ăăđŻ est 11.24 â welcome to the kennel ๨๿
ăă( you're an angel , i'm a dog â you're a dog , && i'm your man )
âââăďš bpd && dissociative .. full of love && hungry for treatsďź main prns / references are he + neos , && m a dog ďź
@prayerdog : a guide to your favorite pup ⥠i interact freely && m a little new to the social side of tumblrďź you will catch me reblogging && lurking always ૮ â˘ ďť - á no set dni , but when you're gone , you're goneďź
my name is chouďź but others are fine too , ( qin , pup , chow chow ) . i'm not picky :3 he / they / depends pronouns , boyflux && mlmďź
á ďš I LIKE BOYSďź really i like anyone .. i am but a dog , can you blame me ? i'm okay with/open to any prnsďź
á ďš i like a lot of dark/com themed media && ships :( i feel like that should've been a known prerequisite to my blog in its entirety .. i block freely , but i just as openly interactďź so please please please talk 2 me ... all of uďź
á ďš stalkers , mutuals , && new friends are highly appreciatedďź send asks , reqs , or dms .. i'll respondďź
á ďš highly likely that i will be more ... fictional .. indulge in my thoughtsďź i am till , as i am hikaruďź i see myself as non-human or uncanny-esque , and would prefer to be referred to as such .. specifics will be added soon
á ďš heavily reblog based && spam likelyďź i admire all my mutuals && fans .. lemme add you to my lovelist :(
á ďš posts are spontaneous && i speak on any topic i see fitďź tws will be provided for heavier posts but otherwise my timeline will be a free for all . in advance for u all , expect dark themes && more taboo topics .
á ďš i don't love you . parasocialism is a plague , && i have the utmost adoration for anyone who likes me , but i'm violently avoidant && truly very distanced . regardless , i can't control youďź go wild .
me as a teenager: man it sucks to have no privacy or autonomy but i guess its for a good reason. when i turn 18 i will realise how young i was and understand why they did all that.
me as an adult: teenagers are an oppressed class, their abuse is normalised and systemic and they need to start killing people
I kept forgetting my nighttime antidepressant so I set an alarm where the sound was a recording of me saying "HEY. TAKE YOUR FUCKING PILL" because I thought it would be funny. It was funny about three times, and then it started making me mad and I'd dismiss it right away to make it stop. So I handed my phone to my partner, who made another recording sweetly saying "Okay Shira, it's time to take your medication" and now I don't get mad anymore and I take my pill. The "compassion over punishment" camp has gotta get something wrong one of these days
Art from to00fu!
âŚ.cw : stalking, toxic dynamics, sex
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna seeing you for the first time at that trashy frat party. His eyes are locked on you from across the room, his knuckles white as he grips his red solo cup, completely losing his mind the second he clocks you.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna walking up to you with that cocky, arrogant smirk that usually works every damn time. He tries to pressure you into going upstairs to his room right then and there, but you hit him with such an ice-cold, disgusted look that his ego practically shatters. You just turn your back on him, leaving him standing there looking like a fucking clown.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna trying to save face by circling back with a fresh drink for you, but you donât even spare him a glance. You step around him like heâs just another piece of trash in the hallway, and heâs left feeling like a total loser, watching your back as you walk away.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna spending the rest of the night pretending to listen to his bros bragging about football, but in reality, heâs tracking your every move. He doesnât even realize how much of a creep he looks, neck craned awkwardly just to keep you in sight.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna watching you laugh at some other guyâs joke. A sick, stinging envy curls in his chest, making him want to howl.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna waking up the next morning with a pounding head, but he doesn't give a shit about the hangover. Youâre the only thing consuming his thoughts.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna grilling everyone on campusâfrom RAs to terrified freshmenâuntil he finds out your major and what classes you like, typing every detail into the Notes app like a total stalker.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna digging up your socials in one night, scouring your TikTok likes to see what kind of guys youâre into. When he finds a video of some guy who is his total opposite, he lets out a pathetic, guttural groan and buries his face in his pillow.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna liking every single one of your posts, praying youâll notice his pathetic efforts and follow him back. When you don't, he just ends up getting blackout drunk with Toji again.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna trying a new approach by kissing up to your friends to get any scrap of info on you. He grumbles under his breathâmentally sulking like a kicked puppyâwhen you spot his desperate attempts and shoo him away. He drops his head and slinks off, feeling like a beaten dog.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna refusing to give up, finally changing his entire class schedule just so he can sit next to you. Now, he gets to stare at you every single day.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna haunting you twelve hours a day. Heâs in the library, the dining hall, outside your dorm. He notices your eye twitching, the way you keep looking over your shoulder, growing more and more paranoid. But he canât stop. Heâs fucking obsessed.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna sitting in his room at night, jerking off to your photos. His hand tightens around his cock to the rhythm of his ragged breathing, his lips silently forming your name, terrified to actually say it out loud.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna overhauling his wardrobe to match the aesthetic of the guys you post on TikTok, desperate for a shred of your attention.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna refusing to quit. At the next party, he approaches you again, fully expecting to get shut down. He cracks a stupid, nervous joke, and thenâyou smile. His heart skips a beat, and he breaks into an idiotic, lovesick grin.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna feeling his jeans grow painfully tight when you casually take a drag of his cigarette, your lips brushing against his fingers.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna blushing to the tips of his ears when youâre wasted and press into him for warmth by the bonfire. Heâs too scared to even put an arm around you, so he just stands there, stiff as a board, inhaling the scent of your hair and praying this moment lasts forever.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna trying to play the gentleman while walking you to your dorm. He keeps his hand on your waist, but his fingers are burning with the urge to slip lower, to the panties heâs dying to pull off. He holds back because youâre drunk, and he wants you to remember him as something more than just another horny prick.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna falling asleep with a massive, dopey smile on his face after seeing that you finally followed him back on everything.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna getting off to your simple text, "You were sweet," his cock throbbing in his hand as he texts back, "Did you like it?" When you send a drunk voice note whining about how much you love it when he acts like a pathetic simp for you, he cums so hard his body jerks off the bed.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna stalking you across campus the next day. When you finally reach out and touch his shoulder, he craves nothing more than for you to never let go.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna becoming your personal pack mule, carrying your books, waiting outside every single one of your classes to walk you home. You smile at him, and his entire world starts and ends with you.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna barely holding it together when you send him spicy photos. His hand goes straight to his pants, but he forces himself to reply with something witty, even though his skin is crawling with the need to rip your clothes off and pin you to the wall.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna sending you a video of him jerking off and whining for you when you ask for proof. When you reply with a photo of your dripping pussy, he drowns his phone screen in his own cum.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna refusing to leave your side at the next frat party. His eyes are practically begging you to stay when you mention wanting to talk to your friends. (His bros roast him for it. He couldn't care less.)
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna feeling his heart soar when you lean into his ear and whisper that you want to fuck. His breath hitches and his hands shake with pure anticipation as he drags you to his room, already picturing you beneath him.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna waiting for your permission, hovering over you, tugging at the hem of your shirt. Heâs breathing hard, inhaling your scent, terrified of messing up. The second you nod, heâs tearing your clothes off.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna worshipping your pussy, licking you with pure, feral reverence. His cock is so hard heâs ready to blow his load just from the sound of your first moan.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna damn near coming the second he slides inside you. His eyes roll back, his hips moving on instinct. He hears your scream, and it drives him faster, deeper, his nails digging into your back.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna begging you to let him go faster, his voice cracking as you scratch his back in time with his rough thrusts. Heâs pounding into you so hard the bed frame is practically screaming against the wall.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna bending you over, lips pressed against your ear as he whines about how long heâs wanted you, how heâs obsessed over you every single night. His voice trembles as he asks if heâs doing it right, if you like the way heâs fucking you, scared to death that youâll tell him to stop.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna letting out a quiet, wrecked moan when you squeeze his cock too tight, his hips bucking into your hands, desperate for release.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna finishing with a loud, guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside you. He watches you, broken and satisfied, before collapsing on top of you, gasping for air.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna holding you tight afterward, arms wrapped around you so you canât leave. He pretends to be asleep, terrified that if he opens his eyes, youâll have disappeared.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna grinning like the biggest simp on earth when you kiss him in the morning, leaving your panties on his pillow with a promise that youâll do it again. He grabs your hips, begging you not to go, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated hope.
Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna, who is obviously going to ask you on a date tomorrow and spend the entire time begging you to let him bury his face back between your thighs and lick your dripping pussy until youâre coming all over his face.
Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!)
gojo's wisdom teeth removal led to an unexpected love confession
your best friend of two years had begged you repeatedly to tag along with him to his personal hell on earth. the dental clinic. the four back teeth in his mouth have been bothering him for some time now, leaving no option but to get them removed.
âi canât do this, hold my hand.â satoruâs hand roughly grabbed onto yours. you tried not to get flustered by the action, but you could feel warmth erupting on your cheeks. his leg kept bouncing nervously, waiting for his name to be called.
âtoru, youâre twenty years old.â you reminded.
âiâm allowed to be scared at twenty!â he whisper shouted. his clammy hand didnât let go of yours even for a second. when his name got called out, he refused to let go. âplease, come with me. come with me.â
fortunately, he finally went in without you. with a final pleading look, satoru got taken away. safe to say, he had every right to be terrified. the white haired boy walked out with his cheeks all puffed up like a chipmunks, eyes teary, and walking like a drunk man.
âhe was very difficult to drug.â the doctor said, leading satoru by the shoulders over to you. he whined out your name, reaching out to hug you. âhelp.. hurts..â
you stifled in a laugh, enjoying the sudden behavior. after thanking the doctor and a very difficult time having to push satoru into your car, you made your way over to your apartment . there was no way you were letting him be unattended until tomorrow.
the radio played his favorite music, making him sing along in the backseat. very off key, mind you. âhey.. hey, where we going?â his voice was very funny sounding. âto my place.â you stared at him through the rearview mirror.
âooh.. and what are we gonna do at your place?â
you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a small smile. âiâm gonna take care of you.â
âwhole house happy.â he slurred out before flopping back into his seat. upon arrival, he was talking nonsense. something about digimon and his econ class, you couldnât tell. âoh no..â the bloody gauze fell from his mouth, landing on the floor. âmy tongue!â his eyes widened in horror.
âitâs not your tongue, silly.â too late, he was already crying. his hand tapped against his cheek in attempt to feel his still attached tongue. âno.. my tongue!â he tried bending down to grab it.
in total, it took ten minutes to get him inside the house and to convince him that his tongue was very much intact. âopen up..â you gently placed in a new gauze, closing his jaw so he could start biting down on it. âiâll be back.â doctors recommended to place ice packs on both cheeks to numb down the pain and luckily, you had two bags of peas sitting in your freezer.
âdonât leave me.â his strong arms wrapped around your torso, pushing his face in between your chest. âtoru!â you gasped, trying to push him away.
âi love you so much.. do you know that? bet you donât.. donât even have a clue.â satoru mumbled out, leaning up to place a sloppy kiss on your cheek, spreading his nasty blood all over you before you stopped him. âbabay...â he pouted, watching as you placed your hands on his chest, preventing him from getting closer. âsatoru calm down, youâre not yourself right now. youâve got no idea what youâre saying.â
âi do.â he groaned. âlove youuuu.. sooo much. do you love me too?â
you had spent the past two years believing the crush was one sided, that there would be no way he could ever feel the same way about you too. this wasnât the way youâd want to confess, so youâll save it for another day. âiâll tell you when youâre thinking straight.â
âiâm straight.â
âiâm sure.â
very sorry for the inaccurate representation of getting your wisdom teeth removed. i havenât gotten mine out yet. iâm scared.
tysm for the idea @newpersonsameoldmistakez & @sillyriddle
reblogging a funny low note count textpost on your dash made by your mutual's mutual kinda feels like walking up to two strangers on the street and laughing loudly at their joke
Keepsake
previous - masterlist
Ghoap/female reader - omegaverse au
cw: non consent
âYe almost hit her.â Johnny snaps, glowering at Kyle from across the counter.
âCâmon, it wasnât even close. You,â his gaze swings accusingly towards Simon, âwere letting her squirm around too much.â Simon shakes his head.
âDidnât want to break her.â Youâre fragile. A little kitten in the jaws of wolves. Breakable like a pane of glass. Even more so now, since youâre sick. The bond corroding away inside your body hasnât done you any favors.
The smallest amount of guilt pinches in his stomach. Theyâve made a mess of everything.
Only right they clean it up.
A small cough echoes from the bedroom, and Simon frowns. You should be asleep. There was enough sedative in that water to knock out a horse. He jerks his head towards the sound. âJohnny.â His mate nods, and silence fills the kitchen as he disappears down the hall.
âSo whatâs your plan here?â
âGer her on the plane, get her home, go from there.â Thereâs more, a methodical step by step plan, but he doesnât care to elaborate. Kyle can infer most of it already. Heâs familiar.
A hand rests on Simonâs shoulder, thumb working slow circles into the tense muscle. âSheâs in the closet,â Johnny murmurs, âpassed out. Mustâve been feelinâ really anxious, poor thing.â The sympathy is dripping with something darker, something sinister. Youâre anxious, youâre fearful, and though itâs their fault, they donât truly care, not in this moment. Once they get you home, get you settled, theyâll work on it, right the ship. But for now, itâs fuel for a machine that has to keep churning, has to carry you across the finish line. Fear is a powerful motivator, they know. If you threaten someoneâs life, scare them into thinking theyâre in real danger, theyâll do anything to protect themselves.
Anything.
âCloset again.â Johnny shoots him a mischievous grin. Itâs been hours since you retreated back to your room after dinner, tucking yourself away in your nest. âGonna be a tight squeeze.â
ââm not crawling into that closet unless itâs to drag her out.â He tells his mate with a flat look, trying to curb his frustration. He knows it wasnât a conscious decision to build your nest in there, more so your biology urging you to find somewhere safe, your omega trying to retreat, protect herself, but bloody hell do you make everything so difficult. âDid you take her temp?â Johnny hums.
âBorderline high. Think weâve got one more day before it hits, maybe two.â His mate is almost giddy, the overwhelming happiness flowing down the bond like warmth, filling an empty space in Simonâs chest.
And why shouldnât he be? Theyâre getting everything they ever wanted, everything theyâve dreamed. All their planning, their strategizing, everything put into motion finally paying off. If theyâre lucky, theyâll get through this unscathed, theyâll bite you, bond you, keep you forever, and youâll never know the truth. He can taste it, taste you, on the back of his tongue, and itâs more than just perfume, pheromones. Itâs clean and buttery and sweetâŚ
and made for his mouth.
Made for their mouths.
There isnât a gift quite like having a mate. Someone predestined for you, a mate is the only thing in the world that belongs to you before you ever see them, lay a hand on them. There is no ownership greater than the bond, no claim stronger.
There is no choice.
Only fate.
âBleedinâ christ.â Johnny swears, laser focused on the rear view mirror. Heâs rattling in the passenger seat, shaking from the amount of energy itâs taking to restrain himself.
âStay calm.â Simon grits from a clenched jaw. Heâs clinging to shreds of control, his alpha instincts surging to the surface, trying to break free. Johnny sits frozen in the passenger seat, still locked onto the mirror watching you fade into the distance.
âGhost, Soap. Status?â The earpiece chirps, Johnâs voice echoing between them.
âClear. Lost the target, weâre returning to base. Thereâs been⌠a complication.â The line is quiet for a moment, no doubt their captain weighing their words, trying to discern their meaning. Eventually, he just acknowledges them, but it hardly registers.
âCopy.â
âI cannae believe this.â Johnny hisses, half mad. His scent has turned feral, rimmed in rage, in confusion, as Simonâs teeters on a similar edge. Theyâre a powder keg right now. âOf all placesâŚâ Simon grimaces.
âNothinâ we can do about it now.â Itâs rotten luck, at the end of the day. Finding their scent match, their omega, should have never happened while theyâre on a mission, in some unknown in a foreign country. Itâs the perfect storm of wrong place, wrong time, and all he can do is hope that their little show was enough to convince whoever is tailing them youâre not of interest. âWeâll get clear of this, ask for leave, come back for âer.â Johnnyâs eyes are dark as they flick towards him.
âSheâs noâ gonna come willingly, not after that.â
âNo.â Simon agrees, his hand coming down to lay atop Johnnyâs, their fingers intertwining. âShe wonât.â An unspoken certainty settles between them, a silent promise to do what it takes.
Whatever it takes.
Johnny is out for a run during breakfast.
Itâs his normal, and theyâve tried to get back into their usual routines, their normal life, without exposing themselves as much as possible. Theyâve scrubbed the house clean, anything personal or meaningful loaded into storage crates, cardboard boxes and bags, all of their belongings that made this house their home hidden away. Everything from photos to tea towels, all of it crammed along the walls of their bedroom.
It makes Simonâs skin itch.
The sooner they can move on from this, the better.
âJohnnyâs gone on a run,â he tells you, not surprised at the answering silence. You try not to speak to them, insisting on kicking and screaming, digging your heels in like a petulant toddler.
He wishes youâd just give it up already, but he canât deny he enjoys your stubbornness, your strong will.
It makes everything more interesting. More fun.
Youâre worse for the wear this morning, listless, slightly swaying in your seat, pushing food around your plate, scent tinged slightly sour at the edges. Just enough that his alpha bristles, an overwhelming need to fix it, fix you, rolling through his blood like a wave.
âFeelinâ alright?â You blink at him, brow furrowed for a moment before it smooths away and you shake your head.
âIâm fine.â You croak, reaching for the pill bottles. He feigns disinterest as you shake them into your palm, watching you from the corner of his eye. Youâre a dutiful patient, clinging to the hope that the medication will help you, ease your suffering, completely oblivious to the truth.
They tossed that poison weeks ago, and whatâs left of it is currently burning through your system. The last line of defense disintegrating before his very eyes, castle walls collapsing into dust around you.
He smothers his smile.
Itâs not that heâs taking pleasure in your suffering, because heâs not, but he canât help but silently celebrate the inevitable. Every second, every hour brings you closer to the finish line, to the moment where youâll be so overtaken by your biology that you wonât be able to fight it, or them. Your protests, your fear, your rational thought will fade away as your instincts take over and you beg them for bites, knots⌠bonds.
Youâll become theirs, and they can leave this entire mess in the past where it belongs.
âShe has it..â Johnny scrubs a hand over her face. âSheâs sick, Si.â
They watch from the SUV as you come out of the clinic, zipping your jacket up to your chin. Your eyes are dull, lifeless, and a chill runs up Simonâs spine.
Bond corrosion. Theyâve felt the effects too, the rot festering under their ribs, their biology slowly turning on them, punishing them. Theyâre just too strong to succumb.
Johnny taps away at the keyboard of the laptop balanced on his knees, your medical records spread across the screen in a dozen different windows. âBeen gettinâ treatment for it for months. Suppressants, blockers, painkillers. The whole lot.â Simon grits his teeth. âSays here she hadâŚâ He trails off, focuses through the windshield to where youâre standing on the sidewalk.
âHad what?â
âA heat. After we left.â Regret tinges Johnnyâs scent, and it pinches his heart. It shouldnât surprise him, considering they went through a rut around the same time, but at least they had each other. They always had each other. You had no one.
You look over your shoulder for a second, eyes sweeping across the street. Simon freezes.
âCan sheâŚâ Johnny whispers, Simon shakes his head.
âNo. She might feel us, maybe. But if sheâs this sick, I doubt her instincts are reliable.â The moment passes. You turn away, flipping your hood up over your head, walking in the opposite direction, walking away from them.
âWe need to move in. No more waiting.â Johnny pulls his phone from his pocketing, opening their text thread to Keller. A hot flare of jealously rises in his stomach. His alpha is possessive. Alex has no right to see you, smell you. Youâre theirs.
âHe doesnât touch her,â Simon warns. âWe only want him to spook her. Make sure he understands.â
âTonight?â Thereâs hope in Johnnyâs eyes, excitement. A little bit of worry too, for you, but overall, this is a good thing. An expedited timeline just means theyâre one step closer to bringing you home. Sick, but theyâll fix it. Theyâll take care of you. Simon nods his affirmative.
âTonight.â
âDove?â A small crease forms between your brows, as Johnny gently shakes your shoulder. âDove, ye alright?â
âMmm?â You shake him off, pressing deeper into the cushions of the couch. Simonâs fingers find your cheek, backs of his knuckles brushing upward, over your temple, across your forehead. Hot. Your skin is hot, nearly burning, damp with sweat. Dark satisfaction burns through his veins. How long will it be before youâre begging for them? Crying for them? How long will it be before you forget how theyâve hurt you, all the suffering youâve endured because of them, and crawl towards them on your hands and knees?
Your scent blooms, flowers into something sweeter as you lean into his touch, lashes fluttering as your eyes open.
âWhat is it?â You mumble, pushing yourself up on an elbow, shaking your head like youâre trying to shed the clutch of sleep. Itâs no use. Itâs not sleep that has its hooks in you but heat, biology building to a crescendo, an overwhelming symphony drowning out your rational mind, your logical thoughts.
âYouâre sick, sweetheart. Think youâve got a fever.â He lies easily, and you try to push him off, but thereâs no strength in you, your effort feeble.
âNo, âm fine.â
âYeâre not.â Johnny argues, propping you up with arm around your shoulder. âDid ye take yer meds?â Simon swallows his snicker.
âY-yeah, I donât know why theyâre not working.â You moan, attempting to pull away. All it does is give Johnny an opening to hold you closer, and his mouth brushes across the top of your head when you instinctively turn your face into his neck, seeking his scent. âItâs so hot.â You complain, and Johnny smiles, unabashed since you canât see his face.
âAye. Want to get in the shower, try to cool off?â You nod miserably, and Simon urges you up, supporting your weight as you struggle to your feet.
âTake it slow,â Simon murmurs as you tackle the stairs, one painstakingly drawn out step at a time. Johnnyâs behind you, fingertips at your waist, as Simon shoulders your lack of balance from the side.
Your scent is overwhelming. Burnt sugar turning to caramel, it mixes with Johnnyâs excitement, his joy, tangling together in a perfect, heady combination that nearly has Simonâs mouth watering. He canât wait to taste you, canât wait to spread your legs and bury his face in your pussy, taste your slick.
The bathroom in their room is large, more than enough room for them to maneuver around you as Simon holds you upright where youâre sitting on the closed toilet lid and Johnny tests the temperature of the water.
âLetâs get you out of these clothes.â You shake your head, try to pull away as they curl under the hem of your t-shirt.
âItâs alright dove,â Johnny reassures you, now kneeling at your feet. âWeâre jusâ gonna get ye cooled down.â They synchronize their movements, Simon lifting you slightly so Johnny can hook his fingers in the waistband of your shorts and pull, Johnny holding you at the waist so Simon can get your bra off. Youâre left only in your underwear, listing weakly to the side into Simon. âSuch a good girl,â he croons, rubbing your thighs, âsuch a good omega.â You mumble something into Simonâs stomach, an objection maybe. A last line in the sand. âUp ye get.â Johnny pats your waist, and they herd you into the shower, supporting your weight, carefully holding you under the spray.
âDonâtâŚâ You protest, but itâs fruitless. Your body is bared to them, naked while they're clothed, and Johnny grins with a full mouth of teeth, the widening maw of a predator. He drinks his fill, sweeping over you from head to toe, his fingers lightly brushing your nipples as he soaps your skin. When you shudder, Simon can't help himself, can't stop from splaying a hand across your belly, feeling your softness, the goosebumps rising beneath his touch.Â
âYouâll feel better after this,â He promises, moving you deeper into the shower, rubbing your back as water cascades over your shoulders. This wonât do much to keep you cool, not for long. Itâs a temporary balm, but until youâre panting and presenting, they need to stay the course. Try to keep you cool, keep you comfortable, until youâre overwhelmed by your heat and unable to fight it.
âCold,â you whimper under the lukewarm water, instinctively pressing yourself into Simon. You fit there so perfectly, and Johnny smiles, sweet and sharp, the loofa in his hand sliding down your spine, soap working into a lather.
âI know dove, I know.â Johnny keeps his voice even toned, pillow soft. âJusâ a minute more.â You shake your head against Simonâs chest, your nose turning inward, dragging across his wet shirt like youâre searching for him, seeking his scent. You sniffle, fists clenching and then relaxing, a battle unfolding inside your head, your body, a whine growing in your throat as the shift you further under the water to rinse off.
Johnny starts to hum. Itâs a gentle, slow rumble building from his chest, and Simon presses a thumb into your nape, careful and firm. Youâre powerless against his touch, Johnnyâs subharmonics, your muscles immediately softening, turning more pliant by the second. Johnny kills the water and you sag between them, boneless and shivering. âPoor thing,â You shake your head.
âNo.â Itâs a whisper on deaf ears. Simon reaches for the clean towel they hung on the rack, wraps it around your shoulders. âNo.â You say again.
âAye, we heard ye.â Johnny rubs your shoulders, your arms dry, and you try to take a shaky step away, a small, half attempt that ends with your knees buckling. Months of sickness, meds, futile efforts, has wrecked you, left you defenseless, and he considers it a small stroke of luck. Itâs easier, like this.
Simon leads you out of the bathroom, an arm wrapped around your waist, as Johnny moves ahead, pulling back the covers of the bed.
Their bed.
Not yours.
Not guest bed, not the little nest youâve built in the closet, but their bed. The one thatâs saturated with their scent, their warmth, the one that will become yours.
âNo,â you rasp, pushing against Simonâs chest as he lowers you to the sheets, ânot in here. I want m-my room. My...â The rest goes unsaid. Your nest. Your omega is seeking her safe space, you donât realize yet that this is where youâre truly safest. With them.
âI know,â Johnny soothes, cupping your cheek. âBut we need to keep an eye on ye.â Simon tugs at the towel, your grip falling away, anger igniting behind your eyes for a brief moment before itâs snuffed out again, and you hang your head.
You donât fight as Simon pulls the sheets and blankets up to your chin, you donât push Johnny away as he fluffs the pillows behind your head. The heat roiling under your skin has drained your energy, and once theyâre done tucking you in you roll onto your side, turning your back, shutting them out.
Heâll allow it, for now.
Johnny is already climbing into bed, over eager, eyes shining, murmuring into the crown of your head sweetly. Lies, probably. False promises meant to relax you, and Simon watches as your shoulders hitch once Johnnyâs arm folds over your waist.
You do not have the strength to push him away.
Simon takes the other side. Your eyes crack open, fever heavy and suspicious.
âClose your eyes dove. Sleep.â Your mouth opens, closes, and he waits for your temper, your questions, but your lower lip trembles instead, and you bury your face in the pillow, hiding from him. From them. From everything.
He squeezes your hip, relaxes his palm next to Johnnyâs, their thumbs folding over one another atop your body.
This is it. This is right. This is how everything should have been all along, you here, with them, cradled between their bodies, an omega made for her mates.
