Ok Simon And His Mail Order Bride Live Rent-free In My Head Now And, Like, What I Wanna Know Is What

you deserve to give yourself the same understanding and grace you extend to everyone else easily.

anatomy of us (3) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 3 (9.8k) 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 (this part contains graphic depictions of gore + murder + minor character death), 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 ⏤ PART 2

The mirror betrays you. There’s someone staring back, but it isn’t you. You don’t recognize her. Whoever is there, she’s a traitor. A liar. She stole what used to be your body, and now you can only stare back as she lifts her hands to your face and touches your skin.

It’s warm. Your cheeks are warm to the touch, skin bouncy and firm. When you pull on the apples of your cheeks, they bounce right back, elastic almost. You’re glowing, too. Your skin has never looked so soft, so smooth.

Something’s different.

You bring your hands up and cup your own breasts. When you squeeze, you shudder, realizing how sensitive you are. They ache a little, feel heavier than normal. Your bra feels a little tight, too. Your hands drop and grip the sink firm, and you swallow hard before turning to face the door.

Your body is telling you something. It’s trying to talk to you. It’s natural, you know it is, and it is inevitable, and you shouldn’t hate your omega for it because she can’t help it, but you do. It’s what’s happening to you because you’re off your meds. Your hormones are firing like they never have before, and the voice in your head is starting to talk to you in a way that sounds way too appealing. She’s starting to sound right. You like the way she’s talking to you, especially after…

You haven’t spoken to him yet. You haven’t talked about it. It’s only been a few days, but you don’t think you can sleep next to him for one more night and pretend like you don’t know what it’s like for him to be dick-deep inside of you and satiating the shrill insanity that lives under your skin.

So big. So capable. Isn’t he so strong? I bet he tastes good. Let’s find out.

You open the bathroom door slowly. Simon is sitting there on the bed, phone in his hand. He’s typing, eyes narrowed in thought, and you make the door creak so he knows you’ve come out.

“Everythin’ olright in there?” Simon asks. He doesn’t look up from his phone. You decide to be mean, because you can be. You want to be.

Fuck off, you tell her, try to. All she wants to do is get Simon on his back on that bed.

Can we just suck his dick already? It’s right there.

“What do you care?” You mumble. You go to the closet to pick out something to wear. It’s a Sunday, which means there won’t be much to do today besides relax and eat. Johnny invited you to Mass, which you promptly declined, and you didn’t much feel like spending time with Captain Price or finding out which beta would be underneath Gaz tonight (more than one, would be your guess, but it could’ve been another alpha, too, he doesn’t seem to care as long as he can devour something whole).

You don’t turn around to see Simon’s reaction. Maybe he doesn’t react at all. You grab a pair of jeans and drop your sleep shorts. Ever since Simon had taken you on a roof, you decided it was no use trying to change in the bathroom anymore–he’d seen everything, anyways. You step into the jeans and pull them up, jumping a little to get them over your hips, and just as you’re about to adjust the waist, you feel him come up behind you.

Simon grips both sides of your jeans and hikes them up around your middle. You suck in a breath as he slides his hands around, zipping them up, deft fingers finding the button and fastening them. You huff as he keeps walking, forcing your front flat against the closet doors until he can press his chest up against you from behind.

Remember how good he felt? Let’s do it again. Take them off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss. Your omega purrs. She softens your insides. You grip the closet, irritated, but you can’t help the way you bend at the hip and push back into him. He snarls as he puts his hands on your hips, holding you there. You can feel her, pushing against you. It’s getting harder every day to shove her backwards–there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to.

Is that part me? Or are we drifting together?

“Wot does it look like?” Simon murmurs. “I smell you.”

Yes, yes, yes, let him. Take it off. Take them off. Let him have it.

“What did I say before?” You let your arms fall, and you smack his hands off of you. You turn around to glare up at him, grinding your teeth. “Boundaries, Simon. You need to ask for permission.”

“I don’t have to do anythin’,” Simon bites back. “I said some things before, too, didn’t I? Y’r mine.”

Oh, that’s how he wants it to be. You can see it in his eyes, the way his alpha is feeding him lies. Feeding into his ego. He’s got tendrils that are choking him from the inside-out, trying to tell him to be the bigger species, the more dominant figure. Your omega wants to let him, but that isn’t you. Fuck submission–it’s just not your style. You’re a taker, not a giver, and your omega will need to learn that the hard way.

You lean up on your toes, pressing your forehead to his. You meet his alpha in the middle, not backing down. You can be nasty, too. You can be dangerous. You might not have his build nor his strength, but omegas have teeth, and they are sharp.

“Then you better sleep with one fucking eye open, Simon. Cause I’ll kill you if you put your hands on me without asking.”

You make sure you hit him on your way around him. You open the drawers of the dresser angrily, ripping a shirt out. You slip your pajama shirt off, tossing it onto the floor, and you fit your bra straps over your shoulder before turning around. Simon is still staring like a dog–eyes watery and intense, staring right at your tits, and you grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him.

“Oh my god!” You cry, and he sucks on his teeth under the mask.

“Mmm…” He puts a hand over his chest, rubbing there. If he didn’t have it on, you have a feeling he’d a smug grin on his stupid face. “My mate is fuckin’ naked, wot you want me to do, look away?”

“Yes, exactly, you pig,” you mumble, clasping your bra and fixing it to cover yourself before slipping your t-shirt on. You frown as you pick up a clip to tie up your hair. “And we’re not mates.”

“Tha’ right?”

“That’s right,” you say curtly. You turn to give him a hard stare as you slip your boots on. “As far as anyone else can tell, I’m not claimed.” You run a few fingers over your scent gland. Soft. Unmarked. Pulsing.

It’s like you’re taunting him. He snarls a little at that, something low and territorial under the mask.

“Tha’ wot you want? Me to claim you?”

“No,” you stand on your toes, faces barely touching. The air in the room is humid and thick, curling, competing scents making you a little dizzy. “I want you to drop dead.”

It’s half of a lie. It would be funny, you think, to see Simon eat a bullet or catch on fire and perish in a frenzy of equal pain and misery, but you know Kate would just do it all over again to you. There are no shortage of alphas at her disposal. With a swipe of her signature, she can have you moved halfway across the world again, and you’d like to not end up on the CIA’s bad side because you keep spending all their money on flights and bribes to get you some kind of mate that will tolerate an indifferent omega such as yourself.

An unruly one. A terrible one. A decisive one.

You don’t really want Simon dead. Better the beast you know than the one you don’t, and from the time you’ve spent with Simon, he is all bark, no bite.

For now.

Meals are always awkward. You feel like all you and Simon do is snap at each other lately. Call each other names. Spit nasty insults. Maybe it isn’t fair to be angry with Simon; you have a feeling he didn’t have much of a choice, same as you, but it doesn’t matter, because nothing really changes in his life the way it changes in yours.

Simon isn’t the one that loses himself. Simon isn’t the one that has to wear a brand on himself, a permanent reminder of his submission. Simon isn’t the one that has to succumb to things he can’t control about himself–the heats that last for days, the ones that will burn you from the inside out until it gets that nasty fill that your omega was born for.

Ruts just aren’t the same, you don’t believe it. They can swallow them down. Save them for later. It isn’t a comfortable thing to do, but if an alpha is missing their omega, they can satiate themselves with a lazy hand or a soft mouth until they get what they’re searching for.

Omegas aren’t offered the same luxury. If you don’t get what your omega feeds off of, she might kill you–and you don’t need to be reminded that you and your omega aren’t exactly on great terms.

The boys are quiet at breakfast. John has secluded himself in his office for the day, but Simon’s sergeants are pretty quiet for how much they usually babble. They are, however, shoving their faces in with food in a matter that makes you scowl.

They’re dogs, really. Johnny looks positively famished. He’s got his cheeks pillowed with eggs and toast, and you look away from Gaz as he tips his head back to wash down a mouthful of ham with coffee.

You jump when you feel a fist hit the table. It rattles the trays, and Johnny’s orange juice splatters a little outside of the cup. Simon is back from the kitchen, sliding your own tray in front of you. Your mouth waters a little at the smell of the freshly baked croissant and moka pot of coffee that waits for you, and the sergeants grumble a little as they look up at their lieutenant.

“Would you both fuckin’ eat with y’r fuckin’ mouths closed?” Simon snaps. “Bloody rats eat more proper than you lot.”

“What’s the matter, LT?” Johnny gulps down his food, wiping his mouth with a wet thumb. He smiles at you with teeth, and you pick up your fork to busy yourself. You can see feel his crazy eyes on you, trained on your face. He licks over his teeth as he does. “Want us to be proper gentlemen around yer bonnie girl?” He wiggles his tongue at you. “What’s proper about knotting a pretty little omega like tha’, aye? Can smell ‘er from ‘ere…Smell like taffy.”

Simon takes a seat on the bench next to Johnny. You stare wide-eyed as Simon cocks his head to the side. Your eyes water a little as you see Simon slide a big hand up Johnny’s neck. He leans into, clearly comfortable (you’re going to try and forget this observation), but his face contorts from contentment to sheer pain as Simon wraps his gloved fingers into the curls of his mohawk and pulls. Johnny’s neck snaps back at a hard angle, making him hiss and kick his legs out. They bang against the table, shaking it, and Gaz looks down at his plate as Simon tugs Johnny close to him.

“You listen ‘ere, Sergeant. I’ll say this once, and I won’t repeat it,” Simon growls. “If I hear you say one more word about my mate’s cunt, I’ll rip your throat out with my own teeth. Don’t care ‘ow many times you’ve covered me or saved my arse on the field. My rank is her rank, so from now on, I want you to drop y’r eyes when she looks at you, and I want you to say, yes, ma’am, and nothin’ else, you ‘ear that?” Johnny grits his teeth as Simon shakes his head violently, holding him firm. “And if I hear about it when I’m not around, I’ll let her cut y’r dick off, yeah? Or maybe I’ll let her shoot you in the head again. And trust me, mate, she won’t miss–”

“Simon,” you interrupt gently. Simon’s face turns, and you meet his eyes. You shake your head a little. “It’s…it’s okay. Johnny’s just a huge flirt, and it came out wrong. Didn’t it, Johnny?”

Simon closes his fist, letting out a sharp breath. His eyes are a little darker than you’re used to. You’re not sure he’ll listen to you, but when you see his fingers start to loosen, you relax a little. You don’t understand why he’s defending you, anyways, but maybe Simon has some twisted moral code when it comes to insulting his mate.

That only he gets to, and no one else.

“Yeah–” Johnny spits, and when Simon lets him go roughly, Johnny just laughs a little. His cheeks are rosy, and he tries to shake it off, but you can tell by the way he averts his eyes and the smell that wafts from him–Johnny is terrified of his lieutenant.

Simon stands, making the table rattle again. Johnny’s cup spills over the edge, and your cutlery falls to the floor as he makes his way out of the mess hall, throwing the doors open and letting them slam shut behind him. You scoff, rolling your eyes, and you swipe Gaz’s fork from his tray before continuing to eat.

“What the fuck is his problem?” You stab your sausage with the fork, cutting it angrily, and Johnny clears his throat. His rubs the back of his neck, rolling it out carefully.

“Yer serious?” Johnny scoffs. “Fuckin’ big man is in love with ye.”

Not me. He’s in love with…her.

“He’s just mad because he thinks he’s the only one entitled to say anything derogatory to me,” you explain. “He’s such an asshole, I swear. So are you, Johnny, by the way–I’m not gonna wet your dick for you, go flirt with someone else.”

Gaz snorts, shaking his head, and you pour him a little more coffee from the pot Simon left for you and some for yourself.

“Kind of sweet, innit?” Gaz murmurs. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. “Has a real funny way of showing it. You don’t see him when we’re alone. He’s mean. I don’t know what goes on in your heads, but your kind jump to conclusions. And you assume. And you’re too aggressive.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Gaz asks. He turns to look at you, shrugging. “That’s how we’re made.”

“I try everyday to be anything but how I’m made,” you say lowly.

It’s a lousy excuse, especially for an operative like him. Kyle and Johnny are no strangers to aversion or high-stakes. There is combat, and then there is what this team does. You’ve peeked at the papers on Simon’s desk. You’ve read the files you have no clearance to read. For the air-headedness that Simon radiates, he’s excellent at writing post-op reports, with fine detail. He doesn’t miss anything. This team isn’t something like SWAT–they don’t carry big guns for show and break down suburban houses. They hit foreign targets without a trace and eliminate threats before they blink. They are in and out of a building in thirty minutes, and they leave no man behind and no target alive. Each of them are experts in their own subject, and even with Johnny’s big, disgusting mouth, you cannot deny what makes him special.

He could make an explosive out of regular kitchen supplies; maybe even out of the toiletries you keep in a go-bag. His affection for chemistry is as equal to that of a good, protein-rich meal. Kyle is no different–you’ve seen him just for fun program an auto-correct feature into John’s laptop that replaced every word that he typed that started with a vowel to shitfucker. You saw him do it remotely. Over Bluetooth. With a Blackberry.

These aren’t just operators. These aren’t just idiot, self-engorged, misogynistic and animalistic men that panted and waited for orders like lovesick puppies, they are much too intelligent and way too self-aware. You won’t take that’s how we’re made as an excuse–it’s beneath them, if you’re being honest, and it’s infuriating. They aren’t a normal pack, and they never will be, and so you need them to stop using stereotypical excuses as reason for them being just like the rest.

It is conscious. It’s disgusting. It’s exactly as you thought it would be.

“Well maybe if ye tried that less, tried just being what ye are…things would be easier for ye,” Johnny mutters, picking up his overturned cup and sighing sharply through his nose. You drop your fork and lean forward on your elbows.

Oh, alright. If Johnny wants to play rank, then you can play rank.

“You know, you both have a lot of nerve,” you say lowly. “I would start being very fucking nice to me from now on. Simon and I may not get along, and maybe we never will. But he sure as shit won’t stand aside if tuck my tail between my legs and blame one of you for something you didn’t do.”

“Thought you said he hated you?” Gaz mocks. “Thought you said he was mean?”

You stand up and shove your tray towards them, starting to walk. You lean over to murmur in Gaz’s ear.

“He is,” you threaten. “But he’s still an alpha, my alpha, and pussy talks, Gaz. You’d know. You’ve been drooling for it since I sat down. I can smell you, too.”

You pat Gaz’s cheek a bit too roughly, and he snarls a little. You smile to yourself as you make your way out, and down the hall, you see a familiar shadow disappear around the corner into the darkness. You cross your arms over your chest, sighing, and then you start towards it.

When you round the corner, he’s standing right there. Leaned against the wall, big arms crossed over his chest. His face twitches under the mask. You move to stand in front of him so you can get his eyes.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to babysit me, you can’t seem to leave me alone.”

“I have others to answer to if something happens to you.”

“Don’t act like you care what other people think. Especially your superiors.” You roll your eyes. You don’t have much more time to talk to him. Or berate him, you were still deciding. A shadow comes up next to you, and when you turn, Captain Price is staring at you both, nodding his head behind him.

“I need to have a word. With both of you.”

You give Simon a look, but he doesn’t give one back. He merely slips a hand down your back and puts you in front of him, ushering you to walk. You’ve never been reprimanded by a superior, not because of a mission or anything of stake, so you can’t help the feeling that overcomes you–something of failure.

Had you done something wrong? Surely you had.

John’s office is bigger than Simon’s, but just as messy. Messier. There’s a pretty beta secretary out in front of it, and she smiles at you and waves. She’s too cute–too sweet. She probably puts sugar in John’s tea to make him smile or draws little smiley faces on messages from missed calls. You pity her and wish you were her all the same. When she notices your solemn face, she shrinks and dips her head, picking up her pen and continuing to fill out some forms.

John waits for both you and Simon to sit before shutting his office door behind him. He sucks on his teeth before tossing his hat onto his desk, nodding towards the two creaky seats in front of him.

“Sit.”

“Rather stand,” Simon counters, but one hard look from his captain, and Simon is begrudgingly taking a seat. The metal creaks under his weight, and you take a seat next to him. John sits on his desk in front of you both, and he looks at Simon before ending on you.

The scents in the air are driving you insane. You take a breath to try and keep your eyes from watering, but it’s difficult.

“You know, Kit, our team isn’t known for…following the rules,” John begins. “But I was assured that…if anything went wrong, that my lieutenant here would be responsible. He vouched for you.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You prepare yourself for the beratement. You sit up a little straighter, squaring your shoulders. The neutral expression your face falls into seems to irk your captain. He scrunches his nose a bit, smoothing a palm over the papers in front of him. He’s trying to establish his air of dominance, but it’s increasingly easy to stare him back down when your alpha sits right beside you.

There’s comfort in his presence, and your omega feeds on it.

“I saw you shoot. Got a good eye for those kinds of things, I’ll admit,” John nods. “And you did well in training. Followed Simon. His orders. Saw you clearin’ rooms like you’ve been on this team for years.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Blue, but empty. “He was right. Fast learner. You know your place.” You narrow your eyes at that, and he hums. “But it doesn’t change what this is. What you are.”

You’re surprised at the way your omega curls in your gut. Angry. There’s an alpha insulting you, but this one isn’t yours. She warms your hands, and you dig your nails into your chair to keep her calm. She wants to bite, and she’s confident with Simon at her side.

“An asset?” You try talking instead.

“A liability.” John leans forward. “You put my men in danger. Going into heat like that.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s alienation. You are an outsider. Not part of his pack. John draws a circle around himself, and you are not included in it, and the sentiment leaks into his words like a flood, and it hits you through the chest. Your lip trembles just slightly, but you swallow down the rejection, keeping it close. Your omega whimpers–an alpha, though it is not your own, is isolating you, and it hurts her.

“She didn’t–” Simon is interrupted by John’s laughter.

“You were off comms for 15 minutes and 37 seconds, an amount of time that during an op is fucking critical and could’ve blown the entire operation!” John snaps. “I told you to be fucking careful, I told you both to take precautions, and you failed me. I can understand you–” He points at you, and omega lingers unsaid, “but you, Simon? You–”

“It wasn’t his fault, it was mine,” you interrupt. “I should’ve known.”

“He’s your alpha, it’s his fuckin’ job,” John clarifies. “But Simon has more than one job, and on that day, it was keeping the target in his sight and waiting for my fuckin’ say.”

“Don’t reprimand him for making the call,” you tell him. “I’m the one who misread what I was feeling. I’m the one who distracted him from what he was doing. I’m the one who was projecting so badly, he had to help. It’s me. I screwed up. I’m just as much of your team as they are, so hold me accountable, not Simon.”

“You are not on my team, you are my problem.”

She wails. She grips your heart in both hands and hangs on, crying, wailing, begging you to say something to make him approve of you. She so desperately wants to be included in Simon’s pack, and it aches inside to be pushed away. You dig your nails in further, and you don’t realize how much your scent is flaring. Simon gets one whiff of it and snarls. His hands close into fists.

You goin’ to let tha’ wanker talk to your mate tha’ way? You goin’ to let another alpha walk all over her? He’s challenging you, tha’s wot this is, innit?

“Choose y’r next words wisely, Captain.” Simon finally speaks, and his tone rattles you. His voice dips low, and you can hear his alpha soaking into his words, and the bitterness in the air has to be him deciding whether or not today would be a good day to stand up to his captain.

“Tha’ right, Simon?” John murmurs. “Is that an order?”

Simon stands. Immediately, the humidity in the room expands, and you nearly choke from the sting of their scents in the air. Simon is much larger than John. He’s so much bigger, so much wider. You stand, too, and when Simon feels your hand along his bicep, his shoulders loosen just an inch.

Your omega may beg for approval and inclusion, but even she stands down when you remind her of the importance of pack bonds. You are not mated, and Simon has his own to keep, so you must appease. It hurts to do it, but you know you will thank yourself later.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” you say softly. “I-It won’t happen again. I swear…I promise.” Your eyes water, and you try to hold in the cough you’re holding. “First time…and the last time.”

Simon’s task force is a unique group. Four alphas–a lot of ego and fighting dominance in one bunch. It’s normally not done. They like to have a nice mix of betas and alphas to keep groups balanced, but Kate needed an exceptional group, so she built one. Four alphas in one pack is not common, but it works–and she has the stats to prove it.

You wonder if she knew what would happen when she threw you into the mix. How each of them might react when an omega tried to slip in between them. If Kyle would try to sink his teeth in. If Johnny would pass out from panting so fucking hard. If John would let his resolve slip for just long enough to blur the lines between a commanding officer and his subordinate.

Maybe Simon reacted just as she expected. That he would see what was meant just for him and pull her apart so he could slip under her ribs and stay right there. You have not been claimed, and yet–it is truth. They know it, Simon knows it, you know it, and so does your omega.

Simon paces in his room. A slow pace, but paces, and you observe him from your place on the bed as he breathes deeply. His alpha is leaking through the cracks, and you can smell his anger. It fumes, makes your nose curl. It’s a bitter scent. Your omega purrs in your chest–she wants to soothe him.

We will do no such thing. Shut the fuck up.

“You need to let me handle things when we get cornered like tha’.”

“I’m a big girl, Simon,” you say softly. “And it was my mistake.”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Simon explains. “I’m your alpha.”

“I don’t care,” you shake your head. “You don’t speak for me.”

“No, I speak for us both,” Simon points a finger at you, coming closer. “For you and for me, and you need to understand tha’.”

You glare up at him. In all the time you’ve spent with him, he’s still letting his alpha bleed when he’s angry. You need to understand nothing–Simon needs to learn. He needs to learn that the omega they write about in textbooks isn’t reality. You fight your omega tooth and nail for control, and you are still on top for now. Simon needs to learn this. He needs to learn that you are not easily influenced by command. You may smell like an omega. You may keen like an omega.

But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I submit like an omega.

“Fuck you.”

Don’t talk like that…you know you want to.

“Ya already ‘ave, kitty,” Simon spits. “Would you like to go again?”

“I know this is hard for you to get through your thick head,” you whisper. “But just because I fucked you doesn’t mean anything. What happened between us was clinical. Your dick is medicine, and there was nothing I could do, and that is where this ends. You can tell yourself over and over again that you are my mate…that you’re my hero, that you saved me, but maybe next time, I’ll just let my omega kill me. The thought of you inside of me ever again makes me physically fucking sick.”

You’re a bad liar.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say lowly. He leans closer, until his face is nearly against yours. “You’re a pathetic, insecure, waste of space. I will never be your mate, and I pity every omega that might come after me, that has the unfortunate mistake of thinking you could claim them with any sense at all. You use and you abuse, and you have your head so far up your ass, I don’t think you know what’s real and what isn’t.”

Simon stares. You stare back. Your chest heaves, and so does his, and you keep your eyes on each other as you stare back and forth. His eyes are so dark. Beautiful, but so dark, it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking. It’s not long that you notice his lashes fade to blonde at the end of them. His skin, where it bleeds from the eye-black he wears to the pale color of his face, has freckles scattered around the eyes. You can see the raised, white line of a scar that is just peeking from under the mask.

Isn’t he so pretty?

“On your knees,” Simon murmurs.

It’s whiplash. One moment, your entire body is buzzing. Angry, fiery–you can feel it shaking you. You hate him with ever fiber, want to smack the smug look you know he wears under that mask. You hate the power that he has over you and how much he relishes in it. The next moment, in a few slow words, it vanishes.

Like it was never even there at all.

“Excuse me?” You breathe.

“On your knees. Lose the pants. ‘n y’r knickers.”

“What makes you–”

“Won’t ask again.”

We need this. We need this. We need this.

It’s just that easy. For all the resolve that it feels like you have, maybe you really have none. You blink, but then he hears the sound of you toeing off your boots. They hit the floor, and then your cargos are falling on top of them, and then you’re turning over, sliding along the warm sheets of his bed until you’re lying on your tummy, ass up, and you’re closing your eyes as his gloved hands push your panties down your thighs until they’re around your knees.

You don’t really know who’s doing it. You’re afraid to think about it too hard, because you know that it just might be you.

He eats nasty. All tongue. He spreads your ass with big palms, and you gurgle when he kisses your folds with tongue. Your brain starts to fog, and you relax easily. He kisses soft and slow, but wet. You fist the blankets, pushing back, and he slides a thumb down to smooth over your puffy clit very gently. He hisses when he sees your hole flex in response, a drop of slick falling onto his palm.

“Kitty, why didn’t ya just say so?” Simon asks, stupid and fascinated by you. “Why didn’t you just say you wanted y’r pretty pussy kissed, hmm?”

“Because I hate you–” You whine, and Simon slips his tongue inside of you. You babble, your mouth dropping open, and he hums as he gets a taste of you before pulling back, smacking his lips. The taste of you spreads across his tongue, and his alpha howls. He’s never spoken to him this way, not really. The only time his alpha has ever really come to the forefront like this was the times he thought he was close to death; but Simon’s never been this close to life, either.

“I know,” he coos. “I know ya do. But this isn’t personal, is it?” He uses his thumbs to open you up, growling when he sees your hole pucker a little. A dribble of slick falls, and he catches it with his tongue, swallowing it down. “How’d ya put it, luv? ‘s medicine?”

“Your dick is medicine.”

“My mouth, too, I reckon.”

“Shut the fuck up, and eat me, baby,” you whimper, and he opens his mouth wide and licks with a thick tongue. He presses his mouth to your cunt and eats, bobbing his head as he alternates between slobbering licks and eager sucking. His tongue slides between your folds occasionally before slipping into you, and you curl your toes every time he brushes against your clit. His thumb will sometimes circle it, or his tongue will suck softly, but he never stays there too long. Simon likes to tease. He likes to make you a little desperate, likes to get you soft and drippy and dizzy, and then he gives in a little. He gives you two fingers, gloved still, and you push back against his face with gentle grinds as he fucks you softly with his hand. It’s agony and relief all at once.

“Like tha’?” He asks. He sounds amused. You hope his hard cock gets pinched by his zipper.

“Mmm–” You try. You arch your back, getting up onto your elbows, and Simon uses his free hand to give one side of your ass a nice smack, jiggling it gently before kissing where he hit. You giggle at that, soft and airy.

“Answer me, omega.”

“Fucking love it,” you gasp. “Big fingers–”

Simon laughs at that. You can smell his ego, but you don’t have it in you to say something smart. It’s true. Even with his hand, he fucks good, hitting deep. His mouth did wonders, and you’re dripping along his hand. His glove is soaked, and his forearm is wet, and when you glance down at the sheets, they are damp and dark with the mess you made. Simon doesn’t seem to mind. He leans in to eat more, pulling his fingers out so he can use his mouth again, tongue deep as he sucks and hinges that big jaw to get a mouthful of you and groan. You taste good–nice and sweet, thick juices wetting his chin, and he squeezes your ass in appreciation when you throw it back and smother him. He likes this. Likes the lack of air, the wet pussy, the soft whines. He’s content here, and he doesn’t seem like he wants to move anytime soon, and he doesn’t complain. He just opens his mouth and swirls and tongue and fuck–your clit is in his mouth, and you’re crying.

It’s too kind. An alpha kneeling for their mate. Taking pleasure in their pleasure. It’s not unheard of, but it’s…unorthodox. It confuses you. Your omega cries with happiness, but she’s confused, too. She doesn’t expect pleasure just for pleasure–but she wants it, she wants more of it, she’s digging her nails into your skin to try and get you to convince Simon to give you more, more, more.

“Give it to me,” Simon murmurs. “‘s olright. Give it to me.”

“Simon–”

“Mhm,” he nods, cocking his head and taking your clit into his mouth again. “Give it ‘ere.”

Your orgasm hits hard, but it’s nice and slow. Your thighs shake, but Simon sinks into you, breathing out through his nose as he delicately laps at your clit. He doesn’t stop, swallowing as you come into his mouth, keeping the pace to make sure your orgasm fizzles just as good as it hit you.

You sink to your tummy when he pulls away. Your knees give out, and he slips your panties completely off, and you flop onto the dry side of the bed. You start to cry. Not tears of relief, but tears of pain. Of what is inevitable. Of the hard truth that you loathe more than anything.

Simon can never force you. You will always want him, you think. There will always be something in the back of your mind that aches for him, and you try and you try and you try to fight it off, but you want him so viscerally, it cuts you deep where you’ll never notice it.

“Say wotever you want about me,” Simon mutters. “Tell yourself wotever you want that helps you sleep at night, hate me oll you want. But I take care of wot’s mine.” He strokes your hair out of your eyes, leaning down, and you cry harder. You clutch a pillow, hug it tight, and your eyes flutter open as you look at him. His mask is still hiked up just under his nose, and you can see half his face. Scars that cut across him like paintbrush strokes, adding texture and depth where there shouldn’t be.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you whisper. “You have no idea what it’s like for every single part of yourself to betray what you want. You don’t get it. Y-You don’t understand, you never will. You will always have the upper hand, and y-you will never know what it’s like to not have a choice.”

Simon continues to brush through your hair with his fingers. Soothing you gently, coaxing you into a headspace that feels like white noise. You whine, and Simon comes closer. He presses his mouth to your forehead, soft, gentle, his scent close enough that your beating heart slows down considerably just in response.

“No, I won’t,” Simon agrees. “But that’s what you are. You’re an omega.”

He says it like it’s so simple. Like it explains everything in the entire world. Being an omega is the simplest answer he could ever give, and it explains every variable, every nuance, every quirk that makes you you. It explains every time you sink to your knees for him. It explains how easily you let him fuck you on a rooftop in a foreign country. It explains how even though you hate him with every fiber of your being, there is somehow no one else you want standing over you now.

“I’m still me.”

“No,” Simon shakes his head. “You cannot change wot you are. You’re fighting her, and you will lose.”

You wonder, for just a second, if Simon is speaking from experience. Have there been times when his alpha takes over? Does it take control? Are there times when he looks in the mirror, too, and doesn’t know who is staring back?

“I hate her, too,” you spit. “I hate her, and I hate you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his terrible face. The first one you’ve ever seen. You hate the urge you have to lean forward and kiss it.

“She is you.”

“Then I hate me. I hate myself.”

Simon changes the sheets silently. He picks you up and moves you when he has to–two big, burly arms picking you up like you’re a feather. You cling to his neck, studying him, and you find yourself not being able to look away. He’s so capable. He’s so independent. He’s so reactive to your needs, it infuriates you, how could one man be so in tune with you, more than yourself?

He drapes all new blankets over you. He turns out most of the lights, except for the low glow of the yellow lamp on his desk. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm, and then he bends down to say something to you, in your ear.

“Dunno wot you think,” he tells you, “but there will be no omega after you.” His voice drops low, and when you close your eyes, you hear his alpha. Threatening, affirmative, exact. “You are mine. I’ll not ‘ave another. The sooner you accept tha’, the easier things’ll be for you.”

Mine, mine, mine–

“Eat a dick.”

Mine, mine, mine–

“Much prefer y’r cunt, kitty.”

Simon’s protection is instinctual. It’s not really a choice, it’s subconscious. He watches you braid your hair in your room, observes as you tuck it behind your ears and tie it off your face. He hovers as you gear up. Watches you buckle your belt, strap your tact vest, adjust your helmet. He comes over after you’ve laced your boots, tugging on your vest to make sure it’s secure and fastening your helmet for you. You let him as you clip your watch on, closing your eyes as he smooths a thumb across your cheek and turns you towards the door.

It’s a long flight. You fall asleep, your face smushed against his arm, and when you wake up, Simon is still sitting there, hands on his knees, staring straight ahead. John smokes, Gaz has a folded up little book in his hand with what seems like sudoku pages, and Johnny is twirling what looks like a fidget spinner in one hand. You blink awake, but it’s dark out, pitch-black.

That’s the job. Dark, where you can use night as cover. Stealth. You and Simon have been tasked with clearing out one building on your own. Several stories, possible targets inside, presumed armed and dangerous. You were given the clear to eliminate any threats on sight–the op is capture or kill, and John made that very clear in a small room that reeked of his authority.

The bird drops you a few kilometres from where your target building lies. You flip the night-vision down, flicking it on, and you stick to Simon like glue as you follow him silently through empty streets. You’re somewhere in Eastern Europe, somewhere cold and unfeeling and just on the border of Russia. You aren’t privy to any more details; all you know is that your mission is to be Simon’s cover, and you have the face of your target memorized and burned into the back of your eyes.

You spot your target building at the end of the block. The streetlight flickers, and it looks like a low-income apartment building. It’s very small, dilapidated, with a peeling entrance door that has the window broken, hastily patched up with duct tape. It’s no trouble for Simon to stick the scope of his rifle through the duct table and shred the remaining glass to pieces, putting his hand through the window and unlocking the door easily.

The first few floors are clear. Simon always enters a room first, with you in quick succession. You are silent, touch and go, soft taps on shoulders that the both of you can read immediately. You’re in tune with him. When he steps left, so do you. When he turns, you cover, when he sweeps up, you sweep down. It’s a dance, a very well coordinated one, and it lets Simon breathe easier when he realizes how well you’ve adapted to each other over a short period of time.

Just a few weeks, and you are two sides of each other.

Simon swallows down the prideful purr in his chest. Now isn’t the time to get distracted.

When you make your way to the top floor, just below the roof, your chest starts to feel warm. You pause at the top of the stairs as Simon keeps his rifle trained at the first door in front of him. You swallow hard, widening your stance to keep yourself upright. You shake your head, trying to toss the jitters off of you. Your throat hurts as the saliva goes down.

Simon clears the room with you shuffling close behind. You blink rapidly when you see two of Simon, and he whips around suddenly. You can see him through your night vision stiffening in front of you. Shoulders tensing, fingers gripping his rifle tighter. You pause as he comes close to you, and your eyes water when he lifts one hand from his gun to cup your face gently.

You know what he’s asking. You nod shakily, and he taps his wrist with two fingers.

Give me two minutes, is what he’s saying to you.

You don’t get two minutes.

The door behind you slams open. Two men breach inside, and they come at you with a force too strong, and you go flying towards the far wall. Your back hits it hard, and you collapse onto the ground. Your whole body aches, and you know there will an array of nasty bruises under the skin. Your helmet took the brunt of the hit, but you still feel dizzy as it falls off your head, clattering to the ground. You cough, scrambling for your rifle that is a few feet away from you now, and Simon drops one of them with a few easy bullets, but the second man uses his dead companion as cover, throwing the body at Simon until he can lunge at him.

Simon swipes the blade out of his boot and goes for his weak spots. He manages to get him under the arm, across his thigh, but Simon is wearing a lot of gear, and with the weight of a dead alpha getting tossed at him again, he gets moved backwards enough to lose his footing, and then it happens.

The man’s gun fires, and it goes straight for Simon’s head. A flash of light that seals some sick sort of fate that you know can’t be yours. It’s not you that screams in response.

It is your omega.

You launch yourself at him. In your daze, your omega finds clarity, and she seizes her moment. You slip the blade out of its place in your thigh holster, and you toss a nearby chair at him to incapacitate his gun. It gets trapped underneath it, enough time for you to jump and land on him from behind.

He’s an alpha. Physically, you should be no match for him given your size differences, but something else is taking over. Your nails don’t just grab, they pierce his skin. Digging it, shredding flesh, and you bring your blade down over and over again against his chest. He screams in pain, trying to wriggle you off. You lock your ankles around his middle, keeping your hand coming, tearing with your nails and slicing with your knife, but he manages to get an arm underneath you and throw you off.

You hit the ground again roughly, but it doesn’t stop your omega. She gets right back up, but he tackles you. He uses his weight to pin you down, and the knife rings as it slides across the room, but your omega doesn’t let it stop her. He got too close, and she will make sure he regrets it.

He went for your mate, and she cannot have that. She won’t survive without him. Unclaimed, but she doesn’t care–Simon is hers, and she won’t let him go without something all-encompassing and violent. He’ll have to pry Simon out of her dead hands. You feel like you’re watching from the sidelines. You’re not yourself. It’s the first time that you don’t really care.

You scream, leaning up, and he doesn’t get a moment to think before you sink your teeth into the plush of his scent gland and rip it clean out.

Fuck. There’s blood gushing everywhere, spurting from where you’ve severed the gland. The gland is precious, anatomically–it provides most of the oxygen to the brain, and it’s what seals the bond. While it can’t be marked the same way an omega’s can, an alpha can’t survive without it. You’re finding out just how precious it is as you watch an alpha cough and sputter once he realizes what’s happening to him.

He crawls off of you, trying to use his hand to put pressure to his neck, but it’s no use. He leans against the wall and chokes, blood filling his mouth, and you spit out the flesh from between your teeth as you watch him gurgle and kick his feet out. He reaches out for you, pleading in his eyes, but you feel no mercy. There’s tears coming down his face now, and you watch with a scowl as the blood spills between his fingers instead of bringing his brain precious life.

Good fucking riddance.

You turn over once you’re satisfied he won’t get up. You see Simon still sprawled on his back behind you, and you scramble to get to him. You grab his helmet and throw it off, and you start to cry, feeling around and realizing there’s something sticky oozing and pooling onto your fingers. You can’t see very well in the dark, but you put pressure anyways, unsure of what you’re dealing with. Your heartbeat is loud, and it echoes in your ears.

“No–No!” You gasp. You grab Simon’s radio, hands shaking as you press down onto the button.

“Bravo-6, d-do you c-copy?” You cry. “Bravo-6, answer–please–”

“Kit?” John’s voice comes out surprised, low. “What happened?”

“Si–Ghost–” You sob, “W-We need a medevac! Medevac–top floor–”

Your hands continue to shake as you reach for the bottom of his mask and rip it off. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without the mask, but you need to know. You need to know.

His face–it is a little ugly. The eye-black is smeared across his freckles, bleeding across his face from the sweat. He has scars everywhere; they criss-cross along his cheek, cut his lips, but you ignore that as you lean down and put your ear to his mouth.

His breaths come shallow and slow.

You cry with relief, feeling around with your fingers. When all you feel is blood, you pick up his helmet and cry harder when you notice the side of the helmet has been grazed, and the bullet casing lies near his head.

He had missed.

He missed.

You cup his face, tapping his cheeks gently, trying to wake him up.

“Simon?” You whisper, sniffling. “Simon, wake up. Please wake up. Please–”

You can’t carry him. Even if you tried to get your omega to help you, you aren’t physically strong enough to pick him up and carry him out. He’s too big and too heavy, and you wouldn’t be useful anyways; you’d be without cover trying to haul his ass to a bird that’s just too far away.

“Simon–”

He coughs. You gasp, wrapping an arm under him and trying to sit him up. He’s so much heavier with all of his gear on, but you do it anyways, lifting him up and laying his head in your lap. You lean down, pressing your forehead to his, and you cup the back of his neck.

“I thought he killed you–” You sob. Simon hums, his eyes opening and closing, and you smooth a few fingers down his cheek, relieved to hear him breathe. In and out, in and out, low and slow as he blinks away the spots in his vision.

Your eyes meet. It’s not a look you were expecting. You expected him to be angry, but he’s not. He’s looking at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. You must look a sight, you think. There must be blood on your face, staining your teeth, but all of your senses are dulled as you try and read him.

Your hands shake as you brush a bit of dust off his face. Your fingers are trembling, but it’s grounding to touch him and see him blink those dark eyes up at you. God, he’s not ugly, no, he’s gorgeous. He’s so beautiful. He’ll never be prettier than the way he is now. Raw and vulnerable–Simon is most himself here, you think, stuck in the in-between of an operation. This is where he must feel everything the most. You open your mouth to say something else, to ask him if he’s okay, but then his face scrunches when he finally realizes where you are.

“On the door,” Simon mutters. “Get y’r gun on the fuckin’ door.”

“Simon–”

“Now!”

You scramble to reach for the handgun in your thigh holster, turning to get up on your knees and cover the door. You will your hands to stop shaking, gripping the handle of the gun tight to keep them steady. You can hear Simon getting himself together behind you. Shuffling onto his feet, picking up his rifle and his helmet. When you look over your shoulder for just a second, you notice his mask is back on.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, east building clear,” Simon rasps. He shoves his way past you, rattling you a little, and you stare at his back, defeated, as he clears the rest of the floor before making his way up the last flight of stairs. You hear your captain responding on comms, but you’re not paying enough attention. Simon slams the roof door shut once its behind you, and you wipe your eyes as Simon gets situation for overwatch as you cover the door.

“Simon, are you–”

“I don’t want to hear another word outta you unless we got contact on this fuckin’ roof,” Simon interrupts.

“I saved your ass!” You cry. “I did that! He would’ve killed you, you fucking asshole, so for once in your life, can you just look at me and say a fucking thank you?!”

Maybe Simon’s right. If you fight your omega, maybe you will lose. She might just kill you. You know she can. You’ve seen it happen before. Omegas that didn’t listen, losing themselves to the insanity of their inner struggle. It’s a violent end. It’s like they electrocute from the inside-out. Their minds betray them, and they let it take over, and with no alpha to soothe them, they’re just gone. If they drift too far, you can’t get yourself back.

Use me. I know what to do. I can get him back.

You do the only other thing you can try; you let your omega do the talking. The sweet, syrupy voice. The soft lilt. The edge that glides, doesn’t cut, the one that will hit his ear just right and hopefully get his alpha tick-tick-ticking inside of his head. The one that didn’t work on Kate–but Kate was not your mate. Kate never responded to you at all, not the way Simon does, and Kate has never tasted your cunt. Her alpha doesn’t know what she’s missing.

I can do it. Let me in.

“Please, Simon,” you beg. You see his fingers twitch as he adjusts the scope on his rifle. They falter, adjusting it just a few degrees too far. Simon doesn’t make mistakes, but then again he’s never had his omega purring in his ear like that. “Please.”

You make your way to him, curling a hand around his bicep. You tug him closer, trying to get him to look at you. He resists, but it’s a pathetic kind of resistance. The kind that you can overpower with just another firm tug. You can sense it, his hesitance, and your omega giggles in your head.

I have him. I can do it. Don’t worry.

“John was right,” Simon breathes. “You’re a problem. A liability.”

A liability because he doesn’t belong to anyone but you, maybe. He’s John’s liability. Not yours. Simon may be a part of their pack, but they should’ve picked up a fucking book when they knew you were coming. Submissiveness might be an inherent “trait” of your kind, but you realize now that is just a lie that alphas tell omegas to keep them quiet.

To keep them soft. To keep them begging. It’s probably something that your kind have learned over time, so distinct that you inherit it from someone that came before you, but you’re convinced that this kind of obedience and docility can be unlearned. It can be used.

If an omega cries, it would be stupid for an alpha to ignore it. It’s in their DNA–with just a soft whine, you can make Simon drop that rifle and bend you over any surface. They say it is for your sake. They say it is because omegas must be serviced or else they will succumb to themselves, but that isn’t what this is, and that’s not why omegas aren’t allowed in the field.

They’re not allowed because you can make Simon defy orders; because John can tell Simon something, and you can tell him something else, and you’re almost certain you know which way Simon will lean.

“Please just look at me, Simon,” you whisper. “Please.”

You cradle his face when he finally does. Your palms touch his wet mask, likely soaked with his own blood. You stand on your toes and draw his face closer to yours.

Fuck them for making you feel small. Fuck them for making you feel less than. Fuck anyone that ever made you feel like you were anything but in control, including her. If she just explained what she could do, this could’ve been a lot easier. If she just told you what she was capable of, you could’ve worked together. You could’ve given her what she wanted, and she could’ve given you what you wanted, and it could’ve been so much simpler.

“Gonna get me fuckin’ killed,” Simon growls. You start to cry again. Not because what he’s saying hurts you, but because he’s still bleeding, and all you can see when you close your eyes is that gun firing right at his head.

This is your ticket. This is your way out. Fuck Kate for making you believe that all you were meant for was being in his bed. You’re so close–aren’t you? You didn’t realize how close you were, but now you do, and you know exactly what to do.

You’re going to make them very, very sorry. You’re going to make them regret ever letting you inside. Your divisive, spitfire nature was not your line of defense. It was the indication of the future you always dreamed of, the future that is one bite-mark away from being tangible. You can taste it, like you taste what Simon wants in the air.

I can do it. I can help you. Let me in.

There was never a reason to be afraid. If anything, they should’ve been afraid of you.

You kiss him. It’s not a proper kiss, because his face is still covered, but you kiss Simon anyways. His cheeks warm, and his lips part, and you kiss him softly over and over as you take his face into your hands. When his arm slides around your waist, your omega is comfortable letting your knees buckle.

She knows already that Simon will catch you.

NEXT

IT’S NOT ‘PEEKED’ MY INTEREST

OR ‘PEAKED’

BUT PIQUED

‘PIQUED MY INTEREST’

THIS HAS BEEN A CAPSLOCK PSA

I don't know which version I like more

☆彡𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐘ミ★

Characters Included — Ony x Reader, Connie and Eren mentioned

Gingers Notes — N MY MANNNN THANK YOU TO MY MANNNN, i’m posting this now cause i’m i’m not gonna post it when everyone is up cause i will be at work but HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONYYYY, i can’t wait to binge everyone else’s work fr

Content Warning— Smut, Hook up culture, bottle girl Y/n, Birthday sex, drinking mentioned, cursing i think, not proofread

You liked your job, tips were good, outfits were cute, and it was really easy— Though you got a few funny looks when you confessed that you were a bottle girl. You didn’t care, money is money— and you were making a lot of it. You weren’t gonna let being judged stop yo money.

The nightclub lounge you worked at was popular, So you weren’t surprised on how many people were in when you got there .

You were assigned your section as you were getting dressed and touching up your makeup, and styling your edges. It was always a 50/50 experience getting sections that were celebrating Birthday’s— either it was a bunch of girls that gave you funny stares as you were trying to do your job,or Dudes that were creeps that couldn’t get none in the real world so they turned to clubs, And the other 50 percent was Pretty decent.

Taking a few drink menus from the bar as you came out the dressing rooms, before you were walking to your section for the nights, immediately seeing that it was a group of guys, meaning you weren’t gonna have to work too hard for your tip, but the closer you got the more nervous you became.

You didn’t know it was possible for a whole group to have you on your toes just from their looks alone. You had to swallow back any unprofessional thoughts when you were right in front of them, their eyes glued to you,

Ony didn’t know how he was convinced by connie to go out for his birthday, but as the girl in front of the group sat down the drink menus— he couldn’t complain.

And apparently the rest of the group saw it on his face too. Eren nudging at his side, Connie chuckling while you cleared your throat. “I’m Y/n, Y’all’s bottle girl for the night— yknow the vibes,” Smiling at the group with an extra menu pressed against your chest. Snapping Ony’s attention back to your face instead of your outfit for the night.

“I heard it’s sumbodies birthday—”

Even before ony could answer, his homeboys was pointing him out. Your brown eyes locking onto his, Taking in his appearances happily. Dark skin, covered with tats and glowing diamonds from studded earrings to a chain that didn’t hesitate to dance under the lights, grillz peeking from behind full lips.

Fine asf.

“Can i get a name, Since we gon be spending all night together?”

“Onyankopon, Just call me ony tho.”

You enjoyed your section tonight, and it seemed they enjoyed you too. The way their eyes were glued on you everytime you were close enough, Cracking jokes with them and of course making a big deal when they ordered their drinks.

But you and the birthday boy’s tension was like no other, Slick comments at each other flirting, even breaking a rule and sitting in his lap, having the excuse of “a birthday photo.”, couldn’t say the same for the rest of the night though, it was unprofessional, but you were having fun, and so was he.

After the picture was took, you asked him to send it to you— sneaky way to get his number, and it worked. So you weren’t too sad when the group left— not without leaving a large tip, the biggest tip you’ve ever gotten in fact.

It was a few hours after they were gone and you were packing your bag and heading home, looking at your phone and seeing a text that made you smile.

‘wen u get off?’

You laughed to yourself thinking about how good his timing was— you couldn’t help but think about Ony the entire rest of your shift, and now that you were off and he texted you first, proves he was thinking about you too.

‘Js got home’

‘drop the lo?’

You didn’t hesitate either, as you unlocked your front door and started to get comfortable in your home, It wasn’t long till you had a knock on your front door and you were opening it and allowing the birthday boy in.

And it also wasn’t long before he had you bouncing on his dick on your couch. Your face buried in the side of his neck, His hands on your thighs helping you keep your pace— whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “You so pretty mama, couldn’t control myself n that club.” His voice caressing your senses as his tip brushed against your cervix every movement.

Until he was moving you to around, laying you on your back, He wanted to see you— you were his present for his birthday and he wanted to enjoy it. Folding you up till your legs were almost pressed into your chest as Ony’s tatted hand held your legs in place , sliding his dick against your aching cunt wetting his length, ignoring your whines for him, before he was burying his dick inside your pussy with little to no resistance, your eyes rolling back with a moan.

This was gonna be a one night stand. You told yourself that. And Ony told himself that. “Keep sucking me n like that imma make you my girl forreal.” his voice strained out as he started his thrust, Ony was big— Knocking the wind out of you easily, peeling your eyes open when you felt his hand wrapping around your neck as he leaned in pressing a messy kiss onto your lips tongue slipping into your mouth, swallowing every moan you had.

His freehand coming inbetween you twos bodies, rubbing at your clit, as he pulled away from the kiss, a string of spit keeping you two connected. “That’s it baby, cum onnit— ‘s all yours, daddy’s all yours.” His breath brushing over your face as you felt you losing your senses, eyes closing shut, “Im right there wit you pretty girl,” Your whining and thrashing against his hold, he kept his pace, before you both were cumming together. Catching your breath as you huffed out a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, “Happy birthday.”

And when all was said n done. You were in bed that night after a shower when you got a text, Same number.

‘Wen’s the next time you free’

‘wanna take u onna date”

★𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓★

ᵃˢᵏ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃᵈᵈᵉᵈ!!

@queenesther996 @jujuyii @smileyy-cakee @devin04 @luvliv4lifexoxo @katymae12344 @lovelytayy @sevikasblackgf @toji-dabi-wife @neitoscanongirlfriend @punkslugs @blackbeauties102 @Sylisan @parti3k @y3rn4y0n @hearts4albony @maliagurl @nae2k @tsukkisukkii @bunnikai @fuckerenyaeger @emery-333 @luvlyehoney @1rlbrii @sexicherri3 @cloudniteee @wickedwitvh @chieflaywerpastatoad @mer1pos4 @1-babehotline @sundazedm1 @arminsbimbo @nanaminsmoon @thickbihhwitdagapp @short-pimping @satorustar @aeaodynamicduo @Luffysblkwifey @purplenuggetbeans @pinksstrawberry @iiheartuzii @sin-sensual @mar1pos4 @xocherishxo @gxer.i @woahhajime @sunset-euphoria @Melaninqueen04 @bbgiirrll @mrsmiagreer @honey-prinxess @kaydsr3venge @m0mmyyyy @thttythoughts @Peqchplvto @44knatalia @asensitivecookie

Innocent Love (E.M)

Warning(s); Smut!! (piv sex),dom! Eddie,sub! Reader,sadism,overstimulation,fingering, corruption kink,mention of Female masturbation,kinda voyeurism (he takes photos),unprotected sex (be better) + more!

Pairing(s); Eddie Munson x (Afab!) Fem! Reader.

Summary; getting stuck doing a project with Eddie isn’t so bad.

A/n; so this is my first Eddie Fic?? It took me awhile to write this but I hope you enjoy!! Also yes I will be writing for sub Eddie bc this man’s such a switch.

Divider by @firefly-graphics <3

Eddie never expected to be inside your room but here he was inside the frilly,pink,plushie infested,doll like room. He felt like a creep being inside such a girlish room, he felt out of place…hell he felt out of place being next to you on your bed. You were pretty and preppy and rather popular in school,everyone mainly just put you off as the dumb and easy girl in highschool but Eddie found being your lab partner you weren’t. You were extremely intelligent and it was rather funny seeing you flip off the guys who tried to flirt.

You and Eddie weren’t friends but you weren’t enemies either you were nice to each other,helped each other out when needed so when your teacher said you were going to work on a project it didn’t seem so bad.

“Okay and so then we should probably add in…Eddie!” Eddie snapped his eyes back to you and you smiled. “Does he creep you out?” You asked,you had caught Eddie staring holes into your big brown teddy bear named JayJay. “Kinda…he’s staring into my soul” you giggled.

Eddie watched you get up your longer hair falling around your shoulders. He smiled seeing the bow resided in your hair at the back, you had a soft white skirt on and a little bit of a baggy shirt that covered the top few inches of your skirt knee high socks letting just the middle of your thighs show. You lifted the teddy bear up and spun him around so he’s facing the wall.

“Better?” You asked and Eddie chuckled “sure…why isn’t he on your bed?” He asked and your cheeks flushed “he’s just too big” you replied quickly and Eddie raised his brow at you. Your bed was huge it was like 4x the size of his maybe a little less. “What? Your bed is huge I’m sure he could-” Eddie stopped mid sentence seeing how red your cheeks were and it clicked in Eddie.

Eddie smirked a chuckle coming from his lips “oh…I see” Eddie said and you glanced up at him before looking back down at your book. Eddie shifted up from his cris-cross position to one where he was sat on his knees, he leaned forward a bit to where his head was a few inches from yours “you do dirty things with it, don’t you?” He questioned and your cheeks turned darker as you placed your hands on his chest turning your head away from him “I…I don’t know what you mean” he chuckled his hands coming up to grip your wrists.

“So you don’t do dirty things with your teddy?” You didn’t reply and he smiled bringing one of your wrists up to his lips “Hmm, you don’t rub your pretty little pussy all over him? You don’t do that?” His lips brushed your pressure point and you gasped your eyes flying to him. Your eyes trailed up your arm and up to his lips then settling on his eyes. “I’m gonna need a answer princess” you still didn’t reply opting to just stare at him instead.

“Cmon be a good girl, good girls get rewards princess. Really really good rewards” his lips moved a bit higher kissing your forearm. Eddie felt you and visibly saw you perk up “a…reward?” You asked and he nodded humming as he trialed more kisses around your arm. “What…what is it?” He smirks.

Gotcha.

“Well…if you’re really,super,completely honest with me I can maybe make those naughty little things you dream about come true,Princess” he smiles watching your eyes widen a bit “r-really?” He nods “jus’ gotta tell me the truth, sugar” you nod and he sits up his hands still holding your wrists. “Princess,you do dirty things with your bear,don’t you?” Your face flushes and you nod. Eddie could feel his jeans tightening “mmmmm,and what do you think about hmm? Think about someone you like?…like Jason or Harrington?” You slowly shake your head.

“Princess you have to be hon-” “I think about you!” You blurt out as you turn your head back away from him squeezing your eyes shut. “Oh? You think about me?” You nod “you’re so gonna be the death of me, fuck” he mutters before dropping your wrists both hands coming to cup your face and turn it to him as he kisses you.

It’s deep and rough,tongues rubbing,teeth clanking together. He pulls from your lips gently bumping his nose against yours as he softly pecked your lips. “Tastes like blueberries” you giggle quietly “yeah…my chapstick” you say partially dazed. Eddie smiles “you alright?” He asked concern filling him as you were in a daze.

“Oh god, was that your first kiss I’m so sorry I should’ve ask i- I wasn’t thinking I’m so-” “Eddie you’re fine! It wasn’t my first one calm down…” he sighed “just i…I’ve been crushing on you for so long and you just kissed me…” he nodded “yes, I did” “you kissed me” “mhm” “you kissed me” “uh…yeah?” “You kissed me” he chuckled and leaned forward dropping his lips to nip at your neck. “And now I’m gonna fuck you so, come here princess” he chuckled and jerked at your waist urging you to lay down on your back.

Eddie pushed his hands up your thigh until they hooked into your cotton panties and tugged them down. He eyed the polka-dot fabric smiling at the little white bow at the front of it. “How cute” he smirked throwing them aside “you gotta tell me if it becomes too much alrighty princess? Say pink if you want me to stop. I will.” You nodded and he shook his head “words love, I need words.” “Yes, Eddie I’ll say pink if I need you to stop” he hummed in satisfaction.

It wasn’t long before you were settled in Eddie’s lap your back to his chest as he worked his fingers inside you. Your back arched as you came for the 4th time already your thighs trembling at the soft overstimulation. “I know princess,feels so good doesn’t it?” You nodded and he leaned down kissing bruises into your neck. He slowly removed his fingers which made you squirm a bit “easy, yeah that’s it princess it’s okay” he assured and separated his fingers lines of your slick connecting them.

Your face flushed and you turned your head to hide it in his neck. He chuckled “don’t get all shy now,look at what a mess you made.” His clean hand that was around your waist tangled in your hair and tugged pulling you from his neck with a whine. “It’s rude to not clean up after yourself honey” you looked at him and then his fingers before you slowly opened your mouth and he huffed pressing his fingers into your mouth.

“Mhm, clean up your mess princess” his open hand left your hair and worked on his belt unhooking the metal and opening the button on his jeans. He pulled his now clean fingers from your mouth “good girl” he praised and pecked your cheek making you smile dreamily at him. He lifted you up flipping you to lay on your back.

“I…I don’t have any protection” you said and Eddie shrugged “it’s fine,don’t worry” you nodded. “But..but I’m not on any type of pill either” Eddie chuckled “princess, I’ve got it” you nodded once more and Eddie pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs his dick springing out. He climbed over you picking your legs up he hooked them around his waist his fingers rubbing over the soft fabric of your knee high socks.

Eddie eased his way inside you making sure he took it slowly. You winced at the slight stretch he gave you but that was all, intense pleasure filtered through and the second he bottomed out you lost it. You came once again your legs trembling as they tightened around his hips, Eddie chuckled “so sensitive…isn’t that just the cutest thing.” You shivered when he started to move it was to soon your back arched from the sensitivity you felt, it almost hurts.

“Does it hurt? Poor little baby.” His thrusts didn’t stop or slow for a second though, he was Fucking into your rough and deep he was managing to hit every good spot inside you. It had barely been 4 minutes and you were seeing stars. Your moans were getting louder and louder and he slapped a hand over your mouth “now now, your mom’s downstairs can’t have her hearing what a whore her daughter is can we?” You shook your head and he smiled devilishly. He kept his hand there muffling your sounds as his thrust got harsher and harsher, your bed was slightly rocking from the momentum of his thrusts.

The rocking caused your textbook to fall of the bed a loud thud sounding as it clattered to the ground. “Sweetie!! You alright!!?” Your mom yelled from downstairs you looked up at Eddie who removed his hand “y-yeah mom! Just….just dropped my book!!” You yelled back. “Alright! It’s getting late! Your friend should head home soon!!” You sighed your eyes rolling back into your head “o-okay!!” Your mom went silent once more and Eddie smiled.

“Oh if she only knew how good of a friend I was being right now.” You shot him a glare and he tilted his head “looking at me like that? What’s the matter? You don’t want your mom finding out you’re Fucking the towns freak?” You shook your head your hands clenching at his arm that was above your head. “Not….you’re not a freak” you managed to get out and Eddie smiled “tell me how good you feel princess, cmon I wanna hear it” you swallowed back moans.

“Feels so good….oh god it feels good….Eddie you’re fucking me so good please-please don’t stop” your eyes made their way back into your head once more. “No one can fuck you this good huh? No one else makes you feel like a good little slut?” You shook your head. “I’m better then your teddy bear aren’t I?” You nodded a moan slipping out. “Let me see you cum again,wanna feel you clench your pretty pussy on my cock.” Your body answered immediately.

You didn’t even feel your orgasm be so close but as soon as he said to your body was flying over the edge,sore muscles clenching,legs shaking,your brain completely melting. “Arms” Eddie said and you lifted them up allowing him to remove your shirt. His hands trailed over your waist and you sighed feeling the cool metal of his rings on your searing skin.

“You’re just so beautiful….the prettiest little thing I ever did see” you smiled sleepily at him. He brought his thumb to his mouth licking the pad of it you gasped feeling him press it to your clit. “Eddie!” You squealed gripping his wrist as you shook your head. “No…please don’t make me….it hurts” he just chuckled “Awh baby I know,I know it does but you’re a big girl you can handle it” you couldn’t stop the feeling from bubbling up as he rubbed your clit. “Eddie..Eddie please!” He shook his head “you can give me one more. Be a good slut and cum for me, know you can.” You shook your head at him.

Your body was clenching as it got closer and closer “Eddie it’s too much…oh….oh god” your head hit your pillow as your back arched upwards another orgasm flying through you. “Oh fuck-” Eddie was quick to pull out jerking his cock a few times before he spilled out onto your chest and stomach. “Shit..” he sighed as the last few ropes hit your skin you were still trembling from the overstimulation your body incredibly sensitive.

Eddie tilted his head to the side scanning your room for a towel but it fell on the Polaroid camera on your desk. It was pink and had small hello kitty stickers on it he smirked and climbed up walking over and picking it up. You were out of it you didn’t even pick up he left until you saw the flash as he snapped a picture of you. You looked over at him and furrowed your brows he smiled as he shook the photo in his hand “for later of course” your cheeks flushed once again and you looked away from him.

“You’re just the cutest thing, it’s so easy to make you blush” his words were only making it worse as he sat your camera back down he fixed himself back into his jeans. The picture finally faded into view and he smirked sticking it into his pocket. He finally saw a towel hanging on your door and walked to grab it using it to wipe you up. His hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you once more softly and slow this time “you’re so good…” you smiled at him.

Eddie helped get you dressed and cleaned up before he left to head back home for the night, when he landed on his squeaky bed he pulled the picture of you from his pocket smiling at it. Something about seeing you covered in his cum wearing nothing but a bra, a skirt, and socks just made him feel the tinniest bit of guilt. He felt too good to care much though he felt good knowing he had done that to you, corrupted you in a way. He was sure it wouldn’t be the last time either.

Oh was he right about that.

It was like he had flipped something inside you that made it impossible to not touch him,anytime you saw each other rather it was you or Eddie that started it you’d end up fucking. In school bathrooms,empty classrooms,his van,that random spot in the woods he’s always at,his house,your house. It just didn’t matter to either of you where you were.

You were overly thankful your mom had to work late because Eddie had you bent over the island in your kitchen Fucking into you from behind. You were moaning loudly but it only got louder as it bounced off the tile in the room. Eddie chuckled from behind you “you know, a lot of people say ‘eat the rich’ I kinda prefer fucking them” you smiled at the comment your mouth dropping into a ‘o’ shape as he pounded into your sweet spot.

His hands gripped at your hips thumbing over the bare skin of your back as he pounded into you. As always he was making you see stars in just a matter of minutes your head lolling back as you let out moans of his name over and over like a fucking prayer. “Listen to you, fucking hell…you sound like a angel princess” you giggled dizzily and he smiled “make me feel so good, baby” he moaned out “feels good too.” You babbled as Eddie’s hips got faster and frantic erratic almost.

“Shit- I’m gonna cum” his fingers wrapped around working your clit wanting you to finish before him. It was working to just a few seconds later you screamed out his name as your clenched down and he pulled out splashing his spend on your back. You felt it fall down dripping off your sides and into the floor below you. He was still recovering panting as his one hand rested on your hip the other still wrapped around his now limp cock.

“What time is it?” You asked and Eddie glanced at the clock “4, why?” You smiled and wiggled your butt at him “my parents won’t be home till 7, wanna go again?” Eddie groaned and tilted his head back he grabbed the closet towel he could find and wiped himself clean before wiping your back clean. He flipped you around and lifted you onto the marble countertop of your island. You immediately laid back spreading your legs for him as he pulled you to the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you nice and dumb princess.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and he pressed inside you.

You shivered a bit still slightly sensitive from your previous round. Eddie stood back up your hands falling down to his clothed biceps as his hips began snapping into yours. “Fucking slut, letting me fuck you across your kitchen counter? What a messy little bitch in heat” you whined and Eddie chuckled. Eddie found out quickly that you liked it rough and mean and you wanted him to be mean to you, to use and abuse you in anyway he saw fit.

“Tell me you’re a messy bitch, cmon say it. Tell me what you are” you moaned out “I’m Eddie’s little messy bitch.” He hummed and nodded “yeah you are. You belong to me only I can fuck you like this” you nodded “only you! I belong to you!!” Eddie groaned as he fucked into you faster. “That’s my good girl, tell me what I like to hear” you smiled and leaned up enough to pepper kisses along his exposed neck.

He groaned out “mhm, go ahead princess mark what’s yours” and you did. Leaving purple and pink marks and bites all over his collarbone and neck. You pulled away laying back against the cool surface of your counter. Eddie slammed into you while his hands jerked your hips into him creating the perfect thrusts. Your eyes rolled back as your wrapped your legs tightly around his waist “fuck me so good..” you whined out and Eddie smiled “harder Eddie, fuck me harder!” He obliged. His hands left your hips and grabbed a hold of your wrists holding both your arms stretched downwards towards him and he fucked up into you, using your arms for leverage.

You moaned out giggling at the echo “cumming!” You whined out as you clenched around Eddie, he once again pulled out his spend covering your front this time instead of your back “fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Eddie repeated the curse as he came harder this time more spend covering your stomach and dripping onto your counter. You smiled and swirled your fingers in it sucking them clean Eddie growled at you “you’re trying to kill me.” You shrugged and he smiled.

ok i have this idea for alpha!ghost and omega!reader. this is a very, very rough draft and is not even close to anything with real meat, but i would like to get some early feedback about this idea i have.

"I'm not here as a friend," she says softly, and you frown a little.

"Aren't...haven't we always been friends?" You ask, and Kate lets out a shaky sigh, nodding her head behind her.

"We need to talk. C'mon."

You retrieve the gun and holster it, fastening it around your thigh holster before you follow her. She has a car waiting outside, a big, black SUV with the door already open for her. When you get inside, she knocks on the divider, and the car immediately starts moving. You brace yourself against the side of the car as it speeds off, reaching for a seatbelt.

"Jesus, Kate, what's going on? I-I have training later, I can't--"

"You're not...going back to base," she says evenly. You frown a little, leaning back in your seat, and you put your hands in your lap as you try and get a read on her. Even exhausted, Kate is hard to decipher. She has a stone-cold expression, calm and unbothered, and you curse her CIA training for making her impossible to understand, to even get a glimpse of what she might say next.

"Okay," you scoff a little. "Then where am I going?"

Kate sniffs a little, crossing her arms over her chest. She doesn't break eye contact with you when she says, "Wheels up in 30. I have an assignment for you." She reaches under the seat, pulling out a manila folder, setting it down beside you. When you pick it up and flip it open, you narrow your eyes.

"I'm..." You shrug your shoulders, "I'm not CIA. You don't give me orders."

"As of one hour ago, you're mine. And this...this is your duty."

Your eyes blur as you skim the text on the pages. You flip through the papers flimsily, getting more and more irritated until you throw it at her, your chest rising and falling fast as you pant, barely able to see her through your tears.

"Kate, don't do this," you beg her softly. "Please don't do this. Please. You fucking promised me, you promised--"

"You need to understand that I don't have a lot of fucking choices," she says sharply.

"Kate, I'll do anything, please," you gasp. You reach over and grab her hands, tugging her towards you. "You know. You know what...w-what I've been through, what this all is, you know...please. Please..."

"I can't--"

"I'll be yours," you try, squeezing her palms. "Just claim me yourself, a-and...and we don't have to do this, w-we can...I-I can go back to--"

Her face contorts, offended, disgusted. You try and swallow down the sting of her rejection, but you cannot help yourself. You would do anything to not be subjected to this fate, to the fate she promised she'd save you from. The only alpha you have ever trusted, and she's pulling away from you, bit by bit.

"I could never do that to you," she interrupts, shaking her head. "I couldn't."

"But you'll do this instead?"

"It's the lesser evil," she says finally, pushing your hands back. "And in my world, that is the best I can hope for."

"It's punishment!" You cry, and she reaches over, cupping your cheeks, pulling you close. "A-And for what? For being something that I can't change?!"

"It's mercy," she whispers. "I can't protect you anymore, do you understand? They don't want you there. Even taking meds, even spraying yourself to shit, they don't want you, and I can't protect you if they send you away, do you understand me?" You start to cry, closing your eyes, and you hear the familiar voice in your head sing. She's desperate, slipping through the cracks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try and force her backwards. "I have to get you out of there, and this is the only way."

"Please..."

"I can't protect you," she says gently. "But he can. And he'll be good to you. I promise, this...this I can promise."