#a/b/o cod!au

[cas-backwards-tie]

question! are you ever going to update your omega series for cod? It’s really good!

hey! omg, thank you for the ask ❤️I totally am, I have like, 95% of the next chapter written. I think I just was overwhelmed by the attention it got, because none of my other works have gotten this much. 😅

Therefore, I've been trying to get anyone to beta read it, talk about the plot with me, because I sort of got anxious that what I have so far isn't as good as the first chapter was.

Ultimately, too, I also don't know where exactly it'll go in the future past the third or fourth chapter (the third is already planned/written in snippets already) major plot wise, but yeah. So... if anyone would like to beta read it for me/discuss plots, I'd be totally up for that. I also might not find anyone, and that's fine. I just think it'll take longer bc I've been doubting myself when it comes to this series.

Fic In Question

[xiixii]

The tallest, strongest and most dominant, beautiful and powerful omega

and his little alpha!

[ilostthewar]

Thinking about Omega!Soap and Omega!Reader being each other’s biggest defenders. They bond heavily simply because they both fill similar roles within their pack. A lot of the time, this simply translates to the fact that they are always found scenting and cuddling. They share nesting materials and often prefer to just make one big nest for them to occupy together. They’re both able to pick up on small signals of what the other may need. Which sets this really funny situation where they both will hold grudges against other people for no other reason besides omega-solidarity. However, it does have an unintended consequence.

Disagreements within the pack happen. It’s a natural part of having mates and living within a pack dynamic. But whenever big arguments happen, it’s easy to suddenly have two omegas who are clearly pissed off. It’s natural for you and Johnny to feed off of each other’s emotions, especially when the bonds are already frayed from the fight.

A lot of the time, this simply happens in an effort to protect one another, to provide comfort. It’s not an intentional act to other a member of the pack. However, it does help fast-track resolutions. You aren’t going to out-stubborn your omegas.

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 1 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

ah, look at that. have some omegaverse angst inspired by this post here <3 if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

well, this turned out to be miles longer than i expected it to. there's not really a solid ending, so let me know if you want more! have so much fun getting your heart ripped out <3

word count: 4,764 chapter two masterlist ao3 link

Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes. 

After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Of course, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.

So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.

You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told. 

You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him. 

So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega. 

Come to my quarters.

The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry. 

You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you. 

You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open. 

Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask.  He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and his musculature slightly less defined.

“You came.” He didn’t seem surprised, the rough timbre of his voice as unchanging as if he had remarked on the weather, which only increased the volatile rage that had flooded your system. His arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “No use just standin’ in the doorway.”

You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.

“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong. 

Simon growled lowly at the sound of your rage-filled pain, the sound of an alpha not used to having somebody fall immediately into line. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry. 

That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”

Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?

That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.” 

He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.” 

As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold. 

“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”

You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”

His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”

His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”

As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal. 

And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there was something there now. 

When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat. 

“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage. 

You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing. 

He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally. 

As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you. 

But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped. 

He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight. 

You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells. 

“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”

Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds. 

“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”

You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own. 

“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!” 

His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin. 

He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this. 

“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair. 

His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.” 

You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.” 

The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest. 

“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.” 

“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly achingly against your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart. 

“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.” 

Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever. 

“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.” 

Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?” 

The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you. 

“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better,  baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”

You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you. 

You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.” 

Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free. 

His fault. All his fault. Always his fault. 

He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears. 

“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.” 

He gingerly laid you on the bed, surrounding you with blankets and pillows, anything he could find that was drenched in his alpha scent, before his body came to blanket you. He couldn’t lose you. And he will keep his promise, even as his own silent tears fell down around your now-unconscious face. What’s that old saying? Oh, right. You never know what you have until it’s gone.

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing Masterlist

Kate delivered you, a broken unwanted beta off with four men, John, Kyle, Johnny, and Simon. Two alphas and two omegas happily mated and with no need of you. Kate calls you a wife instead, and demands they care for you to keep them from killing themselves on jobs. You had been pulled from a Scorpio facility. Scorpio removed betas of all ages from the census aimed toward a reduction of deaths in the population due to rut/heat-related deaths. What the general public didn't know is they harvested betas to accomplish this goal. It followed the trend of fewer betas being born and the reasons being given were that as a population everyone had started to evolve beyond needing a betas. Scorpio left you with a final gift; you were dying. The stipulation of playing anchor for these men was their ignorance. They wouldn't want you and didn't need you, why put your vulnerabilities in their hands? This works until they start to fall for you, one by one, and Scorpio comes to retrieve their missing property.

CW: violence will occur, flash backs to being held captive and used for medical experimenation, A/B/O dynamcis, death is a pretty normal topic in this fic

Part 1 -… . - .- … / -… . .. -. —. / -… ..- - -.-. …. . .-. . -..

Part 2 -…. ….- ..—- .—— / .-. . -.-. —- .-. -.. . -.. / -.. . .- -..

Part 3 -.-. …. .. .-.. -.. .-. . -. / -.— —- ..- -. —. / .- … / - . -.

Part 4 … -.-. —- .-. .—. .. —- / … - .. .-.. .-.. / .- -.-. - .. …- .

Part 5 -. —- / .-. . -.-. —- .-. -.. … / . -..- .. … - / ..-. —- .-. / …. . .-.

Part 6 -. —- / .-. . -.-. —- .-. -.. … / . -..- .. … - / ..-. —- .-. / …. . .-.

Part 7 -… . - .- / -… .-.. —- —- -.. / .—. .. -. - / -.-. —- … - / —-.. ——- ——-

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

AO3 | Masterlist | Taglist

Dividers found here.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Okayyyy A/B/O Nikghostprice. Inspired by a post of ideas @s0fter-sin they also let me yap while writing :3

2,700 words.

Content warnings : sex (mild amounts) , extreme self depreciation because Simon is silly, mentions of roba alluding to SA,

Simon knew he got in the way, that was his whole life summarised.

He was only ever kept around because he was useful for something for the other, to the point they could put up with him slightly.

Or they were too nice to kick him away, and were entertaining him much like a stray dog. The second was obviously the current situation he was in.

He had somehow crash landed his way into the middle of Nikolai and Price's sex life, and both were too nice to outwardly kick him out.

And Simon, selfish Simon, didn't leave. He knew they didn't actually want him, but he couldn't say no when they offered.

He knew he was causing issues and should call it off, but he just couldn't. It was so so selfish. But that's all Simon was, selfish and unwanted.

The two had given him the slightest hint of affection and he'd clung to it like a pathetic wet pup.

He hadn't even been hauled in giving them some kind of fun of sex.

No.He had been on a mission and been dumb. He wasn't paying attention, he was distracted and it got soap hurt.

One of the pack got hurt because of his incompetence, and now he couldn't handle it. Rather than looking after Soap and dealing with all the paperwork like a good responsible alpha.

He shut down. Like a pathetic toddler throwing a tantrum, he just shut down. He wasn't even the one hurt for fucks sake. Yet he was being pathetic.

Price obviously couldn't stand the level of pathetic one member of his team was being.

Should anyone have seen Ghost they'd have got a bad impression of the whole team. Price had roughly grabbed the back of Ghosts neck, scruffing him till his knees went weak and then dragged him back to Price and Niks shared room, pushing him into the bed.

Wait, not a bed, nest.

Simon had never been in a nest, it was so comfortable and soft, and the only scent he could smell was safe and calm.

His eyes had fluttered closed quickly. A mix of the stress and the sudden relaxation from the nest and scent. It was so warm and comfortable.

Simon had felt even worse because Price had stayed up the whole time, clearly worried that should Simon wake he'd do something dumb or steal or something.

Then when Simon woke it had taken him a second to get his brain working the nest so comfortable, before he remembered Nik was coming home today. Simon could only imagine how fucking pissed the alpha would be if he came home to find Simon, another alpha in his and price's nest.

He had scrambled out before price could even shoo him out. Better to leave before he was forced to. The amount of time they would tolerate him was limited, he needed to make it last.

Simon wasn't even too sure how he'd tumbled into their sex life. He silently mused lying on the now cum covered bed, Price licking the remains of Niks cum from the Russians hips.

He just somehow ended up in it, but he wished selfishly, he wished so badly those bites on his neck would inch just a little closer to his scent gland.

He loved their scent intermixing with his, he just wished they didn't make him wash it off right after. He wished he could bottle the scent of his and theirs mixed and smell it whenever he was stressed.

But that was selfish.

He had so much already, he couldn't push for more. They had picked him up, like a sad wet pup, and out of some form of pity or feeling of obligation, entertained him.

And now, like usual he felt those warm, soft but rough hands, urging him up, to go wash off the scent. It always hurts slightly, they made him wash off the scent everytime.

But he knew he was being silly. They were a bonded pair, he didn't deserve to keep their scent on him. He stepped under the shower letting the warm water soothe his aching muscles slightly.

The showers would be nice, if he wasn't washing off their scent. Apparently he was taking too long to wash up, because Niks rough hands began lathering him with body wash and washing him up.

Nik was clearly eager to get Simon out so he could go back to cuddling with his mate. Nik quickly washed Simons body before putting a towel round him.

Simon can take a hint, he wasn't about to overstay his welcome he grabbed his clothes putting them on, and hurrying out of there before he could actually be asked to leave.

As he left he heard Niks sigh of relief, clearly glad the other Alpha was leaving. It hurt a little, but Simon had no right to be hurt, he was intruding and they were so kindly entertaining his neediness.

That night, like many others he slept curled up in his bed, cuddling a pillow as if it would replace the touch he craved.

Meanwhile John sighs, laying on Niks chest, happily burying his face in that lovely hair and alpha scent. “Wish he'd stay longer sometimes, wanna cuddle."

The man below him hummed “Yes, but we must wait until he is comfortable, no?”

John rolled his eyes with a grumble. He knew this, he had told Nik this many times. It didn't mean he wouldn't be annoyed at not being able to cuddle Simon.

His scent blended so well with both of theirs, he fit in so perfectly and Johns inner omega purred with happiness the first time he had gotten Simon curled up safe and asleep in the nest.

But nonetheless, they had to wait until Simon was comfortable. They had been biting near the scent gland in offering, but he hadn't accepted. And that was fine.

Although it didn't stop John from burying his face in Niks luscious locks and groaning “Yeah yeah, I know darling but like…. Ugh. I know he has issues with stuff, so we are going at his pace. But it's obvious he doesn't sleep well. I just wanna pull him into the nest, and get him sleeping and happy.”

Nik nodded solemnly, running hands down his omegas back “Da. I know.”

Both of them had been thinking Simon was hot for years, but it wasn't until after a mission when Soap had got injured slightly, and the alpha froze up, they realised how well Simon fit in.

John had tried to snap Simon out of it, but he was too deep in his head, so he had to resort to doing what any good pack leading omega would do. He gently scruffed the other. Just enough to make him malleable before hauling him into Nik and his nest, burying him in the strongest scents of pack and calm till he fell prey to sleep.

John had stayed up to make sure Simon was sleeping safe and sound with no issues.

In fact he happily stayed up, watching the other man's pretty face. Purring and grooming him, making sure his hair was untangled, and he was safe. Simon sleeping so happily had John's inner omega purring with pride and happiness.

When the man had woke he left quickly, but John hadn't blamed him, sometimes you just need your own space, especially after something like a hard mission, but atleast he'd slept.

Nik had come home, and was overjoyed that Simon had been there, his scent blended so well, and Nikolai was so happy to hear how well he had rested, grooming and praising John for getting him to sleep.

He was much like a pup to them.

They loved him dearly and wanted him as comfortable and safe as possible.

Simon groaned, curling up on his bed against the wall, it had been a long mission. For everyone involved, Price was exhausted, Soap was in med for minor injuries, and Simon was dead on his feet.

He found his dumb brain wishing for the warmth and comfort of the nest with Nik and price. It was dumb, he somehow got himself so used to the nest.

It was so selfish to even want that, Nik and Price were probably just trying to relax and decompress. He curled up tighter, absently smelling the remaining scent of price still on his gear.

It was comforting. The omega smelled like cinnamon and something distinctly safe and warm. Niks scent really wasn't on anything of his, unfortunately.

But god Nik smelt heavenly, a mix of Oil and earth. It was strong but grounding, it wasn't an overwhelming musk like some alphas.

He could almost smell Niks scent with how much he was thinking about it. Actually, hang on.

No, he could smell Niks scent!? Why was Nik coming here? Had Simon screwed up? Was Nik coming to tell him it was all over?

He flinched as he heard the knuckles wrap against his door. This was it, they were tired after that mission, they didn't have it in then to humour him any more, still he called out a come in, watching as the door creaked open.

The alpha walked in, his scent filling the room, still slightly relaxing Simon despite everything.

At least he didn't smell angry, so it wouldn't be an aggressive cut off. Nik walked over to the bed, sitting next to Simon. “John is very stressed, come to nest, da?”

Simon nodded slowly. Price wanted to be there when breaking it off, but didn't even want to leave the nest to do it. That stung a little more then it should.

He'd be being told about how he couldn't be a part of this anymore while the comfy warm nest he has selfishly grown accustomed to was right there.

Still he followed Nik silently, internally wincing at Niks hand on his back. He knew this was it, it was over. And still Nik was being fucking gentle! Why couldn't Nik have just ended it there in Simon's room, rather then walk him to the nest, with one of those great big warm hands on his back, gently rubbing it.

He took a deep breath as the door opened, smelling the cinnamony scent hitting his nose. It still somehow relaxed him, despite knowing what would happen, he loved that scent.

No one spoke for a minute. It was silent. It was shitty, Simon just wanted this over with.

Then Price reached out from the nest, grabbing Simons wrist and suddenly pulling him in. Simon barely got a chance to work out what happened before Price was snuggled up against him nuzzling his neck, hands running I've the alphas body.

Simon blinked, frozen and thoroughly confused “Uhh”

.Nik sat in the nest too, running a hand through Simons hair “Let him be. He was concerned about if you are injured.”

Simon was still thoroughly baffled but let price scent and groom him. This didn't seem as if he was being kicked out, much the opposite. Prices purrs were vibrating through the room loudly as he grooms Simons hair, scent smelling distinctly relieved.

The touches slowly turned from gentle relieved to hot kisses, burning with intensity, and hands grasping his belt.

Simon didn't fight it, but glanced at Nik trying to discern what the dynamic was today, but Nik just sat back, cock already out, resting heavy and hard in his hand.

Seemingly just watching today.

Price was clearly desperate, kissing roughly, while tugging Simons pants down, with soft panting moans.

Simon let himself sit back as Price eagerly lapped at his cock, already preparing himself with sweet little whiny moans.

Nikolai absently threaded a hand through Simons hair as he sat back, stroking his cock, while watch his omega settle on Simons cock, already riding the other. The soft sweet little moans, and the sweet cinnamon scent of Price was filling room as he fucked himself dumb on Simon rock hard cock.

It barely took anytime before Simon and the others were cuming. He knew he had to get up, he had to leave, before they decided they were done and booted him, but he was so so sleepy.

Exhausted from the mission and now this, everything hurt and it was so warm here. Surely he could just rest his eyes for a minute.

His eyes fluttered closed, feeling so warm and safe.

Simon drifted in and out of sleep, until he suddenly woke properly around an hour later.

Shit. Shit shit.

They were gonna be so pissed. He tried to sit up, but was stopped by a warm weight on his chest. He blinked, looking down to find the shape of Price, resting curled up, head and torso against the alphas chest.

Price was…. Asleep on him? That didn't seem like he had to leave. He glanced around seeing Nik still awake behind him.

He also vaguely registered he was clean.

Niks hand came back into his hair, stroking it back “Lay back down, da?”

Simon let himself be pushed back down, thoroughly confused. “But… uh.. don't… don't you want me going”

The Russian blinked at him, taking his chin in one of those big warm hands and tilting it up to make eye contact. “Why would we want that?”

Simon paused… “Cause you'd want to be…. With ..your…. Mate.. Not having me in the way?”

Nik gently bapped his head. “You are basically second mate. Shut up.”

Simon's brain stopped. What did Nik mean, he was basically a second mate? He just got in the way, they always made him wash the scent off.

“But… but… you…”

Nik cut him off with a gentle kiss “We what? You are second mate”

Simon felt like his brains was melting out his ears. He sat up, ignoring the groan/whine from Price as he rolled off Simons chest. “But…. You… you make me wash off your scent everytime?!”

Nik blinked incredulously at him “Is aftercare! To wash off cum and sweat. You want scent? Then stay and cuddle, da?”

Simon stammered shutting and opening his mouth several times “But….but..I… why… Why would you want me to have your scent?? I… I mean I'm not even marked by either of you.”

Nik was now looking at him like he was dumb, and Simon felt a flush spread over his face.

“You are not marked… because you have not accepted our offers and courting. We would not mark you without consent?”

“Offers??? COURTING?? What fucking offers!?” Simon practically squeaks.

Nik face palmed. Hard.

“A mark left near a scent gland is an offer, of marking. This is basic knowledge, da? Where did you get your sex Ed?"

Simon froze. “I… well …. I kinda …uhm… didn'? My father..” the word father was laced with thinly veiled disdain “Didn'... Really believe in that…. And then… uh… Roba.. happened…”

Simon takes a shakey breath voice quietening “And… well I wasn't really.. planning on uh … being with anyone… ever.. again… but now I'm with you.”

Nik stared at him, face softening. “I .. Simon. Do you know what consent is?”

Did he-? Of course he fucking did. “Yes! I'm not a fucking idiot Nik!”

The Russian patted his shoulder. “John and I have been trying to court you for months. We want you as part of our relationship, permanently. You do not have to leave, da? It is your nest too. We want to mark you, and have your scent.”

And… oh. They… they wanted him?Simon half expected Nik to yell sike, but he didn't, he continued to look at him with that soft, sincere expression

. Someone actually wanted him? He.. he was allowed in the nest? The warm safe nest? They actively wanted him to stay and not leave.

“I… I… you… you want me?” He felt tears welling in his eyes, and he knew he sounded like a pathetic pup.

The Russian pulled him close, nuzzling his neck, and rubbing his cheeks along Simons cheeks.

The Englishman froze. He really wasn't sure what was going on.

Nik stared at him

“I… scenting Simon. You know what?”

Simon squeaked slightly as he felt himself be tugged forward onto Niks chest, big warm arms wrapping around him.

He was still confused and overwhelmed, but god it was hard to be sad with his face pressed in those hairy tits.

[writingoddess1125]

To the Frontlines

Kofi Request - Possible pt. 2 if they want to continue

If you want NSFW (5$) or SFW (2$) like this click here helps me be less of a broke bitch

Alpha König x Omega GNReader

Also Not doing the Medic thing! We can do better then that people!

Your scent used is based off this perfume! (Psss It's the stuff Rihanna wears ;3 I'll always hook ya up with a dupe too! Here)

Slow, Funny and Sweet Baby! No Warnings

It was the sound of the wonderful 4:30 am wakeup call that forced your eyes open, once more while it was dark out and everyone felt groggy.

Rolling up quickly from your bunk you saw the wave of the other few omegas in the space also get up- as they shuffle quickly to get to the showers and dress for the day.

It was fortunate at least that the Omega sectioned off barracks had its own spaces and there wasn't a lot of you so there was room for you all to at least separate out some, allowing some who needed it to nest or just to create general spacing.

Even if you had to fight over the 9 or so other irritated omegas you had the pleasure of sharing the space with to the showers- Always the unpleasant mix of scents washing over the washroom that made it smell like a candle from hell.

You quick to jump into the showers, hoping to catch the little hot water left and dress even faster. The assault of scents however soon started to disappear by the scent neutralizing patches all Omegas were required to wear being slapped onto everyone.

Sure it was encouraged for all those who had a secondary gender to wear scent patches to make sure grounds were neutral and no adverse effects. However in truth it was mainly enforced on the Omegas, not bothering to enforce it on the other half cause- Well fuck you I guess.

Slapping on the patches for the day you can't help but sigh, feeling already the uncomfortable chaff of the adhesive-

Was it fair?

No-

Where you going to challenge it?

Hell No-

They paid you and told you to scram to do your job.. And well they paid very well so you had no problem with taking this L.

You feel a tap to your shoulder as you button up your coat turning to see your bunk buddy and the closest person here on base looking at you.

Aaron was a stocky rather tall fellow, Pretty however- dark curly hair, pretty hazel eyes and dark brown skin. Most would assume a beta however they would be wrong by the damn near assault of roses, coffee and sugar when he took of those patches. He giving you a sarcastic smile as he held out the second paper cup shaking it playfully.

"Here are your suppressants sexy-"

"Oh thank you bestie, What did you spit in it?"

"Only a little-" He winked, The two of you smile and laugh a little taking the issued suppressants as you toss both your little cups in the trash. These where some of the few fun moments you got in your job here at KorTac, Breakfast which was always a bit more special since your bestie was behind the counter and the few moments before you are stationed in the big steel weapons box you call your job.

You'd never see combat, but as one of the weapon technicians you did the work for those who did. Which was as boring as it sounded- even with the charmer that was your sergeant always liking to talk down to you and most people in the little hellhole you all shared.

As if on cue a box of weapons where set down Infront of you, Still reeking of rotting blood. Looking up at your sergeant getting the morning scowl you were so used to at this point.

"Box for the day-"

"Thank you Sgt. Vega.."

You can only mumble as you start to pull out each item, mindful of the aftermath of whatever battle they had seen. Oh if those checks didn't have quite a few zeros behind them you were sure you'd have walked out of here by now...

Cleaning each blade, taking apart each pistol as you cleaned, put it all back together then tweaked it to work perfectly. Then chucking it into a bag or box depending on who it was getting sent to.

Day in and day out, Shuffling through the stacks of deadly metal. As the next box was set down Infront of you, already seeing the large rifle sticking out clearly ignoring any sort of gun safety and just ready to meet you-

"Is that a gun or just happy to see me hm?"

Dryly smiling to your own lackluster little joke, Quick to work you start to take apart the rifle- It only taking a soft roll in your palm as you recognize it immediately as 'That One'

Glancing next to your station leaned against you confirmed- bloody sledgehammer. There was always one bag of weapons that was always assigned to you. Seemingly whoever it was being picky and preferring one set of hands on their things..

You didn't have a clue who they were- however the fact that there was a sledgehammer included with the weapons made you not willing or wanting to find out...

But honestly this bag wasn't all bad really- Actually one of your favorites.

Especially since you got at least small moments of catching a fairly nice scent of what seemed to be and alpha on it. It was faint of course, Under the oil, the smell of blood and bullets. A nice spicy, fruit and booze smell- with a bit of vanilla. It reminded you of the nice festive alcohol you'd find in a store around the holidays.

However it was always short lived, especially since you had to clean it. Sad but as is life-

Whistling a bit to yourself you go through the bag, taking the extra time to get everything a bit more organized then what you'd so for the extra bags you had.

As you're finishing up the rifle you heart Sgt, Vega scream out to you.

"(Y/N)! I need that bag ready!"

"But, I just got it!-" You're cut off quickly by her shrill voice.

"Now!-"

"Son of a- Sorry I'm coming! God damn-"

You're fast to finish up your task cursing under your breath, checking the sight and making sure every screw and fastening was perfect. Looking it over quickly you jump up, feeling the snag on your wrist on the rifle, however quick to rush to the metal window of the armory where your boss is.

"Got it"

You mumble, Handing off the bag and hammer to your sergeant the women glaring at you for daring to make her wait as she walked out with the laundry list of weapons to deliver herself.

As you head back to your station you see where your wrist snagged, a small rip in the patch probably caught on the sight since it had been the last thing you'd touched- Changing out the patch from your wrist mildly annoyed now you return to your station mumbling under your breath.

Non the wiser at the snowball you had started...

On the other side of the base far from the were you continued to work. König sat in his office, his large form hunched over the stacks files on his desk as he looked over the details of his upcoming mission, Grumbling in his native language over the details listed as he bounced his leg slightly in thought.

A soft knock snapping him from his thoughts- Already smelling the Sergeant from the armory before she walked into the office as gently as possible.

"Colonel, I have yo-"

"Leave them there. You're dismissed Sergeant. "

He didn't even bother glancing up nor letting her finish her sentence, gesturing to the spot he always had them put it and waving her off just as fast. Already feeling the clear upset from the sergeant as she did as asked- König waiting till he heard that door close did he look up, sighing a bit to himself.

König was not in a good mood- and while he normally would have humored the women at least someone who had very clearly hinted she was willing to climb his 'corporate ladder'- He didn't feel like it today.

His nerves were a bit shot, wound up and he felt ready to snap his teeth at anyone if they came across his path at this point. Flexing his hands he looked to the bag in the corner spot.

It was a small ritual he had before missions. Something that allowed his mind to settle a bit.

He'd always look over each item in his office. A bit of paranoia and anxiety in the idea of someone possibly handing him poor items before he went out to whatever dangerous mission he was thrown into. That and it just gave him something to fidget with..

However he had started to be more lax about it.

It was clear most of the time it was the same hand doing his repairs, the sight to his liking, cleaned well and it was set up always the same in his bag. He still checked them of course but it was more for comfort.

Sliding over the bag he started his little ritual, humming a bit as he checked each item that would go into his vest or hands. Each gun, knife, the sledgehammer he sported on his back. Finally the rifle which he looked over- As he went to slide it back something caught his nose on the gun in hand.

His head twitched to the side a bit-

König rolled the empty rifle in his palm slowly looking it over, narrowing his eyes a bit as he saw on the corner a bit of white, clearly a part of a patch that managed to snag deep enough. Grabbing it between his fingers he rolled it a bit, Catching the scent once again between his warmed fingers.

He had to swallow the literal growl that wanted to erupt from his throat then and there.

Quickly pulling his mask up almost frantic he breathed it the tiny strip of gauze far more deeply exhaling softly to let the taste settle on his tongue.

Almost Peachy, Light flowers, Marshmallows and a bit of citrus.

Oh it was divine..

"Scheiße.."

He mumbled, eyes almost rolling at the tiny scratch of gauze. It made his mouth water, chest flutter and that feral part of his brain scratch at the walls he had long since locked up.

Truthfully it had been been quite some years he'd even gotten a scratch at that inner Alpha, Being jacked on enough suppressants to kill a bear at this point so he wasn't much of a liability- Sure the characteristics still were there however the need to fall into that mindset of wanting to mark, breed and so forth had been locked up behind pills shaped bars.

It had even been years really since he'd even sleep with an omega, let alone feel so undone by anyone.. All his conquest had always been either alphas or tough and tumble betas. Someone sturdy and easy to let go at a moments notice.

But this was different..

He ran his tongue over his sharpened teeth, jaw twitching purely by the thought of whoever this scent belonged to- really just soaking it in. König couldn't help but chuckle darkly under his breath. This little thing was managing to break nearly 20 or so years of suppressed instincts in minutes.

'Impressive little Omega..'

Racking through his brain a little as he continued to roll the fabric between his fingers. Letting the scent linger for as long as he could as he thought quietly to himself, looking at the weapons with a crooked smile-

"Interesting.."

[elysianightsss]

Vicissitude | Part One

You’ve always been the apex predator in today’s society. An animal that naturally hunts others. A wolf enjoying the sight of pretty prey quivering with their tail between their legs; it brings a sense of peace to your mind. You’re the top of the food chain. The royalty of the wolf hierarchy. The better option.

That’s, what an Alpha is.

The only thing that differed from you and other Alphas was military rank. Big muscles or not, you were all on the same level until it came to your rank in the work place. And for you as a Lieutenant, life was pretty good.

Alphas towered above others, top tier. first class. Betas were the middle class, not useless. In fact they were very helpful, pushing their calming pheromones out to those who needed it most. They were usually the ones who became medics, Alphas too intimidating for a patient to handle.

Omegas in today’s society are lower class, pushed under someone else’s thumb. Born to be less than. Regardless of the time any effort they put into a career or life, they were only really viewed as one thing; breeding stock.

Unless of course they were mated. Mated Omegas that had an Alpha wrapped around their little finger were dangerous. Not respected, but walked on eggshells around out of fear of upsetting their Alpha.

You’ll never have to worry about that, you don’t want an omega and you’ll certainly never take one as a mate. You prefer to stay a free butterfly, to flit around and flirt. You were simply not wired that way, you didn’t want to own someone.

You just wanted to simply be.

When the pretty beta medic in front of you starts to speak, you realise you’ve been daydreaming. She blushes under your gaze and stutters telling you that you have the all clear for the upcoming mission. She flutters her lashes at you, heart jumping in her chest when your arm brushes against hers as you walk out of the room with a smirk aimed in Johnny’s direction.

“Y’might wanna lay on the charm mate, she’s a sweetheart.” You say, opening with an air of confidence, the sort of attitude and amusement twinkling in your eyes that only an Alpha can possess. Something Johnny shares when he hears the squeak of the medic behind you, her cheeks burning red with his animalistic grin aiming itself at her when he stands.

His fist bumping yours when you begin to walk past him and down the hall. The building is stale, void of any real colour, greys and blacks and whites. The nothingness of grey brick buildings gives a certain stability you find calming. The constant state bringing an ease to your Alpha.

You feel the respect, rolling off of the people on base as you walk past in your military issued boots. Tight cargos that shape your curves, a gun shoved in one of the holsters strapped tightly to your thigh. You don’t feel the need to hide, never have, it’s something quite spectacular when you’re not afraid to show off. Not scared of someone looking too long and staring too hard. You don’t worry about what they might find.

Not when you’re sure you can win the fight, gain the upper hand. The only threat that really mattered was that of another alpha, but you usually stuck together. All of you understand your place unlike the others in the hierarchy who believe they hold the power. You turn your nose up at the omega barrack bunnies who believe they can claw their way up just because you use them for a slight relief during a rut.

It’s pathetic.

Your alpha is one you can control, in your head she is free of shackles or cage, wings spread wide, she roams free. Prowling back and forth, watching for any warning signs that you may be in danger. A good wolf, the best inner beast in your opinion.

John’s is far too serious, so strict and all about the rules. No exceptions. Johnny’s is a little sinister but an excitable puppy all the same. Kyle’s wolf is interesting, quiet yet deadly, easily able to crawl under your skin and fester there. Simon’s, on the other hand is loud, screams non stop, how Simon can remain so silent is truly a mystery to you all.

But you’re all bonded, in a way that no one else on this base understands. Bonded like how an Alpha and an Omega bonds during mating, but it’s not romantic and blissful. It’s in your bones, connected like where your humerus meets your radius and ulna. Bending as one, moving as one. You’re all still unsure how they did it, how they made it this way but you’re not to question it.

It’s the job.

Walking into the mess you grab a tray, piling your food on and making your way to the usual table. Kyle’s there stirring his coffee with one hand, a book open in the other, nose shoved in it as usual. John’s sitting next to him, a file open in both hands as his eyes scan the white paper that’s mostly redacted with black patches all over.

You drop your tray on the table, grinning a little when they both grunt with disapproval. “Where’s iron giant?” You ask as you sit, picking up your spoon and taking your first mouthful of rice.

“Prepping the jet.” Kyle answers without looking up, an air of uncare sitting around him.

“You get the all clear?” John asks his head lifting in your direction but his eyes don’t move either, glued to the file.

“When do I not?” You smirk, biting off the end of a sausage. John’s eyes lift to meet yours finally, a smirk of his own; definitely more cocky than yours.

“Easy was she?” John tilts his head slightly.

“Relatively.” You reply with a shrug.

“Easy on the eyes.” Johnny comments smugly as he drops his own tray onto the table, his food bounding slightly causing Kyle to tut and cover the top of his mug.

“Priss.” You scoff, but it doesn’t affect him. Kyle simply removes his hand and brings the coffee up to his plump lips to finish it.

“Finish up you two, wheels up in fifteen.” John points at you and Johnny before leaving, Kyle leaves too grimacing a little when he sees you and Johnny inhaling your food like wild animals on his way out of the mess.

You race Johnny to the jet and beam with pride when you beat him; you may have tripped him up but that’s by the by. Johnny is so animated in his annoyance that he may as well have a cartoon black cloud above his head. Muttering to himself about how you cheated as he trudges onto the jet, you follow closely behind.

“Everyone set?” John calls out, each of the guys responding with a yes sir. You nod with a pat to John’s arm as you move into position, sliding into the pilot seat. Flicking a few buttons here and there before you deem yourself ready for take off.

Being a pilot was just one of the many things on your mostly redacted resume that got you picked for task force 141. It came as a shock to you that you were the only woman when you first met the guys and they already had history with one another whereas you had spent your years of service either undercover or hidden away in remote areas of the world doing the kind of things that you don’t even have access to read the report of.

You thought you’d be the outsider, the odd one out and a little part of you didn’t mind that too much as you’d spent so most of your life alone. You rather enjoyed it at times. But when bonding was mentioned and then became a direct order all of that went flying out of the window.

Bonding with them was painful. Being scented by another alpha was hard to swallow, then the bite which is usually done when the height of pleasure is achieved during an omegas heat to mask the pain.

But having to do it with another alpha in a cold, sterile, white room was excruciating. Eight sharp canines piercing through your skin, a pair at a time. You felt weak when you whimpered at the last pair, the guys having not made any noise at all. But John was quick to comfort you with a soft smile and a pat on the arm while a drop of your blood rolled down his chin.

The scar you carry is not pretty but it is proof of your loyalty to not only your task force but to the military. Each of you bears the same mark. You were bonded, it allowed things to run smoother out in the field though. It had even saved Johnny’s life at one point so you were all begrudgingly grateful.

You feel what they feel, just dulled compared to your own feelings.

Their scenting being the only one you accept, the smell of others, even the thought of being scented by someone outside of your pack made you feel sick. One time a private tried it on a dare and you actually threw up all over his shoes, a migraine weaving its way behind your eyes and only did it go away when Johnny scented you.

A curse and gift.

The flight wasn’t long, the usual pre mission rituals happening behind you. Soap praying and pressing his fingers to his body in a cross. Simon with his headphones on, Cello Suite No. 1 in G major blaring so much that you can all hear it over the hum of the jet engine. Kyle reading a few chapters of whatever book he is currently engrossed in. And John’s eyes are glued to the building blueprints on the table in front of him, not moving, not even a glance away from the paper. Studying it like that will make every aspect of the mission go smoother.

You huff a small laugh at the sight over your shoulder, “Whatever is meant to happen will happen Cap, giving yourself a headache won’t make it any easier.” You hear John grunt but relent, stepping away from the table with a sigh.

His hand lands on your shoulder, standing next to you. There’s appreciation pulsing through the bond, aimed at you from all of them. It pulls a small smile from you.

“Approaching the drop zone.” You comment, eyes on the hologram map that hovers in front of you. You hear the rustle behind you of your pack readying themselves to leave the jet. Body armour strapped on tight, weapons at the ready as you land the jet, slotted carefully between some trees and turn off the engine.

Slipping out of your seat you put on the bulletproof vest that was set out for you, the Great Britain flag in black and white printed on your chest as you strap it on. Grabbing your M249 SAW, not standard issue but you gave Simon the puppy dog eyes and he convinced Price to allow it for you. Even if the rounds are unreliable and it jams a lot, you love it.

“Stick to the plan. Nothing we haven’t done a thousand times before. Rendezvous in two hours. Minimum casualties. Let’s move out.” John is sharp with his words, something that makes your Alpha scratch at your brain, a challenge brewing in her belly. But you shush her, letting her simmer and hiss at you.

As soon as your feet hit the dirt you first bum Johnny and head west, gun tight in hand. The forest you landed in was the perfect cover, it was tall and thick and covered with moss. Big Douglas firs taller than the sky gave you and your team plenty of camouflage, the wide trunks were enough for you to hide behind.

The dirt beneath your feet was damp, cold winds blowing gently even though the twilight sky is completely clear with stars shining almost as brightly as the moon. If you were someone else, you might even stop and admire them. If you were something else.

But your only focus was the leaves and twigs crushing beneath your boots as you surveyed the area surrounding you. The concrete compound reared its head when you made it to the tree line. Crouching, you brought your gun up and looked through your scope, watching. Waiting.

The moment came when one of the men on guard became distracted. Knocking him out with the end of your gun to the back of his neck. Once he was down slipping inside was easy, fighting the men in your way was easy, reporting to your team that you’d made it in was easy. Finding the gas canister was not easy.

It was eerily quiet, the only rustle of life came from you. Goosebumps prickled on your body as you walked slowly forward trying to push the memory of that stupid horror movie Johnny had made you watch to the back of your mind. ‘This is always how the first girl in the movie dies, alone and in the dark’ You think as you open a door on your left, thinking you’d find it empty again but to your surprise and slight relief it’s there.

The red swirling gas glowing inside of a glass canister, you’d never moved so quick. Your gun at the ready, you survey the room. It’s still eerily quiet- then the hair on the back of your neck stands on end after a shiver runs down your body.

You feel like you’re being watched.

Fingers twitching against your gun, wanting to switch on any light you can to get a full glimpse of the room. To take in that you’re alone and there’s no reason for this feeling. But even when you’ve checked every inch of the room you still feel it.

Someone’s eyes on you.

You radio your team that you’ve found what you’d been sent there for but their reply is static, unreadable. You feel panic begin to rise in your throat like bile, it pushes you to rush toward the canister and grab it before something, you don’t know what, happens.

But when your fingers wrap around the handle, the thing rumbles, vibrates, like it’s protesting your touch. You have all of two seconds to recognise the cracking sound before the canister explodes. You jump out the way. Fast, agile but the gas is already flowing out and spreading towards you quicker than you can move.

You do your best to hold your breath, ignoring the ache inside your chest. The nagging feeling that comes with no air as the red mist fills up the space around you. You’re suddenly frantic, eyes searching for a way out through the thick gas but you cannot see an end. The door is shut. You’ve no way to escape.

It’s only when your vision starts to blacken at the edge and you know you’re going to pass out do you take a deep breath in, coughing and spluttering on the suffocating red air. You feel the effects immediately; a feeling akin to headrush shoots its way inside your skull. Your body feels weaker, like your muscles relax against your will. A shooting pain rolls itself through your abdomen. A lightening sensation pulsing in your cunt. A stabbing agony passes over your body before it’s gone, just like that.

Like it never happened. Like you had hallucinated all of it, except you’re on the floor panting. Sweat clinging to you, sticking a few bits of hair to your forehead. But the same as the pain, the gas is gone too.

And as if by magic, “Veil come in! Veil come on talk to us!” You hear your Captain’s panicked voice in your ear, comms no longer static, no longer silent. A coincidence?

Your hand shakes as you lift it to your ear, tapping on the device a few times, you hear that familiar buzzing that means it’s on. It’s working even if when you needed it, it wasn’t. You go to speak, to say something, anything even if it was just a noise but out of the darkness, like an angel, Johnny is there in the doorway panting heavily. Only when he sees you on the floor does he let out a huge sigh of relief.

You were alive.

But his big hopeful eyes aren’t what get your attention…….the door is open.

Part two

Series masterlist

Taglist | @aldis-nuts @gazsluckyhat @evans-dejong @bearyark @tinythebunni @ramp-it-up @madsothree

[bunnywritesjunk]

Can I ask for Alpha König angst? Like maybe omega reader was just trying to ask him if he wants dinner but kö was just too tired. So then he just snaps and it hurts readers inner wolf really bad. I'm in the mood for angst lol

Hello Anon!

Sorry it took me so long to get your request done. I'm not the best at angst but I hope you enjoy.

Thoughts

Pairing: Alpha König X Omega Reader

Angst

A/B/O fanfic

König had a hard time opening up about his feelings. You knew that, but it didn't stop you from wanting him to. He was cooped up in his room all day and you could smell his irritation through the door. He only came out once to get coffee and then strolled back to his room without a word. You were watching TV, trying not to agonize about your alpha in the other room. You knew it was probably something work-related, but you still wanted him to confide in you about it. It was getting late and you wanted to order some dinner. You padded down the hallway with your phone in hand looking at nearby take-out options. You knocked gently on his door.

"Kö? I'm gonna order some dinner do you want anything?" You called out to him.

You hear a groan and heavy footsteps move towards the door. He opened it with an unnecessary amount of force startling you a bit.

"There's a chicken place down the street that I've wanted to try." You said sheepishly.

"Who's money?"

"…What" You looked puzzled.

"Are you paying for it? I've been in here taking calls and emails all day and what have you been doing?" He asked lowly.

"Oh, I'm sorry I could cook something instead."

"All I need is for you to let me work and you can't even do that. I'm tired of you being so needy." He slammed the door leaving you dumbfounded.

Needy? You were needy to him? Your inner omega whined feeling devastated at the words your alpha spit at you. You walked to your room and snuggled into your nest. Tears stained the sheets below. You decided to order food anyway. When it arrived you left A plate for König outside of his door. You still loved your alpha, even if he didn't want you around.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: News Crashing

Poly!TaskForce 141 x Omega!Reader

The Omega Pack Plan Masterlist

Summary: A change in procedure around base causes you to spiral as your world comes crashing down. There's only one way out of this and it starts with telling the truth.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety, Existentialism, Misogyny, Dismissive Attitudes, Angst, Rage

Mentions of: Medication,

A/N: Honestly, I'd been inspired by a few series (Standard Emergency Protocol and Pantry Solutions) I've read those and it caused me to want to write my own A/B/O COD AU, so I started this as a sort of funny fic awhile ago. I'm haven't entirely plotted out the whole story, but I have some ideas for the first few chapters. I was finally inspired to finish and post it because @cringeycookies liked the snippet I posted in a wip tag game. So thanks to everyone who inspired me, and a special thank you to @penelopepine for helping me with the dialogue and Price's reaction as I try to begin writing for them.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the nurse responds, "we're no longer authorized to refill suppressants of any kinds for any purpose." With a push of the empty orange pill bottle back across the counter in your direction, she offers you an ugly forced smile.

"Is there really nothing we can do?!" You complain incredulously, "Nothing at all? What am I supposed to do with this?!" Taking the emptied bottle into your hands, you stare at the nurse with widened eyes and a wild look.

"There is no 'we'..." she rolls her eyes in response, focus returning to the papers before her. "But if you insist, you can always bring it up with your CO, or the Base Commander." She scribbles something out on the page, but you can hardly focus when your world is virtually crumbling apart around you. "Now if you don't mind, some of us actually have work to do around here."

Still stunned, you can't help the way your breathing picks up as your heart begins to race. About a month ago now there was a base-wide meeting where they'd finally cracked down and implemented a new program the government is trying out: OPP. The Omega Pack Plan. While it's uncommon for Omegas to even be recruited into the military to begin with, such a thing does exist. Regardless, the Base Commander gathered everyone in the Auditorium for a presentation to talk about the new program and how the army would implement it into the troops. Luckily, considering you're on an elite Task Force, it doesn't apply to you. At least... it didn't.

"What the hell is this?!" You yell, tossing the orange bottle in his direction.

He'd heard the stomps all the way down the hall and smelled you coming, so he's neither surprised by your appearance, nor startled by the toss of the bottle. John swiftly catches it in his hand as he looks up at you. "What?" He inquires, finally glancing down to examine what he's caught. "A pill bottle?"

"Captain, it's empty! They won't refill it- I can-"

A groan tumbles past his lips as he drags a hand down his beard. "Look, Panther-" referring to you by your callsign, interesting move. "There's nothing I can do, it's over my head now. I wish I could do something, but I can't." Sitting back in his leather chair, Price places the bottle on the desk; a faint rap of the plastic hitting the wood is the only sound between you momentarily before you hurriedly shut the door.

Panic begins to flood your system as you're not sure how to handle this. It's your turn to freak out. You know how this goes, you know the story now; ever since they'd implemented and dispersed the Omegas into the troops, they'd started implementing them into the Task Forces, and now they have to do so with the One Four One. Fingers curling in and out of shapes as you try to process your next move, you speak before you can even begin to plan what you're going to tell him.

"I- I'm- I..." You're pacing his office now, the heavy gaze of your Captain upon you as you try to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. The thing is, you're usually good with pressure- really good. It's your job to be good. It's just... this is different. This is your life, your livelihood at stake, the livelihood of all your future generations to come.

A sigh resounds throughout the office before you hear the low timbre of his voice. "Dove," he calls out with a gentle tone, "I want you to take a deep breath for me. Alright?" With the calm and even sound of your Captain's voice and the assured look on his face, you comply. Exhaling the last of your breath, you close your eyes and focus in on the deep intake of air through your nose. With the parting of your lips you slowly release it before giving yourself a moment.

When you open your eyes he gestures to the seat before his desk, though you know he won't take offense if you decline. Hesitant, one hand finds its way to the other, wrapping around your arm as you listen to him speak. "Now, can you explain what has you in this state? I assure you that there's nothing that can't be dealt with." You want to trust him, you know him--John Price--your Captain. He's always had your back, always made sure you felt comfortable in the Taskforce, always made an effort to check on you after things got rough.

You nod. Licking your lips, you search his blue eyes as you tentatively take the seat across him.

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it, alright? I can guarantee you that unless you're trying to tell me you're an Omega, nothing you say is going to shock me that warrants the amount of panic you're putting yourself through," Price chuckles. He's obviously joking, trying to break the tension with humor. Lips drawn upward into a small smile, the Captain stares at you expectantly.

"What if I am?" You whisper, eyes unable to tear from his visage as you try and gauge his reaction. Unexpectedly, silence fills the space between you and feels deafening in the small space. The growing comfort of his office these couple of months now feels like a cage you're forced to stay in, under watch, as you stare down your superior on the brink of a battle to the death. And that's what you do. His blue eyes bore into yours, skeptically shifting between your left and right as he seems to try and get a read on you.

All of the sudden you jump at the smack of his hands hitting the desk in front of him. He laughs at you.

He's laughing at you.

And you're sitting there with your guts spilled out, dread eating away at the pit in your stomach... and he's laughing. It feels like forever is passing you by as you stare at him in shock, this moment between the two of you frozen in time as nothing else persists.

"I understand what this was now," Price explains, still chuckling to himself as he shakes his head. There's a warm smile on his face that feels eerie considering the dire context of the situation at hand. "You got me! I fully believed you for a second there, too."

Eyebrows furrowing in dark realization, you can't help but stare at him wildly. "Wha-" You begin to question him and his line of thinking, but he cuts you off.

"This was all a prank, right? The bottle, the hysterics- you really outdid yourself, Sergeant." Leaning back in his chair, he props his ankle up on his other knee. "Because let me tell you, this was good. Better than anything Soap's cooked up in awhile. Did you come up with it yourself?" There's a cheeky grin on his lips. "Ah, I know you did."

Lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, you sit in the armchair across from him pale with a dazed look across your face. He doesn't actually think that this was...

"Well, with your little triumph in your pocket, I say we get back to work, yeah? I've got some new leads from MI6 that've just popped in." With that, the man stands from his desk and rounds it. "Garrick should be back around Tea. I'll see you in the Command Station then," he informs you. It's then that he passes by, a genial clap on your shoulder while he's at it.

Left stunned in silence, you can't help but grit your teeth, consequentially pronouncing your jaw as anger ebbs through your bloodstream. Breath getting heavier, you can't help but loathe the meeting tonight. Your Captain might be satisfied with the conversation, but all you feel is discouraged. He's abandoned you, left you alone in his office with a humiliating sense of betrayal and shattered trust. Almost like you hadn't just told him your biggest secret at all.

Punching the standard heavy punching bag hanging in front of you, you grunt, ignoring the pain that gnaws at your knuckles underneath the reusable hand wraps. Sweat builds on your brow as you continue to unleash your pent up anger on the gym’s equipment. How could he?! When had you ever pulled anything even similar to this? Never! And the fact that you’ve only been on the team for a handful of months only exacerbates the abandonment you’re feeling right now. He’s your Captain! Regardless of your feelings or the situation at hand, isn’t he supposed to be there for you? He’d promised from the get go to help you with whatever you need, and now the one time you go to him for aid it backfires in your face and leaves you without any sort of solution going forward aside from straight up telling the whole team the flat out truth, and God forbid! You can’t even begin to fathom how that’d go.

A pent up and frustrated yell almost akin to something of a growl emanates from you as you tear into another round of swift jabs and punches. Regardless of the situation at hand, you’ve been trying to build up your upper body’s strength and letting out the anger you’d accumulated over this morning’s events seemed like a perfect opportunity to let loose.

The stretches and treadmill routine didn’t take a lot out of you, but the weights, and now the punching bag definitely is starting to take its toll. Sweat beads at your forehead in rivulets that drip down the sides of your neck, down your scalp past your neck and between your shoulder blades. Tank top soaked in sweat, you breathe hard as your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. You would’ve wound up here at some point or another tonight, but the Captain’s discourteous response certainly led to an earlier workout time.

While others sparsely litter the gym’s floor, you pay them no mind and vice versa. It’s not uncommon for soldiers to be found blowing off steam or aiming to beat their highest reps on the weights. Yet, this gym is reserved for higher standing members of the Force, the gym on the far side of the base where there are less people, offices, and considering the regular army men train in the bigger gym closer to their quarters, it’s mostly other higher ranked officers in here.

“Captain’s lookin’ for ya,” Markowski, another Sergeant that you’d come to befriend on base announces from the doorway, having poked his head in after leaving a few minutes earlier. He belongs to a different Task Force.

A groan tumbles out of you as you realize it’s already that time. Just as the door clicks shut, your phone chimes loudly with the alarm you’d set earlier going off. A few quick swipes of your fingers, you turn the alarm off and unlock the device, seeing a number of messages flood your notifications.

Kyle: You hear they’ve bumped up the timeline? 😯

Johnny: “ https://Tiktok/Shattered.Rat567 ” Had me rollin’ 🤣👏🏻 Gotta check it, Bonnie

Simon: You coming to the meeting or not? 🤨

Johnny: Where r u? You’re usually first here 👀 Cap’s getting peeved, watch out

Not looking forward to the inevitable mess of a meeting before you, you don’t bother rushing to join the men. With a wash of your face in the women’s locker room, a speedy bathroom break, and a grab of the items you’d brought with you, you’re heading for the Command Station.

With the time Price set the meeting, you won't get to eat dinner till afterward. You'd be lying if you said you weren't annoyed by this entire situation, your agitation from neglecting your hunger earlier has certainly come to bite you in the backside.

While you don’t have time to respond to their texts, having set the alarm with only enough time to get back to your team’s Command ‘station’ albeit more like your headquarters before heading out. Speed-walking through the orderly halls with a haste perfectly common around here, you navigate with a well practiced knowledge. Though you’ve only been here coming up on six months soon, you’re well acquainted with this part of the base.

Rounding the corner, you’re in the hall, close. Yet, the worry of being late lingers in the back of your mind and adds another layer of annoyance on top of your residual anger buried deep down from this morning’s situation. You’d inevitably come up with your solution. It’s not one you like… but it’s the only logical option. Another turn and you’re striding into the big garage-like room.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sergeant,” Price calls out to you. Lifting his eyes from the map laid out across your station's table, he glares in your direction.

“What took you so long?” Soap snaps, his brows slightly furrowed as he stares at you from the opposite side of the table, hands lazily wrapped around his vest’s straps.

A look at your watch tells you that you’re not even late, the meeting doesn’t officially start for another minute! But you are usually waiting on them. He’s got you there.

“Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. It’s not like you,” Gaz whispers under his breath as you sidle up alongside Ghost, Gaz standing diagonal to you right beside Price at the head of the table.

“Focus,” Ghost orders the men, his hands tucked in his hoodie’s pocket. You don’t fail to notice the way he subtly takes a step further away from you as soon as they start talking again. Price goes back to talking plans as Gaz is questioning the circumstances of the information the Captain had acquired earlier when he’d had to leave the office.

“Which is exactly why-”

A heavy exhale on your behalf leaves the men frozen as their eyes drift back to you. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Panther?” The Captain questions. Jaw clenched, you tear your eyes from the map they’d settled on.

“We’ve got a big problem,” you announce, cutting off the Captain as you finally raise your gaze to meet Price’s slightly widened blue eyes.

“Well, if you see something that needs changin’ then let’s hear it,” he responds. A ‘hmph’ follows as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits his weight back onto his heels.

“It’s not about the op,” you correct him. Tilting your head side to side you attempt to crack the kinks in your neck while standing a little straighter to appear more engaged and serious.

“And it’s more important than this? What we’re doin’ right now?” Soap questions, his hands dropping to rest on the table as he looms over it, eyeing you with frustration obvious in his irises.

“What is it?” Gaz asks, a quirk of his eyebrow garnering your attention for a split-second. He’s genuinely asking, and there doesn’t seem to be a hostility in his scent as he turns his attention to you. Then there’s Ghost, who you don’t even need to look at to feel his heavy gaze on you, waiting expectantly.

“Actually, it is,” you argue with Soap, anger beginning to boil in your belly, the frustration and angst having been left to simmer all afternoon. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I came to you earlier,” you turn your anger on Price. He looks taken aback by the outburst, something you’re not known for.

“Dove,” he calls calmly, hands out in an attempt to pacify.

“Don’t-” you bark, starting to raise your voice without realizing it. “I came to you in confidance! Trusting you when you said you’d be there to help me if I ever needed it! How could you?” Gritting your teeth, you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing as your chest heaves with anger.

“Woah, woah-” Gaz sputters, “What-” holding his hands out to try and diffuse the argument.

“I let myself be vulnerable-” You continue to shout.

“Isn’t this something that shoul-” Soap attempts to dissuade, backing down as he puts his hands out.

“-and tell you the truth, and-” you’re lunging for him across the table. You’re held back by a massive hand on your shoulder. “You laugh in my face?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You're suddenly pulled back, off your feet, and shoved into a metal chair that'd been nearby. Your Lieutenant is hovering over you, his cold eyes now tinged with a spark of anger as they bore into you scrutinizingly. There's the sound of commotion behind him, multiple voices overlapping, yet you can't see anything with that utter giant in front of you!

“Does anyone wanna explain what the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” Ghost snaps. It's only then when the man steps aside that you can see where everyone is. With both of you in your respective corners, you simply glare at the Captain from over your crossed arms out in front of you.

“Are you bleedin’ kidding me, ya Scally?” Price grunts as he shrugs Gaz’ hand off his shoulder. “You’re still on about it! When w-"

"That doesn't explain what happened, Cap," Gaz interrupts, stopping him from going off and getting them nowhere.

He groans, running a hand over his face once more before composing himself. Everyone waits for an explanation—you too—he’d been the first to speak, and you’re curious to hear what he comes up with. “She came into my office, bloody cryin’, tossing me a pill bottle, muttering about, saying she’s a-”

You don’t dare let him finish, not wanting him to be the one to finally say it, exposing your truth to the team. "Omega. I’m an Omega, ” you finish his sentence. While you’re scared to meet their faces, you take a deep breath and force yourself to do so.

"Christ," Price curses, fingers coming up to pinch the skin between his brows as he hangs his head.

Ghost's stoicism is nothing unordinary, and in fact, is somewhat a comfort considering you'd expected nothing less from him.

Gaz looks stunned for a moment, eyes flitting about the other’s faces before the serious look on his face morphs. Lips slowly drawing upward, you shouldn’t be surprised when he starts laughing. "Yeah right," Garrick teases, "and I'm actually the Prime Minister."

Yet, it's not just him. The uproarious laughter from your right only adds fuel to the already burning flame as the two other Sergeants laugh like idiots. All as if it's some poor joke with no consequences to anyone's life, and yet... it's the truth. At the end of the day, it doesn't change anything. At the end of the day, your life is still in jeopardy and they're treating it like some joke. Unable to form any sort of retort, you simply blink; stuck in a stupor raw, stung, and with a dumb look on your face.

Soap, rounding the table slaps Gaz on the back, his face flushed red from laughing so hard. "Yer makin' my stomach hurt. God," he eggs the other on between his dying chuckles and attempting to catch his breath.

"You're really just gonna stand there and laugh?!" You finally burst. Anger surely must be coming off your scent in waves, but you don't care. Standing from the chair, you don't flinch as Ghost swipes his arm out in front of you in case you were going for the Captain again. There will be no physical altercation on his watch.

"She already pulled this on me earlier, mind you, and now what? You're trying to pull it over on the lads' too, eh?" Price goads you.

"And I was telling the truth! You're the one who said I was joking," you point out. The volume of your voice is lost on you, partially blinded by the fury bleeding out.

"I suppose you never did admit to it being a prank," Price reasons, fingers grazing his beard as he runs them over it repeatedly in thought. "But how do you expect us to believe that when you clearly smell of a Beta?"

"Even on the battlefield, after everything we've been through-" Gaz starts.

"After yer all sweaty from a workout, too. I think we'd notice, Pan," Johnny argues, illuminating a legitimate point of consideration.

"Oh please," you mutter quietly to yourself. Shaking your head, you can't believe they're really all being this daft right now. "Like you have heard of those Scent Spritzers.”

There are various perfumes on the market specifically designed to alter one’s scent. Most use it smell like an Alpha when they’re not, or an Omega when they’re wanting to seduce an Alpha when going out. But Omegas posing as Betas was rarely heard of. You’re more than sure it happens more frequently than people know of, they just haven’t been caught. And in your line of work? It’s scarce. People are thoroughly vetted, but… you’d been on suppressants for a long, long time. And a Beta perfume only perfected your hiding.

“Did you forget we’re Alphas, love? We’d be able to smell you across the room if you were,” Gaz taunts. There’s a puff of his chest that makes his cockiness even more annoying than usual.

"You really want to be an Omega? Dumb yourself down to some weak fragile thing?” Johnny jokes, nudging Gaz’ arm as he shakes his head.

“A doll who can get whoever she wants? Want to be nothing more than good for knockin' up and popping out pups?” Gaz adds on.

“Are you serious right now?” You test, seething under your skin as your hands ball up into fists. “How could you say that?!”

“It’s what people say,” Ghost comments.

“Nobody would want that and you’re out here lying about it,” Johnny pokes.

“We’re only trying to point out the flaws in your little rouse, Pan,” Gaz says, a smile lighting up his features as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"And what if I was lying, hm? Would that change anything you just said to me? How you feel about Omegas?" You scoff.

“This isn’t about your designation,” Price finally speaks. Fingers still weaved into his beard, his blue eyes lift to meet yours. “I see what this is about now, but there's nothin' to worry about, Dove.” Your Captain takes on a softer tone and all of the sudden you feel yourself start to get emotional as a twinge of sadness, of the hurt bleeding through upon understanding makes you feel seen.

“I know it's intimidating, the thought of having your first unmedicated heat, but we have medics here. It's natural. Heats, ruts, we all have them. And, hey... at least you're not an Omega, right?" Whatever relief you’d momentarily experienced sinks back down in your gut with the speed of a rollercoaster drop. It’s as silent as a stakeout, the only sound being people’s breathing. And the lack of yours.

It takes a moment to gather yourself, everyone’s eyes on you with the serious topic change. While sex and the downsides to a designation are something discussed with the boys, you’d often been left out. And to your comfort. "You know what? I can’t do this,” you retort. Backing from the group, you toss your hands up. “I guess you'll just have to wait and see," you bite back. With a whip of your hair over your shoulder, you head for the door.

The room is silent once more as everyone gawks. You’d never reacted in such a manner, had an outburst like that… this is… certainly different, and something they’re not at all used to.

“It’s because they took away her suppressants today,” Price explains. It might not have been something the group should be privileged to know. A private matter, really… but with the way you acted? He felt the men deserve an explanation, at least.

“That makes sense,” Gaz responds quietly, eyes still on the door you’d gone through.

“That’s no excuse,” Johnny counters, arms crossing over his chest with a scowl on his lips.

"Well... that went better than I thought,” Ghost comments with a shrug. “Back to the plan? We can fill her in later.”

[xiixii]

They're just going to spend the whole mission flirting, and in fact, they don't even remember what they were working on anymore

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Kinktober Day 6-A/B/O

Okay so I have been doing Kinktober on my KoFi HERE but I really liked how this one came out, so I'm posting it here. It's not actually a part of the A/B/O universe I'm writing, but rather an aside to it. Just a little oneshot in the same base universe.

Anyways, MDNI because this fic deals with mature subjects.

For access to all the other Kinktober content, check out my KoFi HERE

TW: A/B/O dynamics (alpha beta omega), smut, chair sex, office sex. heats and ruts

Wordcount 3.9k

Art from This Post

Kinktober Day 6-A/B/O

König was always a strange sort of alpha. He was at the top of the pack, an alpha A, so it made no sense that he trembled in the corners of the room whenever you entered. He was a colonel, for fuck’s sakes! Why on earth did he shy away whenever you, a measly little omega O, came up to him and asked him if he had his morning coffee already?

You ruminated over the question all day every day. Why was your commanding officer, the hottest and most viable bachelor on base, also afraid of any and all attention? You tried to make sense of it, but nothing came to fruition. So, without a clear answer, you turned towards more underhanded methods of finding out.

“So how long was he with the Austrian military?” you asked your friend nonchalantly.

Horangi mulled over the question briefly before shrugging, “Long enough to get to the rank of colonel, that’s all I can really say.”

“Is it classified, or…”

“I just don't know,” Horangi admitted.

Drat. You’d have to try again.

“So, you said he’s always been a bit shy?” you passed Askel his morning coffee, saving König’s for last (as always, you liked to end the round end on the sweetest note).

“Well, I’ve never known him to be different,” Askel shrugged.

“Not even on duty?” you asked.

“Oh on duty he’s an animal,” Askel shuddered, “I’ve seen him rip out a man’s throat with his teeth. Fucking insane.”

You shuddered at the thought, if a bit turned on. You’d need to unpack that later. Someday. Not today.

When you gave König his coffee, he looked as docile as a lamb. The thought of his marking fangs sinking into your neck haunted you the rest of the day.

You woke up to your heat consuming you. Of course your heat would be on a day you had a meeting, of course it would be extremely important, and of course it was with König. If you could roll your eyes harder they’d be on the floor. Or at least, if you weren’t consumed by voracious need. 

You were drenched in sweat as you scrabbled for your heat suppressants. Within half an hour of shoving them in your mouth, you had finally calmed yourself enough to be able to relax. With a sigh, you put yourself together and headed out the door.

You went through your day casually, others bemoaning the lack of coffee in the morning in your absence. You laughed them off, explained that your heat made you late, and most of them shared a short laugh with you. The only one to have a curious response was König.

“Ah, you came!” his little cheer significantly brightened your day.

“You missed your coffee?” you smirked.

König shook his head, “Nein, I just like seeing your smile every morning.”

Your ears turned red as you turned your head to hide your face, “Well, it’s always great seeing you too König.”

“You will come for the meeting today, ja?” bless his sweet Austrian accent, it made everything he said both hotter and sweeter.

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “it’s in boardroom C, right?”

“Well... Ach,” König faltered momentarily, “I heard that the director is on sick leave, so you only have to present to me today. I was, ah…” he scratched the back of his head, “wondering if maybe you’d be fine if we moved it to my office?”

“No, but it’s far from my office,” König’s eyes glanced down to the ground.

You raised an eyebrow but you simply replied, “Is the boardroom busy?”

“If it makes it easier than sure,” you agreed, “where’s your office?”

“I can pick you up from your office,” he offered quickly.

“Oh if you can show the way that’ll be great,” you grinned.

He nodded firmly, and with that you were on your way.

When you got to your desk, you couldn’t help but look forward to the meeting with König. It wasn’t often you got time with the big man, so any interaction you had with him was more than welcome. You tapped away at your keyboard, dragged and dropped appropriate files and deleted extraneous ones as KorTac asked. You acted the perfect part of the pencil pusher, and you were perfectly content with your position as a cog in the machine. Once, you might have raged against your position, but these days you’d found some comfort in the monotony.

Time passed by quickly, all things considered. Sure you’d spent far too much time playing games on your phone, and you certainly didn’t need to use the washroom for that long, but other than that it was a nice, easy day to relax.

You crawled from your cubical to the cafeteria, wondering if maybe they’d finally be serving that pasta salad again. It wasn’t often that they served it, but when they did it might as well have been your birthday.

You passed by the daily menu, a skip in your step when you saw your beloved salad in pink chalk writing.

After you’d filled your plate and taken a seat, you pulled out your bag to look for the next does of heat suppressants. You dug your hand in, but when it came out your palms were empty. You frowned and looked around again, this time taking objects out of your bag as panic rose in your chest. Your notebook flopped on the table, followed by your phone and your wallet, then your keys, and then that pack of gum you thought you lost, and then you were shaking your bag upside down frantically in search of the pills. Around you, people were starting to stare, but in your frantic state of mind you figured that they were all looking at a young omega O in heat, ripe for the taking.

You scrambled to put your things back in place and hurry out of the luncheon, only to run face-first into the very last person you wanted to see.

“Ah! Just the person I was looking for!”

If only you could reach his neck to strangle him.

“Oh hey König! Just coming in for lunch?” you forced your lips into a wide smile.

“Nein,” König leaned against the doorframe, effectively blocking you in, “I just wanted to get some coffee before out meeting. You’re still okay with it being in my office?”

Had König always smelt so good?

You shivered. You needed to get out of here, and fast.

“Well, I’m actually not feeling so well,” you tried to say lightly, “so is there any way we can maybe push this back a day?”

“Well, the mission starts tomorrow,” König tilted his head as his brows knit together, “how about we do it now and get it over with quickly?”

You paled as König turned his back and motioned for you to follow. Ever the submissive omega, you were quick to follow him down the halls.

“Do I actually have to be here?” you asked nervously, “I mean, you’re the one making the decisions, right? You’re pretty big around here.”

“It’s just protocol,” König explained as he held the door open for you, “why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get right into it.”

“Um, König…” you trailed off as the scent of him slammed into you. 

“I assure you we’ll be quick,” König assured you as he swung into his chair, “you can use-” König froze. You watched as his mask fluttered with a few quick sniffs. He slowly turned to look at you, his eyes darting over your form before finally making eye contact.

“Ah.”

“I’m so sorry,” you hissed, “but sir if I could please get home I can-”

“No.”

You frowned, “Why not?”

“You’d be putting yourself at risk,” König said quickly, “think about where we work.”

“What do you mean?” you cringed into your seat when König took a deep breath.

“KorTac is a private military company,” König explained with strained patience, “we don’t hire many good people here. Maybe you’re safe in the offices, but the soldiers aren’t hired based on morality, ja?”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was trying to say. 

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?” you asked.

König drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes flicked around the room as he tried to think of an idea, but just when you gave up on an answer he finally gave a curt nod.

“You’ll stay in my office for the day,” he concluded.

You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.

“Do you need anything from your desk? I can grab it for you,” König offered.

You offered up a few things that you figured you might need, and König was off in an instant.

With nothing to occupy your hands, you leaned back in your chair and looked around König’s office. It was a small room for such a big man, and particularly for such a high ranking soldier. You could see a display of various medals hung proudly on the wall, all brightly coloured and shining bright under the glass. His desk was covered in various sticky notes for different tasks all written in blue ink. In the window frame there was a dated picture of a family, presumably König’s. There were notably few traces of his personal life, now that you noticed it. He was clearly extremely proud of his career, but his actual personal life was absent save for the single picture of his family.

He could hide his life, but he couldn’t hide his scent. In the haze of your oncoming heat, his scent provided a safety blanket to swaddle yourself in. Now that you were alone, you could truly let yourself go in it. The rich scent soothed your mind, albeit only just barely. What you really needed was more.

As your heat took over, your rational mind slipped away. As such, you didn’t really fight the urge to grab König’s jacket before wrapping it around you. Now you were feeling a bit better. You had a dominant scent to surround you now, soothing your frazzled nerves. Your nose was enveloped by the musky scent of an alpha, serving as a barrier between you and the rest of the world.

The best part, other than the scent, was the sheer warmth that radiated from the jacket. One wouldn’t think an army jacket would be so warm, but for such a high ranking commander he was granted certain luxuries. The light fleece lining wasn’t much, but it was the perfect buffer between you and the cold of the office.

You nuzzled into the large jacket, dwarfing your form in every which way. It draped over your form like a great tent, holding you safe from the elements. How strange that a cheap military-issue jacked was such a treasured vestment in your hands. The outer fabric scratched at you and crinkled with your movements, the inner fleece was cheap and flimsy, and yet it was nothing short of sacred to you. You could die right here and your life would be complete.

As you nuzzled into the jacket, you heard the door behind you creak open.

You turned to face the intruder, finding only König barely managing to hold all your belongings in his large arms.

“Oh you didn’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” his voice was tight as he delicately (messily) put your belongings on the cleanest part of his desk.

You looked down at the jacket, now rags in your hands compared to the alpha before you.

“You can keep that on,” König sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at his screen, “I know omegas like those sorts of things.”

You nodded. You couldn’t even bother to attempt to think about working. All you wanted now was the alpha in front of you.

König noticed you wriggling in your chair from the corner of his eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked gingerly.

“Yep,” your answer was far too clipped to be okay.

“Is the heat coming on?” he asked, his breathing notably shallow.

You hesitated, then nodded shamefully.

König hissed as he looked at the door, then turned to face you again, “Would it help to be close to me?”

You nodded desperately.

He swiveled his chair to the side and spread his legs, “Come on,” he patted his thighs for you.

You didn’t need to be told twice. In an instant, you were curled into his lap and snuggling into his chest. You barely heard his soft groan as you snuggled into him, finally at ease with the world now that you were surrounded by him, caged between the alpha and his desk as he worked.

You settled in his lap with a sigh. He was so wonderfully warm. His jacket was nothing compared to his broad chest and soft tummy. He was glorious in how he radiated just the perfect amount of heat. From here, you could feel his breaths as they fanned out under his mask, could feel the soft fabric fluttering over you as he huffed and puffed. You smiled to yourself when you heard him grumble about some new contracts König had to sign off, bitterly muttering about a waning budget and a particularly wealthy CEO. You didn’t pay much attention, simply comfortably relaxed in König’s arms.

As you nestled into his side, you could feel him tentatively shifting and adjusting around you. He moved you ever so slightly, jostling you from a deep sleep. You were about to snap at him when you felt the lump in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” König hissed as he hurriedly tried to adjust himself out of the way.

“Don’t be,” you were surprised by your own command.

König, not a man who was keen on being ordered around like a common foot soldier, bristled at your tone. You hurriedly ran a hand along his chest and let out a soft trill to calm him, a little trick omegas could use when needed. You hated to do it, but you weren’t really you at that moment.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you tried at assure him, “I’m the one that forgot my pills at home.”

König shuffled awkwardly (you fell further in his lap but made no comment), “I like this, though.”

That threw you for a loop.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I sometimes liked to think about this happening,” König admitted, “I wondered what it would be like to be your alpha while you’re in heat. I liked thinking about helping you through it.”

You were floored by how forward he was. No alpha ever dared to be so open with an omega, most certainly not one like you. You barely even knew König, and here he was telling you that he wanted to help you through your heat. Your mind boggled at his audacity.

You looked down at your hands and flushed, “I thought about you being my alpha before too.”

You heard a sharp inhale above.

“König?” you asked carefully.

“Ja?”

“You okay?”

König nodded slowly, “Better than okay.”

You relaxed in his arms, “I always wanted you as an alpha.”

König finally ducked his head to look down at you, his eyes lidded and soft, “Then what’s stopping you?”

You snorted, “Aren’t we at the office?”

“Do you really care?” König drawled.

You didn’t.

You tentatively reached up to his hood and tugged on it to bring you closer, guiding him closer and closer before lifting up the fabric to reveal a thin mouth with a large scar dragging from the corner of his mouth. You couldn’t care less, only pressing a kiss against his lips, soft as down but rich with wanting. König was more than happy to reply in turn, bringing you to him and adjusting you so that you straddled his lap. You let him guide you over him, letting you unbutton his military shirt and grind against the hardening bulge in his lap.

You kissed in a fervor, over and over as you both undressed each other until you were finally able to embrace properly. 

König kissed the scent glands on your neck and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m a big man, even for an alpha. I’ll do my best, but-”

“I don’t care,” you kissed him again and again, “I don’t care.”

He groaned and dropped a hand to your crotch, letting you grind against his hands as they pressed against your entrance. Even now his hands were big, almost all-consuming as he gathered your slick and split you open on his fingers. You cried out as he pushed in, but he was dauntless in his efforts. He was more than glad to keep going, pushing you as you whined and pushed down to bring him further in. You were desperate for more, and he was more than glad to give, pushing in an additional finger to help shape you for his cock.

His other hand grazed over your chest, gently thumbing your nipple as he stretched you open. You whined at the new touch. He was more than happy to shape his hand to your chest and tweak on your nipples, gently rubbing and pinching them to further excite you. You pushed your chest out for him, and he gladly dipped his head down to suck on you. Pleasure shot down to your core, guiding you through the haze of passion. His tongue came out, licking and lapping at you as though you were his last meal. He cherished you, held you, sucked on your buds as he pushed you further and further into oblivion.

“König, please,” you gasped, scrabbling at his waist with limp hands.

König groaned and pulled himself from his boxers with a few tugs. He lined you up on his tip and pressed another kiss to you.

“You’re perfect,” was all you heard before you felt the stretch of him entering you.

He was enormous inside you. Just his head took a minute for you to adjust to him, and that was only the start of him. Even as he pushed you down, you felt like you were slowly coming apart at the seams. He was a massive being in every way.

You slunk lower, lower and lower down onto his length before your hips finally met. König licked at the crook of your neck reverently as you adjusted to him within you.

It took longer than expected, but soon you were rocking your hips against him for more.

König chuckled, but was more than happy to start thrusting within you.

You grabbed onto him, unsheathing your claws and digging into his skin. You curled into him as he pushed into you steadily, thrusting at a slow, steady pace as he prepared you for himself. You cried out at him, but you were unable to do much more than beg and plead as he worked you along.

His hips picked up. Now you could feel the mounting pleasure within you. It was a coil tightening within you, winding you round and round as he pushed up into you. His cock was heavy within you as he moved, dragging along your insides before slamming back in with a grunt. He was huge, impossible to stop. You wouldn’t dare try to stop him, anyways.

You bent over him and relished in his touch. He held you close, burrowing his face into the scent glands on your neck and drawing in as much as he could. You let his scent wash over you, claim you fully and completely. You were his now, his omega. You were more than happy to let him take you as his, now and forever. You never wanted to be apart again. How could you? You were finally whole, and he was the piece you’d been searching for your entire life.

You folded over König as he fucked you relentlessly. His groans and the creaking of the chair sang through the air, accompanied only by your soft pants and moans when he fucked you harder than before. When you tried to cover your mouth, he pulled your hand away with a laugh.

“Let them all know you belong to me,” König panted, “I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”

He held you far too tightly for your poor body, and soon you were bruising under his titanic grip. He fucked you like an animal, like a monster, like a stranger like a lover. He held you as though he’d never felt another’s touch before in his life.

He grunted like a beast as he fucked you. He was like a starving thing, deprived of his one true calling all his life up until this point. He was created by death to make love like no other. He was a beautiful, wonderful thing.

You held onto him to the ebay of your abilities, but you could feel yourself unraveling at the edges. Your stitches unwove from the fabric, your insides spilled over the spear of his cock. He knew violence where you knew softness, and he taught you his savage ways with each thrust.

You threw your head back as he brought you to the edge. You were closer than ever, unable to think of anything but the sounds of your bodies meeting and your voices calling out for each other. You needed him, needed his body, needed his cock, needed him-

You came over him as he gave you one final thrust. His knot ballooned inside you, filling you to the brim as he flooded your womb with his spend. You could feel him filling you, further and further until you cried because it was too much. He was too big, he came too much, it was all too much but he knew, he knew and he loved you for it. He kissed all over you, praising you for taking him so well. You only sniveled as he tenderly pulled you back together. He pushed your stuffing in place, sewed you back up with each press of a kiss against your miraculously unbroken neck gland. You could hardly believe he hadn’t marked you by now, but König was too good a man to claim you without consent.

“Just relax,” you heard him whisper into your ear, “you need to relax for my knot.”

You nodded and settled yourself in his lap, letting yourself slump with the weight of your orgasm. He rubbed your back, soothing you as you came down from your high. König pressed little kisses against your forehead and cheeks, over and over as you relaxed onto him. You shivered, only now feeling how cold the office was.

“One sec,” König grumbled, twisting ever so carefully to grab the jacket and drape it over your shoulders, “there. Better?”

You nodded sleepily.

“Good omega,” König muttered as he leaned back into his chair, his knot tugging slightly with him, “take it all, nice and easy.”

You fell asleep with his knot still swelled inside you, the fervor of your heat sated, if only just for a few hours.

“We’ll talk more when you wake up,” König promised.

You mumbled an agreement and let yourself relax.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

NSFW Fanfiction

KoFi HERE

[ilostthewar]

Omega!Soap Finally Introducing Omega!Reader to Pack!141

This directly follows this little blurb. Let's begin.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Si!" is the only thing Johnny can get out. He honestly should have expected this, he simply assumed he would get more than exactly two minutes into the evening before one of his mates tried something.

You're wide-eyed, looking up at Ghost with a mix of surprise and intrigue. And despite Soap's outburst, Ghost is still looming over you. You meet his eyes, dark and heavy, but there is nothing vulgar there, no leering or devious intent despite the words he had muttered. And you decide that you like him, as forward and unorthodox as he is. And when you breathe in his scent, something earthy, like petrichor and charcoal, it makes you smile. "You must be Simon, Johnny has told me a lot about you." You hum in response.

"'as he now?" Simon has already decided he likes you. You do not cower or lower your eyes when you look at him. And he can see the way your nostrils flare as you breathe him in, unapologetic and curious. Before you can hope to respond, Johnny is lifting a hand to knock against the giant's shoulder. "You can't just walk up on someone, you big bastard!" Soap complains, and Ghost gives a small grunt, his eyes flicking to the other omega who is decidedly not pleased with the behemoth of an alpha. "You said to be nice- this is me being nice." Simon answers blandly, getting a small giggle out of you, and his eyes snap back down to you. He doesn't even realize he's grumbling out a pleased sound. He likes how your scent flourishes with your laughter, how your eyes lighten. He won't say it aloud, but he decides that Johnny has made a good choice bringing you around.

While Simon and Johnny bicker, a new presence makes itself known at your side. "Ignore them, this is them flirting." A playful voice notes. And when you turn your head, you meet two more bodies. It's easy to distinguish them with the images you have made in your mind from Johnny's descriptions.

Gaz, Kyle, has an easy air about him. His eyes have a warmth to them, as if he has decided you are already a friend. He steps close and extends his arm to you, overturning his wrist so you could see the gland. When you lower your head to sniff at his inner wrist, it makes your chest warm. Cocoa butter and something citrusy, something fresh. "I'm Kyle, and this is Cap', John." He corrects himself with ease, nodding his head over his shoulder to the bear of a man that stands at his side. And John certainly embodies the title of Captain, its easy to see why he is the head of their pack. He's not bigger than Simon, but his presence is felt just as deeply. Even without the alpha offering his wrist for scenting, you can detect it. Tobacco, campfire smoke, evergreen trees in the winter. It's warm and eases the anxiety. "It's good to finally meet you, Johnny talks about you often." John's voice sounds like tumbling stones, low and steady. "Let's get you inside. Let the muppets figure themselves out." John decides and you find yourself agreeing with ease.

Kyle curls an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he brings you towards the doors of the pub. And John's hand hovers just over your lower back, guiding you both forward. "Do they always do this?" You manage to ask as you finally enter the establishment. "On any day that ends with "Y", yeah." Kyle chuckles. John picks the table you all will occupy, you notice. Somewhere towards the back of the pub where he has eyes on every exit and entry, of every patron. Kyle pulls out your chair for you and John helps remove your coat, draping it over your chair.

Once you're seated, Kyle takes one of the seats beside you, his arm draped over your shoulders once more, but John chooses the seat opposite of you. It's nice, but you can already see where both have left holes that will be occupied by the other members.

By the time Johnny and Simon enter, Soap is flustered and his lips slightly more swollen then before, and Simon seems satisfied with himself. The table already has a round of drinks and greasy appetizers, and you are positively glowing, smiling and laughing at something that is said.

Johnny takes the free seat on your other side. And John shuffles to allow Simon in, the large Alpha taking the corner with his back to the wall.

"There you are!" You greet them, swirling your straw around your cup. "I was starting to wonder when you would get back." you chime and it makes a boyish grin appear on his lips. "Ach, you ken I can't leave my best girl here all on her own." Johnny says, leaning into your space. "I wasn't alone. Kyle and John have been very good company. Told me this story about you and piercing gun." Johnny can see the impish amusement in your eyes and he nearly blanches. This time, Simon grumbles a chuckle as he lifts the bottom of his mask to take a sip of his drink. "Soap nearly gave himself sepsis trying to pierce his own belly button." His tone is bland, but the amusement is there. "You'd think he was dying with the way he was whining." Kyle adds with a snort. Johnny has half a mind to throw a chip at the beta's head, but then you're giggling and leaning into his side, your scent enveloping him. Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and any hope of a rebuttal is lost as he looks down at you. You turn your head, bunting your forehead against his shoulder. Johnny decides that he'll put up with this, maybe just for a bit longer. What can he say? He's a sucker for a pretty girl laughing.

[starlit-writer]

psychopathy - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader (MDNI)

masterlist

omegaverse smut with loser simon riley who thinks he’s damaged goods but even that won’t stop him. (aka he’s so fucking obsessed with you and yet is so convinced that he’s not worthy enough for you that he sneaks into your office to fuck a pair of your used panties)

possession. bone deep obsession. everywhere he goes, you’re fucking there. maybe not physically, but traces of your scent, of your being, linger. a mug you sipped your coffee out of every morning that he stands by too long, the clear, sticky sheen of your chapstick still present on the rim (“simon, the fuckin’ a/c in here is on too godsdamned high all the time, it wrecks my lips”). the gun you had just used out on the range that you had meticulously cleaned before placing it back in the armory that he can’t help but sniff like a damn thing possessed as he walks by, your scent all but ingrained in the metal after spending so much time by your side. then, the tiny fucking post-it notes with your messy script littered around base, little reminders to yourself about plans and paperwork. no one notices when a few go missing, stuffed together in a wadded mess in the front pocket of his cargo pants. anything to keep a little piece of you closer to him. one post-it he stole sits in the top corner of the mirror in his private bathroom (perks of being an officer) is a messy reminder he swiped off of your desk a few months prior, a small coffee stain in the corner from where your mug from that morning had sat on it.

meeting with simon @ 13:30 (:

it was the smiley face scrawled after the little reminder that had really made his heart skip a beat, the ugly sense of need overtaking any rational thought. the small spark of innocent joy making his head go haywire.

simon is fucked. in more ways than one. sure, the fact that he’s absolutely obsessed with you is definitely part of it, but beyond that, he knows that he could never actually get close to you in the way that he craves. he’s broken. damaged. an irreparable, miserable excuse of an alpha that is little more than a living, breathing weapon.

none of that stops him from wanting it though. from spiraling.

and one day, he feels it. the feverish itch deep in his being, the very first signs of pre-rut. he knows what he’s supposed to do, what he should do, but the possessive, obsessive part of his fucked-up mind is hyperfocused on one thing and one thing only: you.

it starts small. he knows you go to the gym every morning before settling down to do some paperwork in your office, and he knows you keep your dirty gym clothes, rife with your sweet omega pheromones, tucked away under your desk. so, he sneaks in when you step out for a moment, determined to just snag a single piece of your clothing, just to keep the ugly beast inside him at bay. to keep him from doing something he knows you’d regret.

but, oh dear gods above. someone is watching out for him somewhere in the universe, because sitting right at the top of the bag is the pair of the panties you had worn to the gym, neatly-folded like it’s a present waiting just for him. he could cry from the way your heady, sweet scent wraps around him as he pulls the still-slightly damp scrap of fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. his eyes roll back, a deep growl ripping itself from his chest. he doesn’t even care that the pheromones - your pheromones - are slightly stale on the fabric. it’s you. his mind is reeling, and the feverish itch climbs ever closer to its peak, and he can feel his rut barreling towards him at full-force.

his logical side knows he needs to keep his distance. he knows he’s not good enough for you, that he could never be the alpha you need. but fuck, how he wishes he could be. he glances at the door for a moment, attempting to gauge how much time he has before you get back, but his rut-addled mind is slow, thoughts sliding through honey-thick. all he can focus on is your scent, and the way his cock presses heavily against his cargos.

he doesn’t even think. he pushes out from underneath your desk, but he doesn’t go far. he settles behind your desk, his back to the wall to keep his sight on the door. he tells himself it’s to make sure he can see when the lock starts jiggling, so he can pretend this never happened, but a part of him, a sick, twisted, damaged part of him, is hoping that you will catch him (and that you’ll like it).

your panties are pressed back to his nose as he quickly unbuttons his cargo pants, his cock thick and heavy and already weeping as his scarred finger sweeps over the slit. his eyes roll back as he takes himself into his hand properly, stroking quickly as he huffs at your sweet scent.

but it’s not enough. it’s not enough.

his hand is rough, and no matter how much pre-cum leaks from his angry red slit, it’s not nearly as pleasurable as he knows sinking into your tight, slick heat would be. he groans in frustration, tears of obsessive need pricking at the corners of his eyes. he throws his head back as his thumb brushes over the particularly sensitive underside of the head of his cock, but it’s still not enough.

well, if he can’t fuck you, he’ll take the next best thing.

he brings your panties down to his cock, wrapping them around his length as a barrier, your pheromones wrapping around his cock in a mockery of the way he wants them to, and he starts fucking up into his hand in earnest. it’s better, but all he can think about is mounting you and fucking you stupid until his knot locks you together. as the images flash through his mind, he leans forward, his free hand holding onto the carpet as he adjusts himself so that he is on his hands and knees, completely fucking into your panties like he wishes he could fuck into you.

he’s so close. surrounded by your pheromones that have soaked into your office space, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to absolute ecstasy. the pistoning of his hips is getting sloppy, and he can feel his balls tightening, but then he hears it. your keys engaging the lock on your office door. he’s fully panting now, trying desperately to reach his release before you get inside, so that you don’t have to witness the true level of his depravity.

he hears the lock click open, and that is what sends him over the edge. he cums loudly, growls and groans and your name falling past his lips as his cum soaks the panties still wrapped in his hand.

he’s still on his hands and knees, his massive body shaking from the magnitude of the release as he tries to catch his breath, and he hears your keys clatter to the floor, accompanied by a sharp gasp of surprise.

“simon!?”

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 4

… -.-. —- .-. .—. .. —- / … - .. .-.. .-.. / .- -.-. - .. …- .

Part 1 found here | AO3

CW: restraints, shots (medicine), disassociation, unresolved sexual needs

Waking comes slowly. The scent of rut and pancakes oozes from under the door. For the sourness of your own scent, you had always been able to use your nose better than most people you met. Within two minutes of all the men coming down the stairs you knew the tallest one who glared at you, Simon they called him, would be starting his rut.

Realizing you could smell it coming you tried to warn betas if they were going into rut or heat. You stopped doing that when Sarah mentioned some of the betas requesting suppressants instead of dealing with their oncoming cycle.

“Something interesting happened today, I want to run it by you.”

Bitch smiled down at you where you lay strapped to the table, bit firmly wedged between your teeth. You had taken the tip of her finger the last time she had you on the table and didn’t seem keen to repeat the experience. Sarah had not let you brush your teeth for four days, ‘to teach you a lesson about biting the hand that feeds’ or some other bullshit. All you had learned is to love the taste of blood in your mouth.

“Seems some of our guests have decided that they are going into rut and would rather not deal with that,” Sarah uncapped a needle, drawing air into it before plunging it into a vial marked only with a serial number.

Squirming did nothing to put distance between you and the evils held in the tiny clear vial. Replacing the air for liquid Sarah set the vial down gently before swiveling to you. You hated those small stools with no backs and the stupid mint green painted along the walls. When you finally died from Sarah’s ‘care’ this is what hell would look like.

“They were bunking in your room, and they aren’t the first beta to request this after spending time with you,” she grabbed your arm, pinching up the muscle between her finger and thumb. “Seems like we need a bit more information about your brain.”

A sound from beyond the locked door to your room pulls you from the memory. Covered in sweat and panting you scramble off your bed and peer underneath it to confirm you were alone. Once your room confirmed its emptiness you stripped your night clothes off. You hated buttons on your sleeping outfits but you didn’t trust these men yet and refused to tell them anything if you could help it. Using the pant leg to wipe off as much of the fear sweat from your body as you could you then dress in a matching set of loose beige sweats. They reminded you of what Scorpio provided.

Opening your door you scan what you can of the room before sliding through the smallest space you could. The door is shut tight behind you. Stepping silently from years of practice sneaking around the various buildings you were housed in you find John asleep on the couch. He is passed out with only a pair of boxers on, bite marks littering his skin. The faintest smell of slick clings to him, you would have missed it at this distance if your nose weren’t so strong. Biting your tongue you force back the cries of your beta to join them in the nest upstairs. You were not invited.

A small fire burns in the stove, lifting the temperature of the room. A stack of pancakes sits on the counter covered with plastic cling. Glancing up the stairs you can hear small noises and grunts that would send you into a spiral if you listened for too long.

Making a decision you drift into the kitchen. Eating the pancakes dry is a choice. The number of times you have to pause chewing to release the bolus from the roof of your mouth? Annoying, but these were free pancakes. When your stomach begins to groan, a ship sinking too heavy under a load, you pause. A pancake and a half are left. Covering them back up with the cling warp you look around the kitchen. A bowl, several measuring cups, a pan, and a used plate and fork are all tossed in the sink.

This you could handle. One of your main duties for a long time had been cleaning dishes after meals. Finding the soap and a clean towel you set to work. Humming a song you had learned before going to Scorpio the sink is cleared and cleaned in no time.

John is still asleep on the couch when you finish. The fire is starting to burn down. The wood stacked near the stove tells you that the flames can be fed. Studying the black surface doesn’t give you any clue how you are supposed to add it without burning yourself. Waiting had become the option. Glancing around the couch you found a blanket laid neatly over the back of the couch tucked under John’s body. The idea of getting close enough to be touched sent shivers rolling down your back. Freezing it was then.

A flutter of movement at the back door drew you to the pocket of cold air lifting off the glass. Two crows, you think they are crows as you could never remember how to tell crows and ravens apart, are playing on the back porch. Calling it play seemed best. They both would pick up a small stick before waving it about, dropping it, and hopping about.

You must shift, or move in some way because they fly away in a flurry of caws. Their departure hits you in the chest. Birds had been something you missed the most. Outside time at Scorpio had been strictly regulated and no trees were ever allowed to grow tall or full enough to be welcoming for a family of birds or squirrels. Wishing had been your one way out; you always wished you had been born with wings. Pressing your fingertips to the glass you ignore the chill of the heat being stolen.

Stolen. That word rings through your brain, a dirge of a funeral march. Something changes, like the clang of the mausoleum gates slamming shut and a jubilee begins. You can go outside. No one is here to stop you. John is dead to the world and the others are busy. Nearly dancing on light toes you retrieve your outside wear from where you had stored it in your dresser yesterday.

Boots on you are reaching for your coat when you remember the shawl from Johnny, tucked between the mattress and the bed frame. He had tried to make you laugh yesterday. Telling you stories of his sister’s antics when they were kids or lining up jokes he would knock down like bowling pins the most he got from you had been a smile you couldn’t stop. The man looked like you had gifted him his wildest dreams when he caught sight of it. Another one hadn’t slipped out after that.

He was too damn nice to you. Nice only led to pain. Gods, you wanted this to be different than Scorpio. No one there who had any power had given you a gift though. That’s what he called it, a gift.

“Noticed you admiring it in the store lass. Figured if you ended up with us your life before must have been shite and a splash of color would bring a light to your eyes.” He had explained after dropping it over your shoulders and standing in the bite of the wind to look at the stars.

Staring at him for a few breaths as he grinned at you had been a surreal experience. Any care you had received in the last decade had been stolen in passing or shared under the watchful eye of staff. The open, blatant, outright loud acknowledgment hung from your shoulders in the dark. He had turned to the stars after you clutched the gift in your hand, worried he might take the soft shawl back.

The two of you finally worked your way back inside when you couldn’t feel the fingers anymore. Johnny had parted with a soft goodnight and disappeared up the stairs in the dim light that illuminated from the stove. The click of the door shutting upstairs had broken the spell over you. The lock thrown and the gift was tucked under the bed to keep it safe from a cursory glance.

Making a decision you pull it cautiously from below the mattress curling it around your body before hiding it below your coat. Sneaking out of your room once more you find yourself in the kitchen. Taking the plate you leave the cling wrap in a ball on the counter. No alarm rings when you slide open the back door, the crunch of the snow beneath your boots the only sound that breaks the perfect silence.

Tucked in the corner under a tarp you see what looks like a stack of chairs. Glancing from the could-be chairs to the corner railing where you had seen the crows playing. Making a decision, you tear off two small-ish chunks of pancake and clear the snow from a portion of the wide railing top. Setting your offerings down you set about freeing a chair for yourself.

Waiting had been a skill you cultivated at Scorpio. You could leave your body behind and fly with wings longer than the cabin you stayed in. Sat as far from the railing as you could be time slips by as you wait for the possibility of them returning. A sound draws you from your internal world. Focusing your eyes on the sound without moving your body you find them. Swallowing down your offering the crows eye you.

Moving with exaggerated slowness you tear off two more morsels and toss them to the crows. The aim is off and they land in the snow on the floor of the porch. Beyond returning your hand to your lap you practice stillness. They take the offering. This continues, you tossing pancakes across the distance and them accepting. One of them offers a loud caw which causes you to jump. Both birds take flight at your sudden movement.

Cursing under your breath at your carelessness you stand. Taking the plate in hand you turn and scream, the plate flying out of your hands and into the deep drifts of snow next to the porch. John is watching you through the back door, blanket cocooned around his body. Two fingers wiggle from between the folds, motioning you in.

He steps back after opening the sliding door for you. He waits until you have stomped the snow off your boots on the rug set up for that purpose to ask you anything.

“Did that help?”

Pausing, a hand on the wall as you step on the back of one boot you send him a look.

He points with his chin toward the little crow prints in the snow.

“The birds. Did they help?”

Help? Help what? You feel less like you were dying? Help this place feel less like a prison and more like a hospice?

You study his face, attempting to parse out what question he asked below the one he spoke. In time you would see the him that harmed. It happened with every member of staff at Scorpio. Never trust their smiles, always trust their eyes had been the mantra, creed passed to each new beta. John’s eyes held only neutral curiosity. Nodding once, you focused on removing your boots.

“I’ll get you bird food for them the next time we are in town,” John nodded once and wandered away to the bathroom most likely from where he headed.

Setting your coat on a hook next to the door you trailed him with your eyes. You wondered once again what Kate had been thinking when she dropped you off here.

Before you could decide on her motives Johnny appeared at the top of the stairs. With a pair of sweats and a pullover hoodie, he had much more clothes on than the last man to leave that room. His hand gripped the railing tight as he gingerly worked his body down each step. Simon must be a rough lover through his ruts. Shuddering with memories veiled under the cast of drugs you didn’t notice Johnny getting closer until the smell of sex washed through your nose.

“You’re wearing it,” he sighed as if you had lifted a burden from him by doing so.

Folding your arms across it you glare at him.

“It was a gift,” you reply tersely.

A hand is lifted, finger crooked as if to brush down your arm. Johnny pulls back before touching you. Mixed feelings rise. You would have bit him if he tried to touch you but a part of you screamed to the point of vomiting when he didn’t connect.

A gentle smile breaks over his face, dawn over the desert, as his gaze finds yours.

“It is a gift. I’m glad you like it.”

Your stomach flipped over in its limited space in your body. Squeezing yourself tight you fight down the beta urge to lick him, to suck the scent of sex from his gland and into yourself.

Movement from behind him has you glancing at John who had returned settled a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and a kiss to his temple.

“Leave her be, we need to get food ready for lunch. Can you show her how to load the stove? The latch is being tricky again.”

Johnny leaned into the touch, clearly comforted by the contact. His eyes drifted lazily along the wall as he listened.

It didn’t make any sense to you. John and Johnny were both omegas, their scents confirmed it again and again, but they never acted like any of the omegas you had dealt with. Acting as equals often, even to their alpha counterparts, it confused you why they all allowed John to lead them. They broke every rule that had been beaten into you.

Nodding, Johnny turned and dropped a kiss on John’s lips before heading to the stove. John shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and cupboards and pulling out various items.

“Hey Sprinkles, come on over. The stove needs fed.”

Looking around the room you try and figure out who Johnny might be talking to. When you lift a brow at him he grins, wide and mischievous.

“Yes, you. The shawl makes you look like a bowl of rainbow sprinkles. Now come on, let’s get this done and then you can tell me what you enjoy doing so we can find you something to fill your day with.”

Joining Johnny at the stove you learn how to open, feed, clean, and start a fire to warm the house up. The explanations he gave were clear and concise. You fed a few pieces in, confidence growing with each word of praise from his lips.

When the door is closed and the living spaces much warmer you follow Johnny into the kitchen. A pot with a lid not sitting fully on simmered away and a bowl with a towel sat in the corner. On the main part of the counter, a large platter of meats, cheeses, nuts, fruits, and vegetables drew in the eye.

John shoveled food into his mouth before disappearing with a nod. Kyle appeared next, smelling of sex too. He ate with the same ravenous hunger Johnny and John showed. You picked at your food, slipping pieces of cheese and cured meats into your pockets to hide for later.

After both men had gorged themselves on a meal they showed you where the TV and their collections of shows and movies lived. The newest one you recognized had been from nine years ago. Ads had been playing for it before you ended up with Scorpio. Excusing yourself to the bathroom you detour to place your extras in your pillow. After the men go to sleep tonight you would find a safer way of storing the food.

Curling into the corner of the couch to watch a show that looked interesting the men gave you a cushion as space as they twined around one another. Sometime later John replaced Johnny on the couch and you drifted in a half-awake state ignoring the throbbing need between your legs that spiked with each heady draft that reached your nose when the men took their shifts with Simon.

This routine went on for two days. They were such long days.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

@lucienofthelakes @gg-trini @talia-the-gemini @thriving-n-jiving @z-wantstowrite @asialovesyou09 @literallegendicon @canthavetoomuchchaos @reinekoya @jsptmoche @demothers-empty-blog @hbaasaad @sun-daddy-yoriichi @wiciclesatmidnight @kaoyamamegami @little-mini-me-world @corvid007 @skeletonsucker @feyresqueen

[thatoneautisticshark]

A/B/O ghost price.

This was supposed to be small.. it is now 1753 words.

Content warnings- A/B/O, slight mention of SA,

John knew Simon, and he knew he was struggling. A rut knocked the shit out of any alpha, even with release. A rut clouded the brain, and it hurt to not get release.

So John couldn't imagine Simons pain.

Simon who refused to find an omega. John knew he wasn't the type to settle down. But in the 6 years they had known eachother Simon had never once been with an omega.

John understood not wanting to be with someone in the military. It could complicate things. But Simon wouldn't even pick someone up from a bar, or even hire a worker!

John couldn't stand watching the pain he was in every 4ish months, he had even offered to pay for a worker, do all the explanation so Simon wouldn't have to do a thing and still get release.

But no.

Simon adamantly refused anything. So John had to settle, for bringing food and water, as well as cold face clothes to try and help however he could.

Today was no different. Simon's blasted rut was back, and the omega was forced to watch the man he cared for so so deeply, practically writhing in pain on the bed, tears in his eyes, face flushed and red, in such immense pain.

He sat beside the other man, gently wiping the sweat off his face, watching Simons breath heave. “Simon, please. You are in so much pain.”

Simon cut him off without even letting him finish, growling in frustration “No. Not… not fucking happening” He panted out.

Price groaned. “Riley! I ..I will cover the cost…. I'll deal with everything. Please! I can't stand you in so much pain”

Simon stubbornly shook his head. “No! I'm not …. I can't…”

Can't?

Price paused, and threaded a hand into the alphas hair. “Why not love? Tell me… please” Price borderline begged. If he could find out the issue, he could help.

Simon tensed “It…. I.. can't risk… hurting an omega… I .. I can't be like him” He shook his head repeatedly before burying his face back in the pillows, whole body still shaking in pain.

Price paused at that, staring at the other. That changed things. If it was a fear of hurting or taking advantage of an Omega in his rut, just sleeping with a rando would probably be worse.

Simon would need someone he trusted could hold their own, stop him if he went too far.

“Do me then.”

Simon blanched “Fucking what?? You… I… huh?”

Price repeated it, voice calm and measured “Do me then. You know I can fight back, and I'll stop you if you hurt me.”

The other almost looked like he was considering it for a minute before shaking his head again. “No… no …I…I…can't… I can't…. I could hurt you… or… be to harsh topping”

The omega didn't even think about his next words. “Then I'll peg you.”

Ghost coughed, whipping round to stare at Price his eyes wide and already flushed face turning yet more pink. “HUH?!?”

Price sat still for a moment, internally cursing his smart mouth, why did he say that? But the fact remained that Simon hadn't immediately said no.

So Price may as well give it a shot. “I'll peg you. I trust you wouldn't hurt me anyways, but you can't do anything if you are being pegged. And then at the end you can knot me, me still topping. No harm done. Or if even the idea of actually knotting me is a no, I have toys, okay?”

Price chewed on the inside of his lip, as Simon sat there wide eyed. He'd either get a no, or be told to fuck off. He should have kept his mouth shut but he was too deep to back out now.

Simon let out a shakey exhale before very very quietly murmering “Okay.”

Price exhaled loudly in a mix of relief and disbelief. Simon had agreed. He could help.

“Okay… okay yeah. How about..” he hummed softly thinking “I get you off a few times … then knotting? Get most of it out of your system before the knot. Sure it won't fix the whole problem, but it'll let you rest for a while afterwards yeah?”

Simon nodded silently, leaning his head against the omegas thigh, and Price couldn't help himself, he ran his fingers through the sweaty greasy locks.

He couldn't believe Simon was actually letting him help. It was absurd, he really never thought he would be fucking an Alpha to help their rut.

But here he was.

Price swung a leg over those beefy thighs, sitting on the Alphas hips, the musk and scent of an alpha in heat really knocking his senses now.

There was no resistance when he pulled Simons shirt off, pants following.

And fuck that looked painful.

Simons prick was swollen and red, clearly aching for relief, and price was taken aback by how strong the alpha musk was. Simon stank, but god was it getting the omega hormones going in Prices mind.

“Fuck Si” he breathed, stroking the swollen dick, watching the taller man writh, burying his face in the pillows.

It was barely a minute before the alpha came for the first time, growling loudly, mixed with a whine as he came all over Prices hand, wound so tight.

“Fuck Simon. That's it, good boy, yeah? Being good for me. Bet that feels so nice” Price didn't really know where the words he was spewing were coming from.

If he was to be saying anything like that to any other alpha he'd probably get his face torn off. But this was Simon.

Simon who was still so unsure and obviously had trauma around this. So if the encouragement was helping, Price wasn't going to stop, traditional roles be damned.

The alpha was already trembling, pink in the face, and hiding it in a pillow. Price knew he was struggling with this, but he made no sign he wanted it to stop, and his thick cock was sitting hard, warm and heavy in Prices hand.

Price used two fingers to scoop some of the cum up, using it to help give his hand an easier slide. “That's it baby, just let go, yeah?”

The man below him honest to god whined, and Price felt his own dick twitch with interest, as he trailed a hand down to the others arse, gently squeezing.

The low gutteral groan that action earnt him was impressive.

Price slicked up his fingers with the cum, slowly pushing one past the tight ring of muscle, waiting to check if the reaction was negative.

It was far from negative, he decided as his hand got covered with a second coating of cum.

The whines coming from the alpha below him sounded more fitting of an omega. He was whining and keening.

Taking Prices fingers like a pro as he bucked his hips. Surely he was prepared enough to take Price. The captain finally, finally took his own dick out of his pants, moaning at the feeling of finally getting some stimulation himself.

And god. His dick slid right in.

Simons head fell back against the pillows. “Oh…. oh fuck… fuck… fuck… P-Price…. Sir”

Prices hand automatically soothed Simon's thigh. Rubbing it firmly. “Shh. Relax darling boy, being so good. Taking it so well yeah? This is gonna feel so good baby”

Simon's hand blindly fumbles with one of Price's hands, and right when Price is about to question it Simon successfully interlocks their hands.

And somehow that felt so much more intimate. Not only was he fucking Simon. But Simon was holding his hand. He has seeked it for comfort.

Price slowly began rolling his hips, loving the emotions and complete love and lust playing out on the other's face.

The way his eyes rolled back, the way his nose scrunched cutely on every good thrust. And fuck, Price was in love with this man.

Everything about him, he could watch the alphas face for hours and never get bored.

He hadn't particularly noticed his trusts were picking up until he heard Simon. “Oh fuck! Ah… ahh… P-Price… I'm gonna …”

The man below him tensed before cumming again, the amount of cum on the sheets and the both of them obscene at this point. Even for a rut.

As much as Price wanted to keep fucking into that lovely heat. He forced himself to pull out, sitting back on Simons hips.

“Let's get the knotting done, yeah? Get you properly relieved love”

Simon tensed making eye contact for the first time since they started. “I .. uh… I”

Price glanced at Simon, pressing a kiss to his nose, “You're okay love. I promise you won't hurt me"

The alpha relaxed slightly but was still tense as Price pulled his pants down fully and tossed them aside.

He rose up on his knees, carefully grabbing Simons hard dick, and sitting down on it slowly, moaning at the insistent stretch.

Yes this was for the good of Simon, but fuck Simon has a good dick. Girthy, filling Price up just right.

He has to remind himself that it's for Simon's sake, not his own. He can jerk it in the shower later.

Although looking at the alpha, eyes blown wide, face red as ever, limp in the cushions, he seems to be having a good time.

Price begins to grind his hips, focused on bringing Simon closer to knotting, but he can't help but moan at the feeling of the cock hitting in him just right.

It only takes two minutes of some riding, half hearted mind you, Price isn't even lifting halfway up, before a swelling knot begins to catch on his rim every time.

He can see the slight uncertainty on Simons face, and soothes a hand along his chest. “That's it, good boy. Let it happen yeah? Gonna feel so much better.”

He leans forward, kissing Simon silly as he feels the cock inside him jump, filling him with hot seed.

To his own surprise, he cums over his belly, which is odd, usually he takes much longer to orgasm. He isn't about to complain however.

He flops gently forward, resting against Ghost's chest, being careful not to prematurely tug the knot.

“Good boy Simon. That was so good. Fuck.. see I'm all okay.. not hurt… feeling better?”

When he gets no answer, he looks up in concern to see Simon has already conked out.

He huffs a laugh “Dumb Alpha”