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[manticore-fangs]

Could we get Gaz reacting to reader spreading rumours on base that they're dating for no good reason other than to undermine his authority and piss him off? (Inspired by your reader flirting with Gaz on the job piece) 🙏

tasty tasty tasty.

ok so there is a reason other than undermining his authority. but a pissed-off Gaz is a pissed-off Gaz, right?

26 / 1.4k / comes after flirting with Gaz on the job

...

You're on your way to a briefing, eyes cast down on the paperwork in your hands. You did not do your homework, as usual, so you're skimming what you can in the four minutes it takes you to walk to the meeting room.

Which is why you almost don't see Gaz standing in front of you, arm braced on the wall, blocking your way. To someone else, he'd read as neutral. You know his face too well to misread the stern glower tightening his features.

"Excuse me," you say, trying to sidestep him.

Gaz doesn't move. He also clearly knows he can't be moved. Not by you.

"Late for a meeting?" he asks lightly.

"No, sir, but I will be in just a few minutes. So if you don't mind--"

"Not at all," he says in a voice that implies the opposite. "Since you're about to be late anyway, how about you and me have a little chat, yeah?"

"I couldn't possibly take up more of your valuable time," you say, slipping into the flirtatious tone you so often direct at him. You try to slide past him, but nothing escapes Gaz. "Though I'm flattered you'd--"

He grabs your arm. Not roughly—he never touches you roughly, probably because you’d just egg him on—but firmly enough not to be ignored. "With me, Private."

You're too flustered to resist as he pulls you through the halls and into a different office. Captain Price's office, you notice.

“Have a seat.” He gestures to the chair in front of desk, then sits himself on Price’s chair. The corner of his mouth curls up. That’s unnerving.

You don't sit. "Sir, I appreciate your urgency, but I really must get to my briefing. Shepherd will wonder where I am."

Gaz's stare is steady as a hawk's. You'd love the chance to gaze into his eyes under any other circumstances. But now?

"Then Shepard can take it up with me," he says. "He wouldn't be surprised to hear we're spending time together, after all. Or hasn't he heard?"

You sweat. Oh, shit. "I, um, don't know why he wouldn't be surprised."

His eyes harden. “No? I hear we've been spending quite a lot of time together lately. Funny how I was the last to know about it."

Inwardly, you cringe. "I can explain."

“Yeah?” he challenges you. He crosses his arms, leaning back. "You can explain where the hell you get off spreading grubby little rumors about how you and I are fooling around?"

"I said I can." You fidget with the stapled corners of the packets of paper in your arm, folding and creasing them as your mind runs at ninety miles an hour. "So what did you hear, exactly?"

"What I heard was that we're seeing each other in the least professional way imaginable," Gaz says, voice clipped. He keeps his expression and tone controlled only with visible effort. "That I’m having a cozy little fling with a private. Someone who is technically my subordinate. That could cost me a lot of time and patience if my superiors decided to write me up."

"But Captain Price would never believe that about you, though. Right? I mean, the rumor mill is always churning out something. Last month it was Sergeant MacTavish and the girl from IT."

His expression gets frostier. "You started the rumor about us. I know it was you."

You fight the urge to glance back at the door behind you. You try to weave an excuse together, but it gets stuck in your throat.

Gaz leans forward now. His glare is so sharp it could slice glass. He seems to grow in size as he stares you down. He’s so intense, so intimidating, so… right there. Way too close. You start to get distracted, swimming in his dark eyes, before his voice yanks you back to reality.

"I know because some prick claiming to be your ex-boyfriend confronted me about it. Said you put the idea in his head that I'm keeping you warm at night. Took a swing at me, too." He narrows his eyes. "I don't like being put in a position to defend your honor just to protect my reputation, Private."

You stumble through a litany of excuses--you had to get your ex off your back; you meant a different Sergeant Garrick; okay, maybe that's not true, but you only just told a tiny little fib. Is it really your fault the rumor spiraled out of control?

It doesn't work. In fact, as you babble on, Gaz only takes your flailing as proof of how guilty you are.

You're prepared for him to tear you a new asshole (though not in the way you'd want), but to your surprise, he doesn't. Instead:

"You’re going to make this right."

You blink. "I am?"

"Damn right you are. I did your dirty work for you, and I'm sure as hell not chasing down your ex and apologizing after the rubbish he spewed."

"Then... you want me to tell him I lied?"

Gaz scoffs. "It wouldn't work if you did."

"Then what am I supposed to do? Ignore it?"

"Quiet down. I wasn't finished. There's no use trying to quell the rumors at this point; it'll only fuel them. So here's what we're gonna do."

…

You're not quite sure how this is going to solve the problem. It seemed rational when he explained it. Then again, anything coming out of Gaz’s mouth sounds reasonable to you.

You're sitting across from him at a low-key dinner joint. Not the kind of upscale place you're used to being taken to on dates. Then again, this place wasn't your choice. And technically you're treating him to dinner. He’s the one who’s quote-unquote "breaking up" with you.

When you'd questioned his logic, pointing out that it'd be way easier to just not and say you did, he gave you a half-amused, half-condescending look that made your stomach too fluttery.

"If you're gonna use my name and risk my reputation to be my fake girlfriend, I'm gonna get something out of it," he'd said. So now you've gotta wine and dine him at his favorite restaurant, and then you're gonna have to sit there and be broken up with. As if he hasn't shamed you enough.

That sucks. This sucks. You never even got a real date with him. And with your luck, your ex is gonna find out.

You do try to flirt your way back into his good graces during this fake-relationship-real-date. He just scoffs. Doesn't just no-sell you--he actively bites back and he's pretty damn mean about it.

You're not just a liar, he tells you--you're dense. If you'd asked him out like a normal person instead of flirting with him and then starting stupid rumors, he'd have considered it. When you tell him you had asked him out and he’d turned you down, he scoffs and tells you he'd have split the bill instead of making you pay, at least.

That's as far as he intends for it to go. But then, while you're waiting on the check, he gets a text from an unknown number.

It's a video. Of you.

You doing some very lewd things to what looks like your ex-boyfriend. Blowing him in the bathroom of some club or a restaurant much dingier than this one. If that's where he's been taking you on dates, Gaz can understand why you broke up with him.

Enjoy my sloppy seconds, chud, says the accompanying smug text.

Gaz is also starting to understand why you lied to get your ex off your back.

"What is it?" you ask, seeing the look on Gaz's face as he stares down at his phone.

"Nothing," he says, putting his phone away as the waiter sets down the check. Gaz pushes his chair out and rises, trying his best not to show any emotion, but his words are a little too sharp. "Let's go.”

"Now?" you ask, surprised. "I thought you were going to--I thought we would get our story straight about the, um, the breakup."

"We can figure it out on the way."

"To where?”

"Your place."

...

[part 1] / part 2

more Gaz / masterlist tag

[manticore-fangs]

DAY OFF - maximus (fallout tv) x female!reader (smut)

Warnings: SMUT MDNI!!! 18+ // virgin maximus, you work for free because he’s just so sweet, no use of “y/n” but “your name” is typed out, subby (switch) Maximus, he’s embarrassed, I love it; reader is described as female, chubby, and southern/from the east coast, premature ejaculation (but the stamina is there fr he’s back up and ready in like 30 seconds flat); oral sex (m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it ‘fo you tap it, reader), creampie, I probably forgot some but tbh I didn’t expect to get as raunchy as I did (not proofread)

(this is written to be a one-shot but if there’s enough interest in a second part i’ll work something up :)) 

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

Maximus was pretty pissed off and worn down by the time he came across a settlement along the way to tracking down the head, or the armor, he really didn’t know what his purpose in life was at the moment. He was just tired and needed some water, maybe a snack. He kept thinking back to that vault dweller he met in Filly, her pretty big eyes and that cute little smile. He’d never see her again, but hey, at least he could have the memory. 

He stumbled into the first crudely established business he could find that might serve him, taking a seat at the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. Clearly had not taken in the scenery of the bar he was in. Beautiful women stood around, each one with various male patrons. Unable to properly get the man’s attention; Maximus huffed and let his shoulders slump in near-defeat. After meeting the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and then getting his ass kicked and losing the fucking armor, he had little energy left to give. 

You noticed this from your position at the end of the bar, slowly inching your way down as he took his place at the bar. The man had barely looked up when he burst through the door, clearly not noticing he had stumbled into the only brothel for miles around. Well respectable women making money to support themselves, helping weary travelers and the occasional rough raider to get some peace and release for the night. Today was your day off, but you always loved a little challenge. 

“Emmett! Would you be a dear and get me two waters?” You leaned over the bar and flashed the old man a big smile, he had always had a soft spot for you since you’d always slip him a big tip from whatever you made upstairs. Emmett filled up two glasses of water and slid them across to land in front of you, “On the house, beautiful.” 

You turned to get a good look at the man, fighting back a laugh as he stared at the glass of cold water in your hand, almost resembling a panting dog. “Here, honey; this is for you.” He muttered out a ‘thanks’ as he took the glass and took it down in three gulps, setting it back down on the counter between them. 

Maximus was smitten the moment he laid eyes on you, his literal saving grace. He finally took in his surroundings and cleared his throat, trying to put on that macho attitude of a knight, but really just an awkward little guy (with and) without that armor. “Thank you, um, I didn’t seem to catch your name?” He tried not to notice the obvious – that you were a whore, and he was a lying squire. He figured you two were one in the same, he was the lowest rung of the Brotherhood’s hierarchy, and you were, well, a prostitute. Max didn’t really care though; he had never seen someone as captivating as you, especially not in the wasteland. 

You told him your name, and Maximus swore he had never heard anything so beautiful before. He watched you take small sips from the glass in front of you as you spoke with him for the next few minutes, realizing he had yet to offer you his name. To lie or not to lie, that is the question.

“M-Maximus. That’s my name.” He told you, offering up a piece of knowledge about himself. Hey, he figured he’d never be back in this part of the wasteland, telling you his real name wouldn’t hurt nobody. “I uh, I don’t have any caps, so if you’re looking for a customer…” He trailed off, thinking you were only there for one thing. 

“Well, lucky for you, today’s my day off.” You flashed him an award-winning smile, one that would’ve been plastered on billboards in the old world. 

The two of you talked for awhile, neither of you too worried about the environment around you. You filled in most of the silence with some stories about your past. He found out you were close to his age, had come to the western wasteland from what used to be the Carolinas, and were working in the saloon until you could find someone to take you back to Appalachia. You both sat there until closing time, Emmett giving you signal with a jerk of his head towards the stairs leading up to your room with an eyebrow up as if asking, “Charity work on your day off?”

“Hey Maxie, you wanna go get some sleep? Only five caps for a nice place to rest.” You squeezed his arm gently, leaning towards him, “No business, just as friends.” Maximus had never had a nickname before, other than the verbal insults spat at him by his fellow brothers. After spending quite some time with you, he decided that he liked the nickname, and would not let the abuse of the Brotherhood affect his brief time with you. He found himself nodding without thinking over your offer, blindly following you once you moved your dainty little hand to grab onto his larger one. Once he was behind you, he took notice of the way your dress moved as you walked, swaying slightly with each step. He tried to remain honorable and not stare at your ass as you went up the stairs, believing you were telling the truth when you claimed that no ‘business’ would happen.

Boy had he been wrong.

Once you had him safely in the confines of your room, your lips were on him like flies to honey. He desperately kissed you, his hands coming up to hold your cheeks like you’d float away if he didn’t anchor your body to his. Or, maybe he felt like he’d float away if he didn’t hold onto you. 

“No, no no no no! This can’t be happening.” Maximus broke away from your lips suddenly, trying to push you from his lap at the feeling of his growing erection. 

“Hey hey, calm down.” You frowned and grabbed onto his hands, distracting him by putting them firmly on your thighs and looking up into his frantic eyes, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“I think my cock is about to explode.” Maximus panicked and frowned when you just laughed in his face, not taking his worries about the brainwashed BoS sex ed seriously. Your hands floated up to rest on the side of his neck, your thumb ghosting over the scar running along his chin.

“Oh, bless your heart. Maxie, that’s what‘s supposed to happen. Do you trust me to make that feel good for you?” The way you cooed to him in a condescending way in that sweet southern accent made him whimper. His head nodded on instinct, going into this with blind trust for you since hey, you were a professional. With him finally voicing the consent on the matter, you flashed him a big smile and resumed making out with him. Your hands drifted down between your two bodies, palming him gently through the front of his pants and eliciting sweet whimpers from the virgin. 

His hands were clumsy as they explored your body, but you didn’t really mind. He finally discovered the places his hands felt like home, one landing on the soft, plump flesh of your hip as the other found its place on your lower back. He pulled your body closer, seeming to gain more courage as the night progressed. Something about a safe bed and a good-looking woman in his lap just did it for him, y’know? 

Max shifted you both down so he could lay his upper body back against your pillows, just trying to get comfortable and not think about the way his cock felt–you made it very hard (pun intended) to think about anything else. You broke your lips away from his and let out a melodic giggle as he chased your lips. You needed him out of that white t-shirt that oh-so-deliciously clung to his biceps, so naturally your hands reached to pull it over his head. 

You really were the best at what you did, and you knew it, Maximus could tell. You expertly removed his belt and pants without him even noticing, only detaching your lips from his because you had started to leave a trail moving down, down, down…

Fuck, he’s beautiful, you thought to yourself. Taking time to press open-mouthed kisses along any scars that may have been on his abdomen, you glanced up to see his eyes locked on you. Half-lidded brown eyes stared down at you, his breath catching in his throat as you finally reached your destination. You carefully opened his pants and tapped his hip gently, asking him to lift up to make this a little easier for you. As he obeyed, you pulled his pants down in one swift motion, smirking when you saw his cock. Perfectly shaped, thick and girthy, just how you liked it, and rock-hard as it sprung up out of the confines of his briefs. 

“Still trust me?” You whispered to him before you put your hands on him again, basically salivating over the thought. Maximus didn’t even need to hear the rest of your question, nodding frantically after you uttered the first syllable. Taking his cock in your hand, you easily began working him, keeping your eyes on him. You loved the look on a virgin’s face when you touched them for the first time, and Max was no different. His eyes had closed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Absolutely fucking beautiful, in your professional opinion.

His hands found their way to your hair as you licked a drop of precum from the tip of his cock, humming softly in delight at the salty substance before immediately getting to work. You wrapped your lips around him and gathered enough saliva to really make it enjoyable for him, not even having time to really get sloppy with it when the pretty boy had busted in your mouth with a profuse apology. Greedy, you pulled your mouth off of him and swallowed down the load. You thought it was cute how apologetic he was at how quick it had happened, so you wiped your mouth and leaned up to kiss him again. “Don’t apologize, I’m not done.” 

Max didn’t know what else to expect, already astonished that it had gone on this long and his cock was still attached to his body. With his cock standing staunch and almost painfully erect again, Maximus let out a pitiful whine when you lifted your dress over your head. You guided his hands to your hips again, starting to work a rhythm against him with your hips. 

“You okay if I ride you, honey?” You asked him, peppering kisses across his jaw and down his neck. Maximus nodded quickly and dug his fingertips into your pudgy hips, moving you in his lap the way that he wanted. He thinks he’s starting to get the hang of this sex thing, until you lift yourself up and he feels the warmest, softest grip he’s ever felt before. He thought your mouth was the best thing he had ever felt, until he felt the way your pussy gripped his cock alll the way down until he was buried inside you. 

“Shit, Maxie, you might be the biggest I’ve ever taken.” You mewled, leaning over his body in a way that perfectly positioned your breasts above his face. You put your weight on your hands on either side of his head, propping yourself up to start moving your hips. Grinding into him for a moment to really feel how deep he was before lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down to test the waters with your new toy. 

Meanwhile Maximus couldn’t focus, at this moment he had completely abandoned his faith in the Brotherhood, creating a new religion in your body. Maybe he was just delusional over getting laid but he would worship the ground you walked on after this. His mouth found one of your nipples and latched onto it almost instinctively (don’t mommy kink shame me), rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud before pulling back to give the other some well deserved attention. 

You finally fell into a good rhythm, leaning back on him and grabbing onto his legs behind you for support as Maximus figured out that if he thrust his hips up just right, you’d let out a new sound. At some point you realized he had taken over, his hands digging roughly into your hips and thighs as he fucked up into you. 

Maximus grinned when he realized that not only did this feel great, it looked like you were actually enjoying it too. He was a quick learner, figuring out which ways to move his hips that would elicit the sweeeetest noises from your throat. He decided to get cocky with it and put those squire muscles to good use, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you in place against his body as he pistons his hips quicker. Admittedly becoming more sloppy, but he soon realized that it was because you had come completely undone in his arms. 

Your eyes had rolled back as soon as he help you in place, nothing but the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your moans that were getting higher and higher in pitch. “Max- fuck- Maximus—“ you tried to warn him that you were going to cum, burying your face in his shoulder and white-knuckling the blanket as you exploded instead, a gush of what Maximus thought was piss (he would later learn that no, you didn’t just urinate on him) coating the two of their abdomens. Never deterred him though, because soon after Max had let the explosion feeling take himself over, pumping his heavy load into you. You swore you could feel it literally hit your cervix and hoped you weren’t ovulating.

Maximus kept his arms tightly around you as you laid on top of him for a moment, moving only slightly in a way that would allow his cock to slip from your velvety walls. Leaving you with the ejaculate mix dripping down your thighs. His fingers traced up your spine gently before his dropped his arm to the side, letting you get up if you so pleased. 

You did, but only after hovering your face over his to brush your lips against his in an almost-tender kiss. Your legs were shakier than you’d like to admit as you crawled off of him, cleaning yourself up a bit before wrapping yourself in your nice robe. Maximus sat up a bit on his elbows to watch you float around the room, smiling up at you when you came back to him with a wet rag to clean him off. 

“Get some sleep, Maxie.” You pressed your lips to the skin just above his bellybutton, then one against his sternum, finally one more pressed to his lips that lingered as long as he allowed it to. To you, aftercare was important to both parties, and since you were the more experienced, you’d have to teach him a thing or two about that. “You’re safe here with me, I promise.” 

Maximus watched you slowly make your way up his body, wrapping his arm back around you to pull you closer to deepen your kisses. Both of you had just exploded and yet he could still probably go again, but the exhaustion of his journey had finally hit him, and he knew he had a lot of ground to cover in the morning. He nestled his head against your bosom and closed his eyes, not used to any sort of cuddling but definitely just wanting to feel your softness as long as he could before everything got hard again. 

You had a fond smile on your face as you looked down at the man in your bed, it wasn’t often that you took a serious liking to any of the men that strolled through the saloon doors, but something about the “I can fix him”-ness of the false knight under your covers was intriguing. You wrapped your arm around him and gently traced your finger over some raised skin between his shoulders, too tired to make out what the shape was. 

You had woken up before him the next morning and had already gotten dressed and ready before deciding to wake him, a plate of biscuits and a cup of badly-made coffee on her side table. Maybe, you hoped, if you made his time really worth it he’d come back to see you again. Maybe as a customer, but you wouldn’t charge him any caps for your services. He’d be your exception, something about a friends discount. 

Maximus opened his eyes slowly when he felt a small hand massaging his back, turning his head to look towards your figure sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“Mornin’, honey. You gotta get goin’, I got business to attend to.” You watched as he rolled onto his back and looked up at you fully. Max cracked a smile as he reached over to grab your face, pulling you down but leaning up to meet you halfway and capture your lips in a kiss. 

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise.” He whispered against your lips, thinking back to your conversation the night before about working there until you found a companion to guide you across the vast wasteland. He’d find the knight’s armor and return to prove himself worthy of being a knight by rescuing the fair maiden. 

“I’ll hold you to that, Maxie.” You pulled away from him and gestured to the clothes on the edge of the bed, “Get dressed, there’s a fire escape out my window. My boss will be so mad if she sees you leavin’ this late in the morning.” Maximus redressed himself pretty quick and peeled his head out the window to see the makeshift ladder hanging down the side of the building. He turned back to try and steal one more kiss, but you had already fled the room. 

a/n: ok so I wrote this at work & when I got off work I was exhausted but I neeeeeded to finish it so this went way off the rails, wasn’t expecting myself to do all that, but hope you enjoyed!

taglist: @judgementdays-girl (you requested a max fic after i had already started so here's this :))

gif by @mancandykings

dividers by @cafekitsune

[manticore-fangs]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,232...oops

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff

A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate. 

What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest. 

No one can help you. 

You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place. 

The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked. 

The thought sends a chill running down your spine. 

You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover. 

Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens. 

How long has it been up there? 

You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you. 

Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat. 

You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room. 

You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious. 

You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk. 

A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed. 

You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing. 

Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden. 

You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn. 

Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.  

You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you? 

You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick. 

You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here? 

The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic. 

You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again. 

“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?” 

You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything. 

You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen. 

Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too. 

“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. 

There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.

“Is everything alright?” She finally asks. 

“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.” 

It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously. 

“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says. 

“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.” 

“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?” 

“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. 

You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine. 

You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction. 

You just want to feel at home again. 

You want to be safe again. 

***

The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.

You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat. 

You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening. 

Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it. 

You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping. 

You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room. 

You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in. 

You need tomorrow to come, and fast. 

***

Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort. 

All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position. 

You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed. 

That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along. 

The thought sends a chill running down your spine. 

You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission. 

You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do. 

You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so. 

You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer. 

She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?” 

No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety. 

But what if she gets mad? 

Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on. 

You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything. 

“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.” 

You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days. 

“Are you ready for breakfast?” She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you. 

You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you. 

“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?” 

“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.” 

Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?” 

“I-I’m sure.” You reply. 

There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.” 

You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong. 

You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions. 

You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it. 

You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still. 

They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid. 

Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare. 

One of many. 

You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again. 

At least, until they have to leave again. 

You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return. 

***

Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again. 

You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright. 

You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again. 

John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain. 

His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again. 

“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head. 

You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm. 

He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here. 

“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.” 

You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first. 

“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again. 

“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain? 

“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.” 

Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him. 

And so you do. 

Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body. 

They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe. 

Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact. 

***

“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller. 

“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.” 

“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.” 

“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.” 

“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks. 

“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.” 

“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces. 

“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand. 

“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center. 

John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far. 

“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently. 

You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back. 

He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment. 

Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task. 

So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you. 

Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea. 

Or maybe that was their plan all along. 

He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out. 

Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave. 

He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them. 

Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you. 

***

You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you. 

You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking. 

John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth. 

You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you. 

“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says. 

Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up. 

“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. 

Even though they're back, you still don't have them. 

You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”

John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea? 

Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start. 

You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up? 

You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door. 

Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it? 

You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late. 

You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement. 

You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene. 

Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly. 

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure. 

“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking. 

“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.  

He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either. 

“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.” 

Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”

He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before. 

You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general. 

Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room. 

“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be. 

And here you are making things worse. 

“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone. 

“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.” 

You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand. 

Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you. 

They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened. 

You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds. 

This is your life now. This is your new normal. 

“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet. 

You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again. 

Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours. 

It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.

***

You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket. 

“Can you breathe under there?” 

You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke. 

“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?” 

“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything. 

“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.” 

He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal. 

“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek. 

You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened. 

The dark thought sends a chill down your spine. 

“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit. 

John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it. 

He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous. 

You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest. 

His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down. 

“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”

You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control. 

“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”

You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation. 

At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it? 

You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside. 

He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting. 

You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.

Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger. 

The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.

The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha. 

***

“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk. 

“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them. 

Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore. 

John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him. 

“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”

“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch. 

“No promises.” 

Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else. 

He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too. 

He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them. 

He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again. 

John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided. 

Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling. 

“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”

“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him. 

“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”

“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”

The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle. 

Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress. 

Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses. 

“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long. 

“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence. 

An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger. 

He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.” 

He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor. 

“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.

“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door. 

“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office. 

He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time. 

“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”

“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters. 

“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.” 

John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds. 

If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives. 

John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room. 

Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind. 

You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again? 

Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded. 

Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help. 

Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle. 

How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them? 

Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet. 

He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure. 

John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold. 

Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again. 

Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress. 

“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie. 

Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you. 

It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most. 

Taglist:

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@daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

[manticore-fangs]

Fixed it.

Original, under the cut.

[manticore-fangs]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[manticore-fangs]

🇰🇼🇮🇱“Get out now! Child killers”

Kuwait goes hard on Israel !!!

Free Palestine

[manticore-fangs]

HAHGSGSGYSGSYGSYGAYGAGS *SCREAMS INTO MY PILLOW*

wait wait because imagine being a normal OF creator or a cam girl, just a small name nobody who does it for the sole purpose of getting through college. you keep your face out of everything, nothing in the background of any video of yours is personal, like once you get your degree this entire account is getting deleted and it'll be a thing of the past. (not that you're ashamed or anything. we respect sex workers of all kinds here)

and you plan on doing a different kind of video: one of you fucking yourself with a new, much bigger toy. usually you keep to the rabbits and bullets but following your friends advice, you fucking yourself on a dildo wouldn't be terrible.

plus you need it, sweetheart. when was the last time you even had a date?

bitch. (affectionately)

and as soon as you walk into your usual sex store, you double take. there is no, NO, way that is pornstar!ghost's dick you've just spotted as a dildo.

he's been your favorite pornstar long before you even started this side hustle. who in their right mind can resist that beast of a man with the mask and the tattoos and the heaving thing that's between his legs--

you take it home immediately.

it's almost sad how stupid you fuck yourself on it, cunt split open and dripping onto the floorboard for the internet to see but in that moment, you don't give a fuck.

you don't remember how many times you come that night nor how many viewers you had watching your puffy lips swallow "ghost's" cock whole, but come morning, you notice your bank account and it is padded.

PADDED.

one particular tipper was incredibly generous and they even left a message.

i'd love to see you do that on the real thing.

yeah, me too.

(whoever that is becomes a loyal follower who tips regularly.)

*screaming at the thought of simon getting himself off at your video. hasn't come that hard in months and that says a lot since he's yknow, a pornstar.*

[manticore-fangs]

Highlander!Soap being obsessive about making you pregnant and gets frustrated that it didn't work and gets more aggressive at when having sex again.

Heir To The Throne (Captain MacTavish x F!Reader)

CW: Heavy on Breeding Kink. Exhibitionism (v minor). Rough Sex. Period Sex. Degradation. Spanking. Dacryphilia. Lactation Kink. Angst. Difficulties Conceiving. Summary: It's important for the Scottish throne to have an heir, and John is determined to make sure you carry his. Word Count: 4.7k a/n: this is v late so you got a breeding extravangaza.

Weddings were a loving affair, the bond between man and wife expressed before god, loved ones, and in the King’s case: the country. But far more than that, John expected you and him to have an heir within the year. To consummate your marriage and bear his children after a night of pure unadulterated passion, bodies covered in a sheen of glistening sweat that glitters in the silver moonlight. A soft symphony of moans and declarations of love that compete with the stars in their enumerability. An act of love, of devotion, to be witnessed by God and affirmed by a son.

Though, God would not be the only witness you soon found out.

Splayed out on the wool sheets your body felt tense, like your muscles were pulled taut and refusing the intimacy of your husband, his blue eyes staring at you expectantly… while two other sets of eyes also watch on. The King of England, Price, and the Prince of the Northlands, Garrick. Critical, discerning, and vicious in their intentions, watching as fellow royalty beds his newlywed to procreate a legitimate heir, witnesses to the consummation.

John’s hands run down your body and worship every curve, dip, and bump that makes you, you, and his lips trail across your soft skin, leaving warm and wet kisses across your throat, a pathway of tingling arousal sparking at each kiss that seeps into your nerves and travels down to your core. Despite this you’re still wound up, your body unable to let itself be pliable for your husband under the scrutinising stares of other men.

“Just focus on me, bonnie.” He murmurs into your ear, “Nothin’ else but me.” And then he takes your earlobe between your teeth and gently tugs before licking and nipping up the cuff of your ear, his hot breath tickling you in a pleasurable way while his hands work on unlacing your azure mist coloured wedding gown.

“No- John, I can’t-“ You mumble as your hands come to cover your breasts as they spill out from the undone fabric, your legs closing up as your nerves burn with the desire for your husband but freeze at the idea of an audience seeing this desire. His hands slide up from your hips and across your arms, slowly uncovering your chest while he uses his thick thighs to press between your legs and push them apart.

“Gorgeous, bonnie. Yer gorgeous.” He reassures in a voice dripping with sweet honeyed sincerity, pressing flitting kisses across your collarbones and down, “They just need to see you be so good fer me… bear me an heir. You can do that, bonnie, can’t ye?” a rough, calloused sensation rolls your pert nipple, pulling it between his pointer and thumb which pulls a moan from your chest at the same time, “There we go, wee queen. Just see this as showing off that yer mine, and mine only, that ye can give Scotland exactly what it needs.” He rasps before his mouth latches around your other nipple, the scruff of his beard pleasantly scratching against the flesh of your breast and making you squirm.

His reassurances helped to melt the reluctance in your brain and ease you into accepting what would happen, even a sense of smug superiority and pride surging through you at the idea that these witnesses would watch on as your husband loaded your cunt up with his seed, that you would be an appropriate bearer to his heir and do the entirety of Scotland proud with your illicit act.

As you’re distracted with the pleasure of the onlookers and your husband’s ministrations on your sensitive tits, John uses his free arm to tug your lacey wedding gown down, with each rough pull more of your flesh is exposed to the cold air and you squirm while John chuckles. You laugh as the dress bunches at your hips and for a moment you hear the other men in the room chortle as John grunts in frustration.

“Think it’s funny, huh?” He grumbles with a disdainful face, grabbing at the fabric with his strong arms and then pulling downward. Lace and silk shred apart with a violent rip!

“John!” You gasp as you’re left bare to the world, a look of utter shock crossing your face as you see the glimmering beauty of your wedding dress in shreds in his hands before he tosses them aside.

Lifting your leg he presses tender kisses across your thigh, “Get ye a new one, bonnie… now hush, lay back, an’ think of me.” He murmurs as his mouth clamps around the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh, rolling it between his teeth and sucking the flesh to leave a possessive mark in his wake, the first of many to adorn the delicate skin across your thighs while your leaking cunt wept in desperation for attention, the sweet musk filling John’s nose and encouraging him to continue nipping and biting his way up your thighs until his nose was pressing against that crevice where the thigh meets your pelvis.

“Please-“ You blurt out in a voice you don’t recognise on yourself, making all the men in the room chuckle in adoration of the Scottish Queen being so good and pliant.

He presses a soft kiss to your glistening sex and smiles with pride, his steely blue gaze looking at you in smug adoration from between your thighs, “Atta lass… I’ll give ye what ye need.” And then he slotted his lips over your cunt, his tongue flat and lapping up the expanse of your folds while your back arches off the bed from the sudden sensation of sinful pleasure.

“God, she’s a pretty doll…” Prince Garrick whispers.

“Lad picked a good’un.” The English King’s gruff voice agrees, both men taking deep, haggard, breaths to keep their cools.

The praises swim around in your head along with the electrifying bliss that your husband is flushing through your system as his lips glide along your swollen and aching cunny, his tongue circling around your engorged clit and giving it a gentle suck as you whine and squirm. You feel the heat rolling around in the bottom of your stomach and sloshing up through the back of your neck until it melts all rational thought in your brain. Eyes shut and cheeks warm as your jaw goes slack and lets out pathetic animalistic whines of sheer desire.

“She looks ready.” Price grunts, making John roll his eyes as he buries his nose into your mons, speeding up the pace in which he laps up your juices and brings you pleasure, watching as your hips buck and gyrate against his face, covering his mouth and chin in the sweet spend of his wife. You weren’t ready until John ripped an orgasm from you using his mouth, one that left your thighs quaking and your very essence dripping with a need for more.

Gripping into your thighs, he pulls them further apart to spread your lips and give him more surface to cover and pleasure, teasing and pulling your orgasm out of that boiling lust in the bottom of your stomach, watching your fucked out face and body tremble as it builds into a peak of pure bliss. Your thighs clamp around his skull as your toes curl, your hands fisting into the bedsheets as your body convulses, your satisfied cunt fluttering and varnishing John’s face with a sheen of your release while your stomach spins in dizzying release.

Now you’re ready.

Pulling away with a slick pop! John looks at you with smug eyes as he backs away and kneels between your legs, gazing at that pretty pussy that’s begging to take his seed and have his children. He lifts his kilt and gives his girthy cock a few hard strokes before rubbing the length between your gummy folds, collecting the slick and using it as a lubricant as he humps against you.

“Fuck… she’s so warm.” He informs the other men, leaving you keening in pride that he’s so appreciative and approving of your pussy already.

The tip of his cock catches on your entrance and gives a few shallow thrusts, allowing you to feel the initial ache of the stretch before it slips away into a pleasure you have no comparison for. Like you were made to be filled and now that you’re so close to being whole you’d have it no other way. You let out a soft, desperate whine which draws a chuckle out of the depths of John’s chest and encourages him to push his thick cock in and stretch out his precious wife’s pussy. He’s slow and careful, one hand on your hip to take control and another rubbing your thigh to calm you as you squirm, being speared on a cock that feels so impossibly big.

“John- John- oh fuck!” You squeal out as you feel him begin to bottom out into you, the tip of his length ringing on your cervix while his balls rest on the soft underside of your ass. He lets out a guttural moan and shivers in satisfaction as he presses his pelvis flush to yours and watches your face contort in a mix of pure lust and a sprinkle of discomfort.

He moves a hand from your hip to the small pouch of your stomach and coos, “Feel me in here, gorgeous? My cock just wants to rearrange your guts and make room for our bairn, you’ll make such a beautiful mam.” He chuckles, giving his hip a roll into you and watching as your eyes roll back at the same time.

Pulling his cock out, he watches as your gummy walls stick to his hot shaft, suckling on his tip and trying to take it all back in, so he does as she wants, and snaps his hips in to bury himself to the hilt inside your greedy hole, watching as your head lolls to the side and you let out a shriek of relief and joy, “Greedy wee cunny jus’ needs filled, lass” He moans out, “I’ll give it a good fillin’, so fuckin’ good you’ll be swollen for nine months.”

A desperately happy sob leaves your lips at his promise and he caresses your cheek as he begins to fuck into your ragdoll body, a leg lifted up over his shoulder while the fabric of his kilt pads your skin against the harsh slaps of his skin, an animalistic and claiming pace set. He admires the way your entire body sways with his thrusts, your tits bouncing back and forth in a hypnotic pattern, and he can’t help but envision them swollen and leaking white milk, full and heavy as they prepare to feed his heir.

So fucked out and cockdrunk you’re only capable of making drawn-out whining moans that echo around the room, being taken like the animal you feel life by the man you adore. His huge cock splitting your wanting velvety walls apart while it pounds into that spot that makes you see stars, his heavy ballsack smacking against your ass with each powerful thrust. He watched your face as it twists into ecstasy and hopes this moment of sheer pleasure is enough to be a consolation for the pain you’ll experience nine months down the line.

Your moans start to pitch and become airy prayers of want, for the lord himself to rip the orgasm out of your bones and decorate your nerves with a comedown so sweet you don’t even register your husband’s words.

“Tha’s it lass, need your wee cunny to clench ‘round ma cock… need to pour my seed into ya and have your pussy clench down to keep it in.” He growls into your ear, adding droplets of teasing lust into that familiar pool in your groin that was pulling out and about to tsunami through your body. “Gonna pump my cum into this swollen wee cunny, expect you to have a wee heir ready for me. C’mon baby, get pregnant fer me…” He rasps out and that does it – the wave violently crashing down and tearing apart your nerves and spilling out through every pore.

Gummy walls clamp down around his thick shaft, massaging it and drawing his own orgasm forward as your eager little pussy milks his balls empty, a warm, heavy load now resting in your stomach baring the weight of the crown. He continues to rut into your pussy with a strained moan and whispers, “Donnae waste a drop, lass, all of that is the fuckin’ future of our country… every last drop is gonnae be yer bairn.” He raises your legs up over his shoulders, using gravity to ensure the white seed doesn’t attempt to escape the nest in your cervix while his thick cock plugs you closed.

So fucked out and concentrated on your duty to your Queenly duties that you forgot two other lords witnessed the way your husband used you like a common whore.

The next month the nursemaids were watching you like a hawk, inspecting the bedsheets every morning as you took your walk. Though, it’s still dark outside when you’re awoken with a sharp and numbing pain to your sides, a familiar ache you know since adolescence, and you bite the inside of your cheeks as you feel hot tears prickle at your eyes, hoping that you’re not correct on your assumptions. You reach your hand down and feel it through the silk slip, wet and sticky, the vague smell of copper wafting up from under the covers – and it wracks a sob from you.

A heavy arm wraps around your midsection as a firm, hairy chest is pressed to your back, languid, searing kisses peppering the nape of your neck, “What’s wrong, lass? Had a nightmare?” he murmurs, voice like rolling thunder.

You let out a trembling breath, “No.”

A hum back in acknowledgement before he squeezes you closer, “Alright. What’s wrong.”

Biting your lip, you look over your shoulder with glassy eyes to see him staring at you expectantly, a speckle of concern underlying his stern gaze, “…I… I bled.” You manage out.

John tuts behind you and shakes his head, “Well that just won’t do, will it?”

The covers are long abandoned from the bed as you’re laid out on your side, the neckline of the slip pulled down to let your tits bounce free while he has your thigh clutched in his firm grip, your knee pinned up against your side as John’s fat cock slides into your red-stained cunt. The natural lubrication from your menses providing him all he needs to pound up into you while his other hand pulls on your hair, pulling your head back so he can rasp into your ear.

“You try’n to embarrass me, bonnie? Try’n tae show people am naw virile?” He hisses between moans.

Crying out, you grip onto the pillow below your head and try to shake it in denial, “No no- Johnny- John!” You whimper, your aching body sensitive as he abuses your cunt repeatedly, “Want your baby- want it so badly!”

“Yeah? You could fuckin’ act lik’ it.” He shifts his angle and starts to brutally pound into that wonderful little spot inside you, “Could let ma seed take, lass.” He groans and shivers in delight as your cunt flutters around his cock.

With how hard he’s driving his cock into you, you can feel it in the back of your throat while the back of your eyelids begin to see fireworks and your jaw goes slack, “Please- please John, give me your cum, need to be full!” you beg, somewhere between a genuine deep-seated need to carry his child and not wanting to face this disappointment and disdain from him again, regardless of how it takes you close to heaven.

“Full?” He mumbles into your ear before kissing down your neck to suck a possessive and punishing hickey into the crook of the neck, “I filled you every damn night the last month, and ye wasted it.” He growls, “We start fresh tonight, this fuckin’ takes, and the next night after, and the one after that – you will bear me a fuckin’ heir.”

Your moans tumble forth from your gut and raise through your throat as you feel that familiar sensation of release climb through your body, “John- Johnny, I’m gonna… I’m gonna-“ You whine out as he relentlessly uses you as nothing but a prize cow in this moment.

“Go on, take your silly release.” He scoffs as he snaps his hips against your arse in a way that’s sure to leave bruises, “But you better take with my seed, lass, ye donnae get one without the other fer long, ye hear me?” he whispers huskily, voice trembling as he comes closer to chasing his own orgasm.

Battering his cock into you, he releases first, hot, white spurts that you’ve grown accustomed to the feeling of, a stickiness that hasn’t left the inside of your abdomen since your wedding night. It’s almost a conditioned response. The sensation of the warmth flooding you pulling your orgasm from you with a delighted moan of his name that fills the very room. Then he pulls his length out, covered in a red sheen of your pleasure that froths at the base, and he watches as his seed trickles out of your swollen, red cunt and turns to a ruddy pink colour.

You stare at him through your hazy orgasm, eyes still glassy from fear of disappointment and John sighs. His warm hand pushes your hair back and he places a reassuring kiss on your forehead “’s alright, bonnie… these things happen. We’ll have a baby one way or another, okay?” he smiles, and your heart flutters at the reassurance.

Another month passes, and at first you are placated as the end of the month nears, satisfied you have finally taken with child. The day is warm and the sun is high, John is out hunting and you are keeping your hands busy with sewing a quilt for the future crown prince or princess. A spool of thread tumbles from the table beside you and runs away on the floor, so you quickly lurch forward to capture it before it can escape altogether – but the sudden movement makes your blood run cold.

Sticky. Wet. Copper.

You scramble to your knees and place the spool aside before reaching a hand under your skirt, running your finger along your sex and retracting it to see your period blood shimmering on your digits. You swallow and simply wipe off the blood on your skirt, already stained through the back no doubt, and stand up. It was better he hear it from you than a maid or soldier first.

That’s how you find yourself traversing the forest of the highlands, weaving through towering pine trees and attempting to track the bootprints you could only presume were your husband’s.

“Johnny!” You call out, the only reply being a birdsong, and so you push forth until you come across a familiar little brook.

“JOHNNY!” You holler, the scream scratching your throat and cracking your voice.

“Mo Chridhe?!” A familiar voice calls back and then you’re both running towards one another, using your voices as compasses until you stand before him and he looks at you, at first with worry, then relief, then anger – he thought you were dying the way you screamed his name like bloody murder.

“Lass.” He strains, keeping his calm demeanour through deep breaths, “Ye cannae be screamin’ me name lik’ that out here – I thought that Draugr King had fuckin’ taken ya.” He sees the regret in your eyes, the worry etched across your face, and his stoney front quickly weathers away into a worried gaze, “Lass? What’s the matter?”

“Johnny I…” You turned ever so slightly, the blood staining the back of your skirt finishing your sentence for you.

“Again?” He glowered, marching over towards you, “Perhaps I need to fuck it into you deeper, hm bonnie?”

Your face is pressed into the cool, soft earth of the forest floor with John’s rough hand on the back of your head, pressing your head into the muck while your arse is high in the air and presented for him to claim and ravage. The bodice of your dress long shredded which left your sensitive nipples on display to the sharp highland chill, dragging across the woodchip and rough textured mulch of the forest with every time your breasts bounced in tandem with the violent pace your husband has set.

His other hand was firmly pressed against your abdomen while he battered his hips against your plush arse, watching the way it jiggles and the colour darkens into bruises. His broad chest was pressed tight to your back as he cages you in like a piece of wild prey not even worthy of being considered human, now just breeding stock for his children.

“Had me worried sick ye were dyin’” he digs his fingers into your abdomen punishingly, “So much worse though, ain’t it, lass? Yer not giving me an heir for a second. Fuckin’. Month.” He accentuates each word with a rough thrust, leaving you crying out in shame and pleasure as he takes you like you’re only meant for this one thing in life now.

“Do I not take care of ye lass?” He moans as he slams his hips into you, chasing his own pleasure instead of focusing on bringing you yours, “Do I not keep your bed warm and tummy full every, goddamned evening?”  Your hands claw at the brown earth as the grip in your hair tugs, sending a pleasant sting through your scalp and down your spine where it translates to your aching cunt.

“Answer me, lass!” the hand on your abdomen lands a welt on your ass cheek. It burns. It stings and it burns, and then it tingles and feels so agonisingly good.

“Done nothing wrong, John!” You cry out, your face contorted in a mixture of so many emotions, shame, disappointment, pleasure, and excitement. It’s warm and wet and covered in dirt and you look as debauched as you feel.

He lands a welt on the other cheek, “What is it, then? You saying my seed isn’t enough? That your womb is not fit?” He tuts, “Perfect little breeder, that can’t be fuckin’ right – so why won’ ye get knocked up? Huh?” Two more slaps.

Squirming and writhing, you attempt to crawl away only for him to grab you and pull you back onto his cock with a dissatisfied growl, “I am going to fill you when the sun rises, I will top you up when the sun is highest, and I will treat you in the evening and plug you up until you take, you will take.” He hisses.

Nodding blindly as he grabs your hips and fucks you onto his cock like nothing more than a receptacle for his cum at this point, “I will take! I swear it!” You whine.

Then it’s over. That same warmth flooding your guts that has been emptied into you for the last two months, his pelvis pressed tight against the flesh of your ass as his heavy balls twitch and empty into you. Then he pulls out and wipes his wet dick dry on your stained skirt.

“Go home and lay down. If you are not pregnant by this evening, I will ensure that you are.”

Month three of the marriage with no heir was starting to look bad – and you’re now only too thankful for Price and Garrick bearing witness to your marital union. Your monthly cycle hadn’t come just yet, but you dreaded it, you dreaded the idea of seeing that red sign that you were barren once more. What would the people of Scotland think? A queen unable to reproduce an heir to their throne?

You take matters into your own hands, storming to the throne room towards the end of the day – the guards were changing shift, and the castle was receiving no more visitors. John simply sat on his throne, reviewing things in his ledger during this momentary silence and peace that was about to be disturbed. You stalk up the tiled steps and stand between his strong, hairy legs, clearing your throat sharply for him to hold a finger up in response: wait.

Then he regards you, “Yes, mo leannan?” He raises an eyebrow as his steel blue eyes pierce into you, attempting to read your intentions before you can state them.

“I need to try for a baby.”

He scratches his beard, “I already filled ye up this mornin’, we’ve been tryin’ for months, bonnie-“

“Now.”

There’s a pause as he considers this request.

“Now-now, or let’s go somewhere else now?”

“Now-Now.”

You were sat on the throne, legs parted wide with the backs of the knees hooked over the arms of the elaborate seat, your glistening sex on display for your husband to take claim to once again that day, dripping with anxious need to be pregnant with your child already.

Embracing you close, your head tucked against his chest as he ruts his fat cock into you, he whispers, “Didnae wannae upset me this month, did ye, gorgeous?” the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix and threatening to spill into it once again, and you whine happily with a soft smile, melting into his understanding and syrupy sweet words.

“Could never stay mad at ye, bonnie.” He kisses the top of your head and adjusts his angle, dragging his thick, veiny cock over every crevice of pleasure that exists inside your swollen gummy walls, watching as you mewl and cry around him before he bottoms back into your cunt, his cock gobbled up by the eager hole as he presses balls deep inside you, “Not when you’re tryin’ so hard, taking my cum all day, surprised it ain’t leakin’ out yer goddamn mouth yer so stuffed up.”

The praises and acknowledgements that this was no one’s fault leaves you feeling like a puddle of pure ecstasy as he pulls you closer to seeing the stars again, your breath catching in your lungs with each thrust back in.

“This time, darling.” He moans loudly, his hands on your knees as he begins to pick up the pace, pounding into you with the know-how to make you go weak, “This time I will put my bairn in ye, right here, on the throne of Scotland. Conceived right where they belong.” He kisses you deeply, slow and romantic, all heat and no bite – your heart flutters at the gesture, causing your cunny to flutter and you can see the cosmos as your eyes flutter closed.

It only takes a few more thrusts for him to bottom out into you and fill you up with a smaller load than normal, moaning against your lips as he does so, taking you to heaven once again as your eyes roll back behind your eyelids and you let out a whimpering, needy whine into this kiss. You pull away, a small string of saliva connecting your lips as he smirks at you, “Cannae wait to see ye swell with my progeny, bonnie, ye’ll look so fuckin’ radiant.”

By God, you did look radiant, too. The swell of your tummy more obvious as the months go on passing that afternoon, and John couldn’t be prouder of his little Queen, your smile was that of the sun and you carried the second only thing in this world that mattered to him. Your eyes twinkle as you look at him, crinkled in joy, and he smiles back.

When you pop this one out he has to get you another.

[manticore-fangs]

half finished thought

something about ghost stumbling upon wood nymph!reader idk

[manticore-fangs]

Look. I’m gonna be that cool friend of yours that sits on the seat backwards to talk to ya. Because we need to make some things clear.

Don’t be a jackass to people. Block or back out.

This is an 18+ space for legal reasons.

This is a queer positive space.

This is a sex positive space.

This is a kink positive space.

This is a body-autonomous space.

TERF and SWERF rhetoric is not welcome here. RadFem rhetoric is exclusionary and hurtful.

Trans women are women; trans men are men; gender exists on a spectrum and we believe people when they tell us what they are.

Sex work is real work. Period. End of discussion. The exploitation of workers is not limited to sex work.

Thinking you’re morally superior to someone else is cruel and perpetuates stereotypes that actively cause harm.

Censoring your words is a violation of consent - people have tagged certain words to prevent them from seeing it. Censoring it violates their choice. (And also? Be an adult. Use the words as they’re intended to be used.)

People deserve to be cared for and have their basic needs met, regardless of status, identity or health concerns. (This includes mental health too.)

If you don’t like any of this, block or back out. Be an adult about it. This is not an airport, you don’t need to announce your departure.

Bigotry will not be tolerated.

We good? Good.

[manticore-fangs]

trans! nikolai x reader, because it's good for the fanfiction ecosystem.

note: pussy, cock, and clit are used to describe genitalia of a trans man’s body

cw: the horrors of an irl friend finding your twitter, pussy eating, thigh riding, bodily fluids

>>found your twitter. coming over.

fuck, shit, fuck again, goddammit, motherfucker. you'd been so careful, how the fuck did he trace it back to you? there's no way he actually did, right? nobody's that good, ri- well. fuck. we are talking about nikolai, here. if anyone could.... oh no. oh god, you're so fucked.

in fifteen minutes there's a sharp rap at the door, and the second you open the door he pushes right in, holding his phone up and reading what's on his screen.

"if i don't get some old man pussy right fucking now i am going to launch myself into the sun." he reads, dropping himself down on your couch like he owns the place. he pulls his eyes from the screen and turns his phone your direction, your tweet pulled up in dark mode. "this you?"

you can't help but gape open mouthed in horror and embarrassment as you stare at your account. goddamn, how the fuck did he figure it out? your username is literally just a string of numbers, the picture isn't even of you. you know nikolai is a smart man, but come the fuck on. you have no idea how the fuck he found you, and you can feel the weight of his completely neutral stare make your face feel like it's caught on fire.

"i can explain." you blurt out before you pause, your mind wiped blank by the embarrassment. the silence drags on an excruciatingly long time as you wait for him to butt in or interrupt you. he doesn't. "ok, no i can't. nik, how the fuck did you find that?"

"it doesn't matter." he says easily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "over three hundred posts about 'old man pussy' since the accounts creation. why are you posting like this?"

something about feeling like you're being scolded sets you off. "why do people post about sunsets, nik? because i fucking like them, ok? i was yelling into the internet about a thing i like, just like everyone else who uses social media! i thought my account was anonymous!! and why the fuck do you even care, anyways? fuck you for being weird about this."

the hard lines of his shoulders instantly relax, and for the briefest of moments a hungry looking smile flashes across nikolai's face before it settles back to neutral. it almost feels like lightning struck just a few feet away from you - you know what you saw, there and gone in an instant, and you're left feeling confused and a more than anxious. something's changed between the two of you, and you're not sure what it is yet. nik becons you over with the curl of a few fingers, and you feel a little bit like a pet being called over. you're pretty sure he's not mad, judging by that look in his eye, but it's still hard to tell what to make of this. the man's got a hell of a poker face. your feet carry you over to him automatically, hesitating right in front of him as he looks up at you as he leans back, elbow slung over the back of the couch. he holds his phone up, your tweet still up on his screen.

"i know how to keep secrets. do you?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow. you nod, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "would you like to keep one for me? i think you'll like it."

dots are connecting in your head quickly, and suddenly the glint in his eye is a lot more decipherable. oh holy shit. is he gonna- are you both going to- oh hell yes.

"please." you breathe, slowly getting to your knees as you keep eye contact with nikolai. that smile is back, seemingly permanently affixed as he chuckles and undoes his belt and fly, shoving his cargo pants and boxers to his ankles as he scoots forward, knees wide. you can't help the way your mouth waters a bit at the sight of him, thick dark hair trailing down from his belly to his pussy, and holy fucking god there's some grey hairs in there. crawling between his legs is automatic, your eyes darting between his face and the pussy that's radiating warmth at you.

"oh, you like that?" nikolai teases, waiting for your eager nod before he gently wraps his hand around the back of your head, reeling you in. the closer you get the easier it is to see how we he is, slickness trapped under dense hair shining in the shitty overhead lighting of your apartment. the need to touch, taste, devour is overwhelming, and you can't hold back anymore.

his cock is hard, peeking out from the brush, waiting to be kissed, and who are you to deny him? the tangy swee taste of him covers your tongue as you lick and suck at his clit, making out with it between his legs, and the hand on the back of your head tightens in your hair in appreciation.

"had i known you were such a good girl, i would have shared secrets with you ages ago." he chuckles breathlessly as he watches you, bucking his hips a little against your face. the scratch of the thick, dense hair against your face feels good, actually, and you can feel how wet your face is. you cant help but shake your head side to side a little like a dog playing tug of war, moaning against nikolai's sopping wet pussy as you lavish his cock with attention, sucking and licking and humming in a concentrated effort to get him to cum on your face. you squirm while on your knees, trying to create some friction between your legs. it doesn't escape nik's attention.

"you'll get yours, just give me mine first, yes? go on, take it." he growls as he humps your face with gusto. you can tell he's close, and all you can do is grab his thighs and dive in, absolutely losing yourself in his taste and the way the thick columns of muscle in the legs that bracket you are starting to twitch. a string of low curses in russian filters through grit teeth as the fingers in your hair tighten even more, making your scalp sing in pain while his thighs shake under your hands before he collapses back against the couch, pulling you off of him by your hair. you watch him watch you as you rest your head on his thick thigh. he might have just cum, but you can tell he's not done with you yet.

"next time you want something, come ask for it." he flicks his eyes downwards, obviously catching the way you're rubbing your thighs together again. "go on. ask."

you bite your lip, considering your options before you speak. "nik, can i- can i ride your thigh?"

a sly grin spreads across his face, and he pats his leg, urging you up. you dont waste time dropping your sweatpants, straddling his thigh in just a shirt, bra, and panties. calloused hands cup your tits through your shirt as you settle on top of him, and he grins as you self-consciously wipe his slick off of your chin with the back of your hand.

"tell me if you need me to get off of you, i know i'm heavy." you apologize, and he just shushes you.

"if my leg falls off, it falls off." he chuckles, shoving your shirt up over your bra. "bite."

you open your mouth obediently, letting him shove your shirt into your mouth so you can hold it up, keeping your tits and soft belly exposed as you ride him.

you don't even start slow, the pace of your humping is borderline frantic as you chase your orgasm. fuck, he looks so good, cool and in control with his bush out as you lose your damn mind on top of him. the tension builds as your thick thighs start to burn from the exertion, and you can tell you're soaking his damn leg. there's gonna be a snail trail on his thigh when you get up, you just know it.

"next time you think about tweeting that shit, you text me instead. i'll give you what you want." nik promises as he pops your tits out over your bra, swiping his thumb over his tongue before plucking as your nipple, pulling an unexpected moan from you.

"i promish, i promish, i promish," you chant through clenched teeth and a mouthful of cotton, your eyebrows drawing up as you get closer. it feels like you're about to rattle apart, and when nikolai leans in to plant a sucking kiss to your tits it's like a bomb explodes.

your back arches as a high, gasping whine bursts out of your body like a flashbang grenade, whiting out your vision and deafening you with a roar of static as your thighs clench down on his and you moan out something that vaguely sounds like "nikolai". when your soul finally re-enters your body after making orbit around the earth, you're pulled in against nik's chest, cheek pressed to his jacket as he runs a hand up and down your back in a soothing motion. your face is wet, your pussy and thighs are wet, and where your shirt has settled back down against your belly is wet. fuck, you know you look a complete mess right now, but you can't even bring yourself to care.

"hey, nik?" you ask tentatively, voice small and a little rough from shouting. nik just hums questioningly, urging you to speak. "tell me, really, how the fuck did you find my twitter?"

you can feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest long before it's exhaled through his mouth, his soft hairy belly jumping with barely suppressed amusement.

"i told you, i am very good at keeping secrets." he replies with a kiss to your hairline, and all you can do is roll your eyes fondly as you slowly drift to sleep held against his chest.

[manticore-fangs]

I am once again thinking of the domestic life with Price.

How he’d come home, take off his jacket and shoes, and first thing he does is find you.

Showers together are one of his favourites. If he’s taking a shower and not in a hurry (i.e. in the morning), you bet your ass he’s trying to coax you to shower with him. Especially if it is something you struggle with. Somehow, he makes it so much of an easier task. Holding you, scrubbing you, anything. Hell, he’d personally install a second shower head for it, just to make sure neither of you gets cold during the shower.

The things this man will cook for you. It’s always been one of his hobbies, and seeing you enjoy his cooking? It just brings him unbridled joy.

And now the reason I wanted to make this post: Goodnight kisses.

Whether you go to bed earlier than him, the same time as him or after him, he’s getting that kiss. Two even if you go earlier or later. If you go earlier, he’ll kiss you goodnight with a little smile and mutter of the words, watching you go before returning to what he was doing. And by the time he gets to bed and sees you already asleep, he’s crawling in and leaning over, pressing a soft kiss to your head or temple before laying down and pulling you in to cuddle.

If you go later? He’s pecking you when he goes to bed, yet once you finally make it to bed too? This man is a surprisingly light sleeper. He wakes, pulls you in and peppers sleepy kisses over you - wherever he can reach in that hazy, sleepy moment.

And if you go to bed at the same time? Just be prepared to be held in a death grip :)

I just need him so much.

[manticore-fangs]

🍓forced proximity with ex!husband johnny

not proofread

you and johnny had a mutual divorce. no hard feelings. it wasn’t working and honestly you both are better off as friends or acquaintances or whatever the hell you two are now.

he tried to give you all of his possessions so he knew you would be taken care but you wouldn’t accept. you had a successful business, you would be fine. he accepted after putting up an hour fight.

the only thing neither of you could agree on was who got the house. you wanted him to have it cause it was a nice cozy cottage and he deserves something nice when he comes home from deployments. he wanted you to you have it cause he “built it for you darling, built it for you to live your life in. whether i’m a part of that or not.”

so you both decided to share it, to use it as a vacation house. separately though, of course. but dates got mixed up and miscommunication happened and you both showed up on the same day, very confused.

“i thought you weren’t coming back ‘til next month john.” don’t get him started on how much he hates it when you call him that. “i thought you had the house next month darling.” oh how much you missed him calling you that.

it was late so you guys decided to figure it out tomorrow morning. but surprise, surprise a snowstorm happened overnight. even though you checked the weather and double checked it again, it was only supposed to be a flurry at most.

you’re both snowed in and you both couldn’t be anymore happy. not that you would let each other know. of course not, you both have to act like this is the biggest inconvenience of your lives.

now you have to wait for the snow to melt but that could be days maybe even a week if these freezing temperatures don’t let up.

so you both begrudgingly decide to tough it out even thought the more time you spend together the more you want to rip each other’s clothes off and ruin the surface closest to you.

you can tell johnny is holding himself back from making a room so maybe you put on a tighter shirt with some equally tight leggings that you could see your underwear line in. underwear that he definitely bought you.

so johnny decided to one up you and walks around shirtless. he’s always been a human furnace, it’s why you would always make him your blanket when you were cold.

johnny someone left a window cracked now it’s way too cold in here and the oversized parka you have isn’t doing anything. don’t worry johnny’s laying on the couch in nothing but some big sweats and looking very hot. in more ways than one.

so you cave and lay on top of him and it’s the warmest you’ve felt all week. he’s wrapping his arms around you to get you closer to him and putting that giant duvet he brought down from the bedroom over you both.

the warmth from him paired with listening to his soothing heart beat while he rubs your head lulls you into the best sleep you’ve had in months. the best sleep since you last shared a bed with him.

🍓idk how to end things lmao but if you liked this pls reblog and leave a comment <3

🍓 if people like this i might write about ex husband johnny again

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My latest victim was @azilver