniscience and twisted games—you had no say in the matter. Neither did you, especially after hearing his chuckle.

“Now why so quiet?” the question was enough to make you unsease. You wanted to tell him, to oppose to him. But you couldn’t he was now yours to torment completely. When he leaned further, scoffing once more by your vulnerability. In that precise moment, Homelander knew he won.

“Heard you were a good, fuck.” his voice so nonchanltly, a gasp leaving from your mouth as you were unable to speak more than standing right in front of him. How his eyes would wondered around your figure, approaching near to you, his fingers now leaning toward your waist. Gripping by its touch, hungry to fuck you there, in the bed. Raw.

"Thank you?" you stammered, eager to please him. His grin broadened, fighting not to turn into a frown at your response. He was so satisfied that he gently caressed your cheek with his other finger. "You need me, not just to save you, but to satisfy you." Though your heart was broken, you were a toy Homelander cherished without fear. You were his perfect little toy, as he began to lick his bottom lip, his breath drawing closer, closing the gap between you. "Mine," he growled, his voice hoarse, undeniably hinting at his intentions. He was Homelander, able to do whatever he wanted. And that included you being his. "Got it, little mouse?"

Oh, how he longed to watch you squirm between his legs, begging for more, moaning his name. His persistence knew no bounds; he would do anything—from leaving bite marks to scratches, and even hickeys if necessary. But he couldn't just stand there without having a little fun, right?

"You see," he said, his voice dripping with teasing malice. Disgust welled up in your mouth, but you fought the urge to look away. He loved watching you squirm, the fear in your eyes fueling his twisted envy of every inch of you. "How about we play a little game tonight, hmm?" His thumb brushed gently over your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

"W-what game?" you managed to say, breaking your long silence. Even he was momentarily surprised, but your stutter made it worth it. "Hide and seek," he said, pausing for effect. "You hide, and I seek. If I find you, you're mine. Got that?"

You gave a quick nod, followed by a satisfied smile from him. "Good then, I'll start counting. One, two..." You hesitated for a moment, just as his grip shifted from your waist to your arm, preventing you from fleeing your own home. When your eyes met his, they were dark with passion, lust, and a desire to capture his little mouse until its very last breath. "Run..."

Little mouse.”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander the boys #homelander imagine #homelander smut #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz x y/n #the boys #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys s4 #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader

2K notes · View notes

gr4cier4cie · 1 month ago

Text

♡ bet you wanna love me now ♡ 3

or: something's changed between you and lewis since the accident, something neither of you is willing to explicitly name. that doesn't mean you don't feel it, and that certainly doesn't mean it's not there. fem!engineer!reader x lewis hamilton (arranged/political marriage au) pt 1, pt 2

warnings: none, lil angst, a lil fluff, THIS IS IT MY FRIENDS THE MOMENT YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR I FINALLY GOT OFF MY ASS AND WROTE THIS!! mwah mwah mwah love you all thank you for waiting!!

♡

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1, f1, scuderiaferrari, and 1,000,412 others

y/nhamilton back in the office!! thank you so much to everyone for all the sweet messages, i'll see you on the grid soon!! 💌

lewishamilton you take that teddy bear everywhere with you since i bought it (please tell me it's not my replacement) (♡ by author) └ y/nhamilton it's just an extension of you!!

yourbestfriend let it be known that lewishamilton texted me thirty times asking if you liked tea or coffee because he couldn't remember while you were recovering (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton I WAS WONDERING HOW HE KNEW THAT!! lewishamilton this is blasphemy why would you tell her

alexandrasaintmleux we've missed you my love!! ❤️ hugs and kisses from leo, charles, and i (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton i've missed you more!! (coffee after the race this weekend? please say yes) └ alexandrasaintmleux i'd never say no to that!! 💫

username37 OMG THE TEDDY BEAR IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER SEEN KILL ME NOW

username38 and the way lewis said he got it for her has me dead └ username39 he loves her your honor

username40 MAMA Y PAPA. MAMA Y PAPA.

username41 y/nhamilton did you name the teddy bear?! (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton his name is hammie ❤️ (as in hammertime)

♡

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux, scuderiaferrari, username42, and 2,001,202 others

y/nhamilton went back to work -> took a break from work -> going back to work

lewishamilton when did you get that first picture of me? lewishamilton side note: you still owe me a hike (♡ by author) └ y/nhamilton 1. took it while you were laughing at my cooking skills (not cool) 2. NOT A CHANCE IN HELL KEEP DREAMING 💖

yourbestfriend JESUS IS THERE A CHANCE YOU'RE GETTING HOTTER AS YOU AGE (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton i mean its possible my husband's practically a dinosaur and look at him!! 💖

scuderiaferrari PLEASE COME BACK YOU TWO. PLEASE. I AM BEGGING YOU. (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton reporting for duty tommorow morning!! lewishamilton THIS WAS HER IDEA IT WAS NOT MINE └ y/nhamilton LEWIS!!

alexandrasaintmleux so beautiful you two xxx see you soon!! (♡ by author)

y/nhamilton my girl!! love you more than words can describe!! 💖

username42 okay who else is here after THAT thread on x went viral

username43 ME ME ME ME └ username44 i love these two but like... why is y/n proving the point rn she put pictures of her and lewis and got 2 mill likes IN LIKE TWO DAYS

username45 i mean y/n can't help it if she's likeable or famous she's her own person too lewis didn't get her degree for her lol

username46 i mean she CAN help it by not using him for clout maybe....

♡

[YOUTUBE: Lewis Hamilton Answers to the Internet]

♡

liked by lewishamilton, yourbestfriend, scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, olliebearman, lando, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, georgerussell63, and 2,009,999 others

y/nhamilton 11.10.25. thought we'd go for a round two, sans the contract. i love you for real and for forever, lewishamilton. not even death can part us. not after what it took to get here.

comments on this post have been limited.

♡

note: AND THAT'S THE END OF THE BET YOU WANNA LOVE ME NOW UNIVERSE WHY AM I SAD!! thank you thank you thank you for bearing with me while i cranked this one out, i know the timeline's a little fast but when you know you know!!! mwah from gracie, always and forever!!! taglist: @mxdi0, @ashley-k, @mayax2o07, @1-of-my-many-obsessions, @sunny44, @widow-cevans, @1-queenofpotatoes-1, @dramaticpiratellamas, @quinquinquincy, @ihaveitprinteddout, @i-love-sirius-black7, @nic0-hischier, @isagrace22

323 notes · View notes

ttpdstri · 6 months ago

Text

come back… be here

oscar piastri x reader

in which they’re childhood sweethearts but the distance between them slowly becomes a problem

part 2 part 3

warnings: kinda self indulgent (made reader study veterinary science at uni lol), the texts lowkey suck oops, in the second lot of texts the date is supposed to be september 16!!

i used sunday kalogeras for one pic but obviously feel free to picture reader as anyone!

september 4th 2024

liked by lilymhe and 14,395 others

yourusername, uni grind never stops

view all comments

user1, omg what are u studying?

⤷ yourusername, veterinary science!

lilymhe, miss seeing u at races :(

⤷ yourusername, i miss you!! we need to make plans

user2, ur so gorgeous wth

⤷ user3, her and oscar have to be one of the prettiest couples ever

user4, no oscar in the likes im scared

yourbff, if i see another animal skeleton in the next week im going to lose my mind

⤷ yourusername, looks like ur losing ur mind then

had to cut it kinda short because of the picture limit on the app 🙁🙁 lmk if you want a part 2 <3

#oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri angst

702 notes · View notes

beloved-calypso · 1 year ago

Text

・゜ ʚɞ ゜゜𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖝𝖚𝖆𝖑 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖑 ♡ ・゜ ʚɞ ゜゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡ 18+!

♡ “𝒮𝑒𝓃𝓈𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓇𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓉𝓎, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈.” – 𝒥𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒿𝒶 𝐵𝑜𝓃𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓂 ♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.

ᴍᴅɴɪ!!!

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ꜱᴇᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɴᴛᴀꜱɪᴇꜱ ᴘᴀᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅʟᴇꜱꜱ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 1 ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, Five of Cups]

You are a golden opportunity pile 1. People would feel lucky to have you, and they have fantasies that they know for sure you can fulfill. There is a steadiness about you, an abundance of confidence and ease that makes your presence big and undeniable. The closest thing I can liken this energy to is someone in a workplace setting being the number one go-to, someone who is fast, reliable, and always gets the job done well and beyond. They are seen as a gem to the people they work with and are a lucky treasure, a constant that never disappoints. This makes your sexual appeal grand and constant. You can never fall below expectations, and you are seen as rare to find and a priceless keep. Always efficient and unshakable. You appear to be almost fearless. Nothing seems to faze you, and you give off the energy of liking challenges. You're very determined and passionate, but you also are a bit of a wildcard. I think this pile can be a bit all over the place, but not so much that you come off as flighty. You just appear daring. Experimental. You're firm in your wants and needs and are willing to meet your partners halfway, but I also think you're unafraid in showing your distaste. You're vocal and you won't let anyone cross your boundaries. I feel like you have such a strong and unwavering front that people become more curious about you and want to disassemble you to expose who you are underneath. Not many people carry themselves as well as you do, and that only makes others more and more inquisitive of you. They feel you may hide behind a shell, and want to explore the parts of you others can't see, even if they involve tears, and sadness, and pain, and anger, people want to see that come out because it's raw and authentic. It all makes you more relatable, more vulnerable, and more sexy.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 2 ๑◞꒱ა

[Page of Swords, The Tower (rx), Death (rx)]

Hmm, it took me a minute to decipher this energy, but now I get it. Pile 2, your sex appeal stems from some darkness that's within you, a well of emotions and mental sharpness that create a type of steeliness about you, an appeal for the unknown and possibly dangerous. On the outside, you could have a sort of innocent feel. Some of you may actually be innocent but are either in denial of this or still growing and maturing into this energy, but for others, you are actually quite experienced and have explored all types of facets about yourself and others. You know your emotions, triggers, and know how to look deep within your shadows and make use of them (in a healthy way of course). You want to teach other people how to do these things, too. Ya'll are actually quite jaded, beautifully so. A dark manic type, quite witchy. Ya'll likely lean towards a pain and pleasure type of dynamic, a satisfaction derived from things nonphysical and uncommon. People feel they have to sacrifice something of themselves to get you. I'm getting a fascination with the body, a want and need to explore other peoples limits, take them for your own and consume them. People literally feel like you could chew them up and spit them out with ease. Some here may like BDSM, definitely getting knife-play here, dominance and subjugation, but I'm getting a myriad of things. Lots of kinks. Many unexplainable (some of you are still exploring). People know that you could test their limits and expose them to things they would otherwise never discover. It's super sexy. Moth-to-a-flame kind of thing. Your allure is strong and almost forbidden. I'm thinking people who are taken would love to have you. You are an experience, a once in a lifetime opportunity. Maybe long-term relationships don't come easy to you because people fear they will get burned by you, that either you will be too much for them or you will get bored of them. There's a mix of reactions from others; some think they can corrupt you, others think you will be the one to corrupt them. There's a multitude of people in this reading that can go either way. You're very decadent pile 2.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 3 ๑◞꒱ა

[The Empress, The Chariot, The Hierophant]

Pile 3, you barely have to try. Your sex appeal is very feminine and relaxed. Ya'll are the epitome of chill and unbothered. I think people just naturally gravitate towards you. You're so far off from everyone else, I'm seeing you have your own orbit. People really don't know where they stand with you because your appearance is hard to change, as you greet people with the same indifference. They can't tell if you like them. People feel you are guarded, and it's hard to catch your attention. It gets polarizing reactions of, "I want them even more" to, "Why bother?" Your feminine energy has a strong reaction with masculine energy. Men may especially be competitive over you. You just naturally have what men find desirable. You raise peoples hackles without meaning to. To some, you come off as a prize, someone to impress and win over. If you find men are especially aggressive with their tactics of flirtation, it's because they feel they are trying to fight you to get a piece of you. It may seem that sometimes you find yourself the most sensible person in the room, and everyone else is acting ridiculous. That's because you bring out the primal/dumb side of people (basically their lizard brains). You grasp the attention of the room without noticing or caring, and everyone is busy trying to calculate a game plan to come towards you, while you are just your chill self, avoiding anyone that you don't know (there has to be a bunch of Taurus's here, lol). Sometimes, you're just a prize too hard to get, and talking to you is as hard as trying to reach a princess in a tower. Peoples confidence waivers with you because you're so unpredictable, too. You're someone in particular that has something special going on within them that people are curious to know. They also know they can't come to you with shallow offers. You seem the type to want commitment and more than what people are willing to give off the bat. People have to give their best, or chance being like the rest of the crowd. If you don't get as many offers as you would like, it's just because you're intimidating. Your appeal is kind of unexplainable, really, but powerful.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 4 ๑◞꒱ა

[The Tower, Judgment, Queen of Swords]

Hmm, your sexual appeal is powerful, too. People here are especially intelligent, quick-witted, and have a cold, untouchable type of look. I think there's some great, show-stopping beauties in this pile, as I'm getting looks that could cut glass. Ya'll however have what they say, a resting bitch face, and while that sounds disenchanting, it's the opposite in your case. That untouchable quality is exactly why people pursue you. You seem like the type that can destroy anyone that crosses you, and that excites certain people. You give off the impression of pure confidence and grace. You have natural elegance and public appearences may be important to you, so you try to be on your best behavior whenever you're out in the presence of others. You're booksmart but also streetsmart because you can sense BS 15 miles from you. People think you have a lot of sexual experience, and believe you can show them a plethora of erotic knowledge. You likely attract younger people. They fantasize about you being their teacher and pushing them down a rabbit hole of sexual discovery. People's fantasies of you are so wide ranging because you give them little to go off of. They're stuck playing the guessing game while you keep cool as a cucumber calculating your next moves. You exemplify leadership and attract people that are wanting to be given direction, in and out of the bedroom. Some suitors will have a masochistic desire. Others will have a need to dominate you. A few will try to level with you, but there's something about you that makes people pick a side. You have intense energy. It's like you trigger people's flight or fight response, which seems strange, but just proves you bringing about peoples primal urges. Some of you have the spirit of a dominatrix, and others just naturally fall into a position of control. Your other half of suitors that have just as much as a dominant trait as you want to see your pretty, perfect facade demolished. They want to strip you of everything that makes you, you, and have you kneel for only them. There's a quote that I'm being reminded of with this pile, and it's about how the pursuit of sex is actually the pursuit of power. I would say this is true in your case. Also, a lot of your suitors see that you have a judgemental eye and feel they can not disappoint you. No one can come to you acting a fool or with foolish proposals. I think you can be quick to cut someone down, and that's a turn on for some. You also have a way with word's and can seduce with your voice. You know exactly what to say to have someone wrapped around your finger. You've mastered the art of persuasion and making appearances. I think you carry yourself with grace and civility. You have an old soul, a reminder of what societies' ideals used to be in older times, but also a reminder of the hidden and heavy erotiscism that came with that time, too. It's very classy, naughty, and elegant all in one.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡

⊱┈───── ✧

✨️ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce information that is factually true. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

#pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #free tarot reading #tarot ask #tarot blog #tarot blr #tarot #tarot reader #exchange readings #free tarot #lolitabonita's #18+ tarot

2K notes · View notes

gamorahww · 5 months ago

Text

Why Fiyeraba Are Perfect for Eachother, According to science MBTI

Through their differences, authenticity, sense of what's right, and just overall being well-meaning people, these two are a great example of how you can lift someone up, just by being your most authentic self and holding space for them to do the same.

Hello, this is a Fiyeraba analysis no one asked for. It doesn’t contain any spoilers for Wicked: Part 2.

Disclaimer Regarding MBTI: I know many people think MBTI is bullshit and even a bit limiting, when we talk about real life, and the people inhabiting it, but in the case of well-written, consistent fictional characters (which applies to both Elphaba and Fiyero) I think MBTI can be used without worrying about negative effects. That being said, enjoy the analysis of Fiyeraba through this lense!

I.) Context, If You Are Not Familiar with MBTI

When it comes to MBTI, there are two angles of looking at the types. One you are probably familiar with is the four-letter abbreviation (ENFP, INTJ, ESTJ, etc), but there is a deeper layer, where we are looking at those cognitive functions that each type uses. There are 16 variations of the four-letter types, but only 8 functions, that vary in order, and preference in each type.

We identify four main cognitive functions in each type. Introverted types (their four-letter type stars with an I) are most comfortable using their introverted functions, and extraverted types (their four letters start with an E) are most comfortable with their extraverted functions. However as a person grows up, goes through life and evolves, they learn to harness their initially weaker functions better, and this gives them a more well-rounded personality, and a more healthier way of living in the world and be their authentic selves.

The order of the functions is also important, so whatever is in first place is their strongest function, and whatever is their last is their weakest.

You may be looking at this thinking “I didn’t ask for this”. And you are right, you didn’t, but bear with me.

So, lets sum it up: Each four-letter type has four main functions, and the extraverts are good at extravert stuff, while introverts are good at introvert stuff. Got it!

Now that we have this nailed down, lets look at these beatiful idiots then.

II.) Fiyeraba and Their MBTI Types and Cognitive Functions

Elphaba is an INTJ. INTJs are nicknamed “masterminds” by some people, because they are really good at big picture stuff. Ironically more often than not, if a story requires a villain with a large plan, they do tend to be INTJs. INTJs make for great villains in people’s eyes, with their no-nonsense way of going around in the world, and in a society full of rules and norms, they stand out, no matter what they do. Some people like to see Elphaba as an ISFP, that would mean that her introverted feeling is stronger than her intuition, but I think those people are wrong lol. Just look at the matter of seconds it took for Elphaba to realize that the Wizard is a fake once she was face to face with him, and then making a plan, and running away. Also, the trope of "you see me as a villain, so I will become your villain" is a common INTJ character trope, and applies to Elphaba super well.

Fiyero is an ESFP. ESFPs are nicknamed as “performers” or “entertainers”. They are usually popular, bold, original, and very observant. They are often considered as shallow, and superficial, which they can be, if they don't focus enough on developing their inner world, their intorverted feeling and their intuition. They are often impulsive, seeking newness, but they can easily fall into this superficiality as a routine, if they are not challenged.

Elphaba - INTJ - cognitive functions: Ni-Te-Fi-Se

(Ni) Introverted Intuition: Dominantly seeks deep patterns, long-term vision, and abstract connections for strategic planning. - Elphaba is the only one who intuitively sees Fiyero being unhappy. Later, as soon as her blinders of false hope are lifted after changing the monkeys, she almost immediately puts two and two together.

(Te) Extraverted Thinking: Structures external environments logically, focusing on efficiency and execution. - From information fragments she gathers at Emerald City, with her thinking supported by her intuition, she puts together the Wizard not having any powers, and seeing through his scheme.

(Fi) Introverted Feeling: Prioritizes internal values and authenticity in decision-making, though less visibly. - She has a strong sense of what's right, and would never chose what is good for her over what she thinks is the morally right thing to do.

(Se) Extraverted Sensing: Engages with sensory experiences and the present moment, though it’s less naturally prominent. - Once she decides she will fly, she does. She is very graceful, knows how to use her environment to her benefit, although she is a bit slow to take action.

Fiyero - ESFP - cognitive functions: Se-Fi-Te-Ni

(Se) Extraverted Sensing: Focuses on real-time sensory details, enabling adaptability, spontaneity, and a hands-on approach to life. - He's obviously an amazing dancer, and finds joy in the sensory experiences around him. He has no problems balancing on books, jumping off places, dancing, having good old sensory fun.

(Fi) Introverted Feeling: Guides decisions through personal values and emotions, fostering empathy and authenticity. - This function is somewhat dormant in him, although you can see that he cares very deeply for the animals, and feels the need to let Elphaba know that she doesn't have to be "galinda-fied". He appreciates her authenticity and it makes him work more on his own.

(Te) Extraverted Thinking: Organizes actions logically and efficiently to achieve tangible goals. - He is not booksmart, but streetsmart, he recognizes when it is safe to do something, and considers his environment before doing so.

(Ni) Introverted Intuition: Recognizes patterns and long-term possibilities, offering introspection and strategic insight when developed. - Him calling out Elphaba on her defense mechanism is a very good example of him tapping into his intuitive side, although he doesn't do it very often.

Elphaba and Fiyero have the exact same cognitive functions, but in a completely reverse order: Elphaba: Ni-Te-Fi-Se Fiyero: Se-Fi-Te-Ni I highlighted their strongest functions as seen above.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, whatever function is in first place is the strongest in a person, and whatever is last is the absolute weakest. And while the first and third functions are more easily accessible to everyone (due to them being extraverted functions in an extravert, and introverted functions in an introvert) the very last one, well, it’s difficult to learn to use.

For Elphaba her weakest function is (Se), that Fiyero is amazing at. (Se) can be used to assess your environment on a sensory level, to see and hear what is where, to notice details in how things look. People with well developed (Se) are great at the physical things, like doing your stunts, or dancing, jumping etc.

For Fiyero, his weakest function is (Ni), that Elphaba is just a natural at. (Ni) helps you see patterns in the world around you, and it has been described lovingly by people online as “being able to see the future” (does that ring a bell?) but also by recognizing patterns, seeing a big picture, usually noticing things that other people don’t.

So obviously those are two functions, that one of them learns from the other, right? I mean they just learn how to tap into them. Although they probably don’t as much learn from eachother, but see the other using it, and it makes their own relationship to this under utilized part of themselves change, and improve because of it. But while that is amazing, and will come very helpful to them in act 2/part 2 that is not the aspect that they connect through. What I really want to talk about is…

III.) Connecting Through Authenticity and Values - Introverted Feeling aka (Fi)

Look, you read those two words, you may think, okay, so it’s about people feeling things, like that’s normal, right? Everyone has feelings, so what’s the big deal? No, that’s not what it’s about. (Fi) is about what is _right_. It’s your values, that you hold so deep, that you can’t and won’t cut it out for anything or anyone. It what makes you you, and it is people with (Fi) that usually speak up for marginalized groups, and do the right thing, even if it comes at a personal cost. Introverted feeling is integrity, and it’s authenticity.

And as you can see, Elphaba has this in third place, and Fiyero has it in second. Fiyero should be amazing at this, but his integrity? It’s actually a bit… asleep. Why?

Looping is a phenomena that we call when an introverted person uses only their introverted, or an extraverted person uses only their extraverted functions. It’s a stress response. A defense mechanism. It’s unhealthy, and painful, because yes, your second (and fourth) functions are difficult to develop, but they are part of who you are, you can’t just shut them out, without cutting pieces out of yourself. Kids live with their first and third functions, and then it is believed that throughout teenagehood, we start to engage our second function more. But when something bad happens to us, we sometimes turn this second function off as adults or as teenagers, reverting back to childish behavior. It’s not for fun, and it never makes us satisfied.

Fiyero is looping, and the mindset he presents in Dancing Through Life is the textbook version of an ESFP in crisis. It is literally a song about that.

“Mindless” and “brainless” are not there to reflect on his lack of intellect, but the fact that he is not integrating these important parts of himself that he should to assess what is right, and he choses not to think about the world around him. He is skipping over that (Fi) as if it was another hurdle in his way, because probably, at some point he realized that his integrity and authenticity doesn’t really matter to the world around him. His values nobody cares about, despite him having everything handed over on a silver platter.

Escaping the Loop. When Elphaba steps into his life, and he sees her standing up for the animals, that’s the moment, she jump-starts this part inside him. He’s been literally sleepwalking through life up to that point. It is on the levels of authenticity that these two characters are allowed to truly connect, and it is this authenticity and integrity that allows them to see past everything else. (“It’s not lying! It’s looking at things another way.” IYKYK)

IV.) Growing While Lifting Eachother Up

For Elphaba, her personal journey is a strange one. She literally grew up in another bubble, but her integrity has developed. She is well in touch with her cognitive functions, but she is living in a lie, so her bubble is a lie. The fact that she could go through life for so long, not realizing that something was broken in the world, apart from how she was personally treated, goes to show you, what a good job the Wizard did with his manipulation.

Once she really first sees the problems in Oz is with the lion cub in the classroom. You can see her trying to fight for it, raise her voice, ask others to join in, to help and nobody responds, only Fiyero engages with her, asking “I’m sorry, we?” See how Fiyero immediately takes it upon himself, although he was not addressed directly by name, or in any other way. She looked in the general direction of her friends, and he was the only one who responded at all.

Elphaba, tries to solve the situation with her tried and true and tested intuition, integrity, thinking, but she lacks something. She bursts out emotionally, putting the class to sleep, safe for one Fiyero. She needs someone to show her how to take action in that situation, and Fiyero steps in. By that time, Elphaba helped Fiyero engage his values again, so he jumps in to help, and almost literally drags her with himself, moving her out of her comfort zone and out of class.

Up to this point Elphaba was told by Morrible to harness those emotions, but she also put a limitation on Elphaba with those classes. She thinks acting on those feelings is not always right, but these are not just emotions, these are beliefs and values and things that are actually important to her, so keeping them quiet is not the right path. But these two characters complement eachother, and bring out the best in the other, without pushing down anything in each other. They make eachother stronger and more capable. In the class, Fiyero pulls her out of the limiting mindset she put on herself, and other put on her, and they actually save a life together, and after this neither of them are the same again.

Fiyero starts thinking about what’s right. About the day with the lion cub, and the person he shared it with. He spends more time "inwards" and gives less care about the physical world, and what he thought was important before.

Elphaba leaves to Emerald City with Glinda, not realizing she will be tested, in more ways than she can imagine. And when, at the end of the day she faces a situation, where she needs to take action against the biggest odds she has ever faced, and with Morrible on the loudspeakers disparaging her, she doesn't listen. She doesn't allow those limitations back onto her, she just closes her eyes and leaps.

And when she does, Fiyero jumps on his horse, as the entire world is starting to close in around Elphaba, and goes to look for her.

I guess you could say that together they are actually unlimited.

#wicked #fiyeraba #fiyero tigelaar #elphaba thropp #cynthia erivo #jonathan bailey #jbaileyedit #wickededit #mine #mbti

325 notes · View notes

leriexoxo · 4 months ago

Text

MOVIE NIGHT EXTRA pt.2

Pairing: Leeknow x reader x Chan

Tags: Smut, threesome, spanking, free use, praise kink. oral sex, unprotected sex, spanking, soft dom Chan, bathroom sex, exhibitionist/voyeur, 18+ mdni

Word count: 3k

Summary; Minho didn’t really have control of his legs anymore but he found himself moving closer to you both so he could get a better view, his hand which was closing over his bulge had slipped inside the waistband to grip his hardened member. Chan twirled his tongue, lapping up your mixed juices and tasting your new arousal, he was pussy drunk. One thing Chan could do all day long other than fucking you senseless was eat your pussy, he could draw out multiple orgasms with just his tongue Chan pulled his face off of you and turned his head slightly to leeknow, if you didn’t put him out of his misery soon, the poor boy was going to explode. “You want a taste?” Chan asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “Please?” Minho asked, his eyes wide and dark, “Can I really?” he said looking between you and Chan, trying to confirm if he didn’t hear wrong.

PART ONE

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

I just watched Chan hyung fuck y/n

I just watched y/n watch me, watch her get fucked?!

Minho kept chanting in his head over and over as he stared back at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was painfully hard and in desperate need of release, as he looked down at the tent in his shorts he couldn’t help but feel ashamed, knowing he witnessed something he shouldn’t have and jerking off to it seemed entirely too wrong. What was he supposed to do though?

He shuddered as he recalled the vivid picture of your sinfully erotic facial expression as he watched Chan take you under the blanket, the way your tiny hands gripped the blanket and your bottom lip drawn between your teeth as you tried so hard to not make any sounds.

The feral look on chans face when his hand closed over your obviously hardened nipples; which he could clearly see through the blanket, and when he buried his face in your neck chasing his own pleasure.

It was sinful. Sexy. All of it.

Minho never pegged himself for a voyeur, hell the furthest he had seen anyone else in action was from watching regular old porn. He had always thought you were hot, the way you walked around in chans tees, occasionally one of the members’ hoodies which he assumed you just picked up from the clean laundry pile assuming it belonged to your boyfriend. You were small and curvy in all the right places and your ass? Leeknow was weak for your ass, still you were his best friend’s girl, and you had ALWAYS been off limits.

He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, desperately willing the boner to go away, he was so horny that if he tried relieving himself there, it was going to be obvious to you and Chan because he knew you both were well aware of his predicament, seeing as both your eyes followed him as he escaped to the bathroom.

“Minho… are you okay?” a soft voice came from behind him, startling him into a jump. A deeper snicker followed the voice, and Leeknow’s eyes lifted and locked with yours through the bathroom mirror, with Chan walking in at shutting the bathroom door behind him.

When had you both come in?

He mentally face palmed himself for failing to lock the door behind him, he was so out of it that he hadn’t noticed you both enter, “Uhhhh…” Minho started, eyes darting around the room and avoiding your shy smile and chans cocky smirk.

“Looks like you enjoyed the show a little too much Min” Chan teased

“Babe!” you whisper yelled, using your elbow to nudge Chan.

“I-I’m so-sorry, I-I didn’t mean to keep looking, she just-you both looked so fucking hot” he said, eyes following Chan who walked to the sink beside him to turn on the faucet.

Seeing and hearing Minho talk about you like that made you feel a little shy and embarrassed but the tingling in your core had returned. You didn’t know why but this present situation just seemed too erotic to be real.

You stood in the middle of the bathroom semi naked with cum slowly dribbling down your legs, Chans broad back rippling as he looked between you and Minho who just stood there like a kid who got caught in a cookie jar, so obviously aroused judging by the huge tent in his shorts and also judging by the looks of it he had to be massive, almost if not the same as Chan but with a delicious curve to it, it was clear Minho had nothing on under the shorts but who would blame him? It was already bed time before the movie and you were naked under the hoodie too, your mouth watered at the mental picture forming in your head.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mind it, and she didn’t seem to either” Chan answered for you. “Are you gonna do something about that though?” he said gesturing to Minho’s boner making the boy turn red.

“No uh… I’ll just leave you guys alone...” he rushed out, backing towards the door, almost tripping over his own feet.

Chan locked eyes with you for a second, a silent question passed between you both before he nodded in confirmation “You don’t need to leave, the kids are definitely gonna see that problem as soon as you step out there”

“You can stay Minho, it’s okay” you finally spoke up. “Don’t leave on our account”

Minho’s hand hovered above the knob, and surely as Chan had said, he could still hear the members being loud in the living room, it sounded like the movie had ended but they weren’t going to bed just yet. He hesitantly stepped away from the door, using his left hand to shield his bulge and turning to watch you and Chan.

“Come here baby girl, let’s get you cleaned up” Chan said giving you his hand as you walked to him, he picked you up like you weighed nothing and placed you on the high bathroom counter.

Chan spread your legs open and moved to stand in front of you, you locked eyes with Minho again, he was staring at you or rather the point between your legs, his mouth agape and paying rapt attention, making you start to squirm under his gaze. Chan smirked at you knowingly; he knew you were getting horny again with the audience. Minho however, had no idea that cleaning you up meant that Chan would get on his knees and bury his face between your legs without warning, and this time the moan that fell from your lips was finally audible and Minho thought he was going to die.

“Fuck! Channie” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the mirror, eyes never leaving Minho’s

Chan mumbled something incoherent against your cunt but squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh and lifted it to rest over his strong shoulder.

Minho at this point didn’t really have control of his legs anymore but he found himself moving closer to you both so he could get a better view, his hand which was closing over his bulge had slipped inside the waistband to grip his hardened member.

Chan twirled his tongue, lapping up your mixed juices and tasting your new arousal, he was pussy drunk. One thing Chan could do all day long other than fucking you senseless was eat your pussy, he could draw out multiple orgasms with just his tongue

Chan pulled his face off of you and turned his head slightly to leeknow, if you didn’t put him out of his misery soon, the poor boy was going to explode. “You want a taste?” Chan asked, his voice raspy with arousal.

“Please?” Minho asked, his eyes wide and dark, “Can I really?” he said looking between you and Chan, trying to confirm if he didn’t hear wrong.

You put your hand out to him, beckoning him to you. “I’m fine with it if you are”

“Come on man, we can share” Chan said trying to reassure Minho, moving completely out of the way to show him your swollen and glistening cunt clenching around nothing

“Fuuuuck” Minho whined at the sight, immediately taking Chans previous position in front of your cunt. Chan moved to lean against the shower glass, pulling his own sweatpants down preparing to watch the scene unfold.

You watched Minho stare like he was studying your pussy, he was so close you could feel his hot breath on it but he wasn’t trying to make contact yet, it was like he was admiring you, and you started to feel self-conscious under his heavy gaze, as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked up and made eye contact with you and you almost squeezed your legs together in response. Minho gently widened them further and moved to close his mouth around your swollen nub, his tongue moved in precise circles around your hole licking and sucking like a cat with milk.

The feeling of utter bliss fell over you, moaning his name you treaded your fingers into his hair and gripped, attempting to hold him in place so you could grind on his tongue. Minho hummed in appreciation as he let you have your way, his hands started to caress the soft flesh of your inner thigh before moving to join his tongue on your pussy.

“Can i?” he asked looking up at you, you almost melted off the counter with the view of his face all messy from your juices

“Please...” you moaned, not really sure what you were begging for, but you just needed to cum, the feeling was much for you.

Chan watched with a dark gaze as Minho slipped the first finger into you, then the second, his cat-like tongue going back to attach itself to your clit. The way you arched into it squealing unintelligibly could only mean one thing.

You were dangerously close.

Chan desperately wanted to fuck you senseless again right in that moment, but he knew there was something much better you would enjoy.

“Do you wanna fuck her Min?” he asked, lazily stroking his fat cock and pushing off the wall to go towards you both.

Minho’s brain short circuited. This was too good to be true; it felt like he was in a fever dream, his head snapped to his hyung, and back to you, as if unsure where to look to for approval. “W-what?!”

“I see the way you look at her; I know you’ve been wanting to”

“B-but hyung! I-” Minho stuttered, but his cock jumped at the sound of that, which didn’t go unnoticed by you and Chan

“Look! She wants it too” Chan said, gently grabbing the back of Minho’s neck to turn and look at you “Don’t you baby? You want to come on his cock yeah?”

“Please… I want it Minho, I want you” you said reaching out to him. Everything was happening so fast, it turned you on so much you that you thought you were going to explode; from the sneaky sex in the living room to being caught and watched and now to Chan wanting to watch his best friend take you, it was all too much, you had been holding out your orgasm since you sat on that counter for them and now you just wanted someone… anyone to fuck you dumb.

“You’re crazy! Both of you” he said, as he pulled his shorts off completely.

Chan picked you up off the counter and placed you on your feet to face him as he took your former place, he gently guided your head towards his dick maneuvering you bend over for Minho, ass bare and legs spread.

“How ‘bout you take this off for us baby girl” he said pulling at the bottom of your hoodie.

Instantly you pulled it off and tossed it aside, your hands going back to wrap around Chan before tentatively swallowing him down inch after inch. Chan hissed at the warmth encasing his cock, his hand gathered your hair into a ponytail as he started to guide you up and down his thick length.

Minho moved to join you both, it was the hottest scene he had ever seen in his entire existence, the dirty slurping sounds your throat made as you took Chan, who in turn had the sexy look he usually made with his face when he ate or heard something he really liked. Minho grabbed two handfuls of your soft ass cheeks and spread them apart watching as you reacted by clenching on nothing again.

“You guys are so fucking hot…” he whispered to no one in particular as he positioned his tip at your soaked entrance

When he sank in, he was met with no resistance, it was like your pussy sucked him in and gripped him there, immediately he stilled himself trying to think of anything unsexy so he wouldn’t bust his load 3 seconds in. You were so warm and tight and you moaned so loudly that if you didn’t have Chans cock stuffed in your mouth, you definitely would have alerted the whole dorm.

You began rocking back to meet his thrusts as soon as he started moving again, he set a fast and solid pace knocking the breath out of you, in front of you Chan was starting to gently fuck your face, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. You felt the delicious pressure on both ends, the fire igniting in your core threatened to overwhelm you, the sensation of being used by both men in such a primal way awoke something on you that you didn’t know you had.

“Fuck that’s right y/n, back it up just like that” Minho growled and spanked your ass that was slapping against his skin

“She’s taking us so well isn’t she? Fuck I’m getting close” Chan said, caressing your back and moving his free hand under you to capture your soft breast that swayed with each thrust Minho gave.

You couldn’t speak, your mouth worked sloppily on chans cock, pushing him to reach his orgasm as you neared yours. Strings of grunts and moans bounced around the bathroom as each of you got closer and closer.

“I’m. So. Close, y/n” Minho grunted out each word with each thrust, his palm still coming down on your already red ass in hard spanks, he was fucking you so good that you had started to drool all over the place, you looked up to Chan, eyes pleading as you could only hope you were also passing the message that you were close across to him.

Chan seemed to understand because he pinched your oversensitive nipples, a quick way he knew to speed you up

“We’re close too” he said to Minho.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he bucked his hips into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat and triggering your gag reflex, causing your throat to clench around him.

Once.

Twice.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK” He yelled as his orgasm took over his body, his cock shooting loads and loads of cum down your throat as he held your head in place.

“Cum on my dick baby, come on, cum with me” Minho followed with his hand reaching under to rub against your clit.

A second later your body jerked, pussy clenching on Minho’s dick as you came hard on him, his thrusts became more erratic, giving one last hard thrust before erupting inside you, hot cum filling your tight pussy and spilling back out as he slowly pulled out. His dick was covered in white-a mixture of both your juices.

Your legs started to give out as Minho stepped away from you but he caught you and swept you into his arms. Chan reached over and placed soft kisses all over your face and neck, whispering praises in your ear;

“You did good baby”

“Took us so well”

“I love you so much”

You felt warmth and butterflies travel through your body after hearing them both praise you like this “I love you too Channie, and thank you Min” you replied weakly.

“Shhhhh” Minho whispered, placing a soft kiss at the top of your head “I should be thanking you both”

“I’m gonna go fill up the tub for her, let’s really get her cleaned up this time” Chan said, smiling fondly at Minho and nodding at the silent thanks his eyes sent his way.

You were already slipping in and out of consciousness when one of them dipped your body into the bath tub with your favorite bath bomb in it. They cleaned you up and Chan must have carried you back to his room because you recognized the familiar scent of his sheets as he laid you on them and tucked you in. The night hadn’t turned out the way you had expected when you suggested a movie night, but you sure weren’t complaining at all.

We should do these movie night extras more often

You thought to yourself, smiling contentedly as sleep finally took over.

============================================================================

Authors note: FINALLY! I finished part 2. I want to say thank you to everyone who liked the first part and re-blogged it, this one is for you. Also I want to start a tag list so if you want to be added, just let me know!

Thanks again for reading, please leave a like, comment and re-blog if you enjoyed it!!!

#bang chan #han jisung #leeknow smut #minho audio smut #skz imagines #stray kids smau #bang chan angst #bang chan skz #bang chan smut #chan smut #minchan smut

348 notes · View notes