mousy-muses13

[mousy-muses13]

Prey

Chapter ~ 6 || regrets

General warnings: 18+ only! There will be a lot of triggering subjects mentioned here, such as abuse, death, bigotry, Assault, War, and Violence. There will probably be information mistakes and grammar mistakes. There will be Smut, Angst, comfort, and romance.

A/N: this chapter is short!! I just needed to write something to get me back in the spin of things so sorry if this isn’t that good

Div cred @/dollywons

You hid your face in Johnny’s shoulder while crying and hiccuping. You could barely hear his cooes over your sobs. His heart aches for you, the scent of your distress made it worse, it was making him feel sick. The potent stench being areminder that he had a part in this, that's what was eating at him the most.

“Why… I- I don’t understand. I don’t understand what I did to them! Why… why were they chasing me and trying to scare or hurt me!” You hyperventilated, you were riling yourself up now making Johnny inwardly wince. He held you closer, one hand cupping the back of your head, petting it gently, trying to sooth you. “Shh, I know peach. S’not right. Shouldn’t have let that happen to ya. I… I’m so sorry…”

You blinked through the tears, trying to pull your head back to look at him, but he didn’t let you. He couldn’t look you in the eyes. Not yet. Not while shame was still eating him alive. “You knew?” You asked, your voice shook even more as fat tears rolled down your face. This was like the ultimate betrayal.

“They said it would help you adjust.” He spoke, the ache in his voice was clear as day. He knew how wrong he was, how wrong it all was. “John and Si… they said that this would help you adjust to our lifestyle, that putting you in our shoes, through the types of training that we do… they said it would help. I didn’t… I didnt think they meant like this. Especially si”

Johnny eventually reached the house's back door and slid it open, taking you inside and up the stairs to your room where he set you down on your bed. He got you a damp towel from the bathroom and cleaned up the dirt and tears that stained your gorgeous skin.

“I thought I was going back there,” you blurted out. “I thought they’d come for me… I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t…” more tears fell. Your ears were pinned back, trembling.

Johnny gently shushed you, once again, pulling you against his chest so you could hear his heart thumping against his chest. “They’re not, peach. You’re here. With me. You’re safe.” But even as he said it, his voice faltered. Safe didn’t mean anything when the people meant to protect you were the ones who’d ripped open your healing wounds.

“They had no fuckin’ right,” he growled suddenly, the anger in his voice bubbling as he thought more of what he could’ve done. What he didn’t do. “None. You’re not some recruit. You’re not a soldier. What you need is healin’. Not this psych-ops bullshit.”

He shifted, adjusting his hold so you didn’t have to put pressure on your injured ankle. “Whatever they were tryin’ to do… they failed.” He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I’ll talk to ‘em,” he said firmly. “You won’t have to lift a damn finger. Just rest. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

.

.

.

Johnny didn't even knock. He rammed the door wide open with his shoulder, so hard that it slammed against the wall and ricocheted back, making Simon’s turn his head from the window view to where Johnny was standing. John, unimpressed as ever, had his fingers interlocked in front of him as if he'd seen this coming.

"You," Johnny spat, pointing at John with a shaking hand while his tail flicked harshly. His pheromones were poisonous, laced with anger, something that wasn’t common for a beta. "What the fuck were you thinkin'?

Simon approached him, but Johnny then turned to attack him as well. "And you… you just obeyed orders? You dragged her out there like she was a damn feral! You heard her crying last night! You knew what it'd do to her!"

Simon’s jaw was tight, his ears low. “It wasn’t my call.”

“Bullshit!” Johnny spat. “You knew it was wrong and you did it anyway.”

John’s voice remained even. “You’re too attached, MacTavish. It clouds your judgment. She needs to adapt.”

When he heard that, Johnny shoved past Simon and turned to John, his voice colder now. “No,” Johnny said, stepping in closer. “What she needs is time. Safety. Care. Not two fuckin’ predators chasing her through the woods in the middle of the night.”

John didn’t flinch. “That girl is prey, Johnny. She’s never going to be safe unless she learns how to survive. You want her babied? That’s not how the world works.”

Johnny’s lip curled. “She’s not your fuckin’ project, John. She’s not here to sharpen your instincts or test your goddamn theories.” Johnny stared at him, seething, and then turned for the door. “You don’t go near her. Either of you.” And with that he left, slamming the door behind him. They both knew that he was right, though John would never admit that. He was angry that Johnny had spoken to his alphas like that. Simon on the other hand, understood. Simon knew that maybe John didn’t have negative intentions. He wasn’t trying to hurt her. But he did. They both did.

He understood why johnny was angry at that, hell if he was in his shoes he would be beyond pissed too. He regretted listening to John, honestly. It’s not like the captain was known for making good decisions in recent times. But it wasn’t always like that. He trusted John, and when he introduced to them the idea of using you to sharpen their instincts during training would help them, Simon believed him. But now he has not only angered his beta, but traumatized the bunny that his beta has been clinging to.

.

.

.

Things are different now. Worse. Before there were arguments, tension, makeup sex, laughs, all that. Now it was quiet. No talking, no arguments, Nothing. The silence was so loud that it made Simon nauseated. John tried to make it seem like he didn’t mind, but his attempts at that were futile. They all could tell by the way he would fidget with his fingers whenever one of them would walk past. Kyle, on the other hand, was trying to pick the pieces all up after them. He would try to get Johnny to understand why Simon followed John’s orders. Why John did what he did. He tried to tell John that you were like an extension of their pack now. But both of them were stubborn and not good at listening. It was stressing Kyle out, all the tension was straining his beta. And you, you were just a nervous wreck. You haven’t left your room since what happened, and whenever you caught even a whiff of alpha pheromones something in your buzzed and you started to hyperventilate. Kyle had to bring your food up to you because you refused to go downstairs. You were too scared to run into them. You were scared that they would do something again. They were too unpredictable, and you hated it.

Johnny sits in your room sometimes. He tries to talk to you, joke around, comfort you, but it's clear just how much trust you’ve lost with him. And fuck does it hurt him. He’s filled with nothing but regret.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Johnny muttered. His voice was rough, like gravel scraping inside him. “She won’t even look at me. I should’ve stopped it, mate. Should’ve fought harder. I knew it was wrong. I fuckin’ knew.”

Kyle stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his feathers puffed slightly with stress. He looked so tired. Like he’d aged in the past week alone. “She’s not scared of you,” Kyle said after a moment, voice quieter than usual. “Not like she is with them.”

Johnny didn’t respond, he just dragged his hands down his face, elbows resting on his knees. His tail lay still behind him, only twitching slightly. Kyle let out a sigh before stepping into the room and closing the door behind him before laying on the bed next to Johnny. “She cries in her sleep now,” Kyle said, barely a whisper. “Tosses and turns. Asks me to sleep in the same bed some nights. Sometimes she asks me to move the dresser in front of her door, worried one of you will come barging in.” He hums, but before Johnny could say anything Kyle spoke out again. “Doesn't help that this is all brand new to her too. We’re all still in first impression territory.”

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Johnny said hoarsely. “Then stop trying to fix it,” Kyle said sharply. “You’re not gonna win her back with snacks and halfhearted jokes. You hurt her. Now you sit in it. You wait. You listen. You earn it.”

Johnny didn’t say anything for a long while. Just stared at the floor like it might open up and swallow him whole. Kyle moved closer to the hybrid and put his head on his chest “She still asks about you,” he said quietly.

Johnny’s head turned slightly. “What?”

“Not directly. But… she’ll say things like, ‘Is Johnny mad at me?’ Or she’ll flinch when the floor creaks outside her room and whisper, ‘Is it Johnny?’” Kyle looked at him then. “She’s scared��� because she trusted you. Because it hurt the most coming from you.”

Johnny closed his eyes, like the truth had stabbed him right in the heart. “That’s worse,” he whispered. “That’s worse than if she hated me.”

Kyle didn’t agree. He didn’t disagree either. “You want to help her, Johnny?”

“More than anything.”

“Then stop talkin’ about it like you’re the victim.”

Another blow

Kyle stood and brushed himself off. “When she’s ready, she’ll come to you. But only if you make yourself safe again. Predictable. Gentle.”

.

.

.

Crying. That’s what you’ve been doing for hours. You were laying on your Nest base, crying because you had nothing to put in it. One would think that you’d be crying because of everything that has been happening for the past two weeks, but you already spent too much time crying over that.

It hurt.

Something in you hurts.

You couldn’t help but knead the fabric underneath you, wishing it was something softer, fluffier. You wanted to nest. You wanted to hide. Your prey instincts were still buzzing after all. You hiccuped around the next sob, when all of the sudden a knock on your door startled you.

“It’s just me, sweetheart. It’s just me.”

.

..

…

Previous || Next

[mousy-muses13]

Headcanon: Y/N has a hand kink and they discover that detail.

💀 Ghost – “My hands, yeah? Thought so…”

You were really subtle about it… at first. Eyes lingering when he flexed his fingers. Biting your lip when he pulled his gloves off with his teeth.

But Ghost is way too observant. He notices the way your eyes drop to his hands every damn time he gestures. And once? You flinched when he barely touched your cheek — like it burned in the best way. One night after a mission, you hand him something and your fingers brush. You gasp—barely audible—but he catches it. Leaning close, voice low:

“Y’keep starin’ at my hands. Want me to put ‘em somewhere?” From that moment on? He makes it his duty to stretch his fingers near you, gripping things tight, flexing his knuckles in front of you. During a little one-on-one training he has you pinned to the mat, your wrists held above your head in one of his hands while he cups your throat with the other.

“These hands are yours. Just say where you want them.”

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

🧼 SOAP – “Aww, you got a hand kink, bonnie? That’s cute.”

It started with him cracking his knuckles. You visibly squirmed. He teased you for it. “Y’good there, lass? You look like you just saw God.” When you finally mutter, “Your hands are… distracting,” he grins like the devil. Never lets it go. He’s always gesturing wide, resting his big palm on your lower back, or brushing your lip with his thumb just to watch you freeze. During a mission briefing Johnny catches you staring at his hands as he braces on the table directly across from you. “Might be hard for her to focus, Cap. My hands are out.” But when he really wants to melt you? He’ll press those calloused fingers under your chin and tease you as he whispers in your ear.

“Bet you'd let me ruin you with just these, huh?”

You would. He knows it. Cheeky bastard.

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🧢 GAZ – “Oh… oh, you like that, don’t you?”

Gaz is smooth but humble — so when he notices you watching his hands when he loads mags or adjusts his sleeves, he thinks he’s imagining it. But then he catches you staring hard when he runs his palm over his jaw. Teases gently at first. “Something on my fingers, love? Or do you just like watchin’?” When you confess your weakness for his hands? He goes feral on the inside. He keeps a cool exterior, but from then on? Hand on your thigh. Thumb on your lips. Pinky trailing up your spine. He traps you against a wall and whispers in your ear. “Didn’t know these got you all worked up. Should’ve let me show you sooner.”

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🧔‍♂️ PRICE – “My hands? Oh, sweetheart… you’ve no bloody idea.”

You’d always looked a little dazed when Price was holding a cigar, running a hand through his beard, or gripping his weapon. One day you finally mutter under your breath, “Your hands do something to me.” And he hears it. Stops dead in his tracks. Next time he talks to you, he casually runs his thumb over your bottom lip. Just once. Then smirks as you shiver. Dangerous, slow, deliberate touches. Always intentional. Always controlled. Holds your jaw and says, “Bet you'd be good for me with just a few fingers. You want that? You want to feel just how deep these hands can go?” You nod. Whimper. And he chuckles—deep, knowing, filthy.

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🛡️ KÖNIG – “Mein gott… you like my hands?”

König’s hands? Massive. Gloved or bare, they dwarf everything they touch. And you? You can’t stop watching. He’s so used to people being intimidated by him that your admiration makes him melt. You tell him—shy but bold—“Your hands drive me crazy.” He blushes. Hard. Looks away. But the next time you’re alone, he holds his palm up beside your face. “So small next to mine…” Then he grips your waist. Runs a thumb down your stomach. Light, trembling touch. “You want them on your throat? Or… between your legs?” Once he gets confident with it? He’s using them to make you beg. One hand pinning you down. The other? Exploring every sinful thought you’ve ever had.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

First time doing headcanons, trying something new.

[mousy-muses13]

anatidae - conception, ii.

After several happy years together, Ghost and Soap finally convince you to have their child. - ghoap x reader. audhd reader. reader has a nickname. established relationship. polyamory. baby fever. manipulative Soap. manipulative Ghost. smut. breeding kink. double penetration. sex as manipulation. - Masterlist. Ao3

previous

The temperature changes.

Mary gives birth in the fall of that year. Four children—she now has four children, only a year or two separating each, and just the thought of that many loud, unpredictable kids in one house is enough to make your head hurt and your heart speed up.

You don’t dislike children, not in the slightest—often, you’ve found them to be better company than many adults, much smarter than usually given credit for and often much kinder.

The trick of it is simply in being honest with them, and giving them the space to be honest with you too. Most people your age are uncomfortable with such directness; but kids, you’ve learned, not only need it, but crave it, in a world that usually dismisses their hunger for understanding.

It’s not difficult to realize that you relate to them, more than just a little. The world around you has never not felt inscrutable. To feel that way, and to also not be able to pick your own bedtime? You feel more sorry for them than you expect most everyone else does.

It’s just that…well, they’re also children.

Loud, grabby, demanding black holes of need for care and feeding on a constant basis, with ever-evolving desires that are impossible to keep up with. Sticky nearly all the time, and impossible to reason with when they get a notion in their head that they won’t let go of. Irrational, unreasonable, hypersensitive to the slightest discomfort, and once you think you’ve figured them out the day changes, and they become different beasts entirely, based seemingly on no rationale whatsoever.

More trouble than they’re worth, you think, no matter how much you may relate to them.

You and your men arrive at the hospital just a few hours after the delivery, and are ushered into a room in the maternity ward that’s already stuffed to the brim. Soap’s mother, Mary’s husband and children, and a few other members MacTavish clan, cousins or second cousins or something, along with balloons and flowers in as many corners as will hold them.

Mary, on the bed, is wan, sweaty, and gently smiling. Her arms encircle a tiny bundle against her chest, swaddled in pink blankets.

“Well done, Mar,” Soap enthuses, going to her bedside to kiss her cheek. He gazes down at his new niece, eyes soft. “Looks just like you.”

“Thank god,” his younger sister Beth enthuses, elbowing Mary’s husband with a teasing grin. Ian gives a sheepish smile; he’s almost as haggard as his wife, having spent the entirety of her labor at her bedside.

Conversation ebbs and flows around the room; you let it wash over you without trying to participate. The lights are fluorescent overhead, and the hospital is busy outside the door. There’ll be an angry buzz in your head when you get home.

Simon, who understands, keeps a heavy arm around you, huge hand curled over your hip and gently rubbing. You focus on Johnny, still smiling, eyes sparkling, as he nudges into the bundle with one index finger.

Simon’s hand tightens. He pulls you tighter into his body.

A little spark. Something tickling the back of your neck.

Johnny, with gentle, steady hands, lifts the bundle from Mary’s arms and draws it into his own. It’s tiny, even with the blanket corners spilling over his broad forearms, light pastel against hirsute sun-brown. The corners of his eyes crinkle, mouth curling, and then—he looks up at you with a diamond-bright gaze.

Simon speaks, with an odd, soft quality to his voice, charged like a sweater from a tumble dryer. “Well, let’s get a look, sergeant.”

Johnny approaches, and brings the baby into view.

Small. So small. A little face, squished by nine months of tight development, and even smaller hands, slight fingers curled up by round, red cheeks. It isn’t pretty, not in the slightest, but it looks as fragile as spun glass. You’re struck with a sudden relief at the full swell of Soap’s biceps, one pillowing the baby’s head; you’d trust very few people without his strength to keep such a delicate little life safe.

And it is a life, isn’t it? Even so small. You reach out to touch the tips of your fingers to the baby’s hands, and find them as warm and soft as Mary’s belly had been, the one time she invited you to feel the baby kick inside her.

“Mary, was it very hard?” you find yourself asking. Even small—this came out of her body. “Do you feel alright?”

Mary laughs. “I’m alright, Duck.” Everyone in Soap’s family uses the nickname they’d given you, rather than your actual name. “And as she’s my fourth, no, it wasnae so bad.”

Soap recaptures your attention with glowing eyes. “Hold her, Duckie.”

“What?” you say. Heat rushes to your face. “No, I—I don’t know how.”

“Yeah, y’do,” he murmurs. He rumbles with a low brogue, accent stronger with some strange intensity. “Come oan, it’s alrigh’.”

“Hold her,” echoes Ghost. “We won’t let you drop her.”

With tentative arms, you reach out, and Soap carefully shifts the baby into your hold.

So small. Warm, from the heat of Soap’s chest and from the baby’s own body. Heavier than you expect, even despite weighing almost nothing at all. You crane your head down to look closer at the baby’s face; her tiny nostrils flare, just the slightest, with every whisper of breath she takes, and before your eyes, her little mouth suddenly opens wide in a yawn, fists curling and relaxing, as she shifts and settles.

Soap in front of you, hands cupping your elbows, toes of his shoes touching yours; Ghost a crescent around you, making you a shield of his body. You, headache forgotten, the rest of the room suddenly fallen away.

The baby in your arms, at the very epicenter of you and your partners.

Some line of tension connects between Simon and Johnny; you feel it pull taut, though you don’t know why.

“Hello,” you say to Mary’s daughter, something moving inside you. “Hello, baby.”

Back at home, they pull you into the bedroom. Something spools around the three of you, drawing tighter, narrowing the space between your bodies. Their hands splay around the curves of your body, slipping beneath your clothes and gently easing them off, as you trade warm, wet kisses between the three of you.

“Want you t���take both of us, alright?” Soap murmurs in your ear, on your heels as Ghost tugs you toward the bed.

You nod, already lightheaded. You’re dizzy with unexpected want for them, keyed up from Soap climbing into the backseat for the drive home to tongue your neck and squeeze your breasts over your shirt. The both of them have been oddly intense since the hospital, barely speaking, and if you didn’t know them as well as you do now, you might have been afraid they were angry.

But no—you recognize it for the single-minded pursuit that it is. The undivided focus on their objective that they have honed on the whetstone of constant deployment.

The energy of that focus buzzes between them as Ghost pulls you over him to straddle his hips, and Soap works both hands between your legs to get you ready to take him. Keyed up as you are, it takes very little time before Ghost is sliding into you without a whisper of resistance, his girth stretching you tight and snug enough to take what little remains of your breath away.

It culminates with Soap working a plug into you from behind while you ride Ghost, your front flush to his, with heavy tattooed arms banded around you to hold you down. Their combined body heat swelters the room, dewing your skin with perspiration that pearls up every place their skin meets yours.

“Breathe out for me, Duckie,” Soap croons, massaging the fat of one cheek, and circling the rim of your ass with the plug’s tip. “Push out for me a little—that’s it, what a good girl.”

A high, strangled noise escapes you, muffled by your face pressed into Ghost’s chest, one huge hand of his spread over the back of your head. Slick with warm lube, the toy stretches you, stretches you, wider and wider until it pops in and seats itself—and then you feel the weight of Soap’s cock land over it.

Neither of them say anything. Ghost’s girth draws you even tighter with the addition of the toy, sliding slowly in and out of you as he rolls his hips between your thighs. All that populate the bedroom are the shared moans and groans coming from the three of you as Ghost fucks you at a languid pace and Soap presses your cheeks together to frot between them.

You don’t have to do anything; they manipulate you as they please, hands greedy for your bare skin, bodies moving against yours with no hurry to get anywhere very fast.

Ghost’s breath is steady and strong in his chest, wiry chest hair prickling against your cheek as you rub your face on it. His skin is hot beneath your spread palms. Humidity gathers between the three of you, sheening your skin, warm and cloying and sticky.

Soap’s hands slide from your ass up your flanks, and then he’s lifting you away from Ghost’s chest to bring your back to his front—trapping his cock against the small of your back as his arms wrap around you, and his chin nestles in the crook of your neck and shoulder. Ghost’s hands descend along your hips to sink into the fat of your thighs.

Slowly, decadently, Soap cups your breasts with spread hands, caressing around them, pressing them up against your chest and playing the tips of his fingers along the hard beads of your nipples. He lowers them slowly and skims his hands down your ribcage to cup underneath the softest part of your belly, pressing divots just above your mons, massaging, up and down, over your hips and back to your stomach.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs into your shoulder, as one hand falls to nestle around your clitoris, which pulses hard and hot with arousal. He moves his hips idly against your back, the hot line of his cock a slow piston from cleft to sacrum.

“Gorgeous,” Ghost agrees. “Our girl.”

You seize your bottom lip with your teeth, breath stuttering in your lungs, and turn your head aside—you can never look directly at them when they praise you, even though whenever they do it feels as though the sun is rising in your chest.

“So good to us,” Johnny says, wrapping a brawny arm around your shoulders, resting his head against yours to murmur the words directly into your ear.

His voice is low and husky, purring. A predator to its mate. He rests your full weight against him as Ghost moves in and out of you, unhurried, languid; slow enough to let you feel every inch of him entering, and leaving, and entering you again, cockhead reaching so far into you with every thrust that he brushes lightly against the plug of your womb.

Their eyes hadn’t left you the moment you’d accepted the baby into your arms—electric. So intense you could feel the tingle of it everywhere their gazes landed.

“Even when we don’t deserve it,” says Simon, thumbs drawing little circles into the insides of your thighs. “Love you, Duck.”

“So much,” Johnny echoes. “You give us so much, bonnie girl.”

Heat suffuses your entire body, gathering where one of Johnny’s fingers taps against your clit. Simon lifts his hips to push into you, all the way to the wide base of his cock, so deep and so tight that your first orgasm of the night spills out and floods you, lighting up every nerve, fireworks popping between every place your body meets theirs. You squirm in Soap’s arms, ecstasy hijacking your control as scratch your nails across his thighs.

Soap gives you a moment to catch your breath, still caressing your belly, and then purrs, “You think you can take me now?”

“Y—” you stammer, voice lost to the ebbing climax, “y-yes.”

“Come here,” Ghost says, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and Soap lets you go to lay back down on top of Ghost’s chest.

The bigger man cups your jaw with one broad hand and tilts your face up to his, pressing his mouth to yours, open and hot with his labored breaths. He licks between your teeth, messy and wet as Soap eases the plug out, and you hear behind you the sound of a cap popping open.

Warm lube dripping between your cheeks, and Soap pushing it in with the blunt end of his thumb. He slides in to his first knuckle, digging his fingertips into the swell. Then, withdrawing, the slick sound of his hand around his cock, up and down, right before he presses the head into the tight furl of your hole.

“Push out for me again, aye?” he murmurs, laying a lube-sticky hand on your lower back.

You mindlessly comply, still distracted with Ghost’s mouth, and slowly, so slowly, Soap works himself in, easing his way with shallow, testing thrusts, soothing you when you whine at the burn by wedging his hand between your and Ghost’s body’s to pet at your clit.

He finds the right angle, and then in one, smooth, easy motion, Soap slides in to the base, filling you up so swiftly you gasp high and sharp, and they both shush you, four hands sweeping up and down your body to calm even the spark of any tension. Your heart thrums in your chest, in your neck, all the way down in your clitoris, and you pant as Soap leans over you to paint kisses on your shoulders and along the knobs of your spine.

Soap drops his weight over you and cages you in with his arms on either side of you, rocking his hips, moving his cock against Ghost’s with only the slightest membrane separating them. Ghost holds still, letting you acclimate, distracting you with soft, warm kisses, tongue curling around yours as he reaches over you to fit his hands around Soap’s ass.

You’re so…full. If you thought the plug had stretched you out before, it’s nothing compared to this—your partners claim every bit of empty space inside you and make more for them to fit. Neither of them are small men, and they fill you so tightly you wonder how you don’t simply burst from it. You can barely breathe; you can barely think with the both of them inside you.

But it feels right. It always feels right. Soap, and Ghost, with you between them. You, filling in the mismatched spaces where they don’t quite fit together—them, slotting right into every place you need them.

More together than simply the sum of all three—

“You want one just like it?” Soap murmurs, moving against you, thighs flexing behind yours.

“Want…one…?” you repeat, dizzy, breathless, flattened by his weight pressing you down into Ghost’s body.

“Want us to put a baby in you, Duckie?” Ghost asks. He gives a smooth roll of his hips up into you, punching the remaining air from your lungs. “Give you something back, for all you give us?”

Hands tighten on you; then their thrusting quickens, uncoordinated, their huge bodies corrading you between them.

“I—I—” you stammer, as Ghost finds your hand and wedges his fingers between yours—the other sliding up to cup the back of Soap’s neck.

“Cannae stop thinkin’ abou��� it,” Johnny says, hot breath in your ear, pressing kisses along the back of your neck. “Our baby in your belly, Duckie, ours.”

“It wouldn’t—” you pant, “it couldn’t—”

“Don’t try to figure it out, Duck,” Ghost says, soothing, but firm. “You don’t need to. He’s just talkin.’ Let ‘im talk.”

“Would be so grand,” Soap slurs. “Jesus, it’s all I think abou’ now. Wan’ to fuck you every day, fill you up with us, ‘til it’s leaking out of you all the time, Duckie, every minute, ‘til somethin’ takes, an’ then we’re always in you. And then you’re so big and full of us it’s got to come out—”

Heat bolts through you, searing your face. Fire in your belly heats your breath, burns your esophagus as you pant against Ghost’s chest. You squirm between them, chasing the spark dancing just in the vicinity of your clitoris, but there’s no room for you to move between them, surrounded on all sides by their thrusting bodies.

“Oh,” you moan, warmth gathering inside you, thinking of tightness and heaviness, feeling the solid weight of their hands on you.

“That sound nice, Duckie?” Ghost murmurs in your ear. He lets you and Soap go, and drags his hands down to your ass cheeks, gripping with wide fingers and spreading them for Soap to admire what’s happening between them. “You want us to get you pregnant, sweetheart?”

“Take such good care of you,” Soap continues, “both of you, Duckie, we would. Our little family.”

“Johnny’d need some training,” Ghost murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth, “but don’t worry, I’d get him there.”

��I—” you try to say, “I—I don’t, I…”

They don’t let up—Ghost pushing into you as Soap pulls out, so that you’re not empty for even the stretch of a heartbeat. It doesn’t give you a single clear moment to think, to find that rational, logical part of you that is ready to argue at a moment’s notice why childbearing and child rearing is such a horrible idea.

Instead, all you think about is the bundle in Soap’s strong arms—and how you wished, very suddenly, you could’ve seen Ghost hold it, too.

“It,” you pant, the force of their bodies jostling the breath from your lungs, “it sounds—nice—ahh!”

They fill you at the same time, all the way to the root, and grind you between them with tight, quick movements of their hips. It rips the cord of your orgasm, and you clamp around the both of them so tightly it would risk forcing them out if they weren’t so adamantly pushing in—you seize up between them, throwing your head back to land in the cradle of Soap’s shoulder, and dig your nails into Ghost’s pectorals, jaw slack as you jerk with every intense wave.

“Ah—ah—ahh!” you wail, as they fuck you through it, hands gripping you, chasing climax with ramming hips, and then liquid warmth floods you, fast and thick, so much you feel it spill out of you and start mixing as it drips down.

They don’t stop—

“Come on, again, bonnie, we can get you there again, come on,” Soap growls in your ear. “We’re still hard, come on, come on.”

Hands—you don’t know whose—wedge between your bodies, and fingers touch the live wire in your clitoris, circling roughly, and the scream of a frightened animal escapes your throat as they yank you right back over the edge. You finish a third time without having begun, locked in place and unable to escape it, and you can only thrash against them, sanding yourself against the hard planes of their bodies until, finally, they take their hands away.

Heavy, humid breaths; movement settles as the three of you pause to catch them. Soap pulls out first, but Ghost makes no move to, and they shift so that he can turn and lay you on your side without slipping out.

Soap pushes your leg up to hook over Ghost’s hip, and curls his thigh up under yours. They press you between them like a flower, tight and snug, and exchange a kiss over your shoulder as you shift between them, getting comfortable.

“Ghost,” you say, feeling their cum begin to cool on the insides of your thighs. You want to wipe off before it and the sticky mixture of your and their sweat all across your skin begins to dry.

“Little longer,” he murmurs. He presses his mouth to the crown of your head, and cups your jaw with loving hand.

Soap snorts quietly and kisses the back of your neck. “He’s jus’ keepin’ you warm for me, Duckie.”

He slips his hand between your and Ghost’s chests to curve it around one of your breasts, thumb finding the nipple. You make a soft sound in your throat, overstimulated, but unwilling to beg him off.

You lay like that for a little while, the three of you, curled into each other’s bodies and sharing your evening breaths. You would get cold, sweaty and naked as you are, but their combined heat cocoons you, cradling you in a soft warmth that, if you closed your eyes long enough, would lull you to sleep.

But something runs its fingers down the back of your mind. Lightly, gently, but enough to demand your attention, fuzzy and clotted though it may be.

“What’s gotten into you two?” you murmur.

There’s a beat of silence that you have learned, by now, indicates that Simon and Johnny are having a conversation with their eyes.

It used to make you insecure, in the early days of your relationship with them—feeling your own inadequacies in communication. You’d frequently thought you would never be able share the same ease they had together, the effortless understanding, the perfect alignment of intention and interpretation.

But as it does with nearly everything else, time proved to be the antidote to such poison. Ghost can read the angle of your shoulders like a large-print book; Soap can coax you to meet his eyes with a practiced twitch of his fingers, usually because he wants to make you laugh. The unspoken languages shared between lovers are a living practice of constant collaboration.

So you know that whatever they say to each other right now has something to do with you—

And with the baby they insisted you hold.

But you retreat instinctively from the idea as soon as you approach it. Repelled, like a drop of oil in water.

“Nothin,’ Duck,” says Ghost, squeezing your neck muscles between his fingers, rubbing the tension from them with a deep, probing pressure. “Just talk, remember?”

Soap kisses your neck again, distracting you, and then your shoulder. “I’m gonna clean off, Duckie. He’s gonna keep you stretched out for me, then I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, how’s that sound?”

Talk—that’s all it was. Just talk. Your men have said more outrageous things in the bedroom, in the throes; notions of forcing you to walk around nude at home, chaining you up in the basement, making a pet out of you, cloistering you away from the world in some cabin in the Cairngorms where no one can find you, and they can have you all to themselves.

Post-coitus, it’s meant nothing. They still massage your aching thighs and remind you when your next classes are. Talk like that only serves the imagination—

This is no different.

Ghost finally pulls out of you when Soap returns, still heavy and thick even when flaccid, shining and sticky with clear slick and white cum. You turn on your back, and he slots in behind your head, resting against the headboard.

Soap works himself back up with quick pumps of his hand along his shaft, and without preamble he slides into you, displacing Ghost’s cum still inside you with an obscene squelch. It gathers around the base of his cock and catches in the dark curls of his pubic hair.

“Jesus,” he groans, rolling his hips. “That’s a lot, Ghost, hell’s bells.”

It seeps in the creases of your folds as he slides his cock in and out of you at a languid pace. Soap lowers overtop of you, forearms bracing on the mattress, and kisses the hollow of your throat, then the heavy line of Ghost’s cock just above your forehead, before rising back up to settle on his knees.

“Don’t waste it,” says Ghost. He also settles on his haunches, and you crane your head to brush your lips against his shaft. He snorts. “Good girl.”

His heavy hands fall on your breasts, cupping, squeezing, pinching your nipples—as if something might come out. Soap cradles your stomach again, dragging his hands around it like a potter shaping clay.

Nothing. It means nothing.

next chapter early access

a/n: i'm ovulating can yall tell

[mousy-muses13]

I humbly ask for a task force and chubby reader pls ty <3

YESSS. Honestly as a woman, I love seeing that little pudge that are on other women. Like yes Greek god beauty babe pop off. But on me? Ew….

Thick thighs? We love thick thighs in the household.

But you! Yes you. You’re beautiful, fuck what others say.

Task force with chubby!reader

Simone is another one that doesn’t listen to the whole “you can’t pick me up” nonsense. It’s not a challenge, but the fact that he doesn’t see you the way that you see yourself. He’s able to lift you with ease and places you on his lap and will hold you there until he’s done. Another one that loves thighs. How squishy they are and how easy they are to mark. He thinks if anything an angel sent you his way. Don’t tell him he can’t see all of you, he wants to and will see to it. Doesn’t understand why you do, he adores all of you. Loves to see you in tight fighting clothing like jeans. Man goes a little feral because of how well it hugs your frame. Perhaps also an ass man now coming to think of it too….

As price has grown with age, his “care” for how people look has dwindled. He cares about your character, your heart, who you are. And if his partner has some of the extra weight? Toots be sure you’re ready to get kisses at every part of your body. Price does not care. So what if your stomach ain’t flat or the fact that your arms got some chub. That man has more important things on his mind like if you’re happy, if the two of you are in a good spot, perhaps getting a dog for you for when he leaves? He adores you and wants to see you happy….perhaps even buys you a few sun dresses. Look he wants to see you happy but the sun dresses on you? Looks at your like you’re prey and ready to lick up all your honey

(I love his goofy smile. It’s just charming in its own way)

Soap? Get ready to be hugged everyday and cuddles with every night, even if it’s 90 degrees. Weight is something that he doesn’t really care about. Does not listen to you when you say “you can’t pick me up.” That is a challenge to him and he will pick you up and slap your behind before walking to the bedroom. You say that you can’t? Honey listen here….yes you can and he will find a way to do so. He always does. Weight wasn’t the first thing that drew him to you, if anything to him it’s more to love and squish and this man loves to squish you. Your thighs more than anything and will even squish your tummy. He loves you. Which means all of you. Can’t hide from him forever….

Gaz is a lover of all body types. Truly. Some squish ain’t gonna turn him away from you, if anything he’ll be even closer to you. Man loves to see your jiggle and see you happy as you do your daily tasks. Please let him lay on you and just enjoy the squish, it brings him great comfort. Is another that loves your tummy, loves to rest his head there and have you place your hand on his chest and place his hand over yours. Is also another that loves to see you in tight clothing but dresses as well. Wants to see you go out of your comfort zone and is your number 1 supporter in shopping for clothes. Even will go out of his way to buy you cute underwear because his baby deserves best. More squish, more to love, more to bite

[mousy-muses13]

CW: Gets a little spicy

Chapter 11

Viola

It’s been a week and its the same routine of wake up, eat, work on translation, work out with the boys before I start drills, go back to the barracks, cuddle, cold shower where I masturbate, then sleep. At least today I get to turn in the translation and I see the specialist then I meet Simon at the shooting range to see just how bad I’ve gotten after three years. I gather all my papers up and put them in the box I received them in and I go over to Price’s office. I defiantly can’t walk the base alone today since my neck is raw from those damn scent patches, I couldn’t put any on today. I need someone to walk to the Colonels office with me. I knock on the door and wait to hear an enter before I open the door and walk in. Price is sitting at his desk and looks up as I walk in. Once he sees that it’s me he instantly smiles. “What can I do for you dove?”

“I need to drop these papers off to the Colonel and then I need to go to my appointment. If you’re not too busy could you escort me?” I ask John without sounding too nervous. I hate that I need to relay on others. Also John was the one who I did the scent exchange with today so I might still be a little flustered from that. 

“I would love to take you but first I think you smell way too sweet to be walking on base Dove. So why don’t you come over here and let me help you with that.” John clears a spot on his desk from papers and pats where he wants me to sit. I know my face is probably blushing by now. I walk over to the desk and I take my seat. I open my legs to give John room to stand between them. He steps between them and puts his hands on my thighs. The warmth of his hands spreads to my body and it feels so nice. I smell his bourbon and applewood scent and I just want to drink more of it in. His desk is pretty tall with me sitting on it we both are the same height almost. He moves his left hand to rest on my waist and his right hand to the side of my face where he starts to rub my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “ You look so beautiful like this Dove.” He leans down and gives my forehead a kiss, then my nose, then he angles my head back so I would be looking him in the eyes. They are such a beautiful blue like the sky whereas Johnnys is blue like the sea. My eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips wondering if he is going to kiss me. I become brave and I take my hands off of the desk to place them on the lapel of his uniform. I grab hold of them and pull him down to meet his lips.

John moves his hand to the back of my head to hold me in place, almost like he is afraid I might disappear. I move my hands up past his shoulders and clasp them behind his neck. Our kiss becomes more feverish and he swipes my lips as if he was asking permission to enter. I gladly let him. John moves the hand that was on my head to my waist. He grabs on to my hips and then slides me closer to the edge of the desk. He moves his mouth off of mine and I catch my breathe. He then dips his head to the left crook of my neck and rubs his nose up and down. His lips replace his nose and he starts to leave kisses instead. His hands start to pull my shirt up so he can have more contact with my skin. My skin starts to feel like its on fire. This doesn’t feel like I’m in heat fire but like I’m a teenager again and I just want to get naked. To stop me from removing my shirt I thread my fingers through his hair. He moves to the other side of my neck and moves his left hand to grab my right hand. He moves my hand to his chest and graze up my arm. Johns hand moves to my neckline and pull my shirt to the side to get more access to my skin. I let out a moan from all of stimulation. My moan must of knocked some sense into John since he pulls completely back and leave only his hands on my knee.

I whimper at the lost of contact. I try to pull him back in. John puts his hand back on my face and cups my cheek. “Sweet dove, I don’t want the first time we have sex be on my desk. It should be in a bed where I can properly take my time with you. Now let’s straighten up and go turn in your assignment.” I blush at the thought of John taking his time with me. I shake the thoughts out of my head and jump down off the desk.

I’m standing in front of Colonel Rivas and he is looking over my work. “You know where the trade off is going to be?” I reply with a simple yes sir, “ Explain how you got a different answer than the Italians. They missed the last drop.”

“The two speak in a code. Where the Italians thought they just simply misspelled a word when in reality if you look for the letter that was meant to be there and take that letter you would find the name of a state in the US. Like Carrara, it’s a city in Italy and in Nevada. The swap will most likely take place there,” I finish my explanation and Colonel Rivas just nods his head. “Also the it will happened on the first Tuesday that falls on an even day. They only message on even days and Italian men have a thing about Tuesday being days of good luck. The next correspondents you get will most likely give time and location.”

“ That is impressive. If this is correct this will look good for getting you enlisted and an active agent. Good job. For now just focus on training and running drills. I do have a hanger clearing up so you can train soldier on extractions. Just give me a list of material you’ll need once you see what space you're working with.” And with that Colonel Rivas dismissed us.

John and I walk side by side to the medical center on base. He waits in the waiting room when I get called back. My weight and vitals are taken with some blood. Doctor Neda comes in and she looks happy to see me. “ You have greatly approved in little over a week. Your vitals look fine and you hormone levels have settled since your scent isn’t as strong. Although I do smell alpha on you.” I blush at her comment.

“My neck is raw from the scent patches so I went without them today but I can’t be out on base with my scent out and not being claimed. John and I were scent exchanging before I got here.”

Dr. Neda just smiles at me with that face that really says spill more. “ Scent exchanges are so old school. There are creams and sprays that work but I would see how they wouldn’t know about it. I’ll order some cream for you and see how that works. Scent exchanges don’t usually end with the omega smelling so heavy in aroused alpha.”

“ Maybe we got carried away in Captain Price’s office. My body has also been going crazy. I’m horny all the time I can only take so many cold showers and change my panties so many times a day. How do I calm it down?”

“Sex sweetie. Your body and omega are telling you need to have sex. Especially since your heat is coming in less than five weeks from what your hormone results are. It’s completely normal for your body and omega to speed things up especially when you are being exposed to so much strong alpha pheromones. If your omega thinks they are good providers and can protect you then she is going to form a bond with them faster. Think of your omega like another part of you, not something different from you. She has always been there the whole time, she knows you better than you think.” She places a hand on my shoulder then looks at my chart. “ It says you aren’t taking any birth control. Since you can only get pregnant when in heat do you have a plan for your next heat. Are you going to let those men help or are we doing sedation?”

“I’ve never had any help with my last heats. I usually just stay in my nest and self soothe. Can’t I do that this time?” She looks at me appalled like I just said the craziest thing to her.

“I’m chalking that up to soldier mentality. On a base like this there is no such thing as riding it out by yourself. Its either your pack helps or in cases when the pack can’t help because of a deployment then the omega is sedated. If you are going to let them help come back here during your preheat and I will give you a shot to prevent pregnancy. When your heat is over the protocol is for me to come to you and check you out, I will give you the second round then. If you want to be sedated then tell me during your preheat and I will arrange everything.” Dr. Neda finishes telling me my options. I feel a lot better knowing I have options. “ One last thing is discuss this with them. They are your pack, they also don’t seem like they would control you. They would care and listen to your opinion.” She exits the room and I follow her out to the waiting room. John looks nervous sitting there with the other alphas you came in support of their omega.

“You all good dove?” John asks with his hand out stretched.

“Perfect health,” I interlace my fingers with his and walk out of the office with John. Maybe I should start acting on my urges they are all attractive and I have been probably blue balling them the last two weeks. I know for sure John and Johnny. 

Simon

Viola walks in to the shooting range right on time. She is holding hands with John and is smiling so brightly. She looks so beautiful no matter what she is doing. “ Alight Ghost she is all yours. See you two at dinner.” John gives her a kiss on top of her head and walks out. She looks around the empty range with a puzzling look on her face. 

“It’s just us Pet. I didn’t want you to feel watched by random eyes. So today it’s just us two. Shooting should come back to you like riding a bike,” I step aside and motion my hand to the first station I have set up for her. “ I figure we start with small ones today then move up to the big boys outside in couple days. First one is a .17 so earmuffs and glasses on and let’s see how you do.” 

If you were to tell me she hasn’t shot a gun in three years I wouldn’t believe you. She is barely affected by recoil, her grouping is consistent, and when we moved on to moving targets she headshot most of them. Is it ok to be completely turned on right now. God I’m turning into Soap. It doesn’t even matter what I put into her hand she loads and unloads the clip with ease. Even puts the safety on before setting it down. I still have men who shake when they pick up a gun. She is a naturally. Hopefully all her drills go this smoothly. She turns around and lowers her earmuffs. I smell gunpowder but I also smell over ripen fruit. She is annoyed. I walk up to her, “ Whats wrong pet?” 

“I missed like two headshots, some of my grouping could be better, and my wrist hurts.” She says in high pitch whiny voice. It’s cute to see this vulnerable side of her. I pull her into my chest.

“It’s ok to not be perfect. If I could give you recertification with out seeing you use rifles I would with just what I saw today. You don’t need to be so hard on yourself. You are barely getting back into things and your wrist is going to hurt since it's been awhile. You need to rebuild muscle again.” I tell her while I hold her close. Her shoulders start to relax and her scent starts return to normal. She moves her head up and goes on the top balls of her feet so she can reach my neck. I angle my head to the side to give her more room. She moves her hands up my chest and past my neck. I bend down and grab behind her thighs and lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and nuzzles into my neck more. I feel her nose run up and down my neck. I slide my hands so they are more on her bum than her thighs. I can tell she wants skin contact but my mask is in the way. I walk over to a counter close by and set her down. We all need her to open up to us. This might be the best way we can. A little quid pro quo if you will. “I’ll lift my mask if you tell me something no one else knows?” She huffs a little like if she was weighing her options. She takes a deep breath and lays her head on my chest. 

“My nightmares are never about the time that I served. Not about the desert or special operation missions or even about the time I got held captive and tortured for two days. It’s only ever about my mom.” She confessed to me. I pull her into a hug and rub up and down her back. Was it her mother that made her earlier years not safe. I want to ask about it some more but I don’t want her to shut down. 

I remove one hand and I tug at the bottom of it to expose my scent gland for her. She stares at my newly exposed skin and blinks up at me. “A deal is a deal Pet.” I grab the back of her head and guide her towards the exposed skin. Her scent fills the room as soon as she gets a fresh whiff of my scent. “Thank you for sharing that with me pet. You are such a good girl.” I tell her while petting her head. Her scent turns heavy with arousal and I swear I hear her stop a moan. I’ll save that for later too.

After some time I look at the clock on the wall and see that it’s time for dinner. I reluctantly pull her away from me and tell her it’s time for dinner. I help her down and hold her hand all the way home. We walk in comfortable silence until we get to the front door.

“ If you want you can tell the others. I don’t mind, I understand that I can’t keep everything a secret but the only people who know how bad it was are my sisters and one of them are dead. Not even Kate knows.” With that she puts her thumb on the scanner and walks inside. I follow after her and we are greeted with so much warmth. I think I’ll keep this little secret just to my self for now. We unlace our boots and take them off before we head to the dinning room to eat. We all sit down and Kyle beats me to making Violas plate. Tonight we are having burgers. After we start to eat the conversation starts to flow.

“How was shooting practice Viola?” Johnny ask Viola. He adds more chips onto her plate noticing how much she likes them.

“It was good. I could be better nothing I can’t work on.” Viola undercuts her talent once again. 

“Don’t let her sell herself short Johnny. She is a damn good shot. Grouping is wonderful and she can hit a moving target with a headshot with grace.” I look over to Viola and see she trying to cover up her blush with her burger. She needs help seeing how talented she is. It’s like she forgot how much of a badass she is not was. 

“Also before I forget, can someone drive me into town. The omega that I meet at the boutique has like an omega circle at a coffee shop in town on Saturday mornings. Only if it’s not too much trouble of course,” John agrees to take her. I think we all agree that she needs friends. A social life outside of the military, she needs friends who are omegas. This would be perfect opportunity for her. There are other omegas on base but they mostly come from omega finishing schools. They all lack personality and are all prissy pampered omegas. Violas spitfire personality would clash so bad with them. Those type of omegas are perfect for other packs, but not for us. Don’t get me wrong there is nothing wrong with those omegas they were groomed to be that way. 

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[mousy-muses13]

Idk if it’s been done yet. For the TikTok made me do it series can you do the boys reaction to giving them a full plate of food and the reader has a small portion and just says that’s all that she could make. It was a TikTok trend a while back.

PS I love your writing

this is actually a good idea omg !

TIKTOK MADE ME DO IT GF VS TF141 BF

in which you do the trend where you give your husband a massive plate of food but then only give yourself a teeny tiny serving to see their reaction, and they do NOT disappoint!

long time no see pookies :)

series masterlist here!

John Price — “What do you mean..”

The kitchen’s calm. Cozy. Domestic. A rare break in the storm.

You slide a plate in front of John with all the casual flair of a 1950s housewife. Hot food. Golden-brown. Perfectly seasoned. It smells like heaven and a military retirement dream.

He blinks. “Bloody hell, love. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Then you sit down across from him with your own plate.

A piece of toast. One sad little egg. A cherry tomato. Cut in half.

He looks at your plate.

Then back at his.

Then at you.

You smile sweetly, sip your water like nothing’s wrong, and chirp, “That's all I could make, need to go to the grocery store!”

Silence.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

“...What d’you mean, that’s all you could make?”

You're take a little nibble of the tomato, trying not to laugh. “Mhm. Just a little something for you. I wasn’t really hungry anyways.”

He sets his fork down with slow, measured control. Like he’s about to interrogate a war criminal.

“You’re telling me I’ve got a full English over here and you’re working with the prison sampler? That’s what you’re telling me?”

You nod, swinging your legs like a proud toddler.

“Darling,” he says, voice tight, “do you think I’d eat a single bloody bite knowing that’s all you’ve got?”

You start giggling.

He leans back in his chair. “Oh, I see. It’s one of your little tests, isn’t it?”

You're halfway to snorting in laughter at this point. “I don’t know what you mean.” You quirk an eyebrow, try so hard not to look at the camera you've set up on the counter, half hidden on the bowl of fruit.

He stands. Scoops half his plate onto yours. Makes sure you’ve got the biggest sausage and the best-looking piece of toast.

Then sits. Folds his arms. Smirks.

“Eat up, sweetheart. You’ve got five seconds before I feed it to you myself.”

You take a dramatic bite and wink, giggling at him, cheeks flushed and thats when he realizes it was a set up. "You're a brat!" He looks around wildly, spots your phone with narrow eyes. “Do you even love me?” You cackle, grinning from ear to ear as you spear the sausage he gave you. “You gave me the crispy edge. I might marry you again.” He gave it to you purposely, remembering that your love your sausage a bit crispy. You loved it when he remembered the small things like that.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick — “Eat with me or we're throwing hands!”

You hand Kyle his plate while he’s scrolling on his phone, all comfy on the couch with a hoodie slouched over his head. He glances up, grinning.

“Damn, babe. This smells fire.”

Then he looks at your plate.

Correction: your napkin-sized sadness sampler. Two bites max.

“…your tummy upset or somethin'?” He freezes. “Where’s your food?”

You smile. “That’s all I could make!”

Immediate chaos.

He sits up SO FAST he almost launches his plate into orbit.

“HUH??”

You jump back, surprised. “Just had enough ingredients for yours, I didn’t want to waste anything—”

“NOPE. Nope nope nope.” He puts his plate down like it personally offended him. “That’s not food. That’s a snack for a rabbit. What do you mean that’s all you could make??”

You giggle, picking at your egg like it’s a feast. “It’s fine! You eat, baby.”

He stands. Hands on hips. Jaw locked. “No. You’re not about to starve yourself while I sit here eating like a king. You crazy?”

He’s already in the kitchen.

You follow, giggling into your phone that you had hidden on the mantle, filming his reaction. “Kyle, it’s okay—”

“I’m throwing something in the pan RIGHT NOW. You’re gonna eat with me or we’re throwing hands.”

You're leaning against the doorway, full blown laughing. “It was a prank, dummy.”

He peeks around the corner of the fridge, where he's digging around for something to make you. Eyes narrowed.

“…You made more food, didn’t you?”

You hold up the real plate from under the towel on the counter. “Obviously.”

He exhales like he just survived a hostage negotiation.

“You’re evil.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley — " one egg and a prayer.”

He’s already suspicious when you start plating in silence.

Simon watches from the kitchen table as you slide a plate in front of him stacked high with food. Then you sit across from him with your… crime scene portion.

He stares at it. "What's that?" Points his fork at it like he's afraid to touch it, like it's a bomb that could go off.

“That’s all I could make!” You sit across from him, dancing in your seat like you normally do when you're about to chow down.

His head tilts. Slowly. Dangerously.

“…You serious?”

You blink. “Mhm!”

He sets his fork down. Leans forward, forearms on the table.

“You trying to make me mad?”

You start to giggle.

“Oh, it’s funny to you. It’s funny?” he says, pointing at your little bite-sized depression lunch. “That’s all you made for yourself? While you gave me enough to feed a bloody bear?”

You shrug. “You’re the big strong man, I just wanted you to have enough!”

Simon gasps, as if he's actually offended. “That’s not sweet. That’s a hate crime.”

You roll your eyes, glance discreetly over to your phone recording on the stove. “You’re overreacting.”

“You’re gonna sit there and eat one egg and a prayer, and I’m just supposed to be okay with that?” He's absolutely flabbergasted by you, insulted, even!

You laugh until he pushes half his plate onto yours and takes your fork.

“You eat, or I’m putting you in a high chair.”

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish — “YOU ATE ONE SINGLE TOMATO???”

You hand him a plate that would bring tears to Gordon Ramsay’s eyes.

He gasps. “Babe! This looks AMAZING—” His fork is already lifted and ready to dig in, his position shifted to the one he does when he's about to demolish some food.

Then he sees yours.

A spoonful of rice. Half a chicken nugget. A single grape.

He blinks. “Wait. Wait wait wait. What’s that?”

You smile, sit down across from him. “That’s all I could make!”

He stands up. So fast the chair SCREECHES.

“YOU ATE ONE GRAPE??”

“I’m fine!”

“YOU’RE NOT. I CAN SEE YOUR WHOLE SOUL. YOU’RE TRANSLUCENT.” His hand clutches his chest, dramatically as if you're hurting his heart. You glance subtly to the camera recording him, wishing that you could say he's not usually this dramatic, but, you knew it'd be a lie.

“I just wanted you to have enough, babe!”

Johnny's lip quivers at your words, and you swear to god there's tears in his eyes. “I’D RATHER STARVE THAN SEE YOU EAT LIKE A DAMN PIXIE.”

He storms into the kitchen like a man possessed. Pulls out a pan. Grabs eggs. Slams a banana on the counter like a weapon.

You’re howling.

“It was a joke!! There’s more food!! I plated yours first for the bit!!”

He stomps back, throws a new plate in your lap. “Eat.”

You grin devilishly. "I'm sorry baby, do you still love me?”

“I’m feeding you, aren't i?" He sighs, rubbing a massive hand down his face. "im gonna divroce you if you don't stop saying things that make me cry, love."

[mousy-muses13]

Things you shouldn’t say around Task Force 141, unless you know how to deal with the consequences.

It’s a rare lazy day at the 141 HQ on base in Hereford.

Lazy for you, at the very least, due to an upcoming long holiday weekend and the blessing of being one if not the most efficient secretary around. 

Days like this mean it’s time for some groundwork, cleaning up messes from the past weeks, and doing all the filing you’ve been procrastinating for longer than you’d like to admit. 

But they also mean that either your boss or one of his men will approach you to ask for your lunch order at some point—more than happy to indulge in some much-needed downtime between training and paperwork. 

While Captain Price sits behind his desk with you standing next to him, signing some documents for you, the other three men all lounge around the room like they don’t quite know what to do with themselves if no orders are given. 

Kyle and Johnny manspreading on the leather couch in the corner, Simon is standing by the open window with his mask rucked up and a ciggy dangling between his gloved fingers. 

“What about shawarma? Haven’t had tha’ in a while,” Kyle suggests, scrolling on his phone as he continues to look for restaurants and chip shops nearby. 

Johnny groans next to him. “Aye, ’s good, but gives me the farts–” A loud smack. “Ow!” Your eyes flit up with furrowed brows, holding out another document to the captain. 

“Bruh.” Kyle kisses his teeth snidely, shaking his head as he drops his hand again while Johnny rubs the rapidly flushing nape of his neck. “There’s a lady present, Soap.” 

Simon snorts, flicking ash out of the window before taking another drag. 

“Muppets,” Price mutters under his breath as he takes the next document from your hold. 

“What do you want then, sweet’art?” Simon asks you directly, his voice even more gravelly before he exhale a plume of smoke.  

Smiling, you give a little shrug. “What do I want?” You chuckle, feeling bold enough to crack a joke for once. “How about a fat baby and a husband who’s utterly obsessed with me.” 

And suddenly, the office goes eerily quiet; tension skyrocketing as your face begins to heat up furiously within seconds. Now too embarrassed to even look up, you miss the severe look all four share with each other, as if you’d just spoken some forbidden words—or given the permission to cross a line they’d drawn themselves. 

“Uhm,” you clear your throat awkwardly, tapping a neat stack of papers on the captain’s desk, “I mean uh... just some chips and–and a sandwich maybe?” 

But it’s too late, they all heard you loud and clear—noticed the underlying truth and longing in your words, even if you tried to mask it with humour.  

Both Johnny and Simon stare at you like they’ve finally locked eyes on their target, and while Kyle can nudge Johnny hard, the young Sergeant can only debate to throw a boot at the Lieutenant to snap him back to reality, but then Price clears his throat and takes the lead. 

“Right,” he says gruffly, “sandwiches sound good, darlin’.”  

The leather of his office chair creaks as he leans back leisurely, regarding you with a strangely soft look and a friendly pat on the back of your hand, like he’s soothing a bristling kitten.  

“Would you be a dear and call the sandwich shop to have ‘em prepare our order? I’m positive Soap or Gaz will pick it up for us later.”  

“Yes, sir,” you answer tentatively, and you catch how both Sergeants nod all too obediently, flashing toothy smiles at you with a rather suspicious glint in their eyes while Simon lights another cigarette with his broad back now turned towards you, now holding an awkward tension in his shoulders. 

“Brilliant.” Price clears his throat again and you suddenly feel lout of place, like they’re having a fully non-verbal conversation about a secret you’re not briefed on. It’s feels entirely different than the times they talk about anything classified—like this is personal. 

“Now, darlin’, if you have all the signatures you need, I’ll have some intel to share with the team.” 

It’s his polite and roundabout way to tell you to leave, so you give a quick nod as you gather the files you’d brought, and you hate how your hands are trembling with adrenaline, feeling like you’re watched by four apex predators. 

And when the door to the captain’s office closes behind you with a final click, it echoes inside the empty hallway along with the shaky exhale of a deep sigh as you curse yourself for cracking that joke and making the men uncomfortable. 

Meanwhile, just behind a heavy door and thick walls, the core of TF-141 is already planning their upcoming mission, now determined more than ever since knowing you to fulfil your greatest wish— 

Giving you a fat baby, each, and four men utterly obsessed with you along with them. 

[mousy-muses13]

Inspired by Jaws from Sleep Token Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Simon and you have been dating for a half a year now. Everything is going great. You are very understanding of his crazy schedule and long absences. He is kinda saving the world, plus you don't mind the alone time. You still spend as much time as possible when he is home and always with a smile on your face. The same smile he saw from across the bar that made him walk away from his team to buy you a drink. The same smile he got when he asked for you number and when he picked you up on your first date. it's the smile you perfected through the years.

You didn't have the easiest life. Your parents chose drugs over caring for you, you found attention from older men who just groomed you and left you behind when they were done playing with you. You hit rock bottom a few times, but you always found your way back to the surface. It didn't take long for you to realize that people don't care about your past struggles only if you can get the job done. So you just say yes and smile. Staying late to help your co worker, taking on that extra project, going to the bar after a successful presentation, all answered with a smile and a simple yes.

Ghost is a man of war, but Simon is a man of understanding. Sometimes one flows into the other. Like how Simon doesn't miss how perfect your smile is yet your eyes will flicker with pain. He wants to understand your pain and why you smile through it. He wants to see the real you. Not this delicate persona you put on for everyone.

You wanted to date Simon because you felt like you were missing something. He is the first man to actually show patience with you and to not rush you or mold you in anyway. You slowly started to slip up and seemed less perfect and he stayed. Whenever you had these slip up Simon would think that this is when he gets to see the pain that hind in your eyes, but you would quickly shove it back down. He didn't need your emotional baggage his job carried enough.

The stage was set and the curtains were drawn and your facade came crumbling down. You got a phone call from an unknown number you you quickly picked it up. It could be Simon or his captain calling. What if he was hurt? What if is deployment is getting extended? when you pick up and give your proper hello you hear the two voices you never thought you would hear again. Your parents are on the other end. They are talking about some 12 step program and them needing your forgiveness. You honestly stop listening to them and zone out. The room is getting blurry and your cheeks feel wet. you reach your hand up and realize you are crying. You don't give them a good bye and you just hang up. You toss your phone and it hits the wall. It felt so good you pick up the remote next and throw it as hard as you can. You can't stop, you throw pillows and flip the coffee table, break plates and glasses. You even break out in a laugh from how ridiculous the whole situation is.

You are so lost in processing everything you don't even hear the door unlock or Simon announcing his presence. He looks around the flat and sees the broken glass, flipped table, and the pillows everywhere. He slowly walks up to you, your back is turned to him and he reaches one hand out to touch your shoulder. You get startled my the hand on your shoulder and you quickly turn to see your boyfriend home early. When you turn around he see bloodshot eyes and tear stained face. You scrabble out of his grip and start to pick up the mess you back all while asking him not to be mad and how you didn't expect him home so early. You are rushing to pick up the mess you accidentally cut your hand. Simon rushes to your side and takes you into the bathroom to help you clean up your hand. He tells you how he tired calling but your phone went straight to voicemail. The whole time you are silently crying and avoiding eye contact.

He cups your face after bandaging up your hand. He looks in your eyes and sees fully the amount of pain you are in and its not the physical kind of pain. He tells you in a stern voice to look at him and tell him what is wrong. You tell him how he deals with so much shit he doesn't need yours to add to it. He gives you that smart ass answer of how he can decide what is too much for him. It's silent for a beat before you tell him everything. You tell him about your parents and the phone call you got. You tell him how livid you are at how they think that just because they are sober and in some program they deserve your forgiveness. How they don't truly understand how their actions affected you.

When you are done it feels like the elephant on your chest has decided to stand up and you smile. It's in that moment he sees your real smile were there is joy in your eyes. All this time you thought he wouldn't want to see or deal with your emotions. All this time all he wanted was to see your jaws.

[mousy-muses13]

milk & honey — john price

pervy!john price x younger!pregnant!reader

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, lactation kink hinted, suggestive/soft smut buildup, dirty thoughts, price being a full-on menace, breeding/prey language

you show up ten minutes early.

little thing in a stretched-out dress that clings to your bump, a button-up cardigan barely hiding the way your tits are pressing against the fabric.

hair done. makeup light. cheap little folder tucked in your hands, pressed under your belly.

you knock.

and john price looks up from his desk and nearly groans out loud.

because you walk in glowing.

waddling a little.

smiling so big.

“hi! i’m here for the assistant position. sorry i’m a little out of breath, the stairs—”

“sit down, love,” he cuts in.

voice low, rough. already full of that accent and already wrecked.

you blink, cheeks warm.

“o-oh! okay.”

you sit. wince slightly. shift on the cushion with your knees pressed together, hands folding over your bump like muscle memory.

john watches.

watches the way you move slow, all careful.

watches the bounce of your chest — so full, nipples peeking through the fabric now that you're close.

you don’t even realize.

“how far along are you?” he asks.

doesn’t even open your file. doesn’t care.

“almost seven months.”

“you doin’ this on your own?”

you pause.

nod.

“yes, sir. just me and baby.”

he exhales. leans back in his chair, one hand dragging down his beard.

baby.

that fuckin’ word, from your soft little mouth.

he wants to say —

that belly should be mine. i’d fuck you again right now if i could. you’re perfect, made for it. full, warm, helpless little thing just waiting to be kept.

instead, he says:

“and you wanna work?”

you perk up.

“yes! just part-time. i don’t wanna strain myself, but i’m still able, and i wanna save some money before the baby comes.”

god.

you’re so fucking sweet.

he bets your apartment’s tiny. your cupboards half-full.

you probably eat cereal for dinner and watch baby videos at night. and now you’re trying to work — trying to be responsible — even though your ankles are already swollen and your belly’s in the way and you can barely bend over.

“i’ll do anything,” you add quickly. “i just need a shot.”

john looks at you.

hard.

long.

then he stands.

walks around the desk. comes to stand in front of you — tall, wide, shadowed in the doorway light.

you look up at him with big eyes.

“sir…?”

he crouches a little. one palm lands on the armrest beside you.

you freeze.

“you ever had a man take care of you proper?” he murmurs.

his hand brushes the curve of your belly — just barely.

“wh-what…?”

“not talkin’ about the father, sweetheart. i mean someone real. someone who’d put you in a warm bed and rub your back and pay for everything — make sure you never had to lift a finger.”

you swallow.

your breath hitches. thighs press tighter together.

“i-i just came for the job, sir…”

he smiles.

“mm. and i’m givin’ it to you. but you’re gonna be more than just an assistant, yeah?”

he leans in.

“you’re gonna be my girl. my pretty little secretary. sit at your desk and look sweet and full and happy for me.”

his hand smooths over your belly now — slow, deliberate.

“and i’ll take care of the rest.”

[mousy-muses13]

The results are in I should have it posted by Friday.

Question time

I have a couple of story ideas. They would be inspired by songs

[mousy-muses13]

Chapter 10

Viola 

The weekend comes pretty fast considering I got here on a Sunday. Kyle told me this morning we are getting off base to shop. I assume we need more food since we don’t really eat at the mess hall. The last few days John brings me a sandwich, fruit, and water to my office during lunch time. Not that I care I’ve always hated mess halls.  Kyle told me to dress warm since its gloomy today. I grab my favorite cardigan and a simple black spaghetti strap dress, I pair it with some tights and socks with some black doc Martin boots. I throw on some accessories and put my hair in a half up half down bun with my bangs framing my face. I literally only packed up warm clothes and clothes that could be warn for anything depending on how you style it. It also helps the majority of my clothes are either black, brown, or purple. Eventually when I get money from what I’m doing on base I’ll buy clothes to wear. 

I walk out and find the rest of the pack wearing jeans and some kind of pull over. They all look my way and now I feel slightly over dressed. “ Is this too much. I’ll go change.” Kyle shakes his head and moves closer to me. He puts his hand on my waist.

“You look ravishing Luv. No need to change at all.” Kyle tightens the hold on my waist and bends his neck down slightly, “ I just think us lot are going to have a hard time keeping our hands off of you is all.” He then moves to brush his nose along the column of my neck sending shivers down my spine. I must start to perfume because the other three growl while I feel Kyle smiling against my neck.

“ All right Kyle stop exciting her. Otherwise we may never leave. If I remember correctly we owe the lady Chinese food.” John starts to pull Kyle away from me. “ Kyle you sit up front with me on our way into town. You’ve had enough contact with Viola, any more and I don’t know what you’ll do.” I giggle at the way Kyle starts to pout. John starts to pull Kyle to the front door and we all follow. There is a small van parked out front Johnny gets into the back seat first and I slide in after him. Simon sits on my other side. Its kinda funny to see him squeeze into this small back seat. I lean over him to watch the scenery pass by. I’ve always liked the woods and seeing so many trees and picturesque scenery around me makes it feel like I’m a normal person not someone who has done horrible things to horrible people. 

We arrive to a small town and park in a spot that sits in front of several little stores. This is just like all those small town lifetime movies my older sister used to force Ella and I to watch with her during Christmas. I slide out of the van with Simons help. “Simon take Kyle to go get food for home. Johnny and I will take Viola to go to the nesting store.” I’m going to a nesting store. I’ve never been to one. The town I lived in Italy didn’t have one. I don’t have money for anything. John must’ve seen the panic in my eyes “ The government gives packs money to help with suppling an omega with their needs. No need to worry. Lets us spend the money on you we have plenty. You know you need more nesting supplies.” He isn’t wrong, my nest still feels like its missing things I just figured that I would ask to go to a store after I get my bank account back up and running. John takes my hand in his and walks us towards the store.

John opens the door for me and guides me inside. The first thing I see when I walk in is rows upon rows of blankets and pillows. It’s a bit overwhelming. I keep turning my head looking to see where to start, it’s all so overwhelming. “Hey Bon close ye eyes and think of your nest. What is the first thing that comes to mind when ye think about how you want your nest to be.” Johnny tells me while rubbing my back up and down. I take a deep breathe and close my eyes. I want the room to be softer than it is now with some plants to make it more lively. 

“The room needs curtains and some plants. I defiantly want some string lights.” I open my eyes and see John looking at a map of the store probably looking for where the things I just listed are and Johnny is looking at me with a shopping cart. “How did you know what to do?”

“My sisters are omegas and I went with them to the nesting store with our parents and it also stressed them out. That is how my mom helped them.” We walk to the window dressings and I pick out some sheer white curtains to let in natural light and then I see pull down black out shades which will help during my heats. Am I really thinking of spending multiple heats with them? Who am I kidding they probably won’t let me go at this rate. I’m too valuable of an asset to let slip past their hands. We walk down the aisle that has lighting and I find some cool tone string lights and some hanging lamps. 

“Do you guys have the same rule about not hanging things in the barracks. In the states we could hang things up in the barracks just not drill or nail anything in.” I have became friends with command strips when I lived on base. 

“If there is we don’t really care. So just get what you want don’t worry about it.” John tells me with his hand on my back urging me forward. I turn down the next aisle and I see blankets on both side of me. I lift my hand to touch a blanket and pull it back. “Dove you can touch them they will grab one from the back if you want it.” 

I reach and I touch the blanket. It’s so soft it’s like touching a damn cloud. I really want this one. It has stars and moons on it. I look at the price tag and I frown. It’s 90 pounds that’s so expensive. I go to move pass it but Johnny pulls the paper slip that we would give the cashier to let them know we want that’s one. “Wait it’s too expensive that’s a lot of money.” I go to grab the slip from him and he raises it above his head and out of my reach. I jump to try and reach it but my efforts are futile. “Keep jumping Bonnie it only benefits me,” it’s only then that I realize that my dress is low cut in the front and I have hella cleavage showing. 

“ Ignore the prices it’s doesn’t matter. If it makes you and your omega happy then we are getting it.” John says to put an end to my worries. I guess they win this time. So I walk along the aisles touching and feeling my way through them. I end up getting four more blankets and five more pillows for the nest/bed. We move to check out and John send Johnny and I outside while he buys everything. 

I look around and see a cute clothing boutique. I grab Johnnys hand and pull him across the street to the store windows and I look inside. The whole inside is so cute and it looks like a store targeted towards omegas. I see John in the window reflection walking towards us. “Is there something you like in there? Here take the card and go. You probably need more clothes I can imagine you couldn’t pack a lot of clothes and nesting things.” John hands me the card and I go towards the door. He is right I don’t have a lot of clothes I mostly just packed essential. I do need more underwear and some sports bras for training. I go to the door and there is a sign that says, “NO ALPHAS”  I smile and walk right on in. This will be a lot easier if I don’t have them staring over my shoulder while I pick out my underwear. I grab a cute summer dress since it should be heating up soon and it was on sale. I also find some nice nightgowns that might be on the sexier side, and I grab new underwear some lace some regular cotton you know the regular mix. I even throw in some bras that match some of the new underwear and two good sports bra with some work out clothes. If I spent to much John can tell Kate to get me my money faster then. I go to check out and there is an omega working the register.

“Did you find everything ok?” I smile at her and nod. “ You must be new in town. If you're with those hunks out there you just live on base.”

“I actually do. I take it you live in town. It’s so beautiful out here.” She looks taken back by how I sound. They must not get many Americans around here.

“You should actually come in town more often there is a group of us omegas who meet at the cafe on Saturday mornings. We gossip and talk. The others will love to hear some stories from America.” She hands me a flyer and sure enough Saturday mornings they have a gossip circle. “ My name is Mary-Anne by the way. I’ll save you a seat next Saturday.” I thank her and I pay for the clothes or should I say John did. I grab the bags and walk out not before waving my new friend bye.

When I walk out Johnny is there waiting for me to take my bags from me. He starts to walk to the car where the others are waiting. He puts the bags in the back of the van and opens the door for me I slide in next to Simon where he is holding a box full of Chinese food. I inhale and it just smells so delicious. I can’t wait to dig in once we get back to base.

Johnny

The lass is just so cute jumping for me in the store like that and then smelling so good while we were eat’n supper. She seemed to like buying herself all them bonnie clothes to wear. I think she even made a friend today. Good for her she needs omega friend and I highly doubt she’ll get along with the one on base. She has too much fire and they are too bland. “What’s the lass schedule next week. Do ye think we could talk to the doctor about her needed more cuddle medicine?” Kyle throws a pillow at me and I catch it, “Oi do you want her to stop cuddling ye. I know I don’t.”

“She does see the Specialist next week I think on Friday. Other than that she should be either at the office working on her assignment or running courses with Simon to see where she is at. She needs to get recertification on everything before she can go in field and that’s if the higher ups are ok with an omega in the field. She does look a lot better just from the last couple of days. Her hair is a lot more brighter and she has come out of her shell some more.” John isn’t wrong she does seem more lively. She has also helped us without even knowing. When we run drills we seem way more in tune. I wonder how much better we will get as a team when she actually runs them with us. I can’t wait to see her in action and actually see if the rumors about the Riot are true. 

“Johnny how do you feel on the rut suppressants? Holding your rut off for almost two months must be hard?” Kyle always being the one worried about us. Kyle is like the mother hen of the pack. 

“Taking it one day at a time, although I did get a little show at the nesting store earlier. I’ll be thinking back to that later tonight.” My cock instantly starts to harden thinking back to her jumping.

“It wasn’t so bad from the back either. Letting her lead when it comes to sex is the best idea but I wish she would just let us in. I know it effects her also. Johnny and Kyle don’t share a wall with her. She is suffering just as much. It does make me feel just slightly better knowing she is having just as much as a hard time as us. At least we have each other. Hopefully she talks about it with the specialist.” So the lass has been taking it upon herself to relieve the frustration. I now know why Simon and Price have been taking turns spending the night in Kyles and I rooms. Not that I mind it at all.

Previous | Next

[mousy-muses13]

hi!!! can i ask how simon would react to seeing your forgotten toy out on your bed/nightstand?? 🍓❣️

He didn’t intend to find it, hadn’t meant to snoop, but there it was out in the opening on your night stand:

A small pink dildo.

He stares at it for a few minutes. It can’t be more than five inches, barely half the girth of his cock. He’s not upset, the sight makes his lips twitch in an amused smirk. He gets it; he’s gone for weeks at a time, his pretty bird has to keep your ache at bay when he’s not there to help. It’s funny, you’ve never shown him it, never even mentioned it to him. His pretty bird acts quite innocent, coy and timid when he paws at your ass and chest, but the whole time you’ve got this pink dildo tucked away in your drawers.

You walk through the bedroom door, unaware to the fact that he’s got your secret in the palm of his hand. “Si, the food just arrived.”

You pause when he turns around, eyes widening when you notice the silicone toy. You instantly wear embarrassment on your face; he can practically see the stinging flush rise to your ears as you realize you’ve got caught.

“I- um,” You begin to stutter, rooted to the entryway of the room.

“This your boyfriend when ‘m not ‘ere?” He asks, rolling his tongue on his teeth to hide the wolfish grin he’s struggling to hide.

You squeak, jumping across the room to attempt and slap the toy out of his hands. You aren’t successful, not when he holds the toy above his head.

“You get off with this, huh? Barely half the size of mine, does it even make you feel good?”

You groan, clawing at his bicep, “Simon, shut up! That’s not fair! My fingers aren’t enough when you’re away!”

He wraps his free arm around your waist, chuckling tauntingly when he leans down. “Not mad, sweet’art. Here I thought my bird was innocent.”

You frown, “I am, you made me like this.”

Soon after, he’s got you on your back, knees pressed to your ears as you cry out, pink silicone pressed to the hilt in your sopping cunt. You’re whimpering, trying your best to thrash under his hold, but he’s too strong, just cooing at your attempts. He fucks you with it until you’re overstimulated and malleable, let him move you around as he pleases after orgasming so many times back to back before he slides home. The sensation makes you mewl, finally something warm and solid, thick and suffocating, the real fucking thing you’ve been craving.

[mousy-muses13]

Bumpy Ride

Pairing: John MacTavish x Reader

Summary: One exfil vehicle that's too small and one split decision to sit on his lap equals John's worst ride back to HQ.

Warnings: Forced proximity, strong language, sexual innuendo, gunfire, mature humor.

MASTERLIST

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Exfil Point Bravo 

The team bolted out of the compound, rounds snapping past them as Gaz skidded the battered tactical SUV into place like a man possessed.

"GO GO GO—I've got two minutes before this thing turns into a coffin!"

Price was already yanking open the passenger door and climbing into the front seat with a curse. "If you scratch this goddamn truck, Garrick—"

"Too late!" Gaz barked with a laugh.

Ghost shoved his hulking frame into the backseat, tactical vest catching on the doorframe. He growled something indecipherable under his breath and twisted sideways, trying to wedge his massive self in without flattening anyone.

She ran up next, panting, gear weighing her down, heat radiating from the firefight behind them. Then she saw the backseat.

"...There’s no way we’re all fitting in that."

Soap was already halfway in, squished between Ghost’s shoulder and the door. “Squeeze or bleed, lass!”

“You serious?” she barked, scanning the already jam-packed back. Ghost’s bulk was eating up two-thirds of the space, his knee brushing Soap’s as he exhaled heavily. Her options? Sit on Soap or Ghost. Neither seemed ideal. Both seemed like trouble.

She chose trouble with a Scottish accent.

With no room to hesitate, she dropped into Soap’s lap, her hips landing flush against his thighs, his vest scraping her side as she fought to pull the door closed.

“You tryna kill me?” Soap choked, his hands flailing before finding unfortunate purchase on her hips to stabilize her. “You’re in full gear!”

“Oh please,” she smirked over her shoulder. “Acting like this isn’t a dream come true.”

“Had a lot of dreams, didn’t involve them—”

CRACK CRACK CRACK! Bullets smacked the rear panel. Ghost ducked slightly, one arm braced over the seat behind her, his voice gravel and annoyance.

“Gaz. Drive the fucking truck!”

Gaz peeled out, tires kicking dust. “I am driving—terrain’s just scenic!”

The moment they hit the first ditch, her ass bounced—hard—on Soap’s lap. He audibly groaned, not in pain.

“Oh fuckin’ hell,” he hissed, knuckles white on her sides. “We’re not gonna make it to base, not at this rate.

Ghost's deadpan broke through the chaos. “Could’ve sat on my lap, love. I don’t squirm like MacTavish.”

She grinned. “You don’t squirm, but I’d feel every gun you’re hiding.” 

Ghost snorted. “You’d feel a gun alright.”

Price didn’t even look back. “Don’t make me turn this truck around.”

Johnny threw his head back with a groan. “Why is this the hill I die on? Not bullets. Not landmines. Arse-first death by teammate.”

“Not my fault Gaz is treating the road like a goddamn skate park!” she shot back as another bump had her ass grinding down.

Gaz, laughing over the radio, added cheerfully, “You’re welcome!”

“YOU WANNA TRADE SEATS?!” Soap shouted toward the front.

Price sighed. “We’re less than ten klicks out. If I hear one more complaint, I’m cuffing you all together when we get back.”

“Think that’s Soap’s kink,” she murmured under her breath. Soap stiffened under her. “You gettin’ ideas, Sergeant?”

“You keep grinding like that and the ideas’ll turn into a problem.” Johnny gripped onto the waistband of her pants, grappling to steady her and restrain himself from losing his shit completely.

Another violent pothole, and Soap bit back a whimper.

Ghost leaned over just enough to be smug. “You alright there Johnny? Want me to hold her for a bit?”

Soap shoved his shoulder back, swearing.

“Oi! Knock it off back there,” Price snapped. “You’re worse than rookies.”

She chuckled, finally settling back against Soap’s chest, body rocking in rhythm with the brutal ride. “Tell me this isn’t the best exfil you’ve ever had.”

Soap grunted, mouth by her ear. “Ask me again when I’m not trying to hide a semi in front of the captain.”

Ghost just laughed.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

I had so much fun writing this, hope y'all enjoyed it.

[mousy-muses13]

Concept: John Price has a lovely little wife at home, that he shares with his boys when the going gets tough…

John Price x Simon Ghost Riley x Mrs Price (You)

Shameless smut. Threesome. Squirting. Bit of Price x Riley action. Little bit angsty (blame Simon)

Masterlist

Simon is a special case. You and John don’t acknowledge that, but it’s true all the same. It started when John asked one year if Simon could come for Christmas. You’d agreed, faintly irritated that your peaceful noel with your often absent husband was going to be interrupted.

Then the man had skulked into your bright, festive home, riddled with silent self loathing well concealed under a veneer of indifference, and you’d forgotten about being angry.

Simon adored your soft coddling, the endless rounds of tea you made him and the small tasks he carried out that made you beam up at his thawing onyx eyes. It didn’t take long for him to start trailing around the house after you while John read the paper, then to sit as close to you as possible during firelight warmed nights watching the old sitcom reruns they play over the Christmas period.

From what little John had told you, Simon had a rough upbringing. He’s important to John, as all his boys are. But with Simon there’s a layer of understanding between the two men that runs deep.

If anything happens to John abroad, it’s Simon that’s written into his will to stand beside you through the agony of it. Simon who has access to John’s offshore accounts so they can’t be traced back to you in the event it all goes south. In essence, Simon’s so thoroughly invested that at times he feels like he took the same vows to you John did, no wedding band upon his finger needed.

Simon was the first person you both let into your marital bed. More than that though he became a part of your marriage, the silent third in the relationship, never asking anything of either you or John, but gratefully included all the same. It’s not official, Simon visits sporadically like an alleycat with several homes that feed it.

But you enjoy the intimacy and so does John. It isn’t unusual for him to visit without your husband at his shoulder, and John is always quietly thrilled when he comes home to Simon’s boots neatly resting next to your smaller shoes on the rack. You invite him for Christmas every year, and Simon always comes home with John a few days beforehand to maximise the time you all have together.

No one else on base has a clue, and though Simon would never admit it, he loves you both entirely. His loyalty to John is unwavering, a steadfast commitment made years ago in the wreckage of his old life, the one that came before Ghost or skulls reeking of gunpowder.

The adoration of you came unexpectedly, from a place of intense jealousy that John had love in someone else and the home comforts he had always failed to find. At first Simon resented John’s insistence that he should meet you, stay in your shared house filled to the brim with simple domesticity.

But after that first taste, Simon knew he’d found a place for himself, lying between you both in the long hours of the night, his head on your chest and John’s broad hand at the nape of his neck.

Perhaps that’s why he takes it so very personally when he feels a spare part. A cuckoo finally recognised and flung from the nest. Jealousy has no place in this arrangement, Simon acknowledges that, though he still feels it regardless of whether he’s allowed to or not.

“Come on, out with it then.”

“What?”

“You’ve been in a foul mood lately. At least do me tha’ curtesy of tellin me why.”

“Not in a mood, dunno watcha mean.”

“Simon.” Price leans back in his creaking desk chair, arms resolutely folded and leaving no room for argument. “You knocked a blokes teeth out for lookin at ya the wrong way last week.”

“He fuckin had it comin.” Replies Simon darkly, scowling so his eyeblack creases around the bottomless darkness of his eyes. John raises a brow, cerulean gaze meeting a suddenly contrite mahogany one ringed by ash coloured lashes. “And I said I was sorry for tha’.”

“Know somethin’s wrong, even if you won’t spit it out.” John pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s getting a headache.

Simon scoffs, rocking back on his heels. There’s a pause where he seriously considers being honest with his Captain, but that entails emotional vulnerability which Simon abhors. It’s a stranger to him, something that doesn’t feel safe unless he’s at home with the people he cares about, balaclava off and softness allowed to seep into his chest.

“Can I go? Said I’d spar with Johnny before I finish up that paperwork.”

“By all means.” John gestures sweepingly to the door with unnecessary flamboyance, still looking searchingly at the man towering opposite him, the embodiment of death dressed from head to toe in black.

Before he can stop himself, Simon lets something slip that suddenly throws his viciously sharp mood into high relief.

“Tha’s if he’s not fuckin playin with that scrap of fabric your missus calls knickers again.”

It’s spoken under Simon’s breath, mulish and uncharacteristically bitter. While Simon is prone to fits of quiet displeasure, it’s rare for him to snap his maw at John, rare enough that the older man takes notice immediately.

“Green isn’t a good colour on you Simon. Stick to black.”

Simon slams the door a little harder than intended, dragging his heels while he curses internally. That was petty, he knows it was.

It isn’t like he minds Johnny having his way with you, hell, it isn’t like you belong to Simon either. But he can’t help the elements of possessiveness in his nature, they are inbuilt and unavoidable. You and John are his little family, the three of you coexisting in perfect harmony while Simon eats up anything you cook and nods off to sleep against John’s shoulder on the sofa.

Actually it’s anxiety that’s currently eating away at him, though Simon isn’t prepared to acknowledge it yet. Johnny is far more easy going, a sunnier personality, better company than Simon could ever be. The Scot is fun to talk to, Simon knows first hand how disarmingly enjoyable it is spending time with him.

People laugh easily with Johnny, whereas Simon carries a potent aura of sullenness, black orbs full of heavy energy and mistrust of most social interactions.

At it’s root Simon wonders whether you might prefer Johnny in your bed, or if Price might find it more uplifting to have him at his side when tackling DIY projects around the house and garden. Simon loves Johnny too, but also envies him slightly, bold and brave, a heart worn on his sleeve rather than one guarded close to his chest. Instead of talking about his fears, Simon hides in them.

Back in his office, John presses his mobile to his ear, waiting for the dial tone to connect him with your soft voice. It still gives him a surge of adrenaline when he hears you speak, the same as it did when you both met.

Giddy and grinning from ear to ear, John tells you a soft hullo down the phone every time he calls. It makes you laugh, a little routine built on a fundamental adoration and understanding of each other.

“Hiya darlin, you having a good day?”

The light of his life and Simon’s too by all accounts, John listens to you talk, any irritation at Simon’s temper tantrum soothed.

“Listen, Simon’s ‘avin a bit of a wobble, think we might need to give him some TLC this weekend love.”

“Have you upset him Jonathan? What have you done?!”

Your voice is teasing, with the barest edge of a telling off hidden in the crackle down the line. You know them both so well, one a husband in name and both a husbands in your mind. John is sure you’ll have a remedy for it, bash their heads together until your shared coupling is balanced again.

“It is my fault actually, sometimes I don’t appreciate Simon like I should. Don’t appreciate how sensitive he is underneath.” John sighs heavily. You read between the lines, sensing the issue at hand.

“You better both come home to me then.”

Simon deliberately works late that night, burning the midnight oil, eyes strained as he completes reams of tedious paperwork, dotting his signature out with the pen clutched tight in his fist. By the time he makes it back to your house, John’s car has a thin sheet of ice covering the windshield and only a few glowing lamps have been kept on in the sitting room.

It looks so warm and soft inside, amber coloured windows and a short stream of steam flowing out into the chill where the heating has been put on. Simon almost aches with it, until he remembers he’s supposed to be in a bad mood, giving himself a shake and mulishly slotting his key into the lock.

“Dinners in the microwave Si.” You call out as he steps over the threshold. No fanfare, no drama from his spat with John earlier. He slumps into the kitchen and starts heating the plate you set aside for him. He hears you enter behind him, two arms wrapping tight around his middle as you burrow into the back of his hoodie.

“Hi.” Voice muffled, you rub your face against the muscles woven beneath the fabric.

“Hi.” He replies wearily, covering your linked hands on his stomach with his big, calloused paws. “Where’s the Cap?”

“Out for a run, s’just you and me for a bit.”

Simon frowns, you tug off his balaclava ready for the washing machine tomorrow morning, smoothing his ruffled blonde strands and pressing a hand to his forehead.

He sighs, leaning into it, the warmth of your palm, the smell of a tea you’ve spent all day cooking up for him and John. Perceptive as ever you sit with him while he eats, letting him play with your fingers, then you make him a cuppa and a slice of cake for pudding.

The silence between you is golden, every now and then you rub his knuckles, smile in that mellow way that quietly reassures him.

“Will you be here on Sunday? I’m doing a roast.”

For a split second, Simon considers being bluntly honest, asking you to tell him if his company is truly wanted around the table, if the happy way you phrase that question comes from a place of love that mirrors how he feels. A lump rises and gets caught in his throat. Greedy, he’s always been the same. Resource guarding as a stray does over a full dinner bowl.

He swallows the emotion barely, it catches, chokes on the way down his throat.

“Sounds good.”

“It will be good!” You pet his head while the plates are cleared. If you notice the way his jaw is clenched, dark eyes burning over bright with something akin to devotion, you don’t mention it.

Full and placid, Simon rests with his head on your lap in front of the TV. You’re no fool, aware that Simon finds it impossible to be moody when he’s eaten a good meal and that your husband is always relaxed and mellow when he’s worked up a sweat pounding the roads around your house.

That’s why you all work so well together, you are the equilibrium keeping both stern personalities combined and harmonious.

Gently, you tug Simon into a sitting position, reclining and stretching your legs out so he can settle beside you. Chest to his back, the drone of some innocuous sitcom blurring in the atmosphere, he sinks into the embrace, lets you wrap around him. Warm and fuzzy, a hand sneaks underneath the hem of his T-shirt, fingers teasing the rough hair on his lower belly.

But he catches them before you can hook one beneath his waistband, holds them firm and links his digits against your own.

“What do you need Si?” You ask him quietly.

He doesn’t know how to say it, what to verbalise when the only thought in his mind revolves around vanquishing the turgid anxiety forming within his chest. Simon wants you to touch him like you cherish his very marrow, make believe he’s truly accepted in this space he occupies made originally for two but now squeezed for three.

“Dunno.” He grunts roughly, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth when your lips nuzzle into the soft skin of his neck.

The kisses you press beneath the cropped hair on his nape make him breathless. John’s shadow hangs heavily over the spectacle of you both spooning on the sofa, almost as if Simon needs the older man’s permission.

Instantly regret floods him for his earlier outburst. John’s been nothing but generous, welcomed Simon into his team and then his home, while the jaws he fed snapped ravenously for more.

John and you are the only people who have ever seen his soft underbelly, the sole humans he’s rolled submissively over for and offered that bitter, black heart to.

You hum in response to him, and he thinks there and then he might break with it. Your nose nuzzling his flesh softly while a few kisses linger there.

“I put clean sheets on the bed.”

A short pause follows that, he waits, listening intently.

“I’m gonna have a shower…then I want to cuddle up with you in them.”

Simon shifts a little.

“That okay?”

“Had a row with John today.” Simon speaks quietly, shame drenching each syllable. “Overstepped myself.”

He takes a short breath, the tension across the big shoulders you’re resting your chin on could be cut with a blunt knife.

“Don’t reckon he’ll be up for tha’ tonight.”

“If that’s what you think…why are you here?”

He has to consider that for a second. In truth he’s in your house because it feels like his too. The place Simon can be himself for brief periods until the longing for permanence becomes too much.

“Because…”

“Because it’s where you want to be, where you should be and you know that.” You finish the words for him, giving Simon an out from saying the things too difficult to give a voice to. “We want you here too.”

Sliding off the couch, you get to your feet.

“Come on.” One smaller hand beckons to him.

Hours later, he’s dozing. Your head curled within the crook of his arm when he hears John’s key turn in the latch. Simon listens intently, the sound of heavy, grumbling movements on the stairs, the bathroom door shutting with a snap.

After a few moments the shower starts running and it’s then he makes his decision. Placing you carefully on the pillow, fast asleep, Simon makes his way slowly to the source of rushing water, moving silently as a panther would through tall grasses.

He doesn’t knock, there’s no need to. Simon has no intention of ruining the moment with announcements. John’s broad back is to him, the steam curling over the sun damaged and freckled muscles lining it, his dark hair drenched in the moisture. His head turns very slightly, the only indication he knows someone is in there with him.

It takes Simon less than a heartbeat to shed his clothes, to climb in behind John. In the same way you did, he moulds himself to fit, forcing his big body close. His forehead rubs lightly against the beads of water caught on John’s flesh, backwards and forwards. Repetitive, self soothing.

“M’sorry.” He mumbles and John knows that doesn’t come lightly. “Was out of order weren’t I.”

John doesn’t immediately reply. Simon stands there, feeling more unwanted by the minute, wondering if he should disappear entirely from both of your lives. That would hurt, but he’s lived through worse. Hasn’t he?

Before the spiral completes itself, John has turned, grabbed him by the back of his neck and dragged his mouth forwards. The kiss that follows is layered with unspoken things, quiet and silent emotions only two men like Simon and John could understand.

The stubble of John’s beard scratches, firm hands cradling him in a way that leaves no room for doubt in his head. His tongue pushes, probes the line of Simon’s lips as a grunt leaves him at the response he receives.

“Listen to me.” Nose to nose they stand, azure pupils boring into the darkness fighting within Simon’s own eyes. “Ain’t nothin to apologise for. The missus likes the boys, but they ain’t the ones she wants to wake up with every mornin. You and I are.”

Simon chokes, held together purely by the force of that statement and John’s presence alone.

When they kiss again, it’s softer, far more content and comfortable. They linger there for awhile, surrounded by artificial rain, lost in it’s rhythmic pattern.

You wake groggy, the lights off, only the low blur of the alarm clock on the sideboard. Your sleep addled brain takes time to compute that you’re surrounded by two hulking forms. John lies on one side, Simon curled on the other.

Quietly you stroke the curve of John’s face, letting the pads of your digits brush against the strong jawline under his beard. He opens an eye, resting it lovingly on you. When you smile he does too.

Simon stirs, one of his hands looking for yours, but when he locates it you only get a brief squeeze, before it moves upwards to sneak beneath your pyjama top. His callouses catch on the budded skin of your nipple, while it rises to a peak at his touch.

The resolution soars and falls with each beat of your heart, a steady pulse that becomes clearer.

Slowly, you reach for John, moving his palm to twine against Simon’s on your breast. They both rest there, the three of you sighing in sync. Then John shares a look over your shoulder, one you can’t see returned. But you feel Simon move.

You’re rolled into him, face pressed against his chest and tugged to straddle his body, while John adjusts too. John runs one finger along the curve of your form spread over his lieutenant, it ignites, makes warmth spread from your crown down to your toes.

Simon moves your face to his, several long and slightly urgent kisses pressed against your lips. Then he makes a low sound in the back of his throat, hoarse and bitten off. The rustle of fabric behind you, but he won’t let you turn, grasping your chin harshly and nipping at your mouth when you try and move.

Without vision, your imagination starts to flourish, blooms fantasies that make your pussy clench. Fuelled entirely by desire, Simon refuses to allow you an inch of room, as John’s rough hands make short work of your panties, ripping them clean in two.

A small noise leaves your throat when the coarse hair of John’s beard brushes the soft skin of your thighs. Simon places one heavy palm against your lower back, forcing you to arch, putting you on display for your husband.

The air is cold, legs moved further apart so you’re entirely exposed.

“Fuckin gorgeous.”

That’s the only warning you get before John’s tongue lathes against the exposed seam of your cunt.

You jerk, twitching as Simon keeps you rooted in your position, John taking his time, painting gentle motions backwards and forwards. He catches your clit and you keen, try and wriggle to escape the intensity until Simon knots his fingers against your scalp.

The blunt head of John’s cock nudges at you, spreads the layer of arousal his roused alongside his spit until he’s soaked. Your teeth nip into the meat of Simon’s pec, his hand still caging you there, deliciously restrained.

The first thrust of John into you sends a simultaneous grunt from both men. You’re jolted harder into Simon, strands pulled taut and painful, his other fingers reaching between you both to tease the apex of your pussy until you hiss.

John holds your hips, surging inside your cunt red hot until the fierceness of taking him blends into a fever. There’s nowhere to run between them, John’s thick cock stretching you tight, Simon bullying your clit, not gifting you an inch of reprieve. Shuddering, you can feel the crest of a burning orgasm hovering.

Simon spits on his fingers, increasing the pace of his movements against your nerves until you shudder, whimpering with overstimulation that borders on intoxication because your brain might well melt out of your ears.

The pull on your hair sends the muscles of your neck recoiling, leaves your throat open for more kisses. Simon layers them there meanly, swipes his tongue along the column of your windpipe and leaves you gasping. Unable to utter a word, only breathy slugs of air are sucked inwards, the soft slick of flesh meeting flesh filling the room obscenely.

It hits, crashing over you until your toes curl, pussy filled to the brim and fluttering around John as it’s his turn to groan. Warmth flows over, his spend seeping out onto the covers.

There’s no time to collapse, even catch your breath. The small movement Simon allows is only used to angle your pelvis, seat himself inside your aching cunt to the hilt. The lubrication of John’s cum helps, Simon is bigger, almost as thick at his base.

For a moment, Simon’s fingers cup your cheek, caressing feather light in a way that hints at unrestrained adoration, pieces of hair tucked off your face. He’s so hard it’s almost impossible, you can feel him in your throat and you sob with it. Simon shushes you gently, John kissing the small of your back lightly as he moves around the bed.

Simon rocks up into you, trying to ease the pressure and you cling to him. John settles next to you, pulls you upwards so you’re tilted snuggly, drags your mouth to his. It helps, the safety of his body, emboldened you start to move.

Simon’s hands at your waist, John pressed close and grounding you. It’s right where you should be. Each gyration nudges your clit teasingly and Simon huffs at the sensation of you taking him deeper.

“M’close.” He murmurs. “Fuck! I’m so close!”

“Not until she cums.” Growls John and Simon nods urgently in response.

When you start to quiver, John takes you by the throat, adds just enough pressure to make you gulp, to remind you of his raw authority. It makes your head swim, eyes searching for his, because the sight of that grim determination in his face will make you burst over the banks of another climax.

Simon powers into you from below, his grip now harsh, struggling to keep himself from following. He’s rewarded when you cry out, a thin stream of arousal drenching his balls until his cock swells with need. Simon moans hoarsely, drags you to grind harder against him until you shake.

Finally, with a nod from John, Simon spills deep, tears beading at the corners of both onyx eyes with the pleasure of it. Combined they coddle you, Simon whispering moans and aching thoughts. John’s presence steadies you both, pieces you back together brick by brick.

The sight of your husband putting Simon on his knees, sinking inside him with relish while Si drags your cunt to his mouth by one ankle, isn’t one you’ll forget.

You add it to the catalog of cherished memories you’re keeping. The way Simon eats you out, tastes the remnants of himself and his Captain their with relish speaks of deep feeling. Even if he won’t vocalise that.

Simon keeps the panties you wore that night. But never lets Johnny catch a hint of them.

[mousy-muses13]

I need bratty sergeant and Simon Riley smut (im sorry if this is too blunt and also you don’t have to do this, okay ily)

"if you don't shut it, i'll shut it for you" / one-shot -> bratty!sergeant x simon riley [3] (can be read independently) part one - part two

⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist -> REQUESTS OPEN!

cw: smut smut smut, oral (simon recieving), fingering (r), edging, overstim, rough sex, helicopter-fuckin', "pup", consentual sex!!!, fingers in mouth, one face slap, "slut" x1, p in v, creampie

he's fucking tired, the lot of his muscles aching with a deep, cloying need. he wanted to collapse on his barrack and dissapear for a week. the helicopter rumbles with sound as he sits on a jumpseat, closing his eyes to lean his head back against the walls.

"Lt!" his eyes open, and he swears, if he hears your voice again, he's about to pick you up and throw you off the fuckin' chopper.

"did you see that shot i lined up? wasn't that so cool--"

"sergeant. if y'don't shut y'reself up, i'll stuff y'r mouth myself," simon mutters, and if looks could kill, you may as well be on the ground, bleeding out.

you pause for a second, and then start right back up, moving to sit right beside him, prattling on and on about the mission, about your plans when you get home--

then you went and leaned over. just close enough to check if he was really listening. you barely even noticed what you were doing, but he did. tits pressed against him, your head craning to see if he was actually paying attention.

"sergeant, what the hell did i tell you?"

you freeze. are you actually in trouble, this time? the rest of the ride is filled with a tense silence, and you stare at him awkwardly, giving him big, apologetic eyes every time he looks at you.

how can you blame him for acting the way he is? pent up to hell, cock clubbed up in his pants, straining needily against the fabric? he nearly dealt with it the moment you landed. he wanted to shut you up, and wanted to see you cry when he did.

"so fuckin' loud," he huffs under his breath, and the moment the rest of the squad leaves the helicopter, simon takes the opportunity to grab you as you're leaving, forcing you back into a jumpseat and slamming the door closed.

the moment your back hits the jumpseat, you should've known you were fucked. "you just don't stop talking, do you, sergeant? like a ditzy, dumb f'ckin' pup."

he stands over you, his hand tugging your chin upwards, "what'd i say? that if you ran your mouth, i'd shut you up, yeah? i just fuckin' might."

your breath quickens, and you dig your fingers into his forearm, trying to pull him off, "sir--m' sorry, won't talk as much--" here you were, thinking he was going to sentence you to a thousand pushups and a hundred laps around base, but simon had other ideas.

"shut up." he stuffs his thumb into your mouth, pressing the digit down against your tongue.

you let out a strangled choking sound, blinking up at him in surprise. "god, m' gonna stuff your fuckin' mouth..." his eyes are dark, heavily lidded, and as you search past the mask, you note the lust taking over the forefront of his mind. "nod, lass, if y'want me to. i don't wanna hear words 'less you want me to stop."

you manage a nod. he gives you a nod of approval, his thumb dragging out of your mouth, smearing your saliva on your cheek. "fuckin' good pup."

his gloved hands pull at his plate carrier, tugging it off and dropping it on the seat opposite to you, shedding his headgear with it. he rolls his shoulders, grunting as he tugs off his shirt, leaving him in a tight, compression undershirt. you watch him like you're starved, taking in every contour of his muscles. he sheds his gloves too, tosses them to the jumpseat.

"like what y'see?" he teases, moving close, grabbing you by your hair, fingers digging into the strands. his free hand tugs down the zipper of his pants, reaching into his boxers and freeing his cock. it's heavy in his hand, flushed tip already drooling precum.

you blink up at him, eyes pleading silently, "sir, please, can i--"

his hand comes down on your cheek. "what'd i say, sergeant? shut up."

he's pulling your hair back, guiding you to open your mouth, and you do, his hips easing forward, the tip of his cock spreading your mouth open around his shaft. "suck, sergeant," he hisses, biting his tongue as you do.

you do. and fuck him, he's not touched himself for a damn long time. your lips seal around him like you're trying to milk him dry, your tongue flicking over his slit, sucking up precum and moaning while you do it--he almost cums right then and there.

"fuck'n hell, lass, you're..." he tightens his grip on your head, pulling you away, his chest heaving, "fuck."

"strip f'me, doll. wanna see y'spread out f'me, yeah?" he watches you, and it's not meant to be sexy, it's messy, how you tug your clothes off desperately, wanting to feel him against you. that desperation makes warmth pool in his gut.

he stops you when you're in your bra, your panties, nude coloured undergarments. but it makes some part of him scream. he kneels before you, eyes trained on your cunt.

"gonna be good f'me?" he's shoving your panties to the side, his thumb pressing to your swollen clit, satisfaction reflected in his eyes as your hips jump forwards needily. the way he speaks to you--speaks to your pussy--as if you aren't even part of the conversation has you leaking.

he smears your juices across your folds, twisting his hand to push a meaty finger in you, massaging your velvety walls, and he moans, his free hand digging into the skin of your hip, "fuck, doll, you're so f'ckin tight f'me."

all you give him is a series of choked moans, a breathy "please, please, please," and a tight squeeze of you around his fingers.

"so wet, i could slide right in, huh?"

it was like being pulled apart and stitched back together, as he curls his fingers deep against your gummy walls, drawing you right there. so close, if only a hair's breadth from falling apart--

he pulls away.

"fuck, simon!" you whine, your eyes welling with tears, "please, please..."

"no," he mutters, slapping your soaking pussy, a sadistic grin falling over his face as he watches how your hips jolt upwards, seeking more. his hand moves to pull off his balaclava, and before you can gawk at his face, he leans up, kissing you--the action is gentler than before, his tongue sweeping your mouth and claiming.

when he pulls away, he's panting, his hand moving to grip his hard shaft, fisting it, pushing against your thigh. "fuckin' hell." he lets go of his cock, pulling you up and holding you up over his cock, lowering you down. one hand holds you, wraps around your waist like you're weightless, the other guiding his cock past your tight entrance.

"tight as hell, sergeant. who knew y'r bratty mouth could be shut up so easily by a good fuckin'?"

he lowers you down slowly. just enough to keep you clenching desperately as you try to ease more of him in, to accomodate more--the burn is deliciously pleasurable. when you ease all of him in, he moans into your ear, his teeth moving to suckle at your neck.

he pounds into you, ferally. lifts you up, drops you down over his cock, your combined fluids dripping down his shaft and falling to the floor.

"fuck, gonna make me cum, this fuckin' cunt... s'pretty f'me, drippin' so much..."

you moan, squeezing harshly down on him, clenching, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave marks. he buries his head in your neck, bites down on your skin like he'll leave a mark, muffling his noises.

"you keep clenchin' on me like that n' i'm gonna--" you're mewling, drooling against him, fingers tugging at his messy hair. he's wanted you like this for the longest time, spread out for him and at his mercy... suddenly the hours of torture of you teasing him is all worth it.

but you're so on edge, from his denial of your orgasm, that when he bullies his cock right against that spot in your walls, you're clenching down on him, digging your fingers into his trapezius and throwing your head back. you're a wreck, but simon's not done.

keeps you bouncing on him, and he's just so close, spurred on by your spasming walls and desperate whimpers. "mmh, fuck, who'dve known that such a fuckin' bratty little slut 's just a needy fuckin' bird," his voice is hoarse, stuttered by grunts as he uses you like a toy.

"fuck'm coming, take--take it all," he manages, pulling you flush against him, your hips right against his pelvis as he pumps his load deep inside you, filling you up. like he owned you.

for once, you were quiet. but now that you know you can get him to behave like this? you won't be quiet for long.

[mousy-muses13]

Chapter 9

Viola

The base is very similar to other bases I’ve lived on. Infirmary, mess hall, admin buildings, training courses, armory, garage for official vehicles. The only difference is this one is a lot larger and there is a lot of walking. As we walk through John walks next to me in stead of in front like a normal captain would. We start to get a lot of stares and glances. I’m so happy for these patches hiding my scent other I assume we would be comments also. I still wonder if they can tell though. 

“They can’t tell so don’t worry. They are just wondering who the new beauty on base is. They are also probably trying to figure out who will be working with the 141. The Colonel might of let it slip that the 141 was getting a new edition. I just don’t think people expect it to be a women.” John’s words help ease my anxiety. We finally get to our destination. We walk in and greet the front desk. John explains that I have clearance to go up and that the Colonel is expecting me. We head to the elevator and we go up to the fifth floor. When we exit I get hit with the smell of smoke and sulfur. Reminds me of the battle field. My omega is bugging me to get away from this scent or to hide in Johns neck for his scent. I ignore her and push her down. I walk with John until we reach a door. The sign on the door reads Colonel David Rivas. John just walks in and I follow suit. We walk in and the smell just gets stronger. I keep my hands to my side and keep my head up. I see a middle aged man probably late 40s sitting at the desk. This must be his scent so that means he is an alpha. We get to the front of the desk and I salute him and hold my position. He is of a way higher rank than me I would rather not get on his bad side. He looks at me and then chuckles. 

“At ease solider.” I relax my hand down to my side. “It’s finally nice to see you up close Sargent Stuart. I saw you one time in Iraq, you were good. Was hoping you would get far. Now that the famous Riot is on base you can help these men get the soldiers here close to your teams level. This base is a first of its kind. The men and women here have all shown that they have potential for spec ops and this is where they get trained for it. For now you’ll stay on base. Laswell has said you have experience in recon and intel gathering. Until I can get clearance for you to go on mission that will be one of your duties. You also have the most experience with extraction of live assets so you can train the soldiers on that. Get me a list of things that you need and I’ll see what I can do. As of right now you are a civilian under military contract. I’m working with Laswell and my superiors to get you enlisted. You’ll be the first omega to be enlisted in The King’s Army If this succeeds, it will be a new step in the right direction.Any questions?”

“No Sir,” he called me Sargent Stuart. It feels nice to hear that. I haven’t been called that in what seems like forever. 

“I do have another task for you. I can’t trust any regular translator with this.” Colonel Rivas bends down and picks up a box and puts it on his desk, “ in here are months worth of messages between an arms dealer and bureaucrat. Both are from Italy and everything is in Italian. I need you to read through and report back anything you find. This is your first official task.” I crack a smile. This is a great start to a first day. 

“Thank you Sir, I won’t let you down.” I go to go grab the box but John beats me to it. I forget that he is such a gentleman. The Colonel notices too and smiles. 

“Oh before you leave here is your clearance badge and your ID to get on and off base. Inside the box is also some paperwork I need signed and return back to me by end of day. Just give it to the desk on first floor and they will send it up this way. You’re dismissed.” John and I both turn and go to the elevator. The second we get inside I turn to him and lean up and put my face in his neck. I relax once I smell his bourbon scent. He chuckles and moves the box to one hip and pulls me in with his now free arm. 

“I was wondering when you would do this. Good job you passed several of his test.” Did John just say test. I move away from him after I appeased my omega and lets be honest myself with his scent. 

We walk out the door before I ask, “What test are you talking about? Was him projecting his scent a task?”

“One of them. If you would’ve covered your nose or went to mine immediately he would’ve seen that you are weak to your omega. That could prove to be dangerous in the field if you can’t ignore her when you need too. We do it as alphas all the time. You saluted to him even though you are technically a civilian and didn’t need to, so that was a pass. Also you accepted your assignment and first mission no questions asked. You are aware of you reputation of being defiant? He wanted to make sure he isn’t letting trouble on to base and giving them clearance.” Makes sense but me being defiant can only come from one asshole General.

“Defiant is not what I would call it. I refuse one order only because I had a better plan that would end with less civilian casualties. I also took a bullet in my thigh for that one so I would say we were even.” That mission was a disaster that’s for sure. 

“You’ll have to tell the pack one night about that one. We figured most of your scars came from battle. We all know Americans are usually on frontlines in war zones. Back to business though your office is in the same hall as all of ours. Don’t want you too far away from us. I just stuffed Johnny with Kyle in one room that way I don’t ever have to wonder who is in who’s office. When those two get frustrated with their work load they go to each other to calm down.” I blush only imagining what those two are doing. We walk towards a building that looks like a regular office building and I swipe us in with my new card. We walk down the hall and I see the boy’s names on three doors. There is a blank door in between John and a wall with Simon across and Kyle/Johnny adjacent to me. Too far my ass, we could open the doors and yell across the hall to talk to each other. 

I open the door to the office and step in. John walks past me and sets the box down on the desk. This room is so plain I at least have a window and a white board. 

“I’ll come by in a few hours for lunch. Kyle will be here by 16:00 he will walk with you to drop off your paperwork and we’ll have dinner at home. Oh before I forget.” John reaches to his back pocket. He pulls out my combat knife and hands it to me handle first. “ Since we can’t always be with you when on base you should at least carry this. I can probably trust with this you more then some of the privates on base. If you need anything you know where to find any of us.” 

I put the knife in my back pocket and watch as John walks out and close the door behind him. Do cargo pants make anyones ass look good. I feel no shame in looking either. I know for a fact all four of them have been looking at my ass or tits every chance they think I’m not looking or paying attention. If they can look so can I. I sit down at the desk and open the box. I pull out the first stack of papers and they are personal files I have to fill out and contracts to read over and sign. I look in the top drawer for a pen and I’m in luck with it being fully stocked. I take a deep breath and get to work.

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