Thinking about Alpha! König, who comes home to his sweet little Omega.
Laying in bed after being away for weeks, heavily scenting you all over again, huffing and letting shaky desperate breaths over your shoulder and neck.
Holding your back pressed to his chest as he spoons you, still trying to scent you more, pumping out more pheromones in persistence that he could replace your natural scent if he tried hard enough
But that’s not enough, he has you pinned against him because he’s rutting his hips again yours. Buried to the base of his cock, grunting, as he held your hips on hand playing with your clit, he can’t bring himself to pull out and fuck you properly, desperate and giving short, fast ruts like a teenager in his first rut.
It’s not enough to scent you heavily, with all the men and alphas who live around, scenting you til your scent is faint ain’t enough. He has to cream your insides. He NEEDS to coat and mark your insides with his scent, marking your womb as his, pumping load after load until your cunt can guarantee it’s carrying his pups
“Miene Schatz, Miene Frau”
As his teeth graze over your shoulder to your scent gland, bitting into the flesh gently again
Okay okay hear me out! I’m new at writing but would it be possible to just spit out the idea 💡
Let’s say we are in the omegaverse (the ABO where alpha O and beta A exist)
There are 2 omega reader bffs, one was an Omega A and the other an Omega O. Both friends have been very close throughout school as they looked after eachother. Especially Omega A who always stood up for Omega O. Their plan after school was to travel the world to study abroad, but they each wanted to go to different schools in other parts of the world. So they promised to keep in contact and support each other from far away. They both shared an interest in nursing and wanted to help in the military. Thankfully both schools are quite close to military bases.
As both omegas go to their chosen universities, they venture on into those fun college night outs. They seem to be attracted to the bars where soldiers go to unwind. As their each in different parts of the world, they still text each-other telling the other what their plan was for the night. Betting how many drinks they can get for free, how many people they can make hot and flustered, even comparing who had the hottest guys at their bar. Well coincidentally both omegas found themselves in the hungry eyes of their own future pack.
Omega A found herself in the sight of the most strongest military pack, Task force 141. Her confidence in handling herself in public, despite being an omega, has intrigued the pack. They were both enthralled and concerned about your safety as you flirted and played with the poor soldiers heart strings, don’t worry love they’ll save you soon and fix that straight out of you. (heh try to)
It was Captain Price who brought attention to the rest of his boys to you. Price was an Alpha A with a level head unlike most alpha A’s who were known to be aggressive and overly dominant. He made sure to hold power over his men while being a good and protective alpha. Whereas he had his lieutenant, Ghost, who was also an alpha A, who had a deep strong loyalty to his pack and his captain. He is reserved most of the time but can become very aggressive when needed to be. (Oh don’t get me started on how bad his ruts can be, poor Johnny) Then the other pack members, Gaz who is a Beta A and Soap a Beta O. They worked together to bring a balance to the pack and being there for their alphas of the pack. However it was mostly Johnny who became the most helpful with the alphas ruts. Simon always calling the Scot a mutt in heat, since Johnnys ruts were more like heats as he became in tuned with the pack.
Thankfully, you were just what they were looking for. They needed an omega who could handle the demands of two powerful alphas, and the young energetic energy of the packs two betas. They just needed to find their ways into your bubble and court you properly dear. Don’t worry, their already marking you as their own in their heads as they challenge every other soldier with an icy glare and their strong scents already scaring off the poor alpha who left you with his tail tucked. Now you just needed to stomp your way to them and they’ll handle your pretty self just fine love.
As for Omega O, she found herself at the bar that was most frequented by the Kortac pack on rare occasions. Luckily for them, they came after a long mission and found you incredibly drunk and had a boost of confidence, despite being shy most of your life. You felt the need to prove yourself since you always felt like you were seen as weak for being an Omega O. So you stomped your small feet up to the biggest soldier you saw, pointing your much smaller finger up to his face, which really only reached his chest, demanding a staring contest. Unlucky for you, you challenged Konig, the Alpha A of the Kortac pack. He didn’t really like being challenged, his subordinates knew that better than anyone else. But to you, he could only smirk down thinking how cute you were being, and also wanted to see when would it be good to correct your behavior. He couldn’t get out of the challenge anyway, as you seemed to have started the contest already as you stare drunkenly into his deep blue eyes through his mask. Without knowing you started, he blinked as he looked to his pack to see if they see this. Hornagi, the beta A of the pack, snickered and couldn’t help but find the whole thing interesting. His other pack mate, Kreuger, an Alpha beta was more focused on how your eyes lit up as you declared you won. Konig who looked back down at you, speaking in a his deep accented voice, “don’t think that’s how it works, and don’t you know how to speak to your superiors”. Which all you could do was laugh with a challenging grin, “you’re just mad I won and you lost!”. But the alpha could only roll his eyes and let a small smirk slip under his mask. It was Hornagi who called out and told you to come challenge some real alphas, picking fun at the tall Austrian man who glared at him. You drunkingly turned and wobbled your way to the table to get every last drop worth of your strong buzz. But as you all play drinking games, they sneakily tell the bartender to just give you water. Which you still happily chugged in triumph unaware of the change in flavor. They just couldn’t believe such a small Omega O could be so energetic and even more so not afraid of them. But the more you let yourself get comfortable so did they, and after that night they needed to make sure you weren’t getting hurt by the wrong people. So they obviously made a pack decision to court you. Don’t worry little maus, they’ll keep you under their watch and hopefully under them soon. They’ll show you how good it is to be in a pack that can and will protect you, they have no doubt about that.
And when both friends, Omega O and Omega A, finally get back together after finishing schooling, they each have a pack mark to show off. Each sharing their stories of how it happened, and best believe these two won’t leave out any juicy details.
Okok sorry for long post but please tell me if I should dive more into this 👀
I can make separate stories of each of the omegas experiences, and even have it where the best friends work together. Like playing games with their pack and seeing what reaction they’d get. Ahhhh I’m sorry ok I’ll stop ✋ (not)
I’ve been wanting more fics of the cod omegaverse so I had to do it myself. Please lmk if you like this idea, if not I might still write it anyway
thinking of that one ashnikko song and thinking about alpha!simon, omega!johnny, and alpha!price—
both superiors getting riled up cause they both wanna court the same omega and johnny is not fucking having two alphas stinking up the room with their jealous ass pheromones
not when they can all be,, friendly :)
so.. johnny asks them to get along and show him how nice alphas can be! surely it’s not that hard, right?
which.. is how he ends up sandwiched in between two alphas, with price deep in johnny’s ass while he’s kissing the lieutenant above the sergeant
too bad his mouth is full of simon’s cock, johnny would love to have both his captain and lieutenant’s spit on his face right now
TW: Distressing/Negative Sexual Experiences, Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Restraints, Intersex Omegas (NOT sfw)
This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels
Please note that all the Distressing/Negative Sexual Experiences are not between Ghost and Soap. I think this one is right on the line for dub-con, so proceed with caution if that's something that might trigger you. If this is missing any trigger warning please do let me know!
I've always had an itch to subvert the 'omega desperately needs to get fucked during their heat' trope, so I honestly shouldn't be so surprised that this one got away from me like it did.
Enjoy!
As an omega, Soap had started preparing for his heat a good month in advance, he’d gathered up his favourite nesting blankets and made sure they were freshly laundered, he’d scouted a good Heat-Hotel that was nearby and booked a room, he’d even secured a partner. Some of the other omegas on base had been touting this new matcher app, that they’d reportedly had massive success with, so Soap had decided to give it a whirl and signed up. What’s the worst that could happen, he was no doubt better trained than any of the civvies he’d be meeting up with.
He’d been talking to an alpha named Dominic Wilckes and when the subject of his heat had come up, Dominic had asked if Soap was looking for a partner. With no reason to say no, Soap had said yes. He’s spent heats with and without partners before, and found accompanied heats to be much more manageable.
Soap was in his room at the Heat-Hotel now, securing a layer of waterproof Heat-Sheets over his carefully arranged nest. When his heat was spiking he didn’t care, but when he was in a lull or was coming down, he hated having his nest being a messy, sticky, uncomfortable, ruined heap of blankets. So he’d learned how to weave a sturdy nest and had invested in specialty sheets that would keep it clean.
His phone buzzed rapidly on the table, it was Dominic.
“here”
“safe n sOund solotions?”
“in the lobby”
“whr r u”
Dominic was a nice guy, but Soap could admit that the way he texted was a bit annoying. Having his messages open to send Dominic the room number reminded him that he hadn’t texted Ghost yet. He pulled up his location and sent it to his Lieutenant along with a quick text,
“At Safe & Sound Solutions, Room 348, Booked for three days, Should be back Tuesday.”
His message showed as being read within the minute and while he was waiting to see if Ghost would reply another message came in from Dominic,
“come down”
Soap reread the message, why would he need to go down to the lobby? Maybe there was an issue Dominic needed help with? Confused, but willing to help, Soap texted back a quick ‘On my way.’ and headed out, his riled instincts insisting he double and triple check that he’d locked the door to his room. That he made sure his nest was safe from intruders.
In the lobby, Soap found Dominic leaning up against the wall next to the lifts with a bag at his feet. Walking over, he tried to spot where the problem was.
“Dominic? Whit’s wrong?” Soap questioned,
“Hey, John. Some of the people were giving me weird looks. I needed you to come to show them I’m not some creep hanging around for nothing.” Dominic stood from his lean and stepped into Soap’s space, bringing his arm up to rub a wrist over Soap’s nape. Scenting him. Soap let him, tilting his shoulders so the other man wouldn’t accidentally brush his mating glands, they got heinously sensitive when he was heating.
“Oh, alrigh’,” Soap privately thought that Dominic was overthinking it, if anyone was looking at him weird it was for loitering around in the lobby, but not actually sitting in any of the many chairs scattered throughout. The lobby of every Heat-Hotel that Soap had ever visited always looked like Moses had called a plague of plush chintzy furniture down upon them.
Soap led Dominic back into the lift, pressing the button for his floor. A chime from his phone brought his attention to the fact that Ghost had replied, he’d reacted to Soap’s message with a thumbs up and had sent back,
“Rog.”
Ghost had a habit of reading his notifications as soon as he could, but often didn’t have the time to actually reply until later.
“Who’s that?” Dominic asked, peeking over Soap’s arm to get a look at the screen.
Soap locked his phone, the smile that had pulled up the corners of his mouth falling away.
“Mah L.T. He likes tae know every’hings guid.” Soap replies, watching the numbers of the lift ding over to his floor and stepping out as the doors parted.
“Your L.T? What’s that?” Dominic crowded up against his back as he tried to finagle the keycard into scanning properly and unlocking the door.
“Mah Lieutenant.” Soap pulls the door flush closed, grips the handle to make sure it’s sitting straight, then tries sliding the keycard through at a snail's pace. The light flashes green and he whips the door open before it can change its mind, sending a silent thanks out to Price for teaching him how to sweet-talk card readers.
“Oh yeah. You're in some kinda military army thing right?” Dominic’s realization carried a strange tone of praise.
“Yeah, U.K.S.F,” Soap clocks Dominics blank gaze and spells it out for him before he can ask, “United Kingdom Special Forces,”
A light comes on behind Dominic’s eyes, but a skeptical look crinkles his nose. “But can’t only U.K citizens join?”
It's Soap’s turn to stare blankly, “Aye?” the answer carries a subtext of ‘you dumbass’ that Soap couldn’t have stopped if there were hostages at stake.
Soap watches Dominic’s confused look intensify. Good, they could be confused together.
“But aren’t you Irish?”
“Nae!” Soap refutes, that idea in need of immediate culling, “Ah’m no' Irish. Ah’m a fuckin’ Scot!”
“Oh, I didn’t know Scottish people could join the British army?”
Soap searches Dominic's face for any sign that he’s joking, Dominic looks earnestly back at him.
Jesus Christ.
He’s not joking.
“Scotland’s a par’ ae the U.K,” Soap says hesitantly, leadingly, begging Dominic to spend one brain cell on remembering his First Year geography lessons.
“Oh, Alright.” Dominic shrugs in a ‘whatever you say’ manner, that makes Soap think he’s doing it more to drop the conversation than he actually believes what he’s been told, “Are you already set up? When does your heat kick in?”
Dominic glances around the room, looking over Soap’s preparations, dropping his bag off his shoulder onto the desk pressed against the wall. Why a Heat-Hotel thought its room's occupants might need a desk, was the true mystery of the night.
Soap shakes himself free of the disbelief clogging his brain, and checked his watch, “Wi’hin the ‘our, mebbe twen’y minutes?”
Dominic shoots him an odd look again, clearly thinking something over.
“Whit? Whit’s wrong?” Soap glances around himself, but nothing looks wrong to him.
“Your accent’s cute, John, but it’s a bit hard to understand you. You know?” Dominic's tone is assured, almost complimentary, “It’s gonna be hard to know what you want if I can’t understand you.” He coaxes, like a parent reasoning with their toddler to not bite electrical cables. Like it’s what was best for everyone.
Baffled, Soap stares at him. He’s never gotten flak about his accent from his previous partners, everyone else had seemed to enjoy it. At least, Soap had thought they’d enjoyed it.
“Aye,” Soap swallows hard, his stomach roiling “Eh- Uh- Yes. I can- Um- I’ll try tae- to speak,” Flustered, Soap stutters through his answer as he tries to flatten his accent, “I’ll try to speak more clearly.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Dominic nods at him, “Now,” he slaps at his own thighs, “Where are we setting up? On the bed?” He walks over to the bed, toting his bag, and starts rummaging through the nightstands, “They don’t have anything here, it's a good thing I brought my own stuff.”
Soap eyes him as he approaches the nest, wincing as his tossed bag knocks free a carefully stacked pillow. Dominic clatters around a bit more, checking the minifridge and all the drawers in the desk.
“Where’s your stuff?” He turns back to Soap.
Soap points wordlessly at the gutted dufflebag he’d carried his blankets over in.
“Oh, you don’t use toys? A good omega? Like whining on your fingers instead?” Dominic’s voice dripped with sudden lascivious intent, he dropped his head to eye Soap through his lashes, licking his lips and petting his hands over his bag, “That’s okay, baby. Alpha will take care of you. I’ll give you everything you need.”
Soap inhaled shakily. He must not laugh. If he laughed he’d be out of a heat partner and his instincts would insist on him moving the nest. If he moved rooms he’d have to update Ghost. Ghost would worry about why he moved rooms and insist on checking on him. If his L.T came within one city block of him when he was on his heat Soap was dragging that alpha into his nest and not letting him leave. Soap did not want his L.T to write him up for fraternization.
He must not laugh.
“Oh yeah?” Soap eked out. Dominic must take the breathiness of his voice to be anticipation as his look only grew more seductive.
“Yeah, baby. Come get comfy in your nest and Alpha will show you the presents he brought.” Dominic pats a hand on the nest, then gives it a surprised glance, “These are the blankets you want? They’re not very soft.”
Soap explains about how he doesn’t like his nest getting dirty as he crawls up onto the bed, petting a proprietary hand over his nest. It’s not like the blankets were scratchy terrycloth or anything, they were Heat-Sheets, they were made specifically for heats, they wouldn’t sell if they weren’t comfortable.
“Here,” Dominic reached forward and Soap frantically knocks the hand away before it could tear into his nest. The judging look that Dominic shot him was completely uncalled for. What kind of psycho fucks with an omega’s nest.
“What?” Dominic furrows his eyebrows at the omega, “I was just gonna show you a better way to do it. You could put a soft sheet on top, so you’re not laying on something so rough. I know omegas are super sensitive about that kinda stuff.”
“Nae- No. No, it’s fine like this. Thank you, Dominic.” Soap assures, sliding over to sit on the bed directly in front of Dominic, firmly between his nest and the alpha.
After eyeing him for a moment longer, Dominic shugs and turns back to his bag, muttering something about omegas being so picky under his breath.
“I got you that water you like,” he says, pulling three one-litre bottles of Volvic mineral water out of his bag and setting them on the nightstand. Soap felt warmed and a touch shocked, he’d only mentioned that he likes Volvic best in passing. The warm feeling vanished when the next item Dominic pulled from his bag of tricks was a tall omegaen guard-collar.
“I know it’s usually that alphas wear muzzles for heats and omegas wear collars for ruts, but the skin on my face is super sensitive and I’ll get a rash if I wear a muzzle,” Dominic explained, handing over the collar when Soap hesitantly reached for it.
It was made of good thick leather, fastening with two buckles in the back instead of a cheap zipper. The things that were throwing Soap off were that it was much taller than the typical guard-collar, how it flared out at the bottom to cover over his trapeziuses, and the four D-rings spaced around its middle. It honestly looked more like a posture-collar.
“I was looking into the failure rate of guard-collars and this one has amazing reviews and no accidental bites,” Dominic supplies, tapping at the collar in Soap's hands, “Do you need help putting it on?”
Soap absently nods, not really processing what’s being said to him, and finds the contraption out of his hands and strapped around his neck within two heartbeats. Hands coming up to scrabble at the new pressure squishing his mating glands Soap gives a startled yelp and Dominic quickly grabs his hands. Shushing and cooing at him, giving his hands a firm squeeze when he tries to pull away.
“It’s alright, omega. You’re doing so well.” Tuning out Dominic's crooning, Soap focused on calming his breathing.
In for four, hold for four, out for four. In for four, hold for four, out for four.
With his breath under control, Soap can admit that the collar isn’t as restrictive as he’d feared, he can breathe fine, and turn his head. Looking down or up presses a bit, but it’s not terrible.
Focusing on himself for a moment also revealed to Soap that he’d been so busy judging Dominic that he’d completely missed his body cresting through pre-heat. Taking another deep breath Soap warns the alpha that he’ll be going into full heat in a minute or two and watches the shocked look take over Dominic's face. It’s not surprising to Soap that Dominic hadn’t noticed, Soap’s scent has never been particularly loud and he’s not throwing himself at the alpha like the needy heat-drunk omegas do in films.
The next few minutes are admittedly blurry to Soap as his body plunges into full heat, when he comes back to himself he’s face down with his ass up in the air and Dominic is playing between his thighs. By the wetness dripping down his legs Soap guesses that he’s already cum once, that or Dominic drools more than Eas A’ Chual Aluinn.
Giving a pitching whine, Soap tries to get up onto his elbows and finds that the guard-collar wasn't Dominic’s only gift for him. There are soft leather cuffs secured around his wrists, latched closed with simple carabiners and attached to one of the D-rings of his collar with a short chain. Stopping him from lifting his head more than about twenty centimetres away from his hands and, consequently, the bed.
“Do- Dominic?” He pants through his confusion and feels the man pull his tongue and what felt like three fingers out of his hole.
“Back with me, omega? You’re doing so well. Getting so wet for me. Cumming so pretty.” Dominic rumbles, reverent fingers coming back to pet over Soap’s twitching hole.
Soap pushes back into the touch, feeling achingly empty, his lower belly cramping with the need to be filled.
“Alpha, please,” he whines “Need your knot, please, please, knot me, ple-”
“Hush.” Dominic commands and the omega’s jaw snaps shut, “I’m not done with you yet, omega. Be quiet and settle down. Take what alpha gives you.”
Tears prickled behind Soap’s eyes. He got his elbows under himself and lifted his head up off of the nest as far as he could, breathing easier without the blankets in his face. He yelps when hot suction suddenly seals around his cocklet with three fingers plunging back into his hole to bully his sweet spot. Thighs shaking, Soap is pushed into another orgasm, face falling back into the sheets, muffling his squeals when Dominic doesn’t let up. Hard sucks and forceful strokes propelling him through one orgasm and directly into the next.
His honest yelping coaxes Dominic off his cocklet, “Poor omega,” The alpha croons, petting over his thighs and grabbing at his ass, “So needy. It’s okay, alpha’s here. Alpha will give you what you need.”
“Knot- Knot me. Alpha, please. Need it.” Soap begs shamelessly, the heat roaring through him stoked by his untied orgasms, his body painfully demanding for him to be knotted and filled.
“I don’t know,” comes Dominic’s teasing reply, leaking more false sympathy than Soap’s hole was leaking slick, “Have you been a good omega? Do you deserve my knot?”
“Yes, Yes.” Soap nods as much as the collar allows, still careful to smother his accent, “Please, need it.”
“Okay, omega. Alpha will help you.” Dominic’s fingers pull out of him and an actual sob escapes Soap when instead of a cock, he feels a tongue push into his hole. He purposely turns into the sheets to muffle his cries, his instincts rioting and his climbing temperature making him feel sick.
A brief unwelcome stroke over his asshole yanks him from his spiral. His head snaps up, eyes wide and stinging with unshed tears. Did he imagine it? His chest heaves and he freezes perfectly still, staring blankly down at the tangle his nest has become.
A finger, wet with what he can only assume is his own slick, prods past his rim up to the second knuckle and Soap gives a startled yowl, “Nae! Nae! Donnae do tha!”
“No?” Comes Dominic’s skeptical tease, his free hand squeezing goadingly at Soap’s hip, “My poor Omega doesn't want all his heated holes nice and full?”
Soap frantically shakes his head, lacking words, but filled with denial. Tears knocked loose and coursing unseen down his cheeks.
“Alright,” Dominic agreed, no less skeptical, but slowly withdrawing his finger regardless.
When Soap felt that same finger slide down to line up with his hole’s entrance the omega is willing to admit that he may have come a little unglued.
He snarled, wriggling and kicking back at the alpha, yanking bruises into his wrists in the shape of the cuffs that bound them. Soap managed to thrash his way upright and huddled up against the headboard. Hissing at the flabbergasted alpha knelt at the foot of the bed, giving another throat tearing snarl when Dominic tried to reach for him. His instincts in full control and having decidedly assessed the alpha to be a bad heat partner.
Keeping his full attention on the man, Soap brought his wrists up and bit open the carabiners, untethering the cuffs from the collar then unfastening the cuffs to slide them off altogether. His freed hands immediately moving behind his neck to unbuckle the collar, fumbling blindly and growling with bared teeth when the alpha made a move towards him. Managing to finagle the first buckle loose, he unhooked the second with much more finesse. Tossing the collar aside, Soap heaved a breath of relief, hands coming up to rub at his sore mating glands, the glands feeling nearly bruised from the constant pressing of the collar.
Soap would have liked to close his eyes and regroup, but really didn't like the idea of leaving Dominic unsupervised. Instead he started up his breathing exercises again while keeping the alpha firmly within his sights.
In for four, hold for four, out for four.
“That’s good. Just calm down,” Dominic praised, stretching forward to reach for Soap’s drawn up knees.
Soap tossed the idea of regulating his breath out the window and drew himself up, “Dominic,” He ground out of a throat that only wanted to produce growls, “Do. Not. Touch. Me.”
Dominic sat back on the bed, stymied, thoroughly confused, and a little offended.
Soap’s temperature was spiking, though the want to be knotted and filled had completely vanished. Falling forward onto his hands, Soap panted for air, sweat pouring down his skin. His vision was fading, the sound of Dominic saying something coming through muffled, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. Chills and prickles raced up his spine to dance over his scalp. His throat felt like it was shrinking to the size of a straw.
Something wet touched his bottom lip and he was automatically gulping down the water before he consciously made the decision to drink. The ringing faded from his ears just enough for him to hear Dominic.
“-hn, I called the emergency line. There’s a nurse comi-”
Soap’s vision blacked out.
When he blinked back to himself he was flat on his back with something cold pressing against the nape of his neck and his legs being held aloft by a beta woman that was standing beside the bed. Struggling to get his eyes to properly focus, he grunted his confusion.
“Hello, Mr Mactavish. I’m Kelly. How are you feeling?” The beta, Kelly, spoke with a voice that was friendly, but not perky. More of a matter-of-fact warmth.
“Pre’y shite,” He groaned out, letting his eyes fall closed again as he rubbed at his face. Dimly registering that a thin blanket had been draped over his hips to cover his unmentionables.
“Yeah, I’d guess so,” Kelly commiserates, gently lowering his legs back onto the bed, “Could you keep your knees up for me? Just like that. Perfect. So, Mr Mactavish, you’ve just had a rather bad bout of Heat Rejection,” Kelly informs him, while keeping a grounding hand on his obediently raised knees, “It’s completely natural and not at all life threatening, the symptoms should level out within the next twenty-four hours. You’re welcome to ride it out in the medical suite here with us, or if you have someone that you can call that can sit with you for that time you’re free to leave.”
Soap slowly thinks this over, cracking open an eye and blearily noticed that the room is empty of anyone but Kelly and himself. “Dominic,” He grunts, not quite managing to make it pitch up into a question.
“I asked Mr Wilckes to wait in the hall, as I wasn’t sure if his presence would make you uncomfortable.” Kelly is a consummate professional, but Soap thinks he can detect hints of scorn flitting about the corners of her eyes, “I can call him back in if that’s what you want.”
“Nae.” Soap denies, “Nae, I dun wan’ ‘im ‘ere. If ye coul' pass me mah phone I’ve someone tha’ can take me outta y’ur hair,”
Kelly kindly fetches his phone, though she doesn’t let him sit up to make the call. Eyeing Simon’s contact, he mentally apologizes to everyone on the base for the chaos he’s about to unleash, then hits dial.
He’s barely had the time to move the phone to his ear when the call is picked up.
“Johnny?” Ghost’s harried voice barks down the line, “What’s wrong?”
“Why’s some’hing gotta be wrong fer me tae call ye, L.T,” Soap bitches, trying to calm Ghost down from the lather he’s no doubt already worked himself into, “Gonnae gi’ a man a complex,”
“What’s wrong, Johnny” The voice that rumbles from the phone is pure domineering alpha and it kicks a reflexive placating whine from Soap’s chest.
“Si, ah need ye tae come ge’ me,” Soap mumbles down the line, his bravado drowned by the sudden twisting need he has for Ghost to be here with him.
“I’m coming, Johnny.” Is the immediate reply, and by the rustles coming from Ghost’s side of the call, Soap knows he’s hauling ass, “Can you stay on the line? Are you hurt?”
“Ah’m fine, Si. Ah’m no' hurt,” Soap lets his eyes fall closed again, ignoring the judgmental look Kelly shoots him for his little fib. In his own defense, he’s not physically hurt. From what he knows of Heat Rejection, his body is just gonna be all kinds of outta wack while his hormones try to rapidly bring him back down to baseline. For now, he’s content to listen to the sounds of Simon snapping at any unfortunate soul that dared get in his way. Soap only realises that he’s begun purring when a quiet answering purr comes from Simon.
The slam of the room door opening jolts Soap out of the calm daze he’d fallen into and he reflexively punts the most pertinent object at the intruder. Unfortunately, that object happened to be the phone he’d been holding, even more unfortunately, the intruder was Ghost.
Ghost easily ducks the unconventional projectile and covers the distance to the bed so fast, Soap could have sworn he teleported. From Kelly’s jump she also wasn’t expecting a man of Ghost’s size to move with that speed.
Spooky bastard, his L.T.
“Ghost!” he cheers and is climbing up the alpha to nuzzle into his neck before he can rein in his rampant instincts.
Omega and alpha freeze, Soap midnuzzle and Ghost with his hands reflexively clamped around his Sergeant’s bare thighs.
Kelly, the blessed angel she is, gently clears her throat. Effectively snapping the awkward tension.
“Mr MacTavish is experiencing Heat Rejection and needs someone that is able to stay with him for the next twenty-four hours, or until his symptoms abate.” She looks up at Ghost, clad in his full skull-plated balaclava and half his field kit, without fear. Soap must have called while he was busy terrifying the rooks, “Can you do that?”
Ghost gives her a solemn nod, “Yes.”
“Perfect,” Kelly starts listing symptoms, proper care practices, and things to watch out for when dealing with Heat Rejection and Soap is man enough to admit that he didn’t listen to a lick of it.
He was busy oscillating wildly between bone shaking horror that he was clinging to his Lieutenant while bare as a newborn, a deep seated greedy pleasure that Simon had come for him without question, and the brainless need to purr and rub against this perfect alpha until the rejected alpha’s scent was gone from his skin.
Ghost’s hands gently squeezed his thighs, then loosened as he leaned forward a bit to encourage Johnny to stand on his own. Soap gave a petulant whine, but a reassuring purr and a gentle pat to his thighs had him reluctantly hopping down. Before his instincts could coax his better sense into indulging in a full blown pout for having to give up his prize, he was distracted by the sight of Ghost knelt at his feet holding out a pair of trackies for him to step into.
If the mere thought of any kind of sexual touch didn’t currently make Soap want to run all the way back to Alba, Ghost on his knees for him would be a very enticing image, he couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t be the only thing on his mind the next time the need to let off steam hit either. For now, however, Soap was tired to his core and was pitifully grateful for the help as he stepped into the trousers, letting Ghost draw them up over his hips.
Feeling like naught more than a bairn, Soap threw his arms up at Ghost’s gesture and let the man pull a shirt over his head. The impression was not helped by Ghost then immediately picking him up and perching him on his hip. The man was only eleven centimetres taller than him, where did he get off manhandling him like he was some kind of waif. Soap grumbled to himself, but was disinclined to actually demand he be allowed to walk on his own. Content to wrap all his limbs around Simon, like a particularly lonely limpet, and purr like a motorbike while rubbing their jaws together.
There was a bit of a scuffle when Ghost had to convince him to let go and get in the car, but by the time the car was parked again Soap was barely conscious. He dully registered Simon picking him up out of his seat, the tension falling out of his muscles when he recognized the smells of their base. He thought he heard Prize and Gaz, but their voices were far away and the rumble of Simon’s chest was nice against his.
Johnny cracked open an eye when he was plopped onto a bed, content to drowsily track Simon as the alpha threw his duffle, once again stuffed to bursting with blankets, next to the laundry bin. Simon heading for the door sent an unpleasant jolt through him and he whined forlornly, desperate to keep his alpha here with him.
“I’m going for drinks and food, Johnny,” Simon assured him, coming back to pet a hand over his warhawk, “I’ll be right back, I promise,”
Johnny whined again, but did nothing more to stop Simon from leaving. He could also do nothing to stop his instincts from insisting that he had disappointed his alpha and the man was never coming back. Trying to appease the gordian knot his logic and instincts were tying themselves into, Johnny started rumpling around in the bed he’d been deposited onto to make up a new nest. A deep rolling purr bursting from him when he realized it was Simon’s bed. No doubt the alpha’s instincts were also going haywire, demanding he protect the omega.
No better place than the heart of his own territory for that, Johnny supposed.
The door opened and Johnny’s reflexive hiss broke into another purr, the mere sight of Simon cutting through his anxieties. He actually barked a few ecstatic chirps when the alpha dropped lovely soft clean scentless blankets onto the bed. Johnny hadn’t chirped since his age was in the single digits, but Simon bringing him blankets -his alpha contributing to their nest-, was really doing it for him.
Johnny lost himself in weaving the perfect nest, as he always does, and once he deemed it faultless he looked for his alpha.
Simon was standing, backed against the wall on the other side of the room, with his hands palms out and his chin tipped up to expose his throat. His bare uncovered balaclavaless throat, to match his bare uncovered balaclavaless face.
Oh, Johnny's alpha was perfect.
The omega might have gotten a bit overwhelmed by the sheer excellence of his alpha as he immediately went limp to flop and roll in his nest. Catching a glimpse of Simon flinching forward at his abrupt fall before realising what Johnny was doing and assuming his non-aggressive stance again, with a perfect peachy pink blush creeping up his throat to bloom over his cheeks.
“Alpha,” Johnny called him over, patting invitingly at the nest.
Simon took a hesitant step forward and was pulled the rest of the distance to the bed by Johnny’s delighted chirps. The omega was still flopped, but curled around just enough to snag the loose fabric of Simon’s pants, retracting his hand and shaking it out with an unhappy whine when the fabric’s rough texture offended him. In the next second Simon stood before him in only his knickers. Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever seen Simon strip that fast, including that time when Simon's clothes had actually caught fire.
Johnny gives a surprised meep, gazing wide eyed at the alpha stood vibrating before him, waiting for permission to enter his own bed. Then gets over it and hauls the man down into the nest. Pushing him around until he was in the perfect position for cuddles. Johnny purred, burying his face into the warm nook between Simon’s arm and his side, whining inconsolably when the alpha lifted his arm to give him more room, only purring again when he put it back where it was.
A hand comes up to hesitantly pet over his back, creeping upward to scratch across his nape and dig into the base of his warhawk. Johnny feels his purr drop down his throat to resonate in his chest. Announcing for all who cared to listen that Johnny considered himself to be perfectly safe, cared for, and comfortable. An answering purr kicked on in Simon’s chest and Johnny let himself drift off.
Knowing Simon wouldn’t hurt him.
Thank You For Reading!
Let's all pray that Dominic wasn't still in the hall by the time Ghost got there, or pray for the opposite, depending on how much you hate Dominic.
So, did y'all know that Tumblr has a "4096-text-characters-per-block limit." ? Cause that was a fun discovery to have while I was trying to put this post together.
I'll admit that this one got minimal editing, if you spot something wrong lemme know!
In a world where military soldiers are forcibly paired up with partners to produce more soldiers, König is paired with an omega O, and has to deal with the new changes in his life.
Intro
My Ever Empty Bed
An Olive Branch Among Thorns
Declivities
Two Can Play At That Game
To Market to Market to Buy a Fat Hog
Aren't You Tired Yet?
I Sit With You And Cry For What Could Have Been
The House is Burning, and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling
The House is Burning and Everyone is Laughing and Smiling Part 2
This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels
I hadn't realized, but we're now over halfway through Ghoaptober! Time flies.
Another smut entry, but fluffy abo stuff this time. This was just meant to be cockwarming, but the devious hindbrain demanded abo.
Enjoy!
Soap was pulled from his blissful sleep by a shard of the morning sun sneaking into the room through a -previously insignificantly- small gap in the curtains to assault Soap’s eyes. Grumbling, he turned his head down, hiding from the light by nuzzling into the warm skin between Ghost’s shoulder blades. Last night had been one of the rare times that Ghost had wanted to be the little spoon in their cuddling and Soap was basking in the heart-melting feeling of having the warm weight of his Mate safely held in his arms.
Soap was knocked from his renewed dozing by Ghost grinding his hips back against Soap’s very interested morning wood.
“Si?” He mumbled blearily, not wanting to take advantage of Ghost if he was moving unconsciously, “Ye up?”
“Yeah.” Came the rasp of Ghost’s morning voice, his head turning just enough on the pillow to peek at Soap with one lovely brown eye.
“Feelin’ guid?” Soap gripped at Ghost’s hip as the bigger Alpha kept rocking back against him, a lovestruck smile climbing onto his lips at the content little affirming hum Ghost gave him, “Did ye wannae ge’ off jus’ like this?”
Soap slid a hand around to cradle the hot weight of Ghost’s cock through the little hoochie shorts the man liked wearing to bed. Ghost gave a negating whine, but couldn't resist humping forward to chase the warm grip of his Mate’s hand.
“Want you in me,” He mumbled, turning his head away to burrow into the pillow, but reaching a hand back to clamp needily on Soap’s hip.
“Alrigh’, mo chridhe.” Soap soothed, “Ah’ll give ye whit ye wan’.”
He pulled down his and Ghost’s bottoms then patted around for the lube. Once he'd found it he coated his fingers and backed his hips up so he could reach down in between them. He touched gently, teasing his fingers behind Ghost's balls then dragging them back to pet over his slit.
“This whit ye wan’?” Soap asked, he had taken Ghost’s slit last night so he should still be loose enough to not need too much prep, unless he wanted to have Soap in his ass instead.
Ghost nodded wordlessly into the pillow, grinding down and clamping his thick thighs together to trap Soap’s hand where it was. Soap pushed forward with two fingers, Ghost’s moan raking a shiver down his spine. Ghost’s slit was wondrously sensitive on a normal day, after how hard he’d ridden Soap’s dick yesterday it must be especially tender this morning. Soap thrust just long enough to spread the lube around, then withdrew his hand and rocked his hips forward to notch the head of his cock against the small gape of Ghost’s entrance. Ghost’s hips juddered with hungry anticipation and he dug his fingers into the hip he still hadn’t released, his claws prickling over Soap’s skin
Gently easing forward until his balls tapped the back of Ghost’s thighs, Soap reveled in the hot wet clutch of Ghost’s welcoming insides and obeyed his instincts to lick mindlessly over Ghost’s shoulders, paying special attention to the scar of their Mating Bite.
“No, no.” Ghost protested when Johnny pulled back and gave a few thrusts. Urging him back in by the hip until they were thigh-to-thigh, then giving a demonstrative grind, keeping Soap’s cock fully seated in his channel, “Like this.”
“Any’hing ye wan’, mo chridhe.” Soap acquiesced and began grinding his hips to rock his dick into Ghost without pulling free. He reached forward to wrap his arm over Ghost’s chest again, pressing their torso’s tight together.
The delicious heat of Johnny’s cock stretching him out coupled with the firm cherishing way he kept squeezing Ghost and kissing at his nape had the bigger Alpha purring embarrassingly quickly. The blissful rumble immediately pulling a shameless returning purr from Soap.
Soap fell into a mindless doze, overwhelmed by the smell of his happy horny Mate, his Alphaic hindbrain extremely pleased that he was taking such good care of his Mate, but the feeling of his knot starting to swell knocked him from his haze.
“Wan’ tae be knotted, mo chridhe?” He asked, ready to pull out if Ghost didn’t want to be tied this morning.
“Please,” Ghost whined, tipping his head to look back at Soap with big pleading eyes, arching his neck to tempt his Mate with his bared Mating Gland.
Soap let loose a possessive growl, Ghost knew exactly how to push his buttons and get what he wanted. He snapped forward to gnaw at the offered skin and ground his hips in tight to make sure his knot was properly past Ghost’s rim so he wouldn’t tear him. The sweet moans pouring from Ghost as he stretched over Soap’s knot only tossed gas onto the raging fire of instincts that were demanding Soap claim his Mate.
His Mate. His alone. He’d tear apart anyone else that tried to touch him. Kill anyone that looked.
Ghost increasingly lecherous mewls clued Soap into the fact that he’d been muttering all that aloud. Not that he could stop himself.
Eventually, they both calmed. Their instincts contented after Soap’s knot had fully inflated and securely tied them together, they settled down into their sleepy warm dozing again.
“Tha gaol agam ort, mo chridhe.” Soap murmured against Ghost’s skin.
“Love you, Johnny.” Ghost returned, and released Johnny's hip to grab his hand, bringing it up to plant an adoring kiss on his palm.
This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels
Today's entry pulls from my homebrew version of abo.
Enjoy!
Soap growled to himself as he slogged his way up a hill, through a muddy forest, in the dark, to get to the rendezvous site. He thought that he could see the horrible stark glare of the flood lights glinting between the trees, but it was equally as likely that he was hallucinating at this point. He stopped when he came to a tree that was downed across his path.
The tree had fallen long ago, without any malicious intent or true purpose, but now it was interrupting Soap’s b-line.
Soap paused there for a long moment, staring at the log as the gears in his mind slipped and spun. A tooth caught, the gears screamed into meaningful action, and he pulled out his compass. Aligning the needle with north, he confirmed that if he wanted to continue directly east-northeast the path was forward. Over the tree. A tree that was caught on various other bits of foliage and was hovering at about the height of his upper thighs. Casting a look up and down its length showed that he’d have to climb some part of the tree to continue forward regardless, as he couldn’t see either of its ends through the gloam of the night. Soap tucked away his compass and braced a hand on the trunk with a deep resigned groan.
This was gonnae be pure shite.
Turning, he sat on the log and swung his left leg over. Then, taking quick breaths to psych himself up, he hooked a hand behind his right knee and lifted it up and over the tree in one quick agonizing movement.
Folding over his legs, his lips pulling up in a reflexive snarl and his breaths hissed through his fangs as his face crumpled into a pained grimace. His instincts were caught between the want to grab at the thing causing him pain and the deathly fear that any touch would make the hurt worse.
Soap sat himself up and stared down at the shoddy bandage he'd wrapped around his thigh, vaguely acknowledging that feeling so detached from the hands that were shakily hovering over his leg was a concern. Dragging his eyes away from the bandage, he scanned his surroundings. He didn’t think he'd screamed, but he wasn't sure. His brain was already blacking out the memory to dull the pain it contained.
Soap sat on that log, in the quiet of the forest, for longer than he’ll ever consciously realize. Ears flicking for any sounds that were out of place, hazy blue eyes scanning for danger, but not truly cataloguing anything as his mind fell into a haze. Giving completely over to his hindbrain and lower instincts. Sitting still and terrified, staring into the unknowable dark, like the blooded prey he’d become.
Eventually he came back to himself, without ever knowing he’d lost time at all.
With a throaty groan he pushed up off the log and started limping. Cresting the hill, a surge of relief hit him like a cannonball and nearly sent him to his knees, there in the distance was a clearing filled by ramshackle tents held together with Military Grade duct tape, and people swarming about in the artificial dawn cast by humming floodlights.
Their temporary base of operations that had been set up to support the months-long mission to completely rout the area of enemy combatants that they’d taken on.
The radio transceiver on his plate carrier sparked and spat another mocking blat of static. If there’d been any chance of an enemy hearing its occasional squawks, and if wholly removing it from its mount on his back didn’t involve unstrapping and wriggling out of ninety-percent of his kit, he would have fallen to the temptation to punt it into the dark of the trees within the first kilometre of his trek.
It could have been worse, if he was to be honest with himself, the fall -from a height he very deliberately wasn’t remembering- into the disgusting puddle that had busted his radio and slammed a delightfully convenient piece of debris straight through the outside of his right thigh could have killed him. Instead it just sheared a long bloody graze through his leg and bruised what felt like every square centimetre of his back.
A deep fog was rising to swamp his better thinking, his instincts cajoling and crooning. Begging him to find a nice dark nook. Safe and hidden from everyone. He could sleep, curled up nice and warm and safe and alone. To heal where no one could reach him. Where no more pain could find him.
Shaking himself back to clarity he realized he’d stopped walking. He stood, swaying, his better leg threatening to buckle at the knee, and staring into the woods. Facing the exact opposite direction of the camp’s hubbub.
Forcibly quelling his instincts, Soap turned around and walked for the camp. Consciously pacing his breathing to keep himself centred.
In for four, hold for four, out for four.
He’d lost the will to force his right leg into even trying to support his weight and hobbled along, falling into a brainless rhythm.
Jump left leg forward, drag right leg level, brace, jump left leg forward, drag right leg level, brace.
It was no one's definition of graceful, but he was moving.
“Halt!” The loud command snapped his head up, he’d reached the edge of the camp and the perimeter guards were aiming at him.
“Hands up! Hands up! Who goes there!” Shouted a cacophony of voices, three or four of them converging on his location. Soap obediently raised his hands into clear view, letting them come for him.
Who the fuck says ‘who goes there’. They’re perimeter guards, not knights stood atop a gate tower.
“Sergeant MacTavish,” Soap wrung from his aching throat at the first figure that got within a metre of him, “Radio non-functional,”
The guards looked between themselves, he didn’t recognize any of them and they -obviously- didn't recognize him. They stood in a small bureaucratic stalemate, the guards were unwilling to approach and pat down a potential superior, but were equally unwilling to let through an unknown that hadn’t followed the rules to radio and signal his approach.
Thankfully, the decision was swiftly taken out of their hands by Ghost noticing the small commotion happening on the other side of camp and, upon looking over, easily identified the shambling mud monster as Soap.
“Johnny!” He all but screamed as he sprinted across the camp. People frantically dove out of his way and he guiltlessly barreled over the unlucky few that didn’t move fast enough.
Ghost’s cry summoned Price and Gaz out from the depths of the command tents. They saw Ghost go ramming past then clocked the swamp beast he was running for and scrambled to follow.
Ghost snarled at the suicidal fools surrounding his Mate, posturing in front of Johnny until they backed off. With his instincts humming happily at him for defending his Mate and chasing off the interlopers, he crowded close to Johnny. Crooning and snuffling at his neck, rubbing their jaws together to scent him, ignoring the muck that was rubbing off into the fibres of his balaclava.
He reluctantly backed off when Gaz whined and yapped, pushing at his elbow and burrowing into his side, entreating Ghost to be allowed access to his pack-brother.
As soon as Gaz had assured himself that Soap was back in relatively one piece, he stepped away and Price moved in. The Captain held Soap by his nape, weaving his fingers into the fur of his Sergeant’s hackles, and pulled him forward to gently buss their cheeks. Letting his injured pack-member nuzzle up under his chin, a purr kicking on in Price's chest as Soap licked at his jaw, little plaintive whimpers creeping from his throat. Begging for comfort from his pack-leader.
A snarl from Gaz, and Ghost bulling forward to wrap himself protectively around his Mate, drew Price away from soothing his distressed pack-member and he glanced up to see Gaz hassling a woman that had dared step within two metres of their little reunion. Clearing his throat of the growl bouncing around his back teeth and forcibly smoothing down his raised hackles, Price stepped forward.
“Gaz, let her through, Soap needs a medic,” The pack-lead’s demand made Gaz waver and his snarl cool into an upset growl, but his instincts were still loudly demanding he stay between the unknown and his vulnerable pack.
“Garrick.” Price snarled, and Gaz reluctantly stepped aside with a temperamental yowl, following along at the woman’s heels until they passed Price and the Captain scruffed him. Price snarled against Gaz's ear until the growling faded into the distraught whines Price knew had been hiding underneath. He bussed their cheeks until Gaz calmed down, then released the Sergeant to return to his circling of their little huddle.
Possessive muppet that he was.
Ghost had let Soap be sat down on the closest flat surface, but was hovering about like a deranged hummingbird that thought the medic was made of sugar-water. Drawing him away from breathing down the poor woman’s neck, Price tried to get him to calm down, before he sent himself into a meltdown. Turning him away when he kept craning his head to stare at Soap and getting himself worked up again.
A yelp from the medic and spinning to find her knelt beside a Soapless box threw that idea straight out the window.
“What happened?” Price demanded, doing nothing to dissuade Ghost and Gaz from gnarring down at the woman that had lost their pack-member.
“I- I- I-” The woman stuttered.
Gaz impatiently lunged at her and the woman yelped, holding up her hands to ward him off, blushing indignantly when he stopped short and Ghost snickered at her flinch.
“I don’t know,” she barked at them, boldly pushing to her feet, “I looked away for two seconds and when I looked back he was gone!”
Derisive snorts in triplicate met her defense and the pack dismissed her to convene amongst themselves.
“He’s hiding,” Gaz guessed, “Like when he was delirious last November and refused to come out from under his bed,”
“But where the fuck did he go?” Ghost barked,
“Calm down,” Price mitigated, “If he’s in a headspace like that, he can’t have gotten far. Simple search pattern, Ghost you’ll-”
The pack froze as a small hurting whimper came from tauntingly near. Spinning in place to scan for the source, they looked ready to decide the fate of the Hanukkah gelt upon their stop.
The whimper sounded again from direction of the trees and they booked it, nearly sprinting straight past where Soap had curled himself up at the base of the nearest tree thick enough to cover his back.
“Johnny,” Ghost rumbled, bending to pick up his Mate, whining apologetically when lifting him jolted a pained yelp out of him, “You can’t hide away right now, we gotta get you fixed first.”
Ghost carried his Mate the few metres back to the medic and eased himself down to sit on the box before her, holding Johnny firmly in his lap. With Gaz pacing protectively around them again, Price came forward to gently hold Soap’s leg in place for the medic to access, and when Johnny’s urges to flee overcame him, Ghost was happy to let him bury his face into Ghost’s neck to hide.
Thank You For Reading!
I very deliberately didn't mention it in the story, but Price is an Omega, Gaz is a Beta, while Ghost and Soap are Alpha's. I didn't want preconceptions about the secondary genders sneaking their way in.
