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charliemwrites · 6 months ago

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Omegas are the best for the military. Everyone knows that, it’s just common sense.

Omegas are notoriously level-headed and calm, protective without the tendency towards aggression and territorial possessiveness that characterizes their Alpha counterparts. They’re cooperative and adaptable, with heightened senses that at one evolutionary time kept them safe from rabid Alphas.

Now, it’s best suited to sniffing out potential threats, communicating sub-vocally, and noticing the smallest changes in their environment. The military finds them much more economical for combat, special ops, and even espionage compared to Alphas, who are pheromone sensitive, hard-headed, and generally indelicate.

That said, they’re not without their uses. Alphas tend to be lean, fast, and vicious. That aggression makes them both sword and shield in a fight, filing their sense of pain and fatigue down to almost nothing until the threat is neutralized.

Still, having a full-time Alpha in a squad isn’t a necessity except in special circumstances.

Per usual, Task Force 141 is special circumstances.

Four specialist Omegas with a metric ton of trauma per team member has the unfortunate consequence of hormonal imbalance. One thing feeds into another, a heat is put on hold for a mission because they can’t spare the manpower - it stacks and stacks and stacks until sleep is scarce and their usually well-maintained instincts are bursting at the seams. Compound that with the near loss of one of their team members…

The new Alpha is already there when the team returns from their latest assignment.

Laswell is waiting on the tarmac and an operative in black gear is standing a polite distance (plus one step more) from her elbow. Well within peripheral, but deferent. Their hands are clasped behind their back, shoulders straight but loose.

As TF141 approaches, Price expects the Alpha pheromones to waft his way any moment. It’s normal, expected even. A new environment, meeting strange Omegas, Alphas usually burn through their neutralizers quickly. Perhaps a vestigial instinct to carve a space for themselves in the world. Not necessarily their fault, but it happens.

Price is surprised that he smells nothing from the Alpha at all. Just the scents of detergent and soap, clean and standard. A quick glance at Simon confirms their most-sensitive nose doesn’t detect anything either.

Laswell introduces them, an Alpha that she’s personally worked with before and can verify is solid both on and off the field.

The Alpha’s muzzle is heavy duty but long-wear design. Hard-case and rigid instead of the more popular soft and flexible ones. Cushioned but firm at the bridge of the nose, chin, and corners of the jaw. Buckled tight at the back of the head, steel grid pattern across the front.

Price doesn’t arch his eyebrows at it but it’s a near thing.

They duck their head in greeting when Laswell introduces them as Saint, eyes flicking up briefly to each team member, eye-shine reflecting green in the bright runway lights.

Soap whistles, impressed.

“Yer a big ‘un, tha’s fer damn sure. Didnae ken they make ‘em like ye,” he drawls. Ghost cuffs him upside the head, reminding him to behave.

Saint blinks and doesn’t say anything. Curious.

“Let’s do proper introductions inside,” Price decides.

It goes much the same way in the 141’s den as it did out on the tarmac. Saint stands quiet and still while the Omegas take their turns.

There’s no scent to familiarize themselves with, so it’s mostly offering theirs to the Alpha. Except Saint doesn’t duck down to the neck Gaz offers. Instead, they pluck up his hand and bring his wrist to their muzzle. Inhale so quietly that only the swell of their chest indicates that they’re breathing him in.

They chuff softly, hold so loose that Gaz’s hand nearly drops from theirs. It’s approval, it can’t be anything else, but it sounds so… detached.

Still, Gaz chuffs in return, and makes way for the others. Saint does the same to Soap and by the time Simon steps up, he’s already tugging his sleeve up and his glove down.

Simon, to his own surprise, receives the same polite huff as the two sergeants. Most Alphas have found his direct scent to be unpleasant - too sharp and savory, bordering on Alpha. But Saint doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

When it’s finally Price’s turn, the only difference is that Saint swipes their own wrist along his. Scent claim. Not marking the 141 as theirs, but rather Saint as belonging with them.

Laswell, suspiciously amused, takes her leave soon after.

The 141 has an Alpha. A permanent one.

Living with an Alpha would have been a learning curve on its own. Living with SAINT is something else entirely.

For one, they apply clinical-strength neutralizer religiously. They have spares stashed everywhere. In their go-bag, their combat gear, the den, the lockers - even one in Price’s office. It’s better than the ones with fragrance, but if not for their ever-present muzzle, no one would be able to tell that they’re an Alpha.

And speaking of the muzzle.

It goes beyond common courtesy and public conduct. Even in the den, they keep the thing tightly pressed to their face, and don’t remove it for anything. They eat in their room and drink through straws when necessary.

When Price tells them that the team wouldn’t mind if they used a bite guard in the den, they just chuff softly and brush a hand along his shoulder. The muzzle stayed.

It’s not to say they don’t seem comfortable. Day by day, little signs of trust and ease seep into their Alpha’s mannerisms if they know where to look for it. A brush of skin here, a sub-vocal purr there. Spending hours upon hours in the den, available for any of the Omegas to sit with or cuddle or chat to. As much as teammate as an Alpha in the traditional sense.

It doesn’t take Soap and Gaz long at all to start hanging all over them, but Saint takes it with all the patience of their namesake. Price finds Soap lounging in their lap most times that they’re sitting, or leaning hard into their side while they watch recruits.

The muzzle is a no-touch zone, but they don’t get even growl the first time Soap discovers that. They just redirect him with a quiet click of their tongue, and let him nuzzle in when he apologizes.

Gaz is hardly any better, scent marking Saint like some bad Alpha stereotype. Poor thing goes around smelling overwhelmingly of bergamot and honey sometimes, but they never mind, never stop him from pressing his face to their chest or their back or even into their hands. Rubbing his face over any bit of skin or fabric available, even their jugular, despite the vulnerability of such a spot.

Still, Saint is aloof.

They’re perfectly responsive to their Omegas, head tilting at the slightest vocalization, quick to offer physical comfort when asked. They hardly ever seek it out for themself though, and show none of the near-obsessive behaviors associated with even the most mild of Alphas on the spectrum.

“I dinnae think Alpha likes us,” Soap whines one evening.

Saint is eating in their room, leaving the Omegas to a cuddle pile while they wait for their return.

He’s been lamenting it for a while now, repressing the rejected pang in his gut any time Saint doesn’t vocalize back, or reach for them first.

They work out in the Alpha-Only gym on base and do their laundry in the designated Alpha wash. Neither of those are regulations, it’s a choice they make. And it hurts a bit.

Saint is sweet, but their politeness goes past the point of old-fashioned.

“Course they do,” Simon grunts, dismissive. “They probably like us too much.”

“How do you reckon?” Gaz asks.

“Alpha didn’ go t’ eat ‘til we were all fed,” he replies, shrugging.

And it’s true. Saint doesn’t collect a scrap of nutrition until every one of their Omegas has had something to eat. Even Price, stubborn and work-focused as he can be, is gently urged to eat before Saint fills their own belly.

It doesn’t stop there.

Saint is always the last one on or off a transport, and quick to notice if any of them are injured. They’re always present around large groups of other Alphas, especially recruits.

The sheer amount of time they spend available is unusual, preferring the den to rest in their off hours - even sleeping there on occasion.

Then Gaz’s heat is due. A week out and he’s already feeling it descending - it’s been well over six months since his last one. His skin feels itchy, his senses on overdrive. Thirsty and hungry and generally feeling restless beneath the skin.

“Alpha,” he calls.

Saint’s eyes are on him instantly, one-sided conversation with some other, non-Pack Omega forgotten. Gaz purrs, pleased.

“I want something of yours.”

They tilt their head, a silent question.

“A shirt or something,” he specifies.

And something in their gaze flickers. Gaz isn’t sure what it means, but it definitely looks positive.

Saint brings him something better - a blanket. It’s intimate; it’s perfect. It smells incredible, if… oddly faded. From his most reserved Pack member, it means the world.

Gaz balls himself up with it in the nest he assembles over the next day and a half, until he wakes up one morning with the knowledge that his heat will l well and truly have taken hold before midday.

He puts in his notice and calls his Pack.

Saint is the last to enter his barrack, a huge bag of supplies in their arms. Not just for Gaz, but for the rest of them. No one will be leaving unless duty calls.

And it’s perfect. The best heat Gaz has ever had. Surrounded by Pack and protected by his Alpha, who stays on watch while Price and Ghost and Soap fuck him through the dregs of preheat and well into Heat proper.

Half of him purrs at his Alpha’s dedication to protecting them, to providing for them. The other half protests the Alpha’s attention being anywhere but on him.

“Alpha,” he calls. And when that only earns him Saint’s eyes and not his affection, he barks, sharper, “Alpha.”

They come to him instantly, settled in between his legs, smooth their thumbs along the glands at the base of his neck. He curls into them trilling and chirping and needing more than just social acceptability right now.

And finally, finally, a low rumble sounds through his Alpha’s chest. It’s deep and rich, hits the subharmonics in a way that has all the Omegas going still and quiet. Their voice purrs out a moment later, practically vibrating their skulls.

“Easy, Omega.”

Gaz bares his neck, whispering, “Saint.”

They lean in, breathing loud and deep, warm hands soothing an ache in his lower back. ��I’m here, Kyle.”

They fuck well into sundown, Kyle so wound up that he can’t bear to be parted from Saint to even let them breathe. Any space between them is whined or growled or bitten out of existence, the ever-indulgent Alpha soothing their Omega with their body, with the newly discovered vocalizations that he just can’t get enough of.

Ghost and Price have to feed and hydrate him between rounds, working together to manage his clingy limbs and careless (but sharp) teeth. In the meantime, Soap helps to do the same for Saint, who is far more cooperative.

“How’re you still goin’?” Soap wonders, amazed, slipping bites of granola between the bars of their muzzle. Saint is sitting upright with Gaz collected against their chest, sweaty but already breathing evenly again.

Saint licks a bit of chocolate off their lip and meets his eyes easy as anything, serene for how blown out their pupils are.

“I’m your Alpha. I go until you need me to stop.”

Which just sets them all off, each taking (needing) a turn with their Alpha.

By then, their neutralizer has begun to wear off, friction and sweat and fabric thinning the chemical deodorant to nothing. The scent is intoxicating, unlike anything any of them have ever smelled before. It’s overwhelmingly Alpha, overwhelmingly good. Even Ghost and Price, rare to bend the knee to anyone, find themselves weak for that scent.

No wonder Saint keeps it on lock, it’s practically a weapon in itself, not demanding submission but expecting it. A foregone conclusion. In a social setting it would be a brutal domination, rude wouldn’t even be the right word for it.

Saint isn’t just an Alpha, they’re on the extreme end of the spectrum.

The kind that comes with counseling and desensitizing therapies. Etiquette schools and specialized doctors.

The kind of Alpha that can not only manage four chaotic Omegas, but give them what they need.

With types like Saint, Alpha isn’t just a designation, it’s a title. And the 141 is proud that it’s theirs.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #simon riley #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #non traditional omegaverse

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cas-backwards-tie · 8 months ago

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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.”

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angelloverambles · 7 months ago

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Alpha!Nikto who feels like a failure as an alpha. As a result of his time with Mr. Z, his scent gland is damaged. Heavy scarring covering the area, making his scent hard to find. While it's helpful for the job, it's not helpful in attracting a mate. He’s getting older, he wants to settle down. Maybe have a pup or two. None of the other operators of KorTac know his want to find a mate, why would he bother to tell them? Why do they need to know?

Until a scouting mission with you. An easy mission, really just sitting and waiting but in the heat of the sun? He's absolutely sweltering in his gear, his scent only truly clinging to his sweat. His scent is wonderfully masculine, smokey and warm like a bonfire, promising warmth and comfort. He doesn't say a word about his own scent, thinking you don't notice it, but it's hard to resist sliding closer to him. It’s hard to tame the urge to investigate further.

Maybe he’d let you, all you'd have to do is ask…

#cod nikto #andre nikto #nikto #cod omegaverse #call of duty nikto #nikto x reader #a/b/o call of duty #cod a/b/o

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egelskop · 9 months ago

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some days i still taste the dirt

#myart #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #nudity cw #idk if this is gonna fly content wise so enjoy it while it's up #s/o to the 2010 comic. what the hell was that

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writersdrug · 9 months ago

Note

For the alpha/omega one, forced proximity on one of his missions he gets sent on, and she is basically standard issue along with his weapon. She’s around his stuff/in his bunk 24/7, her sent slowly permeating everything, eventually his mask, driving him crazy/rut if that’s interesting. She gets captured, he starts to realize how much he’d unconsciously relied on her, goes feral, tears enemy base apart and she nurses him back to health? Hehehehe I love feral könig

Oh, he's pissed.

Warnings: mentions of violence, attempted sexual assault (very minor and brief, guy gets what's coming to him)

When Ridgeback had informed the team that they had a new assignment, König was sighing in relief. Finally, a moment away from that damned omega. A chance to prove that he didn't need some weak, not-so-self-sustainable thing to "improve his performance" (if anything, you were just making him grumpier, with how often you complained about the standard-issued nesting material. He already said he'd buy you some new blankets, ok?!).

But then, Ridgeback announced that any partners belonging to the soldiers would be included on the deployment. Meaning omegas. Meaning you.

You weren't happy, either. You thought you were going to get an entire two weeks to yourself, including the entirety of König's room and bathroom and a chance to roll around in his clothes and scent uninterrupted. You'd get to chat it up with the sweet beta corporals that accompanied you to the mess hall in your Alpha's absence. But now? Being flown out to god-knows-where with König, a.k.a. Chuckles? With even fewer nesting materials of an even lesser quality? Great. Just perfect.

König hated how you were everywhere. He hated how your scent, ocean breeze and warm sandalwood, had clung to every article of clothing he owned. He hated how you built your (rather lackluster) nest in the top bunk with a literal wall of pillows around you - he wasn't even in there with you, why were you adding insult to injury? He hated that you were even here in the first place. Who's idea was this?! Now he has to growl at anybody that approaches his table in the dingy cafeteria where the two of you eat in silence, or sit in in the briefing room with you squished to near death in the corner, just to keep you away from other alphas. Not to mention, projecting his scent to cover yours is very inconvenient, you should really stop smelling so nice.

It was a breath of fresh air when they finally landed at the objective rally point for the mission - but the gunshots and acrid smell of blood did little to drown out the thoughts of you. What were you doing without him there to scowl at you? He didn't like the idea of some random beta from this random base taking you to meals, but it was better than an Alpha, he supposed. Your scent clung to his mask, and although it made his senses keener and sharper, he really wished it would just go away, so he could stop thinking of you and focus on the mission. Thankfully, it didn't last too long.

Thank goodness he was still in overdrive when the heli touched base, though - because he quickly found out that you were not where you should be: in his room. He'd have half a mind to think you ran off to do your own thing, if it wasn't for the sour scent in the room, rather than your usual sweet, slightly angry notes. You didn't leave intentionally.

Everyone was instantly on edge when he burst out of the room, nostrils flaring and pupils shrunken in his rage. Horangi rushed after him as König stormed throughout the base, following the trail of your scent (he has to make sure his friend doesn't kill anyone - innocent, that is). He hadn't claimed you yet; a decision he was regretting more and more by the second. What kind of Alpha was he? Leaving you alone on a foreign base without a nice, toothy mark on your neck. No, he didn't need you (🙄), but you were his. He should have made that clear. He didn't like it when people tried to take his omega.

It didn't take long before he heard you - some idiot Alpha had dragged you into the back of a humvee, and König could see your limbs kicking and scratching underneath the man (who had a decent, bloody scratch on his face - good on you). Your snarls and hisses echoed through the cracked windows - which König promptly shattered as he smashed his arm through it, grabbing the sergeant by his collar and pulling him out through the broken glass. You suddenly froze at the sound of the man being punched relentlessly, smelling a familiar cinnamon, woodsmoke, and earth, combined with the smell of blood. König's scent smelled like straight blood when he was angry, and it was terrifying, even to you.

Horangi was quick to interject König and his death sentence to the sergeant, pulling him off of the smaller Alpha - a bold move, even dangerous, but their pack bond was thicker than iron, and König wouldn't mistakenly swing on his friend.

Horangi shoved König back, muttering a quick "get your omega", before pulling the now-unconscious sergeant up by his armpits. "I'll do something with him."

König took a moment to clear his head, breathing in deeply and exhaling through clenched teeth. He then moved to the other side of the car with stride, yanking open the back passenger door and reaching in. You made a sound, a frightened squeak, still alert and cautious, as he promptly dragged you out from the back seat. After a quick brush of your clothes with his hand, making sure there's no lingering shards of glass on you, he tossed you over his shoulder with a grunt and made back for the barracks, leaving Horangi to deal with the soldier.

You assumed you're in deep waters with him now. König didn't say a word to you, just stormed through the halls and huffed at anyone he passes. You were a bit embarrassed by the whole ordeal: you had been dragged out, kicking and screaming (and gave a proper, internal fuck you to the surrounding personnel that did nothing) from the barracks, and now here you were, being dragged right back in - just without the protest.

He reached your shared quarters and shoved his bulky frame inside, kicking the door shut behind him. You were about to explain yourself when he slipped you off of his shoulder and put you back on your feet - then promptly leaned down and shoved his face into your neck, inhaling rather obnoxiously while gripping you by your arms. You whined at the sudden, atypical behavior, gently pushing against his chest to get away from the behemoth of a man. He ignored it, picking you up again and carrying you into his bunk bed. He drags you in between himself and the wall, chuffing when you fit so nicely against his frame. Had you always been so comfortable? Why didn't someone convince him to hold you like this sooner?

You, on the other hand, were not as comfy. This wasn't your nest - you didn't have that stupid, grey, felt blanket that was five feet too long, nor the extra pillows you had stolen from the empty room across the hall. You didn't have your border, your flimsy wall of protection against the rest of the world. You squirmed in König's grip, shoving against his taut abdomen and trying to climb over him. He growled, a sound that had you bristling for a moment, but you pushed past it.

"Gimme a sec-"

"Schatz, please-"

"Just a minute!"

He huffed and let you go; you scrambled over him and out of his bed, the thick, muscular cords of his abdomen tensing as you used it to support your weight. He lay on his back and sighed. He just saved you from some cocksure, weaker Alpha - weren't you thankful? I mean, really - this was truly insulting. Here he was (oh, look, his fist was bleeding from smashing the car window, didn't that show you he was a good protector? A good mate?), fresh off of deployment, fighting the demons of the world just for you, and you had the audacity to turn your nose away from him and shuffle back to your precious little nest. How sweet of you. Very appreciative, liebe. Why don't you-

He was torn from his thoughts when a blanket was tossed over him. He pulled it back, confused, as he felt you shoving pillows into his side. You tucked them around him, forming a barrier around the side of him that was closest to the edge of the bed. He watched as you fussed for a bit, beating and fluffing the pillows until they were just right. You then tossed one more onto the bed - one that was wearing his shirt as a case, which had him melting - and climbed overtop of him again.

His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound as you took a damp bathroom towel and began wrapping it around his busted hand. You held it against your chest as you curled into his side once more, not protesting or scrunching your face when he wrapped his other hand around your waist and rubbed your back. He preened when he felt the reverberations of your purr against his hand, your sweet scent filling the air and causing him to relax his shoulders and neck muscles. It permeated his brain and made his Alpha sigh with relief, happiness, and satisfaction. Your scent was finally untainted by that bitter, angry note that you usually had.

"Thanks for... today." you said, deciding to leave the details unspoken. "Sorry about the-"

"Don't be sorry." he rumbled, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your lower back. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You couldn't be."

"Well, now I am."

You sighed, letting your eyes flutter shut. He's not so bad... getting sent off by my family to some random military company was bad, sure, but... my Alpha's a good one. This could be good.

"You're purring very loudly, schatz."

"Shut up."

#I loveeeeeee this send me more!!!!#konig #konig x reader #konig x you #konig cod #konig x yn #alpha konig x omega reader #alpha konig #omega reader #a/b/o #konig call of duty #a/b/o dynamics #alpha/omega #cod blurbs

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ilostthewar · 1 month ago

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Back at it with Omega!Soap trying to bring Omega!Reader in.

But omega!Soap who is finally, finally ready to introduce you to his pack. He’s done all the right things. He’s taken this slow, knows that introducing a new omega to a pack like his can be stressful. He’s done a lot of reading about it.

He brings scented items of his pack mates to you. Nothing overly personal, simply three handkerchiefs that they had rubbed into their scent glands. He presents them to you somewhere neutral, like a park. But he’s more than relieved when you shyly ask to keep them for now. And when you finally offer something up to him, a woven scarf with your scent embedded in the fibers, he presents it to his pack with excitement. And he adores that they like it, that they smell your scent and they all seem to salivate at it. But then he realizes that they’re fucking drooling about it, pulling the item back and forth to try and get another whiff. They haven’t even met you and they’re already acting like a pack of pups.

So before Johnny even sets up a meeting, he’s quick to set ground rules. Everyone, and that means everyone, he shoots a very aggressive look at Simon who is trying to feign nonchalance, needs to be on their best behavior. He wants this to works, but he needs to know that you will be comfortable, and he needs you to know that he has your 6.

Ultimately, you decide where you’ll meet for the first time. Somewhere off base, with good food and drinks. And Johnny is practically buzzing out of his skin the whole time. A terror to his pack in the days leading up to it.

It’s almost hilarious that when Johnny finally lands eyes on you the night of, he’s purring and rubbing his cheek against yours. Almost entirely forgetting that his pack is standing behind him waiting to be introduced.

#baby moth writes #cod imagines #cod 141 #cod poly 141 x reader #cod johnny x reader #cod soap x reader #cod Johnny soap mactavish x reader #cod omegaverse #cod a/b/o #omega soap #cod omega soap #cod omega Johnny mactavish

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 49: Reforming Bonds

Summary: Your pack tries to figure out what comes next after John's announcement.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,527 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex, handjobs, shower sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, spanking (lots of asses get slapped), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, language, slight angst, emotions

A/N: I'm ovulating so you're welcome

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“Cap, what do ye mean?”

Chaos has erupted since John’s surprise announcement. Johnny is on his feet almost instantly in disbelief, trying to process the words his captain and alpha have just said. So they didn’t know either, judging by the surprised looks on their faces. They had no idea, and they weren’t expecting it.

“I’m retiring.” John says, repeating what he had just said. “It’s time I settled down.”

Johnny stammers for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around this sudden change in their lives.

“If you’re going, so am I.” Kyle says, rising to his feet as well.

“Kyle, you don’t have to-” John starts but Kyle holds his hand out.

“No, I want to.” The room goes still as Kyle addresses his alpha. “You’re right. It’s not fair for us to do this. Our omega deserves a normal pack and a good life.” He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

John stares long and hard at him for a moment before nodding. “It’s your decision in the end, what you want to do.”

“This is what I want to do.” Kyle says softly.

John nods, still staring at him. He reaches out, taking Kyle’s hand. “Okay.”

There’s a sudden tension in the air as Simon stands from the couch, heading towards the back door. All four of you watch him go, the glass sliding open before closing softly. You chew on your lip, leaning forward to set John’s paperwork on the table. Part of you wants to look through it, read every small detail about your alpha as you can, but another part of you knows even some parts of him will remain secret to you. The less you know the better. That was how your place in this pack started.

Maybe it should stay that way.

You go to rise, but Johnny puts out a hand, stopping you. “Let him go, kitten.”

You glance at him for a moment before looking back at the door. You want to know what’s going through his head, what he’s feeling but he won’t let you in like that. Not right now. Even Johnny doesn’t go after him. He needs his space and you have to be okay with that.

John’s hand runs over your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’re still staring at the door, staring out where Simon has disappeared. He squats down next to you again, his knees cracking. You fight the urge to make a joke, to tease him about his creaky joints in his retirement age.

“How are you?” He asks softly, slipping his hand around the back of your neck. It’s a comforting weight, a reminder of just how long it’s been since you presented for him. There’s a tingle beneath your skin at the touch of his hand.

“You’re really doing this? For me?” You ask, staring into those bright blue eyes of his.

“Yes.” He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still young. You deserve to live a happy life with me in it.”

A smile forms on your face, relief starting to flood through you as the shock wears off. He’s voiced one of your deepest worries, that fear that he’d come back in a body bag someday too soon. You’d have to live the rest of your life without your alpha. Your mother was proof it could happen, but your situation is different. Your relationship with John is different than that of your parents. John’s a good alpha, a good man. He’s done horrible things, things you don’t want to think about, but you know he’d never raise a hand towards you.

The fact you feel so comfortable with his hand on the back of your neck proves that.

You lean into him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. His arms wrap around you, lifting you up so he can sit on the couch in your place.

You settle into his lap, resting against his chest. It’s been a long time since you’ve been held by him. There’s been such a distance between the two of you, even after his return from disposing of Shepherd. You haven’t truly had a vulnerable, intimate moment with him in weeks.

Johnny lets out a sigh before heading for the back door. Kyle slips into his spot on the couch, leaning up against John. His head rests against yours, one of John’s arms slipping from around you to curl around Kyle. The three of you sit there in silence, soaking in the moment.

John’s really going to retire for you. Kyle is going to retire for you.

You never thought you’d see the day.

You press your nose into John’s neck, his beard tickling your skin. He’d shaved it when he went after Shepherd, cutting it back to its normal length. You almost miss his scruffy face. Maybe you can convince him to grow it out more once he’s officially retired. The mental image of him all scruffy-faced and soft has you shifting in his lap. You doubt he’d let himself lose his physicality, but you can dream. He’s lost more than he’d like to, no doubt. They all have.

Maybe it is a good thing he’s retiring. It would be rough to go back now after this.

Simon’s going to have a hell of a time.

You slide the door closed behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out onto the deck. He’s leaning against the railing, smoke puffing up from his lips and dispersing into the air. You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring off in the distance. You wonder if this is what they saw in those times you did the same.

You take slow steps forward, keeping yourself in his peripheral. He knows you’re there. You’d be shocked if you surprised him of all people.

That could also be dangerous for you.

You step up next to him, leaning against the railing, staring out at the grey sea in the distance. He’s smoking, a cigarette held between his fingers. You wonder how many he’s smoked since he came out here. You know they all do it occasionally, Price most of all, but you haven’t seen them smoke in a long time. You wonder when he bought the pack, or if he’s been keeping it for a moment like this.

You don’t blame him one bit for needing something to clear his head.

You hesitate before you speak, wondering if you should say anything at all, or if you should just wait for him to speak his mind. You might be out here all night if you waited. Instead you take the plunge, jumping right into the swirling black pool that is Simon’s emotions.

“I won’t ask you to retire.” You bite the bullet, coming right out and saying what you know he’s stressed about. He shifts on his feet just slightly as he brings the cigarette up to his lips. “That wouldn’t be fair.” You continue. “I’d want it to be your decision. Just like I left it up to John. I honestly didn’t know he was going to do it. I didn’t think he would ever. This whole time I was thinking we’d go back to living on base, things would return to the way they were before. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it wasn’t my place to say what you all could and couldn’t do. That’s why I wouldn’t ask you to do the same. It should be your choice what you decide to do and I’m okay with it if you decide you don’t want to retire. Honestly I can’t picture you retiring like I can John…”

You trail off as he lets out a sigh, taking another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the railing. There’s a tense moment of silence, his gaze still off in the distance.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.” He finally says.

“I-I’m not nervous.” You say, shaking your head.

He huffs, leaning his arms on the railing. “Can smell it on you.” He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the yard below. “I knew he’d do it.” He starts, speaking softly. “He’s been stressing for weeks about going back, putting you through that again. I never thought he’d actually do it…”

Simon trails off, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. You watch the dexterous way he moves it, fluidly slipping it between his fingers. You can imagine a knife in its place, spinning and flipping expertly. He’s good with his hands. You know personally what those long, rough, thick fingers are capable of.

“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting he’d say.” You shake your head, clearing it of the thoughts rapidly taking over. “But I mean it.” You sink your teeth into your lip. “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay. You and Johnny.”

Simon slowly turns to face you, staring down at you. He’s silent for a moment, staring long and hard at your face. If you didn’t know him better, you might have shrunk under that gaze, wishing you could crawl under the deck. Instead you stand there strong, squaring up to that intense stare.

“You’ve come a long way from the scared pup that was forced into your pack.” He finally says, his gaze softening just a bit. “I’m proud of you. You’ve survived more than most omegas would, and you’re still standing.” He reaches out, running a hand over your head. “I think Laswell was right in her choice.”

“I am glad she chose me.” You smile, leaning into his touch as his hand drops to cup your cheek. “Despite everything, I still think it could have been worse.” You make a face. “Phil could have gotten his way.”

Simon growls lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I will pay you to never think about that shit stain again.”

“How much?” You smirk, letting out a shriek as you attempt to slip out of his grip. He’s too fast, though, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you back.

His hand slaps your ass, stinging even through your jeans. “Little shit.” He grunts, wiggling you around until you’re pressed up against his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“But you love it.” You grin up at him, knowing you’re right. He’s loved it for a long time, longer than he’s admitted.

He hums, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You breathe, brows pulling slightly in a frown.

“For allowing me the chance to do this. For proving my thoughts and beliefs wrong.” He says. “For being so goddamn understanding.”

Your lips pull into a smile, your head tilting so you can kiss him. “I’m glad you’ve gotten this opportunity to learn to be vulnerable. Who knows where you’d be if you didn’t.”

“Still a miserable cunt with nothing to live for.” He says.

You snort, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You’ve had Johnny to live for.”

He hums in agreement. “I do quite like him.”

“It’s hard not to.” You say, wrapping your arms around Simon’s neck. “He’s just so...cute.”

“Don’t let him hear that. He’ll never let you forget you said it.” Simon mumbles against your lips.

“Nah, I’ll just tell him you said it.” You grin.

Simon growls, sinking his teeth into your lip. “You little shit.” His hand slips down, palming your ass. “Should line you all up, bend you over and spank you till you’ve got welts. See how much shit you wanna talk after.”

“Nothing can stop me.” You grin, biting his lip back.

He growls, smacking his hand against your ass again. It stings, but you can’t stop the moan from slipping through your lips.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, squeezing your ass.

“Bit cold to be fucking on the porch.” A voice cuts through the tension, drawing you and Simon apart.

“Fuck off, Garrick.” Simon growls, his hand still on your ass.

He holds his hands up. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” He grins. “Make it quick, we’re going to town for dinner.”

Simon’s hand lifts from your ass and you can imagine the gesture he made to Kyle. There’s a laugh before the door slides closed again. It makes you smile, seeing everyone back to their normal, playful selves again.

Simon leans down, pressing his face into your neck. He inhales deeply before sighing, his warm breath fanning across your cool skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms, the change in temperature making you shiver. Simon’s lips brush your neck, sliding down to your mark where he presses a soft kiss before he stands up straight once more.

“He’s right, we should get back inside.” You say, going to turn but a hand closes around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon grins. It has another shiver running down your back.

“To go get ready for dinner…” You say, frowning slightly at him.

His grin twists into a smirk. “He said make it quick.”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him, the meaning of his words hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck…”

The house is quiet, the light slowly fading beneath your door as the lamps get shut off in the living room. You’re standing there, hand around the doorknob. You twist it slowly, watching the light beneath the door fade entirely to darkness.

That darkness is broken as you crack your door open, casting a stream of light from the disgusting overhead bulb. You’ve turned it on out of necessity despite how badly it burns your retinas in the otherwise dark world around you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You ask into the darkness, the shape that would be otherwise hidden on the moonless night pausing by the stairs.

“To bed.” He rumbles, turning around to face you, hand on the banister. You can picture him, leg lifted ready to lift himself onto that first step.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You say quietly, leaning against the door frame.

“No,” He says, releasing the banister so he can turn to fully face you. “Just figured you might want some space.”

“Why would I want that?” You ask, curious as to what he’s going to come up with.

He tilts his head. “I know I haven’t been the best alpha to you lately. Retiring won’t make up for what I’ve put you through, the promises I broke. I figured I’d be the last person you’d want to see right now.”

Emotions rise in your throat, threatening to choke you. He’s not wrong. He’s hurt you in more ways than one. Retirement won’t fix everything, all of the heartbreak he’s caused you. That will take time.

But he is wrong about you wanting distance.

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.” You say, swallowing thickly. “Kyle will survive a night without you.”

He stares at you for a moment before he nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”

You step back from the door, hand on the light switch as you wait for him to cross the small living room. Despite the absence of one person, the cottage has started feeling smaller to you. You long for space and breathing room. It almost makes you miss the barracks.

Almost.

You turn off the light as soon as John steps through the door, breathing a sigh of relief. You close the door behind him, letting it click as it seals the two of you inside. You brush past him, heading towards the bed.

Hands dart out, wrapping around your waist before you can get too far. You’re pulled backwards and spun around so you’re facing John. It happens so fast you have barely any time to react, just managing to get your hands on his chest before you slam into his body. His arms wrap around you, keeping you pinned there as he stares down at you. His gaze is intense, burning a hole straight through you. A shudder runs through your body, your skin starting to tingle under the warmth of his hands.

“I’ve been neglecting you.” He murmurs, leaning down close to your face. His breath is warm as it fans across your skin. You try to lean up to kiss him but he pulls back just out of reach. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you prove how sorry you really are?” You say, your fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your hands. “I think I can do that.”

He finally leans down, pressing his lips against yours. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t care, leaning up as far as you can to push against him. He kisses you hard, scraping his teeth against your bottom lip. You moan against his lips, sliding your hands up to his shoulders.

“Missed you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“You were the one neglecting me.” You say, pulling back.

He hums, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing. “Neglecting myself too. I’m not wasting any more time.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Get on the bed.” He growls.

“No.” You say, pulling away. “I’m in charge.”

The growl rumbling in his chest lowers in pitch, his eyes darkening but you don’t move, standing there strong despite your omega’s desire to do as you’re told. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He chose to neglect you, so you’re going to make sure he pays for it.

His growl softens as the tension in his shoulders relaxes. He toes off his slippers before passing you to head towards the bed. You rear back, slapping his ass on the way. He grunts, jumping slightly at the impact. He glances at you over his shoulder with a playful look before he climbs onto the bed, settling himself in the middle.

You take a moment to stare at him, taking in the sight of him on your bed, the place that’s been your safe haven for months. It’s not a nest, but it’s the closest you can get.

The sight of your alpha in it makes your pussy tingle.

You make your way to the bed, climbing onto the edge. You crawl over to him, sitting yourself up on his thighs. He stares up at you, his hands sliding up your legs.

You push them back onto the bed, shaking your head. “No touching.”

He grunts, but keeps his hands flat on the bed.

You lean forward, trailing your fingers across his cheek, feeling the prickle of his beard across your fingers as you trail them down his jaw. You continue your path down his throat, sliding over his Adam’s apple before dipping into the space between his collar bones. He swallows thickly, and you watch the way his throat bobs. You sit up on your knees, bending over him to sink your teeth into his throat. He growls, his hands closing around the backs of your knees.

His grip is tight, warning.

You don’t let up though, trailing bites across his throat to his neck. You sink your teeth into the skin below his ear drawing another growl. Your teeth leave red marks down his neck to his shoulder, where you sink your teeth in as hard as you can. He lets out a deep growl, his hand slapping your ass hard.

“Fuck.” He grunts as you let up, leaning over him.

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him. “I thought I said no touching.”

“Almost took a chunk out.” He says, trailing his hands up the backs of your thighs.

“Good.” You say, sitting up on his stomach. “You bit me, it’s only fair I bite you.”

“You’ve bitten me lots of times.” He says, laying back.

“Yeah but mine won’t leave a scar.” You say, trailing your fingers down his chest.

You push your hips back, your clothed pussy pushing against the bulge in his sweatpants. You lean down, dragging your tongue across his chest before you reach his nipple, closing your lips around it. A breathy moan leaves his lips as you suck on the bud, tracing circles around it with your tongue. He sucks in a breath as your teeth scrape across his nipple, your lips curling around it to suck hard.

His hand lifts to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. You pull away from his nipple with a pop, sitting yourself up over him again.

“I said no touching.” You say, pushing his arm down. “For a military man, you don’t listen very well.”

“I never was good at following orders.” He smirks. “Only giving them out.”

You huff, forcing his hands under your knees. “Gonna have to tie you up.”

“How are you going to do that?” He lifts a brow at you.

“I’ll figure it out.” You smirk, pushing yourself back so you’re seated over his hips.

You run your fingers across his soft stomach, trailing them through the soft hair that makes a line directly where you’re headed. He’s hard under you, his bulge prominent through his sweatpants. You’re equally as aroused, panties so wet you’re probably leaving a spot on his pants.

You slip your fingers under the band of his sweatpants, finding nothing but skin. Oh, he’s gone commando underneath. You never took him for the type. You know Johnny freeballs a lot, and so does Simon, but you never thought John would as well. Maybe he hoped to get his dick wet tonight. If not by you, then someone else.

Lucky for him it did turn out to be you.

You push yourself up onto your knees as you slide his sweatpants down, revealing his cock. It’s hard and red, the tip already leaking. He’s this turned on by you and you haven’t even touched him yet. He really has been neglecting himself. You push his pants down as far as you can, his legs lifting to kick them the rest of the way off.

You sit yourself on his strong thighs, resting one hand on his hip as you drag a finger up the length of his cock. He shivers, hands clenching the sheets as you tease his head, running your finger over his weeping slit.

“So hard already.” You muse, smearing his precum down the length of his cock. “Barely touched you.”

“Told you I’ve been neglecting myself.” He grunts as you spit into your hand before finally gripping his cock.

You hum, squeezing the base before slowly dragging your hand to the top. He twitches in your hold, more precum spilling out of his tip. “If you were better behaved I might let you cum right now.” You lean down, your breath fanning his cock. “But you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

He twitches in your hand again as you drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking it along his slit. He groans, hands pulling at the sheets. The scent of him is heavy in the air, the muskiness of his arousal mingling with your own sweet scent. You’re dripping on his thigh, leaving a wet patch where you’re seated.

“You gonna cum? Make a mess all over yourself?” You hum, slowly stroking his throbbing cock.

“Yes,” he breathes, his hips pushing up against your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You say, dropping his cock from your hand.

He lets out a growl, his head lifting to stare down at you. “You little minx.”

You shrug. “Should have been good for me and kept your hands to yourself.” You sit yourself back between his legs, pulling your panties off and tossing them onto the floor. “If you can last until I cum, then maybe I’ll be nice to you.”

You climb up over his hips again, your hand wrapping around his cock. You don’t even need to prep yourself before you line him up, sinking down onto him. Your baggy shirt blocks out his view of his thick cock spreading you open. He groans, his head tilting back as you squeeze around him, sinking down until you’re seated on his hips.

Oh god how you’ve missed his cock.

It fills you just right, spreading you open and pushing against all those lovely little spots inside of you. It might just be the perfect cock, but then again, you’re likely to think that about all of them in the moment. Four perfect cocks attached to four perfect men.

How truly lucky you are.

And how lucky they are to have you.

You start to move your hips, rocking back and forth on John’s cock. His hands are still gripping the sheets so tight you’re worried he might rip them. Oh well, that would be a problem for later.

John bucks his hips as you lift yourself, spearing his cock back into you. You force your weight down, pinning his hips to the bed. “Be good.” You warn him, despite the pleasure reeling in your brain. The desire to give in and let him pound you into the mattress is strong, but you’re in too deep and have to keep control for now.

You continue to rock your hips, rising up and down along the length of his cock. His head is lifted, neck straining as he stares at you, watching your body move. His lips are parted, his chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths. He’s holding himself back, trying to keep control on himself. He could easily take over, force you to submit, but he lets you play this game.

For now.

You press your hands against John’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract as he breathes. Even after so much time he still has kept some of his strength. You can imagine him doing his pushups and situps in the morning, keeping himself agile and strong just in case.

You wonder if he’ll continue that even after retirement.

You can imagine he will. He’ll always have that need to be ready just in case.

That protective edge will never leave the back of his mind, no matter how relaxed he gets.

That almost makes you sad.

Your hands push into his stomach, using him as leverage to bounce on his cock. You’re quickly growing tired, and the press of his cock inside you has you rapidly approaching an orgasm. He’s pulsing and twitching inside of you, and you’re shocked he’s lasted this long. A true testament to his inner resolve.

He was being bad on purpose.

You don’t doubt that one bit.

It’s all a game to him, indulging this desire to be dominant for a moment. It’s a game you’ll gladly play, though, even if for just a moment.

“Fuck,” You breathe, reaching under your shirt to rub your clit.

John groans as you squeeze around him, his head falling back as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. Eventually he won’t be able to hold it. Eventually he’s going to lose control and cum without your permission. You’re tempted to push him that far, but at the same time you’re desperate to cum on your alpha’s cock.

High-pitched whines leave your lips as you desperately grind against his hips, fingers rubbing rapid circles around your clit. “Gonna cum!” You gasp, body shuddering as pleasure ripples through you.

“Cum on my cock.” He grunts, hands leaving the sheets to grip your thighs.

You don’t care, too close to the edge to pay much attention to him. You’re too busy chasing your own high.

Your orgasm slams into you, your hips jerking as you spasm around him. He lets out a deep moan, fingers indenting your thighs as he holds on for dear life. He won’t cum yet. He’ll be good and hold off for you despite the way you’re gripping him like a vice, your body trying to milk his own orgasm.

You pull yourself off of him, sitting back on his thighs as you take his cock in your hand. It’s slick and shiny with your juices, your hand slipping along him easily as you pump him. “Cum for me.” You breathe, squeezing your hand around his cock.

He cums with a deep groan, hips lifting as he finally gets relief, painting his stomach with his seed. You jerk him through his orgasm, seeking every last drop he can give you until he’s going soft in your hand. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he slowly releases your thighs, dropping his hands back to the bed.

You crawl your way back up to his face, leaning over him as he tries to catch his breath. “So good for me.” You breathe, still damp and slick between your thighs. You know he’s getting hard again. You can smell the thickening of his scent in the air.

You press your lips against his, leaning down to rest your body against his chest. His arms come up, wrapping around you, pinning you there. You pull back just slightly, staring down into his eyes. “Fuck me like you missed me.” You breathe against his lips.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, his hands bunching your shirt around your waist. You sit yourself up just enough that he can pull it over your head and drop it on the floor.

You lean yourself back down, pressing your breasts against his chest as you kiss him again. He groans against your lips, trailing his hands across your skin.

“So fucking soft.” He grunts, squeezing your hips. His hands are rough against your back, still calloused despite his lack of handling weapons regularly. Maybe it’s just part of him, something he’ll never lose.

You don’t mind it one bit.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing up as he rolls you over onto your back. He hovers above you, elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of you. He stares down at you for a long moment, eyes tracing your face.

“What?” You ask, worrying there might be something wrong.

“Forgot what you looked like under me.” He grins playfully.

“Well, take a picture. You can share it to the group chat.” You smirk.

He chuckles. “No. This is just for me.”

He leans back down, pressing another kiss to your lips. He does kiss you like he missed you, soft and tender yet passionate and devouring. It has your toes curling and he hasn’t even touched you.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin to leave marks just as you did to him. You shiver as he presses a kiss to your mark, the skin tingling from his touch. Your entire body is tingling as you give over control to him, submitting to him and what he’s going to do to your body to prove he really did miss you.

He kisses his way down your body, pausing for a moment to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, giving them the same attention you did to him. Your lips part in a breathy moan as he sucks on the sensitive bud, scraping his teeth along the skin before releasing it with a pop. He gives you a smirk as he continues down your body, licking a circle around your belly button before sliding even lower.

He trails kisses down your pelvis, ending with a kiss just above your clit. You lift your head up, watching him as he stares at your pussy, still slick and sensitive from your first orgasm. He hums, his thumbs spreading you open.

“Just as pretty as I remember.” He says.

A snarky remark dies on the tip of your tongue as he drags his tongue through your folds. You flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he finally reaches your clit, pressing a soft kiss against it.

Your lips part as he flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, toes already curling again as he circles the still sensitive bud. His fingers keep you spread open as he licks another stripe through your folds before his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks hard, a sound almost like a mewl leaving your lips as pleasure shoots through you like an electric shock.

Your fingers curl into the sheets as John continues his relentless assault on your clit, slurping at your folds like a parched man. His tongue draws shapes across your clit, swirling and flicking, his lips closing around it and suckling hard. Your legs are shaking already, toes curled as he feasts on you like he really did miss you.

“Fuck…” You whine, pushing your hips up against his face, your thighs trying to close around his head. You don’t care that you might suffocate him. You doubt he’d complain about dying between your thighs. Out of all the ways he could go…

“Feel good, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your clit, sucking on it again.

“Yes!” You moan, your hand reaching down to slide through his hair. He cut it recently, back to the normal short length he wore on base. They’ve all cleaned up a bit, likely due to their belief they were all headed back to their old lives.

Now things have changed.

Your back arches off the bed as John continues to eat you out, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first, and the mix of his tongue and the burn of his beard on your inner thighs has you rapidly approaching a second.

“Cum for me.” He growls, scraping your clit with his teeth before wrapping his lips around it.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure course through you. You can barely handle it, colors erupting behind your eyes as you writhe on the bed. John continues to suckle at your clit, working you through your orgasm.

He finally relents once you’re shaking with overstimulation, pulling his face back from your pussy. His beard is damp with your juices, lips shining. You hold your arms out for him, inviting him to crawl back up so he’s wrapped in your arms.

“Good girl.” He murmurs.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you, his knee hooking beneath your leg and pushing it up. You wrap it around his waist, pulling his body as close as you can. His hand slides beneath your back, coming to rest between your shoulder blades. He cradles you as he slips a hand between your bodies, still kissing you as his cock brushes against your damp pussy. You’re still wet despite two orgasms, worked up by the touch and smell of your alpha.

You whimper against his lips as he pushes into you, your body welcoming him in gladly. A sigh leaves his lips as you squeeze around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. John leans his forehead against yours as he sinks completely into you, his hips pressing flush against yours.

“Fucking feel so good wrapped around me.” He breathes, pausing there for a moment as he presses soft pecks across your face.

“Missed you.” You whisper, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you can.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, pressing his cheek against yours. “Shouldn’t have been neglecting you.”

“Make it up to me.” You say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before nipping it gently.

He hums before he starts moving, rocking his hips against yours. You feel so full, his cock pressing as far as it can into you with each thrust of his hips forward. It’s slow and soft, John taking his time to try and prove to you just how much he missed you, trying to make up for just how much he’s neglected you over these last couple weeks by keeping his distance.

You would have accepted him back with open arms immediately. You have missed him, despite your tumultuous emotions surrounding your alpha. You love him, you always have, even in those moments when he hurt you. You know they weren’t intentional, done out of malice in a desire to hurt you as much as he can. You know he loves you too. You can tell just by the way he handles you so delicately, how he’s tried to make up for his mistakes in the best ways he knows how.

He keeps his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he rocks against you. You moan softly in his ear, clinging to him like he might slip away, like this might be a dream you could wake up from any moment. Deep down you know it’s not, but at the same time that fear that this is all in your head runs rampant.

John presses soft kisses across your face as he makes love to you, almost as if he can sense your fears, your doubts and he’s trying to brush them away. Your nails dig into his back as he shifts his hips, his cock brushing against that spot inside of you with every thrust. It has warmth spreading through your entire body, electricity coursing through your veins, sparking every inch where his skin touches yours.

“Alpha,” You whimper, clinging onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear, tightening his hold around you, lifting your body to meet his.

He moans softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as you squeeze around him. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, heat blossoming between your thighs where his cock is sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. You’re going to cum just like this, in the tenderness of this moment, a reuniting of your bodies after so long apart.

You can tell he’s getting close too, the occasional falter in his thrusts, the way his cock seems to pulse inside of you. He’s grunting and moaning in your ear, your own moans soft in the quiet of the room. Only the harmony of your bodies mingling together in pleasure can break the quiet that’s settled over the house in the darkness of night. Not even the rain dare fall and break this moment between you.

“John,” You breathe his name with a sigh as your back arches, pressing into him as you cum.

He’s not far behind, moaning your name into your ear as he spills into you, rocking his hips as he fills you.

He stills, resting some of his weight on you as you both lay there in bliss. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s grounding in the best way possible, his body pinning you to the bed, pussy still stuffed full of his cock. The doubts of this being real slowly float away, melting into the abyss as you breathe in his woody scent. It shoots back into the very primal parts of your brain, soothing your omega until she turns on her back in submission.

You’re crying before you realize it, tears leaking out the sides of your eyes. John shifts his weight, pushing up on his elbows so he’s staring down at you. “What is it? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You shake your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You can’t put into words what you’re feeling. Bliss? Relief? That quiet ease of lingering grief you’ve been holding onto for so long finally dissipating?

John shushes you gently, cupping your face in his hands as you cry. You lean into his touch, nuzzling your face against his palm. “I’m so sorry.” He breathes, tears shining in his own eyes.

“Don’t hide from me again.” You breathe, a sob stuttering in your chest.

“I won’t.” He says, pouring nothing but conviction and truth into his voice. “I promise I won’t, and I’ll keep that promise.”

“You better.” You sniffle, pulling him down against you once more.

You lay there, the tears slowing as you hold him. There’s something so raw and intimate about this moment, sweat-slick bodies locked together in such a total way as you both allow such vulnerability. It speaks volumes of your trust in him to carry you and his trust in you to hold him. That is what you’re made for at the core of your instincts. To comfort, to care, to be the warm, open place for your alpha to retreat to. The safe space he can be vulnerable in.

Your tears slow to a stop, your breathing evening out as you lay there under the weight of him. Something has transpired in this moment, some hurdle the two of you have jumped over together in your relationship you hadn’t even realized was there. Some empty space has been filled, a hole patched.

John lifts his head, staring down at you for a moment before he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him softly, smiling at the tickle of his beard on your skin. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

He finally releases you after a moment, sitting himself up on his knees. You wince as his softened cock slips out of you, your body feeling deliciously sore. “Come on,” he says, trailing a hand down your leg. You feel sticky as the sweat starts to dry. “Let’s shower.”

You take his hand as he climbs off the bed, welcoming his aid in standing. Your legs are still trembling a bit, feeling unsteady as he leads you to the bathroom. You sit on the closed toilet lid as he starts the shower, waiting until the temperature is perfect.

“Come on,” He says, slipping his arms under you to carry you under the warm spray.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold on as the warm water pelts against your skin. He stands there for a moment, holding you as he stares down at your face.

“What?” You ask, smiling at him.

“Nothing.” He says, smiling back. “Just can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his compliment, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck. “Stop it.”

“Never.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again.

You kiss him back, keeping your lips locked together as he slowly lowers you to your feet. You stand on your toes, back to the spray as you kiss him. Warmth is blooming beneath your skin again as his hands slide over your hips.

He turns you around, letting you get wet in the spray before he grabs the soap, lathering his hands. He drags them across your skin, cleaning the dried fluids from your body. He takes his time with your breasts, cupping them in his hands as he drags his thumbs over your nipples. There’s a stirring beginning in your stomach again, warmth starting to sink down from your stomach to your pelvis.

His hands abandon your breasts to slide lower, trailing over your stomach before slipping even lower. He presses against your back as his hands scrub at your inner thighs, wiping the juices that have begun to dry against your skin.

Your teeth sink into your lip as his hands travel upward, one of them slipping between your legs. His fingers are gentle as they rub through your folds, still sensitive from three orgasms. His middle finger drags over your clit, making your hips jerk. You can feel him growing hard against your back, your ass pushing back against him as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe, starting to dampen between your thighs and not from the water spraying you both.

You push yourself forward, bending so your hands press against the tile wall. You push back against his ass, grinding against him.

He gets the message, pulling back just slightly before the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You’re still sensitive as he pushes into you, your pussy fluttering around him. He groans, the sound echoing around the tile walls of the shower as he presses in until he’s flush with your ass. Your hands push against the wall, pressing you back against him to take him as deep as you can.

“Fucking irresistible.” He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust into you.

His thrusts are quick and sharp, the antithesis of what they were just a few minutes before. Gone is the intimacy and the vulnerability, instead desperate need taking its place. It’s not about making love anymore, instead it’s feeding into that primal need taking over.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the bathroom as he fucks into you hard, using his grip on your hips to pull you back against him as he thrusts into you. You can do nothing but stand there as he uses you, fighting to keep from slipping in the water still spraying both of you from overhead.

Your moans are short and sharp, nails scratching at the tiles as you get closer and closer to the edge, forced onward by the drag of his cock against that spot inside of you. It has your legs shaking, body pushing back against his as your back arches.

“Come on,” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. He has to be sensitive still too.

Your legs do nearly give out as his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the overly sensitive bud. You brace yourself against the wall, John’s arm wrapping around your stomach to keep you upright as he continues his assault on your clit.

“Cum for me.” He grunts, his hips snapping against your ass.

“Fuck…” You whine, legs nearly spasming as you gush around his cock, another orgasm slamming into you.

He curses as his thrusts get sloppy, his hips pushing hard against your ass as he grinds into you. His fingers don’t let up on your clit as he continues to chase his own high, pushing you close to the point of overstimulation. You can feel another orgasm rapidly approaching, your entire body trembling.

“That’s it,” he grunts, pushing against your clit.

Your arms nearly give out as another orgasm washes through you, just barely keeping yourself from face-planting into the wall as he thrusts hard against your ass twice more before he stills. His warm cum spurts into you as he orgasms, his head falling back as he groans low and deep.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He grunts, hands holding your hips up as you shake from the intensity of your second orgasm.

He pulls himself out of your overstimulated pussy, still spasming as his cum starts to drip out of you. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up so you’re pressed against his chest.

“So fucking good for me, you know that?” He hums in your ear, pressing a kiss to the lobe.

You whine at his praise, a shiver running down your spine as your omega beams with pride.

He washes you clean again, taking his time washing your hair for you. You do the same to him, running the soap over his skin. You pause around his scars, gently caressing each one. It’s easy to ignore them sometimes, forget about them and their meanings. Sometimes you can’t help but stare, worry knotting in your stomach as you stare at the ones too close to vital organs. Close calls and the possibilities had those wounds just been slightly lower, slightly to the side.

Tonight you try to ignore the meanings of them, cleaning his skin until he nearly shines and the water starts to go cold.

He reaches around you to turn it off, a shiver running through you as the cool air in the bathroom hits your skin. He’s quick to wrap a towel around you, drying you off as much as he can before drying himself.

You head back into your room, forgoing clothes as you climb into the bed naked. The sheets are slightly damp and smell like sex but you don’t care. John joins you just a moment later, forgoing clothes as well. He lays down on his back, opening an arm to you. You saddle in close to his side, tossing an arm around him as he pulls the sheets up around you. You press your nose into his chest, breathing in the clean scent of soap and the natural scent of him beneath. It calms your mind, slowing down your thoughts.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs into your damp hair, kissing the top of your head.

You hum, already halfway there as your eyes slip closed.

It’s already light outside when you wake.

The light is shining through the gap in the curtain, pulling you from the sweet arms of sleep. It’s warm under the sheets, your back pressed up against something solid. You let out a groan as you stretch, joints popping. You’ve been in this position for a while.

“Morning.” A soft voice says, making you turn your head. John is still with you, reclined up against the headboard.

“What time is it?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“Just past seven.” He says, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, turning around to face him.

“Looking at houses.” He says, swiping across his screen.

“Houses?” Your sleep-addled brain can’t quite comprehend what he’s saying.

“For us to move into.” He says, glancing down at you.

It takes you a moment before the tears start to gather in your eyes. “Huh?” You push yourself up onto your elbow.

“We’ll have to go back to base for a short time while my retirement paperwork gets processed, but then we’ll have to have somewhere to go after that goes through.” He explains. “I’ve been looking at some places for a while.”

“A while?” You blink at him, trying to hold back the tears.

He nods. “Since before I left to go after Shepherd.” A tear falls at the implications of his words. “So...you’ve been planning this for a while?”

He nods again. “It’s been playing around in my head. Just took some time to finally settle.”

You scoot yourself closer, leaning your head on his shoulder. You take a couple breaths to compose yourself, to not let the emotions overflow again like they did last night. He’s been considering retiring for a while, he’s even been looking at places to move to. He’s been planning this a lot longer than you knew, than you thought.

“I like this place.” He says, showing you a listing of a nice looking modern house.

“Where is it?” You ask, looking at the photos as he swipes through them. It is nice, new and clean looking.

“Scotland.” He says.

“Scotland?” You frown. You always thought he’d want to stay in England.

“It’s a good place to retire.” He says, pausing on a photo of the backyard. “Been looking at places on the coast.”

You can’t stop the tears now, frantically wiping at them as they fall. “The coast?”

He nods. “Just for you.”

You wrap your arm around him, curling in close to his side. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leaning his head on yours. He really has been paying attention. He really has been putting a lot of thought into you and what you’d like, where you’d be happiest and the most comfortable.

“Thank you.” You breathe, trying to hold in your sobs.

“Of course.” He says, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “I want you to be happy. You’ve gone through so much shit already, you deserve to live out the rest of your life where you’ll be at peace.”

It’s a strange jump from the no-nonsense alpha you’d met when you arrived in his life. The alpha dedicated to his job, his team, saving the world. The alpha that willingly put you second because that’s what was expected of him, because that’s what he needed to do. The alpha that broke promises to you because of the good of the world mattered more to him than you.

You sniffle, hugging him even tighter, so much it probably hurts. He doesn’t complain though, letting you cling to him as you need to.

You wonder what changed, what happened to cause this sudden shift in his priorities. Maybe it was almost losing you, maybe it was those times you got angry with him, screamed at him because he wasn’t listening, because he was neglecting you emotionally, mentally, physically. Because he wouldn’t give you what you needed and expected you to be fine. Maybe it was simply your existence here in this cottage where nothing mattered but healing and living a normal life. Maybe he finally realized just how much life on base affected you and he was able to look past the blinders the military put on him from an early age.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this.” You murmur.

“Just be happy. That’s all that I need.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

You smile softly, releasing your tight hold on him. “This means so much to me.”

“I know.” He smiles. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“You’re so good to me. It’s a nice change.” You tease.

He chuckles, his hand sliding down to your hip. “I’m going to ignore that.”

You giggle, sliding your hand down to rest on his stomach. “What other places are you looking at?” You ask.

“A few places.” He says. “Ones with enough space for a big bed.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow at him. “How big are we talking?”

“Big enough for at least three.” He says, his scent starting to thicken in the air. “Maybe enough for five.”

You bite your lip, images of tangled bodies, lips and hands all over filling your head. The four of them gathered around you as you lay there, open and ready for them. Heat starts to pool in your stomach, your thighs rubbing together.

John’s chest rumbles with a growl as your scent starts to project into the air. “What’s on your mind.”

You smirk, sliding your hand under the sheets. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Screamin’ fucking Jesus again?”

“They’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” Kyle shrugs, pulling the tea bag out of his mug and dropping it into the trash.

“It’s like they’re tryin’ tae torture me.” Johnny whines, dropping into a seat at the table.

Kyle pours some milk into his mug before joining him. “You can always go outside.”

“Might have tae.” He grunts, putting his head in his hand. “I cannae take it.”

“You’re hard right now, aren’t you?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Like a fuckin’ rock.” Johnny says, leaning back in his chair as he runs a hand across his groin. “Cannae take listenin’ to those sweet noises. I just want tae stick my face between her legs and make them shake. Tha’s all.”

“You’ll get your chance.” Kyle says. “She’ll be coming for you next.”

“I hope so.” Johnny groans, dropping his head into his hands.

Thudding steps come down the stairs, Simon appearing. He pauses, glancing at your door before shaking his head. “Girl’s busy these days.”

“As long as she’s having fun.” Kyle shrugs.

Johnny almost whines, head still in his hands.

“Needy little pup.” Simon mumbles, dragging a hand through Johnny’s newly cropped mohawk as he passes. “Probably hard in your shorts, huh?”

Johnny lets out another sound, running his hand over his face. “I cannae take it.” He pushes himself up to stand, beelining for Simon in the kitchen.

“Uh uh.” Simon says, turning him around before Johnny can get a hand on his dick. “Go sit back down and be good.” He delivers a sharp slap to Johnny’s ass.

Johnny lets out a frustrated groan but does as he’s told, sinking back into his seat at the table. Kyle hides his smirk in his tea, ears perking up as the moaning in your room quiets.

“Quick one this morning.” He muses, hiding his own stiffy under the table. The mental images of you and Price together is almost too much for even him. What he wouldn’t give to bear witness to that again. His alpha and his omega lost in their pleasure together. He wouldn’t even have to participate. Just watching would be enough.

There’s a few moments of silence before your door opens, John exiting looking rather pleased. You follow him, hair slightly mussed and a dopey smile on your face.

“Good morning.” Kyle says, smirking at his alpha.

“It is.” John says, heading for the kitchen, a pep in his step.

“Morning.” You say dreamily, a fucked-out look on your face.

Johnny mumbles something, staring hard at you before rising to his feet, the chair squeaking on the floor from the suddenness of his movement. “Cannae take anymore.”

He crosses the space between you quickly, brushing the placemats off the table before he’s lifting you. You drop on your back on the table, the wood trembling from the force of it. Johnny kneels between your legs, tossing them over his shoulders before his face disappears from sight.

Your head drops back, thudding against the table as a moan slips through your lips. Kyle’s own lips part as he watches, a slurping sound rising from between your thighs.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes, watching the top of Johnny’s head bob as he eats you out. His stiffy is now rock hard, pulsing painfully in his pants.

“Fucking mutt-” Simon goes to move forward but John stops him with a hand on his chest, watching your back arch off the table as Johnny continues to slurp at your pussy.

“Let him.” He says, dropping a hand to adjust his own pants. “He’s suffered enough.”

Your moans start to fill the air, body writhing on the table as Johnny sucks at your clit, the wet squelch of his mouth cleaning the remnants of John from your pussy loud in the air. He’s eating you like a man starved, but you suppose he is.

Your hands dart out, gripping the edges of the table as your legs start to shake, overly sensitive from what John gave you this morning, and likely last night.

“Gonna cum!” You gasp, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s head but he doesn’t seem to care. He’d gladly die in your pussy if he had to.

Kyle can’t take anymore either, slipping a hand into his pants. “Fuck…” He breathes, the sounds coming from Johnny almost obscene. He’s moaning almost as much as you are, fingers indenting your thighs from how hard he’s holding onto you.

“Come on,” Simon says, moving around the table. “Be a good boy and make her cum.”

Johnny moans against your pussy, sucking hard on your clit. Your body shudders, back arching off the table as you cum against his tongue. Johnny moans, sticking his tongue into your pussy to catch every last drop of you.

You’re breathing hard, hands still gripping the edge of the table as Johnny continues to lap at you, pushing you towards overstimulation.

“That’s enough.” Simon says, wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s neck, yanking him up to stand. “Let the poor girl breathe.”

You continue to lay there on the table, legs dropping over the edge, still shaking just a bit.

“Look at you.” Simon tsks, licking the side of Johnny’s mouth where your juices shine on his skin. His hand drops to the front of Johnny’s boxers, pushing against them at the wet spot on the front of his shorts. “Came in your pants again, didn’t ya?”

Johnny groans, nodding unabashedly.

“Fucking whore.” Simon spits, slapping Johnny’s ass. “Go clean yourself up.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny moans, stumbling his way to the stairs.

Simon turns his gaze to Kyle, his hand slowing in his pants. “You need to go clean yourself too?”

Kyle swallows thickly, pulling his hand out of his pants. He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

Simon scoffs. “Should try a little harder, then.”

Kyle does almost cum in his pants then, his cock twitching as Simon’s mean side comes out.

“Come on.” Simon says, lifting you up so you’re seated on the table. “Up and at ‘em princess. Gonna get your pussy juice all over the table.”

“Bit late for that.” You murmur, sliding off the edge and into a chair.

Simon grabs the cleaning spray and a rag, tossing it to Johnny as he returns. “Clean up your mess.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, spraying down the table.

Kyle’s cock is still throbbing in his pants, painfully hard as he tries to focus on his tea. He should excuse himself to the bathroom, jerk himself off real quick, but instead he remains seated, enjoying the pulsing in his shorts just a little too much.

“You’re really doing it?” You ask, sinking down on the couch.

“Hmm?” Kyle hums, looking up from his phone.

“Retiring?” You continue, tucking your legs up under you as you face him.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Why? You don’t have to.” You say.

“Because I want to.” He explains, draping an arm across the back of the couch. “John is right. You deserve to have a happy life with your pack and I want to be there for it. I’ve done my time and I think I’m ready to have a normal life.”

“You’re giving up your career for me.” You say quietly, almost hesitantly.

“It’s worth it.” He shrugs again. “I’d rather you be happy knowing I’m always going to be there than stressed I might not be coming home. It’s not fair to you to live with that stress.”

“But Simon and Johnny…”

“They’re going to do what they’re going to do.” He says. “That’s up to them and what they want. This is what I want. I want to live a normal life with you and John. He’s going to need the support for a while.”

“This is going to be hard for him, isn’t it?” You say.

He nods. “It will be a hard adjustment. John’s never been good at living a civilian life. Even when he’s had chances to go on leave, he never fully steps away. Giving it up cold turkey is going to be hard on him. He’s going to need help, support, someone who understands. No offense to you.”

“None taken.” You say. “He’s going to need you.”

Kyle nods. “That’s why I want to be there. It wouldn’t be fair for me to try and help from a distance. You’ll need help too, trying to adjust to a normal pack life again. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you both to flounder.”

You lean your head against his arm. “You’re so good to us. Too good.”

He smiles. “Nah, I just love you both.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in against his chest.

“I love you too.” You say, relaxing against him, and you mean it.

You love all of them so much it almost hurts.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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ink-n-shadow · 8 months ago

Note

*keysmash* ABO pack!141 is chef's kiss amazing! I especially love how you made Johnny the Omega. Maybe reader is the good girl Omega to counteract Johnny's brattiness? (I would love you forever if you wrote that pretty pretty please)

don't mind me, just leaving another slightly self-indulgent a/b/o smut

BAD DOG

𝜗𝜚 the one where omega!johnny's been bad

𝜗𝜚 pairing: pack!141 x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), brat!johnny, punishments, fingering (reader!receiving), oral (reader!receiving), johnny referred to as a dog, leash/collar use, you're being rewarded

johnny (just like reader) has his good days and bad days. some days he’s the sweetest and most patient boy, like sometimes simon doesn’t even have to breathe a word for johnny to do what he’s told—simon just gives him a slight quirk of the brow, and johnny’s scrambling to be at his side. these are the days johnny’s rewarded handsomely, bundled up against simon’s side or nuzzled in price’s lap and practically melting at the feeling of blunt nails scratching at his scalp and the gruff sounds of praise dripping from one of his alphas lips. sometimes when he’s been this good, he gets to either fill you up without consequence or play with you to his heart’s content.

but these good days (at least for johnny) are usually few and far between because lets face it: johnny’s a masochistic brat, especially when he’s in heat. he acts like a feral mutt whenever the muzzle comes out, but the second it’s as secured around his mouth as the cage around his cock is, he’s sitting pretty and trying not to drool at the way his sensitive tip presses against the metal with each throb of his cock. he secretly loves how quickly his brain shuts off, eyes growing heavy and tongue lapping at his chapped lips with every heavy pant of breath.

the only punishment johnny doesn’t like is when he’s slotted between simon’s thigh, tethered to the alpha’s large hand with a chain leash and collar and forced to face forward towards one of the beds in your shared bedrooms. price has you splayed out with your back against his chest, your thighs wrenched apart by his own and his hand stuffing three fingers inside of your slick hole. there’s a creamy froth surrounding where your arousal ended and price’s fingers began, the only evidence of johnny’s misdeed. with each twist and roll of price’s fingers deeper and deeper inside of you, a silky mixture of your slick and johnny’s cum drips from between your thighs, and if it wasn’t for kyle’s tongue lapping earnestly at both your slick skin and price’s drenched fingers, the sheets beneath you would be more ruined than they currently are.

johnny hates having to sit there and watch, held in place by the leash and simon’s heated gaze on the back of his neck. he can’t help himself sometimes and tries to inch himself closer to the footboard, only for simon to pull harder on the leash and send him fumbling backwards into the alpha’s lap.

“the fuck you think you’re doin’, mutt? been a bad dog today, ‘member? bad dogs don’t get treats, so sit,” and the gravel to simon’s words have johnny sitting up straighter, keeping his sniveling to a minimum as he watches you fall apart around price’s fingers and against kyle’s tongue.

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

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nerdygirlramblings · 5 months ago

Text

couldn't stop thinking about omegaverse and my spitfire soldier and got this

Ghost first notices you training rookies. He didn't expect anyone else in the gym this early and is surprised to see a whole squad on the mats. He watches a soldier get taken down in a grapple in under a minute and hears your voice ring out, "That shite is gonna get you hurt in the field. Ya gotta find a way to block 'is scent! You don't think an alpha will use any advantage God gave them in battle? Ya gotta be smart!"

He sticks around a bit longer and notices two other rookies whose stances would lead to injury. He's about to step over and fix it himself - he doesn't want someone hurt because of an easily corrected issue - when you zero in on the two he was watching. You correct them in a similar manner to the first. "Nooooo. Only do it like that if you wanna go home in pieces, yeah? Ya need ta carry your weight like this." You show them both the correct way, reaching over and bodily adjusting them when you need to.

He's impressed with your style, so different from the way others would simply shout and demean. It reminds him of Price. He inches his way around the edge of the room, hoping to smell you and is disappointed to see the scent blockers on your neck as he gets close.

A few days later, Soap runs into you on base. Literally. He's out for an early morning run and sees you through the trees ahead of him. He likes how graceful you look cutting across the trail. He stays behind you for a bit, downwind to try and catch your scent. When he can't smell anything but the natural scents around you, he lengthens his stride to pace you.

He pulls up next to you and sees the scent-blocking patches on your neck and wonders if you're trying not to spook anything in the woods. You flash him a smile and he swears his heart stutters. He hasn't been this quickly smitten with someone since he met Ghost.

You run along with him, and he can tell from the amount of sweat soaking your shirt you've been at this for a while. As the route loops back towards the main part of base, Soap cuts left to his barracks and notices you continuing on. He decides to test a hunch, so he takes the fastest shower and is back out watching the trailhead ten minutes later.

Sure enough he sees you come up the path and take another loop. Your stamina is impressive. He has nothing to do, so he casually leans against the wall and watches you pass by two more times before finally coming his way. "Nice form," he calls as you pass, and you flash him another bright smile and wave as you head to your barracks.

Gaz finds you on the shooting range. It's early, and he thought he'd be the only one practicing. He's checking out his weapon for the morning when he hears three different pop pop pops in quick succession. Looking up, he's surprised to see one soldier - you - making their way back and forth between three different lanes.

He grabs his equipment and starts working over towards an empty stall on your left, passing all three of the lanes you're working. He notes a standard Glock 17, a L129A1 sharpshooter, and an SA80 weapon. He glances at your targets and is a little shocked to see the tight groupings at both the head and center mass of each one. You can handle all three weapons with equal skill, something he hasn't seen in too many people not in SAS. He looks over your uniform and nothing indicates if you're on another task force yet.

It's finally Price who brings you up to the team. He's heard whispers of you across base since you were transferred there a month ago. When he hears about you, it's either with awe or derision. You're an omega.

Omegas have only been cleared to serve in active duty for a few years, and there's still a lot of prejudice against them. Some of the upper-level alphas don't like how good you are. Others are impressed but nervous due to your secondary gender.

Most military packs exist without an omega, or if they have one, it's an omega in a civilian position or not involved with the military at all. The 141 has never had an omega, and until you it wasn't something Price even considered. Price wants you on the 141 for all the things that make you a good soldier. He has no idea what bringing an omega on will do. So he decides to talk to his pack about it.

He calls everyone into his office and starts by showing them your picture. He's a bit surprised to see all three men react. Ghost leans forward, Soap breaks out in a grin, and Gaz sits up straight in his seat. The room starts to smell subtly of woodsmoke and cold ozone; the boys are interested already.

"She's new on base," Price starts, "but she's already made a name for 'erself."

"I can understand why," Gaz says quietly. "Saw her on the range a few days back, and Cap, I haven't seen groupings like that since our last qualifier."

Ghost nods. "Knows 'er stuff, tha one," he tells Price. "Watched 'er handle a green batch, musta bin right after she got 'ere, and she reminded me a' you."

Soap is practically bouncing in his seat as he tells them about running with you and how it made his beta feel.

"So it sounds like yu'd all be open to me makin' an overture," Price says. When the others nod, he drops the last bit of information, the one he's sure will send some shockwaves. "She's an unbonded omega."

The shift in the room is palpable. Subtle interest becomes full-blown arousal, the air thickening with the scent of pine and linen. "I dunno what it'd mean if she joins us, but we gotta consider courtin' 'er might be a thing."

He looks at his men, his pack, and closes with, "If we do this, an' do it right, she'd be ours." The avarice in Soap's eye, the interest in Ghost's, the admiration in Gaz's convinces Price this is the right thing to do.

All that's left is to introduce himself and make his intentions known.

series masterlist | main masterlist

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #john price #simon riley #johnny mactavish #kyle garrick #omegaverse #omegaverse tf 141 #omegaverse 141 #a/b/o #a/b/o tf 141 #a/b/o 141 #nerdygirl says #fierce wars and faithful loves

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lay-z · 6 months ago

Text

❄️ Day 7 – Make do

Synopsis: Stuck in a safe house on a mission in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve, you and your alpha teammates are in dire need of some comfort.

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | Omegaverse; military!Reader; a/b/o dynamics; emotional support (dog) omega; fluff; suggestive content; flirting; teammates to lovers/mates; eventual poly!relationship; eventual romance; typical omega/alpha behaviour

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Location: [Redacted]

EST. remng. time until exfil: 8 hrs. 4 min. 37 sec.

The wind is howling outside the shabby safe house, whistling through the creaks and cracks of withered floorboards while the rain keeps pouring down in ice buckets, fat drops pounding against the leaky windows.

You fear the seemingly ancient hut might cave in like an unstable card house with each violent gust of wind.

It’s definitely not cosy and anything but how you’d imagine to spend your holidays this year, but alas – you’re in the military, freshly recruited by a secret special ops task force just a handful of weeks ago, and neither war nor terrorism take a break, so you won’t, either. And you’re still trying to proof yourself to them, to those rugged, dominant and battle-hardened alpha soldiers.

Still, you’ve been away from a proper nest for nearly a month now and it’s starting to make you terribly anxious. You cannot possibly be of any use for your assigned alphas like this, not if you can’t even take care of yourself properly, and it’s showing.

Sometimes, the novelty of this arrangement catches up to you, makes you question your whole being and purpose. Especially, when you struggle to approach certain members of the squad to even offer your help and do your job. However, Captain Price had informed you in the beginning that you’re their first assigned emotional support omega, that some of his soldiers have never even been in close proximity to one before. He never told you who, but you already have a good hunch.

You don’t want them to know about your inner turmoil, though; don’t want them to think of you as some spoiled, prissy omega when you’re definitely still a soldier, as capable of the same war atrocities as they are – even if your nature gets in the way sometimes.

So, you do what you do best, grit your teeth, keep your demeanour neutral and make your usual rounds, seeing if anyone is in need of your support, though you’re ready for their usual declination – which is something that stings even worse than your own unmet need for comfort.

Nuzzling the cold tip of your nose into the thick collar of your winter combat jacket, you peel yourself away from the raggedy cot in the guest bedroom, boot-clad feet dragging along the creaking floorboards as you square your shoulders despite your own discomfort and walk down the short hallway into the dimly lit, sparsely furnished open living room.

And your nose immediately wrinkles at the concoction of sour, agitated alpha scents, cigar smoke, gun oil and musty wood. It’s bad enough to make your eyes water, but you swiftly blink away the gloss in your eyes, determined not to let them know how bad this is.

“Gentlemen,” you speak your greeting into the room, clearing your dry throat awkwardly as you assess the situation while the men barely seem to acknowledge you.

Captain Price is standing by a cracked window, puffing on a stubby cigar while staring outside into the semi-darkness, watching the storm, his broad shoulders tense and spine rigid.

Gaz is reading a worn softback book, sitting in the corner of the shabby couch where the old standard lamp flickers every couple of seconds, his dark brows drawn together in concentration, though his eyes barely move.

Soap is slumped in the only upholstered armchair, the battered cushions looking like they’ve seen better days; long legs stretched out in front of him, his bulky arms resting on each armrest while his head is tilted back, eyes flickering behind closed eyelids.

And the Lieutenant, Ghost, is sitting at the wobbly table on an equally wobbly chair in the darkest corner of the room, sharpening and cleaning his ballistic knives, the heavy scent of restlessness accumulated in his spot, though, as usual, his expression is hidden behind his skull mask, an air of indifference carefully crafted around his self while his own nature betrays him.

Their behaviour is making your stomach twist into knots and you swallow down a soft whine as your inner omega starts trembling with anxiety.

Then, Soap speaks up, his gruff, roguish voice breaking the tense silence, “Ye busy, sweetheart?”

You blink dumbly, eyes flickering around the room, unsure if he’s truly talking to you or–

But Soap lifts his head then, a boyish grin on his lips as his bright cerulean eyes lock with your, nearly making you squeak in surprise.

“C’mere, Corporal.” He says, lifting his bare right hand and curling his index finger, beckoning you over playfully before patting his thick thighs. It’s not an order, but the sudden interaction between you and the Sergeant has the other alphas perk up one way or another.

Price glances over his shoulder, blowing out a thick plume of smoke around the cigar between his lips. Gaz looks up from the pages of his book, one eyebrow raised curiously, his warm brown eyes flickering between Price, Soap and you while Ghost stops polishing one of his knives briefly before proceeding again.

It’s the first time one of them has made the conscious decision to ask for your presence, disregarding the brief and rare sniffs all of them have taken of your comforting omega scent in between action and battles.

Almost unconsciously, you give a stiff nod before approaching him while he sits up straighter in the armchair, moving his legs and angling his knees to give you more space.

“How–uhm–How do you… want me, Sergeant?” You ask tentatively, oblivious to the double-meaning of your innocent question, struggling to keep up your professionalism as you rock back and forth on your heels, heart pounding in your throat.

Soap’s formerly tired, half-lidded eyes light up with mirth as he drinks in your uncertainty, and deep down, he feels so bad for himself for denying himself and you this comfort that you and the rest of the squad so desperately need – all on orders from Price; the admonition from several weeks ago still ringing in the young Sergeant’s ears.

“Don’t overwhelm her, lads. She’s precious tha’ one, a bloody fine soldier, and we wanna keep her around with us.”

But the Captain forgot that this is literally your job, that this is why you’re here with them in the first place, and gods damn, Soap needs a whiff of your scent, of something else but his or his pack mates acrid stench – something more like candied apples, cinnamon and fresh wildflowers – something more like you, sweet, sweet omega.

Soap holds his right hand out to you and waits for you to reach out as well, before he grasps your smaller, cold hand swiftly, pulling you onto his lap while he keeps you steady with his left, manhandling you until you’re sitting perched up oh so prettily on his broad lap.

Your lashes flitter briskly, bright doe-eyes flickering nervously as you drink in his features this up close and Soap is preening internally at the reaction you’re showing him, so surprised and almost innocent despite your occupation.

“Ye like sitting here with me, aye, sweetheart? Not too much for ye, innit?” He queries nicely, loud enough for the others, especially Price, to hear, while the corners of his eyes crinkle with giddiness.

You scan the room discreetly, vigilant eyes moving left and right, like prey looking out for predators, unsure if this might be some kind of test perhaps, to see if you’re a good omega, able to do what you’re supposed to. Looking back into Soap’s pretty eyes, you give a slow nod, “Yes and no, sir.”

“Aye… thought so.” Soap chuckles gruffly, pulling you closer against his buff chest, eager to have your warmth and scent seep through his clothes, mark his skin and calm his restless soul.

Gaz can’t take it anymore, can’t even continue pretending to be preoccupied with this stupid book in his hands. Not when you’re sitting on Soap’s lap like that, whispering and giggling with him like you’ve never done anything else before. It had already been hard enough, acting as if you weren’t there since you joined the team, when all Gaz wants to do is bury his face in your neck, nuzzle your soft skin, cuddle you close and have your soothing purrs reverberate against his chest.

He didn’t have a chance to hear them yet, but he’s sure you would make the cutest sounds and noises.

His jaw ticks when a whiff of your saccharine scent wafts over to him while he’s still seated on the shabby couch, just a few metres away from you. Perhaps, he could just snatch you right out of Soap’s hold–

The low rumble of Price’s chiding alpha growl makes Gaz bristle, eyes widening imperceptibly as he ducks his head slightly, because how did the old geezer even sense that he was becoming jealous… and possessive.

Suddenly, Soap calls out, “Oi, Garrick? Ye want a turn?”

Gaz perks up; closing the book at once, though he looks over at the Captain for guidance and permission, because he sure as hell won’t disobey a direct order like Soap did when the latter had asked for your comfort.

Meanwhile, Price’s annoyance is still simmering below the surface, vein throbbing rhythmically in his neck as he listens and watches how the Scottish Sergeant is acting with you, all gentle and playful, practically putty in your presence.

The room reeks less of agitation and discomfort now, their aggressive alpha pheromones now dulled and whitewashed by your strong, syrupy omega scent, melodic giggles and dainty demeanour, and Price has to admit, Soap does seem to be in higher spirits now.

So, he meets Gaz’ pleading eyes with a firm nod, and watches the younger alpha scramble to his feet, opening his arms invitingly, while Price keeps his distance, chewing on the glimmering cigar stump to ease his own restlessness.

“Hand her over, MacTavish,” Gaz huffs, long fingers wiggling in anticipation, “You wanna stay with me a bit, hm, sunshine? Aye, ‘course you do–” He coos at you, leaning in a little and getting a first real nose full of your intoxicating scent at this proximity. His pupils dilate at once, making Soap chuckle as he loosens his arms around you reluctantly.

You answer with equal eagerness, eyes twinkling happily as you slip into Gaz’ strong arms, chirping, “Yes, sure!”

You end up sandwiched between Soap and Gaz on the small couch, cooped up in two different pairs of strong, bulky arms while both young alphas gush over you, courting for your attention as they nuzzle, kiss and lick your neck, your hair, any patch of exposed skin they can reach. You don’t mind them scent marking you for the first time, don’t mind the way they’re getting excited as you feel their big bulges strain against the rough fabric of their combat trousers whenever you’re switched back and forth in their embraces.

Just once do you need to correct Soap’s behaviour by pinching the nape of his neck, when he bucks his hips up against your clothed core, rubbing his growing arousal against you briefly. But Gaz chides him, too, and that’s that before you continue coddling them as much as they do you.

Ghost is usually great at blending out his surroundings while simultaneously being hyper-aware of them, but you’re slowly and surely starting to get under his scarred, pale skin, carefully chipping away at his resolve with each tentative offer of your assistance to him and his packmates, always looking mighty eager to please and serve.

Fucking hell.

It's sickening, really, how your enticing omega scent seeps even through the barrier of black cloth covering his nose.

He’s never allowed himself to smell something so sweet, let alone be in close proximity with someone like you.

When Price had submitted the application for an emotional support omega for the 141 to the brass, Ghost had nearly lost it and, in a semblance of panic, threatened with both resignation and applying to transfer to another task force, anything that would put space between himself and any omega, not trusting himself to be around something precious and fragile like that.

And then you showed up one day, pretty as a peach, ripe as one, too, and Ghost reluctantly accepted your presence with a grumble, enforcing Price’s order not to get too close to you, though, that’s easier said than done, he’d learned fairly quickly.

Now, Ghost can barely keep himself from staring at the couch, where both Soap and Gaz are seemingly having the time of their lives – basking in the attention of their own little omega. He’s never seen the two alpha Sergeant’s act so bloody… corny.

And yet, the Lieutenant can’t help and wonder how it must feel like to hold you, to feel your weight on his lap and feel your hair tickle his nose when he leans in to–

“I know what I said about her,” Price clasps his heavy hand on Ghost’s shoulder, bringing him back to reality, “– but perhaps you shouldn’t keep restraining yourself like that, Simon,” The Captain mutters, “It ain’t healthy.”

“An’ what about you, sir?” Ghost counters, not looking up as he finishes up polishing his last knife for the third time.

Price huffs in amusement, fishing another cigar from one of his breast pockets.

“Don’t ya worry about me, lad.”

When Soap pulls back from your kiss-swollen lips at once, you whine softly, chasing after his pretty mouth, already utterly spoiled bit the little bit of attention you’d gotten from the young Sergeants, until the expression on his handsome face makes you pause and snap out of your contented daze.

“Ye ready for a turn, Lt.? Think ye can handle it?” Soap snickers while Gaz scoots to the other end of the couch, clearing his throat loudly, looking at anything but the behemoth of an alpha in his black combat uniform, now standing in front of the couch.

Your eyes go comically big as you tilt your head back against Soap’s broad shoulder to gaze up at the stoic Lieutenant; the cloth of his skull mask now tucked up to the bridge of his crooked nose, revealing dirty blonde stubble and several thick silvery scars along his exposed neck and the lower half of his face while his onyx eyes stare down at you with unmatched intensity.

“I dunno, Johnny,” Ghost gruffs out, tongue darting out to lick his chapped bottom lip, “Think yer pretty bird can handle me?”

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