a dark!a/b/o universe where omegas are kept mostly in breeding/selling facilities for alphas.
they don’t even see the light of day — every omega is kept underground.
so how does one get bought, you say?
candles.
goddamn candles.
each facility will get the scent of their omegas to make candles as a ‘selling point’ for each one, in order to keep them as ‘pure’ as possible. the only time these omegas interact with an alpha is when they’ve finally been bought.
a cruel design to send them into heat as soon as they come within the scent field of the alpha who’s just bought them.
so, of course, ghost goes down to these facilities quite frequently to scent the candles, waiting until he finds one that makes his eyes roll back. the workers always know what he’s there for, and point him to the new batches.
new omegas.
it’s been happening for months now, so he was expecting just another trip of subpar scents before going home—
until he smells your scent.
he freezes, reading the description on the candle, before thrusting it into the worker’s hand.
“get ‘em,” he grunts, pawing at his mask that now felt incredibly suffocating and hot on his face and neck.
poor you has no idea what you’re in for.
and yes, simon absolutely lights the candle while he’s pounding into you every which way, both of you deep into your respective ruts/heats🙂↕️
AN: i feel like ghost is one of those alphas who’s so obsessed w you he gets a rash if he’s not in you. send tweet
How do we feel about secret omega reader and tf 141 alpha pack?
cw: yandere tf 141, reader goes into heat, non-con towards the end
Masterlist
Sometimes you're not entirely sure how you managed to get away with it, but a very weak scent and a small bribe to an old friend that happened to be a military doctor made possible the change in your medical records. You didn't join out of some patriotic feeling, but because at the time that seemed the fastest way for you to get out of that home. And you've done a great job to keep up appearances until now, do your job, don't linger with anyone and take the supressants religiously.
All was well until Laswell decided your transfer to the tf 141, a task force made entirely out of alphas known for being reliant on each other and absolutely refusing to work alongside omegas. You suppose it makes sense given Ghost's history and the few attempts of other omegas to join them forcefully by trying to trigger a rut in the hopes of getting marked. Their disdain was understandable, but you weren't exactly in a position to say "No". Sure, the risks were greater, but the increased payment would help you finally retire, having your own place away from your family and maybe taking a desk job. It wasn't a permanent transfer anyway, you just had to make it a year alongside the most observant and heavily trained alphas around and then go on your merry way.
The first meeting was a bit awkward, even Johnny's smile couldn't hide the tension underneath. They didn't want you there, but were willing to put up with you for the time being. Lucky for them, you don't plan to stick around longer than that. The five of you fall into some kind of routine, getting acquianted with each other's habits. If they notice you going out of your way not to spend more time than absolutely necessary around them, they don't comment on it. And things work out like that just fine until one mission you and Ghost get separated from the rest and it's up to you to carry the barely conscious bleeding alpha out of the collpasing building. It's fine, you were trained for situations like this, but when you are out and safe and about to lay him down, Ghost takes you by surprise when his head falls on your shoulder and starts nuzzling against your barely concealed scent gland under the ripped collar.
Your body freezes as you feel him take a long inhale, eyes wide and his arm clinging to you as he finally loses consciouness from the blood loss just as the others are coming towards you. Thankfully the situation is an urgent one given Ghost's condition and the rescued hostages so they shouldn't pay too much attention to the distressed smell on you. Unbeknowst to you captain Price and Gaz share a look between them as if trying to confirm something. The first moment there isn't a pair of eyes pointed in your direction, you down almost half the bottle of supressants in one go. That was a close call, if Ghost says something after he wakes up you'll try to play it off as him hallucinating from the blood loss.
Your fears turn out to have been for nothing, Ghost wakes up and you don't get called to Price's office and court martialed, but things change a little after that. At first it's hard to pinpoint what's happening, Johnny and Kyle were always the friendliest out of the group, but now it increased tenfold: from making small talk to insisting you work out and then eat together in the mess hall as bonding activities to them sharing their food with you. You have to physically restrain Soap from piling anymore food on your already overflowing plate and when an accident with the laundry destroys your clothes Gaz is more than happy to lend you some of his shirts. He insists you don't have to worry about washing before returning them, something about him needing to use a particular detergent to avoid allergic reactions.
Even Price joins in, a hand on your shoulder, a pat on the back, as he absolutely insists you come with them to the pub. You have to spend time with the pack, after all. You want to argue that your place is temporary, but the look he throws your way makes the refusal freeze on the tip of your tongue. And Ghost, he seems to linger just outside your peripheral vision, a silent presence just out of reach. Maybe that's his weird way of showing his gratitude for saving his life, but still the predatory undertone in his smell is unmistakable. It takes a lot of self-control on your part to still your body from reacting. You fear that even the smallest shudder might give you away, it's almost like a waiting game between the two of you to see who's gonna drop the act first.
You try wearing perfume on the days before your heat when fearing that your scent will come out despite the supressants, but the wrinkling of Ghost's nose as he looks at you like you've insulted his entire bloodline and a lecture from Price about military regulations makes you stop. It's fine, when your heat finally comes you get a hotel room off base and a few days later play it as being sick and not wanting to be contagioous to Johnny's torrent of questions of where were you and why didn't you answer your phone. Your next heat was gonna be right after the contract with the 141 would be over so you were in the clear.
Except for the fact that they are now more clingier than ever. Johnny took to the habit of scenting you, nails digging into your palms in the effort of not squirming, betas aren't affected by an alpha's smell after all. Price lightly scolded him, telling Soap to stop doing that in the mess hall, which resulted in him just inviting himself into your room and doing it there. No matter how many times or how many locks you would put on the door, someone (you have the inkling feeling is Ghost breaking in) is already there. Whether is Soap sketching or Gaz reading, even Ghost got to cleaning his guns there. You tried complaining to Price about it, but he said that it was nice that the guys were finally opening up and he started mandatory movie nights which meant spending 2 hours squished between two of the guys (usually Soap and Ghost) trying very hard to not be aware of the heat of their bodies.
The week before your contract with the 141 is up somehow your heat comes early completely unexpected, no pre-heat symptoms or anything, just this awful feverish feeling that creeps on you during morning drills. You run past your teamates towards your room, knees buckling by the time you get to your closet searching frantically for the bottle of supressants. Throwing things haphazardly just as the first wave hits you, missing the sound of the door opening and several pairs of boots coming in. Only the clattering sound of the bottle of pills being shaken makes you sharply turn around. There is Ghost playing with the bottle in his hands almost tauntingly, you throw yourself towards him trying to take it back, but he simply lifts it higher. You are about to curse him out until a hand gently grabs your chin turning you towards them:
"Poor little omega, looking so helpless and desperate. Always so eager to run away from what's good for you."
The initial worry from Price's voice gets replaced by an irritated note on the last part like he's scolding a stubborn child. You want to argue with him, to tell them to leave, but as if sensing your intentions his scent takes a sharper tone. Normally you would be able to resist, pretend the dissatisfied note that burns your nostrils doesn't affect you at all, but without the supressants you find your instincts starting to take over. Being in a small space surrounded by pheromones of four alphas makes your head start spinning and is only thanks to Kyle that you don't end up faceplanting on the floor as the strenght leaves your body. He takes you in his arms, carrying you out, you think that maybe he might have taken pity on you until he brings to Price private quarters. Right in the middle of the room you recognize a nest made out of scented blankets and their clothes. Their combined smells sends another shiver down your spine as he puts you down inside it.
You should run, bite and scratch your way out of here, if only your body would listen to you. Ghost's figure blocks the only exit as he locks the door multiple times.
"I think Ghost might have put too big of a dose of that pheromone enhancement. We told him to slow feed it to you, but the big guy got impatient. Look at you, can't even stand on your legs."
Johnny's words are maybe meant to be comforting, but you don't miss the satisfied smirk on his face, like the state you are in right now is just a happy accident. Ghost remains silent, his gaze locked on your trembling form as if he could see under the layers of clothing.
"You know? We were a little hurt that you kept this little secret from us for so long." says Gaz.
"That's right, there should be no secrets within our pack, but it's fine, we are gonna make sure you properly learn that."
Captain Price's final words seem to serve as some kind of signal because as soon as he finishes speaking there are four bodies closing in around the nest blocking any way you would try running through.
The front door shuts and Simon locks it behind him before kicking off his dirty boots at the Welcome mat, leaving them behind neatly next to a pair of yours.
The brown paper shopping bag rustles in his arm as Simon walks towards the living room, inhaling the saccharine scent of his mate with a please rumble—all warm and fertile, and most importantly, his.
"Si—!" You pause the show you're watching as you sit back on your haunches on the couch, eyes twinkling with eagerness.
His eyes flicker down to the baby bump stretching your sleepshirt, his shirt, taut—then to your hand, already clutching your favorite spoon.
"You got it?"
"Course." Simon nods slowly, setting the brown paper bag down on the coffee table before unpacking the goodies.
A tub of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, crunchy peanut butter, two bags of Takis Fuego, and a box of Capri Sun multivitamin.
Your eyes light up, your scent spikes with happiness, and before you can reach out with a soft grunt, Simon gently pushes you back into the cushions with a chiding click of his tongue.
"Let me."
And he pokes the obnoxiously unsturdy paper straw through the obnoxiously hard little plastic hole before handing you a Capri Sun and watching with those unimpressed brown eyes of his how you suck it empty withing 12 seconds.
Yesterday you managed it in 10.
You gasp for air with a smile. "Another."
And Simon obliges with a deep hum, pleased with your reaction.
Just a few minutes later, you're digging into the ice cream after swirling peanut butter into it and sprinkling some salt on top with an expression so focused, it looks like you're doing difficult alchemy—all while Simon watches with his natural scowl, hearts in his eyes, and the same thoughts running through his head on repeat.
Fuck. My omega. My mate. Pregnant. Fucking adorable. So fascinating. All mine. My pup. Gonna be a dad. Bloody hell. Gonna keep ya pregnant—
"Si?"
Simon blinks owlishly at your whine. His heartbeat jolts before normalizing again. That whiny tone of yours has become a psychological weapon.
His kryptonite.
"Yeah?" He keeps his arm draped over the couches backrest; his legs manspreading next to you. You're twitchy next to him, he notices, even after he's done everything in his power to sooth all your late–night cravings.
"Can I sit on your cock for a bit?"
Well, perhaps not all of them.
His knee bounces as he adjust on the cushions; your question enough to make his blood simmer and rush south.
"Christ, poppet." He mutters, exhaling a slow breath through his teeth while his neck flushes with heat and his head goes dizzy momentarily. "Why?"
You shrug, licking your lips as you peer up at him so innocently, and his nostrils flare when he inhales. You're not even horny, just... needy.
But Simon is terribly affected already—and ready to mount you 24/7 since you let him become your mate. Even worse since he managed to breed you.
"I just need to feel you inside."
His eyes roll toward the ceiling, head tipping back, praying for mercy while his cock chubs and thickens in his sweatpants with a mind of its own.
"Please?" you add sweetly, and Simon groans in both pain and defeat as his cock twitches traitorously.
"Fuck." He rubs a hand over his face; callouses scratching over his stuble. "Olright... fine. C'mere."
As if he could ever deny you anything.
Then your soft leggings and panties are carefully shed and Simon frees his painfully hard length before grabbing your supple hips and easing you onto his cock with a choked groan.
Always so slick and warm for him, your pretty cunt swallows him with natural ease; velvety channel rippling and fluttering around his shaft until your clit is nestled on his balls and plump ass sits on his lower belly.
And then you continue watching your show and eating your ice cream like nothing is out of the ordinary while Simon is fighting for his sanity behind you.
He lets out a ragged exhale through clenched teeth, chest heaving, hands gripping your hips hard as you settle fully against him—his cock twitching inside those fluttering walls like it’s home.
"Fuck—" he rasps, forehead dropping against the back of your shoulder with a shudder.
His control is slipping faster than he’d care to admit; every little wiggle of yours sending sparks up his spine while the television drones on obliviously in the background.
A particularly tight squeeze around him wrings another groan from his chest—rough and unrestrained this time—as one hand snakes up to splay possessively over the swell of your belly where his pup grows beneath stretched, warm skin.
"Christ… s'like y'were made f'me, poppet."
And a low growl bubbles up in his throat before he gently bites one earlobe just to feel you clench again around him in response, because if he has to suffer through this, then so do you.
You chuckle and chirp at the tickle; cunt fluttering and dripping around his base as you squirm again.
"Simon—" His eyes roll back at the sensation and the sound of your sweet voice whining his name around a mouthful of dessert. "I'm trying to watch my show!"
"Aye, ya little pest," he grunts through clenched teeth; fingers digging harshly into the leather couch, "and 'm tryin' not to cum and knot yer cunt again, so we both gotta focus 'ere."
And perhaps he can't see your wicked smile as you swallow another spoonful of fudgy goodness, but he can sure smell it on your scent and feel it when your silky walls squeeze him deliberately once more while his flared tip keeps weeping with pre deep inside you.
You ask Alpha!Gaz to spend your heat with you because he’s so chill. He’s always treated you just like one of the guys— since day one. Never once mentioned your designation, because he doesn’t care about that kind of thing, right? So when you ask him why his teeth are at your throat he smiles and laughs like you’re being silly, and says “I’ve been courting you for as long as I’ve known you, love.”
You ask Alpha!Soap to spend your heat with you because he’s so promiscuous. He’s slept with everyone on base, no strings attached, no broken hearts— obviously he’s a man who knows how to keep it casual, right? But when you’re pressed against him, stuck on his knot, he’s rubbing your stomach and asking “How many pups ye want, bonnie? Ah was thinkin’ we’d have a proper big family.”
You ask Alpha!Ghost to spend your heat with you because he doesn’t really seem to like anyone. Not the type to form attachments. Won’t give any part of himself to anyone, right? But he keeps you prone and pinned with his massive body, oriented so he can watch the door, grunting “You’re mine now, understand? Anyone who tries to get between me and my mate s’gonna end up torn apart.”
You ask Alpha!Price to spend your heat with you because he’s your commanding officer. He’s always been calm, cool, and completely professional with you. He wouldn’t compromise the structure of the team over some biological event, right? But he’s panting, tongue soothing over the fresh mark in your neck, telling you he’ll have a talk with your landlord once your heat is over about breaking your lease. “Gotta get you moved in with me, darl’. Pups’ll need more space to run around. What color do y’want the nursery?”
You ask Alpha!Nikolai to spend your heat with you because you trust him, but you don’t exactly have a relationship. You work with him some of the time, and he’s a good man, but he lives across the globe. He wouldn’t disrupt his globetrotting lifestyle to settle down with some omega he barely knows, right? But he’s cooing honeyed words in your ear that you can’t understand, one hand pawing at your abdomen while the other is at your throat, rubbing your gland and bringing the blood to the surface in preparation for his bite. “Imagine the look on John’s face— when he sees I’ve poached his prettiest little sergeant for myself…”
Based on this anklet idea! Alpha john price x omega reader
John’s office was always a sanctuary of quiet focus: neat stacks of reports, the faint scent of tobacco lingering in the air, lamp throwing warm amber across paper. He had trained himself, over decades, to tune out background noise, to filter for what mattered, to know without looking what belonged and what did not and what he should focus on first.
But there was one sound he never tuned out.
The soft tinkling of your anklets drifted down the hall like a private song. Even muffled by the door, it threaded through the silence of his office, so distinct that his pen slowed every time it reached him.
You were moving quickly: he could tell by the hurried rhythm of the bells, the quick jangle followed by the muted thud of your steps. Fetching something, most likely. A smile tugged faintly at his mouth and notched his beard up a little, the kind of smile that he ever so rarely showed to anyone else.
A pause, then a faint scrape. Then the bells again, slower this time, thoughtful, like you were circling in place, searching and hunting for something specific. He leaned back in his chair, listening.
Cupboards, then. Kitchen. Looking for that tin of biscuits you swore you hid from Soap.
The bells scattered in a sharp, bright trill- faster, lighter, with a staccato beat of bare feet across the floorboards. He pictured you dashing to the sitting room, probably carrying the whole tin in triumph but knowing you only had so little time before Johnny would sniff out the tin and come barreling.
His lips curved into a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest.
A moment later, the bells softened into an idle sway, a lazy jingle moving in loops. Pacing, now. You did that when you thought, or when you hummed to yourself while reading. He imagined you curling up on the couch, flicking through a book, anklets shifting against your skin with every absent wiggle of your toes.
John set his pen down, reports momentarily forgotten. He sat in that quiet room with his head tilted slightly, savoring the intimate knowledge the anklets gave him. No collar, no claim scarring your throat (horrors he’d seen too much of during missions)- just this: the gentle music of your presence, a private assurance that you were safe, near, and happy enough to fill the house with the sound of your steps.
He leaned back, eyes closing again, and continued listening.
There it was again: the delicate tinkling, softer now, as if you’d slowed to peer around a corner. And then, the sweetest sound: a hesitant pause just outside his door, the faint brush of metal as you shifted your weight, deciding whether to come in.
John smiled into the quiet. “Go on, love,” he called, voice rich and low. “No need to hover. Door’s open.”
The bells answered first, their music bright with the quick step of your approach followed a heartbeat later by you, slipping into his office with a grin.
He thought, not for the first time, that he could spend a lifetime with nothing but those anklets for company, and never feel alone.
you looked from the jacket to the bed for a few moments before smiling dumbly and clambering on to start building
kyle went back to his room, shuffling through tshirts and sweatpants he no longer wore until dark, while vaguely thinking he should call the rest of the team in order to get the packs scent. that idea gets thrown out the window when he looks down at his phone and an excited chuff leaves his throat at your name popping up on the screen. a quick message of “finished, wanna see?”
he could have imploded at the excitement that rushed through him. you. wanted him to see! your first nest in however many years!! he had to force himself to slow his walking as he strode down the hall to your room.
he knocks(maybe a bit too hard but ah well), and meets your wide smile with an equally as elated expression, stumbling in slightly at the force of you grabbing his shirt and dragging him in. after he recovers he looks at the nest, you next to him basking in its glory.
because yes, it is glorious, even if its the shittiest nest he’s ever seen in his life. the pillows are in the same position as before, half the blankets look like they were tossed on haphazardly instead of tucked, and the only thing indicating that an omega actually resided there was the jacket he gave you draped over a pillow. at the first sight it makes his chest clench, you were old enough to have made a few nests, so why was it so…. eh??
after a few moments of his eyebrows raising and mouth opening, he lands on “wow” as a response
apparently, this wasn’t the reaction you were expecting because you immediately go into damage control mode. but before you can open your mouth he cuts you off with a deep, pleased sound in the back of his throat while walking up.
“whens the last time you nested?” he inquires while scenting the pillow next to his jacket with his wrist casually, like this was the most natural thing in the world
“well, uhhhhh… since ive been in the military? i stopped when i got on heat blockers” you say, trying to ignore the want of crawling into bed with him and huffing his scent to sleep at the sight of him accepting your nest.
he hums in response. thats a long time- you dont become a military operative with just a few years under your belt, so….
“jesus christ. that long?” he says, forgetting to hide his concern now, quickly releasing and sighing “i-its a lovely nest, darling, its just- you should talk to medical about getting off them. that aint healthy.”
it makes you deflate slightly, causing him to smile warmly and grab your arm, tugging you slightly towards the nest. a small trill escapes you at that happily hopping into the nest as he carefully climbs into it, careful not to destroy the structurally unsound walls of it. once he gets comfortable and lays with a satisfied sigh, he realizes he not only forgot to text the boys, but forgot to bring the nesting material as well.
when he feels your purrs against his chest, he forgets to care about that as well.
Pairings | Alpha Ghost x Omega Reader, Alpha Price x Omega Reader, Alpha Soap x Omega Reader, Alpha Gaz x Omega Reader, 141 x Reader.
Summary | Six months ago you overheard them planning to make you theirs. So you ran. You had no idea they were going to chase you.
Tags | Slow burn, omegaverse, non-traditional omega reader, Reader has a spine and uses it, suppressed heats, wolf going dormant, found and dragged back, John being terrifyingly patient, Simon being terrifyingly honest, Kyle being soft about it, Soap being a menace, angst, found family if you squint, the hunt is very much still on, she is NOT going to make this easy for them, upcoming heat arc, no instalove just instinct fighting instinct, 141 being possessive jerks, injections, blood, period mentioned, sick omega, gore, bond removal, eventual smut.
Omega!Assistant who is sick of being hit on by all the horny alphas and lonely betas on the base. So she comes up with a solution. She sleeps in Prices bed.
She requires her own extra blanket, and her stuffy to keep her safe and cozy, but otherwise Prices room is not much different then hers. Very minimal decoration, a picture of him and am older man, she guessed his father, was the most sentimental thing in the room.
It wasn't like Price was here. She wasn't doing anything majorly wrong, right? She was just borrowing his bed, so his scent stuck onto her, and it worked! God, it worked so well. She probably would've stopped doing it a while ago if it hadn't worked as well as it did.
She got some wairy looks, some knowing, I mean, rumors of her being more then prices assistant had floated around often, so this wasnt too shocking to people. (They weren't true, but that didn't matter)
It all came to a head when she went to bed one fateful evening. It was a long day. She didn't even think, just did her nighttime routine, and went to bed in Prices room. She was cuddled up, without a care in the world when the light flashed on.
A harsh growl as he got closer to her, and as she slowly woke up she felt like a prey animal being hunted into a corner. He pinned her into the bed.
"Now what would a quaint bird like you being doing in a lions den?"
She had forgotten he was back today. Meant to have her stuff cleared out, and it slipped her head. God, how could she, as his assistant, forget when he'd be back on base?
"Sir-, Captain Im so sorry I was-" he cut her off, snapping his teeth at her.
"What excuse could you have for being in your Alphas bed little omega? Hmm? Except that you were waiting all pretty for me to come home?"
Real quick not edited just yeah. Inspo from this by Rawme Price yall know the deal
