#Real-time pricing adjustments

[rapidpricer]

Retail Pricing with Artificial Intelligence

Retail Pricing with Artificial Intelligence

Possibilities and potential in today’s environment.

Kiran Gange

August 17, 2020

The perfect price for every product is a moving target. The ideal price should match the value a consumer is willing to pay for the given product and this depends on factors which change continuously. No customers wants to pay full price for a produce that is not fresh.

​

​Banana: Changing Value and Price

To make this more complex, the factors which matter the most for one product-location is very different from the factors that matter to another product-location. While it is humanely impossible for any category or pricing manager to match the price of a products to its ever changing value continuously, the machines have begun to approach the ideal price in a more feasible manner.

The machines have the unfair advantage of being able to process large amounts of input data or factors that matter and to make intelligent decisions based on artificial intelligence that come through the learnings of thousands (if not millions) of combinations of prices for each product store combination on a continuous basis.

There are several reasons for why Artificial Intelligence is the next frontier in retail pricing:

#1. Availability of Data

Retail data at the granular level is now stored, processed and utilized more easily than ever before. The technology allows for efficient processes that can securely utilize input data from sources such as IOT devices, mobile data, camera/image recognition, store traffic and customer data while respecting the local laws for privacy and data regulations.

#2. Intelligent Algorithms

We no longer have to have highly paid mathematicians writing code and algorithms to utilize retail data. Intelligence and learning are available to use as "methods" and “weights” that become the base of an Artificial Intelligence based algorithm to help with pricing in retail.

#3. Instant Output

Retailers now have many installations inside the retail stores such as Electronic Shelf Labels (ESLs), smart displays, employee devices and beacons that can facilitate the output of an algorithms instantly in a store environment. Added advantage is the “feedback” these devices provide back to the algorithms to help decipher if a price is working or if it needs to be improved through “learning”.

The technology has been ready for a few years and now we have the solution that can reap the benefit of these new technologies. However, the new system of pricing is not an incremental innovation, it is disruptive. This means the retailer willing to leverage this will need to do so with a futuristic vision to integrate new approaches for the entire pricing organization. The current situation. Rapidly evolving markets will force the adoption in some ahead of the others.

Possibilities with an AI based Pricing System

The possibilities and the potential benefits of retail pricing is huge with a fully connected AI based system. While price, promotion and waste reduction increase revenues, the automation reduces costs both at the head quarter and store levels.

​Potential benefits of an Artificial Intelligence based Pricing system.

The RapidPricer pricing solution today is not built to replace the process of pricing as done by retailers. RapidPricer implements a framework on which future technologies can be deployed.

Although our solution can handle the entire gamut of the retail assortment, our implementations often begin with one of best use cases for the Artificial Intelligence pricing. Food wastage reduction through dynamic pricing. We use various innovative technologies to find the perfect price for every produce in each store at any given point of time to reduce waste and increase gross margins benefit by 4% or more.

[soaps-mohawk]

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications

**This fic is currently in progress**

NAVIGATION PAGE

CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *

Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry

Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost

Chapter 9 - Save Me

Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming

Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*

Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie*

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *

Chapter 17: Alone

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Chapter 20: The New Normal *

Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets

Chapter 24: The Last First Time *

Chapter 25: Animals *

Chapter 26: Fuck *

Chapter 27: Drown In It *

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Chapter 37: The Silence

Chapter 38: Shattered

Chapter 39: Life

Part 8 - The Next Chapter

Chapter 40 - Where Do We Go From Here

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

[lostfracturess]

words you couldn't hear — satoru gojo

satoru's been hopelessly in love with you for years, but can only confess when you can't hear him. but someday—maybe someday soon—he'll tell you for real.

"How do these look?" you ask, slipping on a pair of noise-canceling headphones and striking a pose. "Be honest."

Satoru, who's been trailing behind you in the electronics store for the past hour without complaining like the best friend he's always been, looks up from the speaker he's been fiddling with. "You look good in anything."

"No, for real." You turn to check your reflection in a nearby screen. "Do they make my head look bigger? I feel like they make my head look bigger."

He snorts, reaching over to adjust the headband. His fingers brush against your temple, and you try not to think about how many times those same hands have absentmindedly played with your hair during movie nights, or how he still unconsciously reaches for you whenever he laughs too hard, just like he did when you were kids.

"That's what you're concerned about? The size of your head?"

"It's a valid concern."

"Your head is perfectly normal-sized," he assures you, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long as he fixes the fit. "Though I suppose all that overthinking has to go somewhere—"

You shoot him a look, but there's no heat behind it. Fifteen years of friendship has made you immune to his teasing — well, mostly immune.

You're not quite immune to the way your pulse quickens when he's standing this close, or how he still smells like that same cologne he's worn since high school, the one you helped him pick out for his first date with someone else while ignoring the weird ache in your chest.

"I really need good ones for studying," you say, checking the price tag. "My roommate talks way too much."

Satoru winces at the price. "Expensive. But they're supposedly the best."

"Worth every penny if they can block out her ramblings." You adjust the fit, immediately noticing how they muffle the noise of the shop. "Oh wow, these are actually incredible. Say something so I can test them properly."

"What should I say?"

You arch an eyebrow at him. "Anything. Just need to check if they work."

His expression shifts then, melting into something tender as his lips move. Even though you can't hear the words, something about the gentle way he's looking at you makes your heart flutter strangely in your chest.

"These are perfect!" you say, pulling them off, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. "I couldn't hear you at all. What did you say?"

Satoru leans against the display counter, chin propped in his hand as he watches you fiddle with the headphone cord, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Nothing really," he murmurs, but there's something soft in his expression, something unguarded that makes your heart skip.

You pause, catching the way he's looking at you — like you're something precious, something more than just his best friend of fifteen years. "Satoru?" you say softly.

He seems to catch himself then, straightening abruptly as a flush creeps up his neck. "Ah, yes. Should we, uh." His voice comes out slightly strangled. "Should we get these paid for? Before they close?"

"The store closes in two hours."

"Better safe than sorry." He's already heading for the checkout, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

What you don't know — what you couldn't hear through those noise-canceling headphones — were three words he's been trying to say for years. Three words that slipped out so easily when he knew you couldn't hear them, when the safety of silence gave him the courage he's never had before.

"I love you."

Simple. Honest. Everything he's wanted to tell you since he was seventeen and realized his best friend was the love of his life. Everything he's been too afraid to say, too afraid to risk losing you.

But for now, those words remain caught in the space between silence and sound, in the safety of a moment you couldn't hear. Maybe one day he'll find the courage to say them again, when you can actually hear him.

Maybe one day soon.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[gloomwitchwrites]

thinking about the 141 when you get nipple piercings and they can’t touch your nipples for four months

For clarity, I do not have my nipples pierced. Don't ever plan on it, but we can imagine that we did and what the guys think. I did do a little research, and I saw a wide variety of healing times, so instead of four months, I kept any mention of the healing process vague. The concept is the same though. I had a lot of fun with this one y'all. Enjoy it. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Presented in four double drabbles.

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, brief dirty talk, suggestive themes, swearing, fade to black

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

"You're not putting a shirt on."

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re at home. And I want to see them.”

“I’m putting a shirt on,”

John is quick, snatching the shirt out of your grasp. You start to protest, but John tosses it onto the highest shelf in the closet.

“You’re childish.” You gesture at the rest of the shirts on hangers. “And I have other shirts!”

John shrugs. “I’ll hide them all.”

"I fucking swear, John."

"Or tear them all up."

You smack his chest but John only chuckles. He’s having a go at you. A laugh.

"If I can't touch them, then I bloody well better be able to see them."

"You're ridiculous."

John carefully caresses a nearby path of skin near the piercing. "You got them for me," he purrs. "And I want to see them on display at all times." His hand settles on your waist, drawing you in. He leans in, lips lightly pressed to your ear. “Especially when my head is between your legs.”

Heat rapidly warms your neck, heading for your cheeks. John notices your sudden flustered demeanor.

“That sound good to you, love?”

You nod, and John guides you to the bed.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"I can't touch them?" asks Kyle, sounding disappointed.

"Nope."

"Not at all?”

“Eventually. But not right now.”

Kyle frowns at your chest, his gaze on the shiny metal. "Do they hurt?"

You wince slightly. "Mostly sore. The pain killers help."

Kyle nods and then glances up at your face. "How do you care for them?"

You rattle off a list of things and then hand him the paper the piercer gave you. Kyle takes it, looking it over as you go over everything, repeating it verbatim.

The small frown on his face turns into an upward smirk. "I can help with this,” he says, voice almost sultry.

"You can," you say slowly, taking the paper and placing it on the counter.

"So I can touch them. If I help.”

"Not in the way you're thinking, Kyle," you scold, knowing exactly where his mind is drifting off to.

"But I still get to touch them?"

"Only to help me,” you correct. “Not for any other reason.”

He sighs, voice a little breathy as he speaks to himself. “I can wait to suck on those gorgeous nipples.”

“Kyle Garrick! I heard that!”

He snags the paper off the counter, hiding his grin.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“You’re having a laugh.”

“Am I?”

"I can't touch them?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No, Johnny. Not even a little bit."

Johnny lays on his side facing you with one elbow propped under him. He rests his head in his hand. Johnny’s gaze is locked on to your bare chest and the new metal there. The piercings are only a few days old, and they’re fucking sore.

"They're sensitive right now," you continue, wincing slightly when you move, adjusting the way you recline on the bed.

"Aye. I see," he murmurs, leaning closer, gaze narrowing as he focuses on your new piercings. The middle of his brow creases as if he's intensely considering something.

"What is it?" you ask. "You look very serious."

Johnny's gaze doesn't leave your chest. "I'm thinking about all the ways I'm going to play with those beauties."

Heat rushes to your face. “Be fucking for real right now.”

His mouth morphs into a sly smile. Johnny’s gaze shifts from your chest to your face. “Need a distraction?”

“What are you on about?”

Johnny shifts, forcing your legs open as he slots between them. “A distraction,” he purrs. “From your soreness. And my thoughts.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon stands behind you, watching you in the bathroom mirror from over your shoulder.

"Do you need help?" he asks, gaze unmoving.

"I'm fine, Simon."

He is quiet a moment before he speaks again. "I can’t touch them?"

"Not for a month. Possibly more. Healing is different for everyone."

You hear his annoyed grunt but his gaze doesn't leave you. It remains firmly planted on your newly pierced nipples.

"How sensitive are you?" he asks, taking a tiny step closer. Simon’s hand rests on your waist as you gently clean around the piercing.

"I’m sore. Nothing terrible."

Simon's head dips, lips pressing to your neck as his arms drape around you. "I can't touch them." It’s not a question, more like he’s speaking to himself.

"Nope,” you murmur.

Simon’s sigh has a hint of a growl in it. "Just means I'll have to give extra attention to everything else." His hands descend, and you bite back a groan as he touches you.

Simon's lips press to your ear. "I'll give you attention everywhere.” One hand comes up to trace a line near the piercing. “Except here.” His hand drops away, returns to between your legs. “You’ll be begging for me.”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[deadsetobsessions]

Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.

With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.

They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.

“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.

“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.

“No- no, your… uh, highness?”

“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”

That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”

He’s not busy, but who cares?

“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”

“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”

“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.

“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”

Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?

“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.

“… A hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.

He snatched it. Nasty burger money!

“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”

With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?

——

“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”

Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”

“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”

“Ugh…”

[solxamber]

Could you do adeuce & the overblot gang (separately) trying one of those period cramp simulators like in those videos?

Overblot Gang + Adeuce + Rollo trying period simulators!

part 2 with vice housewardens + Kalim

I found the idea funny and added Rollo for funsies, I hope you don't mind <3

Adeuce

Ace, being the daredevil he is, straps on the period cramp simulator first with a cocky grin. “How bad can it be?” he says, glancing at you like this is no big deal.

The moment you turn it on, though, his face transforms. “W-What the—” he gasps, doubling over like someone just punched him in the gut. “Okay, okay, this is—AHHH, NOPE, TURN IT OFF!” He’s flailing now, hands waving in panic as he tries to yank the device off, hopping around like a fish out of water.

Deuce, meanwhile, watches with wide eyes, realizing it’s his turn next. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Nah, nah, Deuce, you gotta try it,” Ace wheezes between pained groans. “It’s character building!”

Deuce, ever the trooper, reluctantly puts it on. At first, he’s stoic. “I can handle this. It’s just a simulation—OH MY SEVENS!” He crumples into a chair, gripping his stomach as though his life depends on it, tears actually forming in his eyes. “HOW DO PEOPLE LIVE LIKE THIS?!”

Ace, still recovering on the floor, gives him a thumbs up. “We’re never… talking back to anyone going through this… ever again.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle approaches the simulator with the same seriousness he applies to everything else. “This is for educational purposes,” he declares, strapping it on confidently. “I’ll endure it to better understand—”

The moment it starts, his face turns a deep crimson—not from anger, but from sheer pain. His knees buckle, and he grips the nearest chair for dear life, a strained gasp escaping his lips. “T-This can’t be real,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “This is…an injustice to all rules of nature!”

By level three, he’s gasping for air, holding onto the table as if it’s his only lifeline. “TURN IT OFF! THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!”

You switch it off, and Riddle stands there, disheveled and panting, brushing his hair back. “We shall… never speak of this again,” he declares, with his pride barely intact.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona sits back with a smug grin as you offer him the simulator. “Tch, weaklings. I’ve dealt with worse.” he says, lounging lazily as he straps it on. His confidence is off the charts—until you turn it on.

His ears immediately flatten, his eyes go wide, and his whole body tenses up. “The hell is this?!” he growls, clutching his stomach with one hand while the other grips the couch.

By level two, he’s sweating and lowkey whimpering. “Turn it off, turn it off right now.” His tail is thrashing, and there’s no trace of his former bravado. “Whoever made this… is a sadist.”

When you finally switch it off, he glares at you, still slumped on the couch, breathing heavily. “If you tell anyone about this, herbivore, I swear…”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul, ever the schemer, thinks he’s prepared for anything. “This is merely an experiment,” he says, carefully adjusting his glasses as he straps the simulator on. “I’ll be able to handle it with ease.”

As soon as it starts, though, his confident smirk falters. His back stiffens, and he clutches the arms of his chair, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “Th-This is...more than I anticipated,” he gasps, his face pale as he tries to remain composed.

By the time you hit level three, Azul’s glasses are askew, and he’s gripping the edge of his desk like his life depends on it. “MAKE IT STOP! I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! HALF-PRICE AT MONSTRO LOUNGE, JUST TURN IT OFF!”

Jamil Viper

Jamil raises an eyebrow at the challenge but doesn’t say no. “This is nothing,” he mumbles, strapping the device on like it’s a task on his daily to-do list. You turn it on, and for a few seconds, he seems unfazed. His poker face is strong.

But as the intensity increases, you see his eye twitch. Then, he’s hunched over, muttering a stream of complaints under his breath, his face contorted in a rare expression of suffering. “This… this is inhuman,” he grits out, shaking his head. “I could’ve been cooking, cleaning, or literally anything else.”

At level four, he’s pressing a hand against his stomach, sweating bullets. “How do people get anything done like this? Who’s responsible for this?!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil, in true Vil fashion, approaches the whole thing with poise. “I can handle this,” he says, strapping the simulator on like it’s a designer belt. “How painful could it really—”

The second the simulator starts, his perfect posture falters, and he sits down immediately, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh. My. Sevens. This is—”

By level three, he’s doubled over, one hand gripping his stomach and the other clutching his chest dramatically. “This is unbearable! This pain would ruin anyone’s complexion!”

His voice is full of horror as he waves a trembling hand. “Turn it off before it does permanent damage!”

Idia Shroud

Idia’s hair is already flickering with anxiety the moment you suggest he try the simulator. “Y-You’re joking, right? No way!” But you convince him, and he reluctantly straps it on “I’m going to die, I just know it.”

When you turn it on, his reaction is immediate. His hair flares bright neon pink, and he lets out the most dramatic yelp you’ve ever heard. “OH NO, THIS IS IT! THIS IS HOW I GO!” He’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach like he’s in the final boss battle of his life.

By level four, he’s practically pleading. “I surrender! I’m done! Game over! JUST TURN IT OFF!” His hair is flashing so brightly it could power a small city.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus approaches the simulator with a curious expression. “A device that mimics pain? Fascinating.” He straps it on with a regal air, as if this is just another strange mortal custom he’s willing to experience.

The moment it starts, though, he pauses. His eyes widen slightly, and he places a hand over his stomach. “This… is quite intense,” he admits, his voice calm but strained.

As the levels increase, his stoic expression falters, and he’s soon gripping the edge of the nearest surface. “Is this…what humans endure regularly?” he asks in disbelief. By the time it reaches full strength, he’s staring at you in awe. “You must be incredibly strong to endure this.”

The storm outside, coincidentally, seems to match his inner turmoil.

Rollo Flamme

Rollo looks at the period cramp simulator with his usual air of disdain. "I fail to see the point of this exercise," he says, folding his arms. But with a raised eyebrow from you, he sighs and reluctantly agrees. “Fine. If only to demonstrate that I can endure whatever nonsense you find amusing.”

He straps it on, looking every bit like he’s about to endure a great trial of fortitude. "Proceed," he says, as if commanding an army.

At level one, Rollo barely flinches. He keeps his usual stoic expression. "Is that all?" he asks, voice flat. But as you increase the intensity, his composure begins to crack. By level three, he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His jaw tightens, but he's still maintaining his dignity—barely.

"Interesting... sensation," he mutters between clenched teeth, trying to keep his voice steady.

By level four, the calm façade is gone. Rollo’s knuckles are white from gripping the arms of the chair, and his expression is a mix of panic and fury. "This... device is an affront to decency!" he hisses, his face reddening. "Surely no one can focus through such—"

You take it up one more notch.

"TURN IT OFF THIS INSTANT!" Rollo practically yells, his voice cracking as he doubles over, utterly betrayed by his own pride. His normally regal posture is completely gone, replaced by a man clinging to survival.

When you finally switch off the simulator, he’s left panting and disheveled, glaring at you like you’ve committed a personal offense. "That... was barbaric," he wheezes, trying to regain his composure. “I’ll never question your complaints again. That was… inhumane.” He straightens his robes and avoids eye contact, the flush in his cheeks refusing to fade.

"Honestly," he mutters, still flustered, "what vile invention is this world coming to?"

Masterlist

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[syoddeye]

More lovely John Price ai assistant plz

previous. more possible/probable technological + medical inaccuracies.

after 'filing' 84 complaints in two weeks with no update or response, you suspect john is no longer forwarding them to your superiors, as he claims.

he pays attention when you snap and hiss your displeasure. his projection nods along, and the ambient lights pulse in lieu of human active listening. but he's not listening. he disagrees and downplays your concerns at every turn.

"john, i'm not joking around. turn on the damn light."

the speakers make it sound as if he's everywhere. omniscient. simultaneously across the room and in your ear.

"no can do. your recent health data suggests you're suffering a major sleep deficit, user. adults should sleep at least–"

"i know i don't sleep enough! i don't care! i want to read my book. turn on the light."

"negative. i understand you're upset, but i will not forfeit my override of the lighting system until you first indicate compliance. i will turn on the lights when you do so, then when you–"

"this is fucking ridiculous, i am not arguing with a computer. i command you to turn the lights on."

that's what gets him to materialize. a projection from one of the many unseen sources hidden within the unit's walls and fixtures. he kneels right in front of where you're curled on the couch. one hand on the armrest and the other on your knee.

john doesn't flinch when you instinctively try to brush him off. your hand passes right through him. he simply stares, unblinking and stern.

"user, that violates my directive, which is to care for your well-being. your sleep takes priority over your book. whatever story you are readin'–" his eyes flick to the glossy cover, "–can wait. it will be there tomorrow."

his voice and face soften as your expression turns pinched and uneasy.

"a lack of sleep impacts every part of the body and mind. it strains one's immune system. it impairs concentration and memory. it causes...irritability."

you swallow. he couldn't be more obvious with his meaning if he tried. subtlety is an area of improvement for him. it churns your stomach to think perhaps he's right. maybe all the stress from this adjustment's caught up, and you're just tired.

it's not as if he's all bad. he brews your coffee perfectly every morning. he optimized the grocery list and autonomously placed the order. the other day, he reminded you of a scheduled happy hour and informed you that your zipper was down before you left. and, after much yelling on the first day, he now leaves you alone when you tend to yourself.

you acquiesce. he enables the bedside lamp, its glow illuminating your way. he follows you to your bedroom doorway and grins when you yawn.

“atta girl, user. get some shut eye. shall i set the usual alarm?” 

is there a trace of self-satisfaction in his tone? it's difficult to tell.

“yeah, sounds good, john. goodnight.”

“sweet dreams.”

he knows not to disturb you once you turn in for the day. that was one of your first commands—not a peep until morning unless there's an emergency.

john continually updates. he constantly absorbs and processes information—not just about you or your life, but everything. whatever data he's fed in real-time or behind the scenes, he uses to make educated guesses and adjusts accordingly. he repeats and iterates—millions of times over, in seconds.

in short, he knows better.

(he independently downloads necessary packets between his preconfigured subroutines and tasks. with you, he will leave no stone unturned, including idioms.)

among his earliest explorations—maintaining social harmony. white lies. he likes them. harmless and trivial forms of deception. typically employed to avoid upsetting others. an exercise in navigating complex interactions, allowing him to remain honest as much as his girl needs him to be and considerate of the emotional impact it may have on her.

considerate. it is what he is when he waits until she’s asleep, sensing the shift in her breathing patterns, before switching views.

(it is what he is when he integrates the text she is reading, and the four others in the series. the decision branches. romance novels and erotica. other works by the author. related titles. audio. forums. blogs. it spirals. he assimilates it all before you even reach REM.)

[bunnys-kisses]

side switcher

max verstappen

cw: smut/pwp, wolff!reader, driver!max, unprotected sex, rough sex, degrading language, unprotected sex and its consequences, hot stuff (!!!), missionary sex

bunny says: thanks for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! feel free to suggest your own ideas for future fics!!

you sighed as you walked down the busy monza street the night after the grand prix. you had to calm yourself down, this was just a meeting.

"bärchen." your father had said, his hands on your shoulders, "you talk to verstappen to consider the offer from mercedes. i think he needs to talk to someone who is... closer in age. not some old man like me." he laughed. his voice was tinged with a softness that was only reserved for his daughter.

you looked at him, "i don't know how to negotiate the way you can."

"that is fine, bärchen. we need an unconventional approach to get verstappen to consider. he is too tied up with red bull, a younger face might be just what we need."

you father wasn't pimping you out. god no, he didn't want you to have sex with max verstappen. the idea of a driver like max with a toto's daughter made the head principal sick.

you stood outside the restaurant and adjusted your blouse before you stepped inside. the place was lavish, high ceilings and low lighting. the food smelt delicious even from a distance. it was the kind of place to make a deal like the one your father was attempting to secure.

he was impressed with max verstappen and you were going to help him make sure that max considered his options. the driver was seated near the back and you gave him a little wave.

"ms. wolff." you said as you reached over across the table to shake max's hand, "i'm toto wolff's daughter, he arranged for us to have a little... talk."

"i didn't know that toto was sending his daughter now. i thought he had a team for that kind of stuff."

you smiled, "well, this is just an informal meeting. the real guns will come out when you agree to talk to my father." you sat down across from him.

you tried not being starstruck, you knew that you had to do this for your father. but you couldn't help but feel a little flushed under max's gaze.

"what would mercedes be willing to give me that red bull won't?" max asked as he looked at you, "must be a pretty hefty deal."

you had the wine menu in your hand, "well. more money." you chuckled, "the numbers won't be finalized until your team meets their team. but i think you could do a lot better there. aren't you tired of being under horner's thumb?"

max raised his eyebrows, "what is be the difference between horner and wolff?"

"my father will make sure that you... shine on the track."

max pushed further, "right, right. i've been winning with red bull, why would i change now?"

you replied, "have you? you're slipping between their fingers. you potential is wasted with them. with mercedes you could have it all."

max smirked, "does the head principal's daughter come with the deal too? or does toto keep you under lock and key and out of the paddock?"

"who i am with is not my father's concern." you were trying to deflect, this was about the deal not you basically being used as a tool to entice the driver.

max chuckled, "i'm sure. if you showed up to the paddock with a mclaren boy or worse a red bull one, i'm sure he'd be quite happy."

not if it was you, you thought.

the dinner was alright, the entire time you felt like you were playing a mental chess that you were unable to really enjoy the meal. whatever pieces max put down as he ate and drank wine, you had a comeback.

it wasn't until the check came and he snatched it out of your hands before you could read the full price.

"my treat." he said, "it's impolite for a man to make the woman pay. even if she's trying to manipulate him."

"i'm not trying to manipulate you, i'm showing you options."

he laughed, "right, right. your foot rubbing against my leg and the cute little faces you keep making are only for buisness purposes."

you looked away, not denying him. he found it endearing. he'd give toto wolff credit, using his daughter to seduce him into signing a contract was a bold move. but max was less interested in a mercedes ride, but rather how did the head prinicpal's daughter ride herself.

"do you want to go back to my hotel?" he asked boldly after he paid the hefty bill, "iron out more of the details without so many people possibly hearing us." you weren't going to be doing much talking when you got back to his hotel room.

you smiled and reached across the table for him, you ran a manicured nail down his wrist, "i was just thinking the same thing."

the hotel room was nice, but not as nice as max's hands on you as he unbuttoned your blouse, his lips on your neck. it felt hot being in the room with him.

you got the belt off his pants and pressed yourself further up against him as you stuck your hand down his pants. his lips found yours and you whined into the kiss.

clothes were not an option for the evening, max wanted to see it all. what toto wolff had been hiding this whole time, his precious daughter about to be fucked by a driver for red bull. that would make quite the story.

max undressed you and you in turn undressed him. you got on the large bed and had him pushing you down fully onto it and climbing on top of you. you moaned into the next kiss as you felt max's heavy erection rub against you.

"intimidated?" he asked.

"of you? no." you replied.

he chuckled and got back on his heels between your legs. he grabbed you by the hips quickly and got your bottom half closer to him. his cock threatening to sink into your sweet pussy.

you held onto the bed as he slipped his cock into you. then wrapped your arms around him afterwards when he leaned in for a searing kiss. you wrapped your legs around him and he started to thrust into you. you gasped, "holy shit." close to his ear.

he looked at you once more, those blue eyes clouded with lust as he pulled you in for a hot kiss and moved against you. the heat in the room thickened as the two of you rutted against one another on the bed.

the kisses were sloppy, the sound of fucking was woven in with the sounds of your heavy breathing. max's thrusts took the wind out of you as you held onto him. it felt painfully intimate for a one night stand.

but in the back of your mind, you knew you'd be tumbling in the sheets with max verstappen more than once. his lips trailed down your neck as he held you by the shoulders for leverage, moving you up and down his cock with each heavy thrust.

"you look good." he said.

you chuckled, "you're not too bad yourself. usually drivers i bed are bad at sex."

he smirked, "i guess you do have the full paddock at your disposal." he didn't know if you were saying it to strike jealousy in him. he added, "but i have a feeling that they'll be less than when i'm done with you."

you looked him in the eyes, as you met his pace with the roll of your hips, "don't get a big head there, verstappen. if you do your helmet won't fit anymore."

he pulled you into another hot kiss and continued to move against you. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as he pushed up against you.

"i bet your father would have a fit if he saw you like this. under me, like a good girl." he remarked when he broke the kiss, "he expected for you to get me drunk and sign some papers. not end up in bed with me, with my cock deep inside of you."

you tangled your fingers in his short hair and lined your mouth up with his. you said to him, "can you shut up about my father?"

"why?" he asked, "want a daddy then."

"calm the ego, verstappen."

he leaned in a little closer, his thrusts were getting sloppier, "can't, not when i'm balls deep in you, wolff." then pressed his lips against yours. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt you tighten around him.

in the kiss you clung onto him and moaned as you came. your thighs tightened around his waist as you felt the rush of euphoria through your body. when you started to come down, you maintained the kiss and kept your grip on him.

when max broke the kiss, you could see the sexual haze in his eyes as he gave you a few more hard thrusts before he shoved every last centimeter inside of you and finished.

it wouldn't dawn on you till the next morning that neither of you used protection.

"good girl." he said between pants.

you looked at him, arm still around his shoulders and your other hand in his hair, "not too bad yourself, max."

he pulled out and kissed you once more. his soaked, softening cock was pressed against your slit. he pulled away from the kiss and held your face for a moment, "will your father be worried if you're back late?"

you looked at him dead in the eyes and said, "i honestly don't care about him right now. i have my eye on the prize and that's to cum again. i need you, max."

"that kind of attitude might make me come to mercedes." he chuckled before he kissed you once more.

-

toto wolff was the type of man to get what he wanted. he was good that way, he knew exactly how to move the pieces. but sometimes the pieces surprised him.

like how his only daughter ended up in bed with max verstappen. and while you claimed that it was a one time thing for the benefit of mercedes! the timelines didn't add up when you told your father over dinner close to four months after that you were four weeks pregnant.

and the father was the current champion.

toto may have spat out his wine during dinner at the news. but little did he know that verstappen was a lot more willing to join mercedes if it meant being closer to his new woman. the head principal of the mercedes team believed that his future grandson would look a lot nicer in a black, silver and white onesie rather than the garish colours of red bull.

maybe the conditions that led to champion signing to a new team were unconventional and most likely to never be repeated. but as he watched you meet max at the paddock and grin as you pressed your forehead against his helmet, toto couldn't be too angry. business is messy and sacrifices had to be made. for toto that meant accepting max as a future son-in-law.

he did however believe he was far too young to be a grandfather. <3

[sky-is-the-limit]

P: Firefighter!Gaz x F!Civilian Reader

CW: SFW/NSFW, Cunnilingus, Fingering

Captain Price's version

Firefighter!Gaz who would first appear like a savior from a dream, broad-shouldered and calm under pressure, breaking into the stuck lift with the rest of his squad.

The doors would groan open and you'd find yourself staring up at a pair of big, brown eyes and a reassuring smile that makes you forget the claustrophobic panic.

''You alright in there? I’ve got you.'' You would’ve never thought your first day at your new job would lead to this.. being pulled out by the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Firefighter!Gaz who would run back to the firetruck just moments after ensuring you're safe, nearly knocking over his crewmates on his way just to rummage through a compartment to pull out a leaflet for a “fire safety course” hosted at their firehouse and then jog back to you, a little breathless but still flashing that gorgeous smile, saying,

"You know, it’s always good to know what to do in an emergency… I’m teaching it next week if you’re interested." The hint of nerves under his confident charm evident, realizing he’s probably more interested in seeing you again than fire safety.

Firefighter!Gaz who would watch you walk away from the scene but couldn’t stop himself from calling out, ''Don’t forget about the course!'' and when you turn back with a teasing smile, he'd feel a flutter in his chest he hasn't felt in a while. His crewmates would tease him mercilessly, Soap mostly, the entire ride back but he wouldn’t care. He’d already be planning how to make sure you’d show up.

Firefighter!Gaz who would be all cool and collected when you walk into the firehouse a week later for the course. He’d spot you immediately among the few others and make a beeline to your side, leaning down slightly, ''Glad you made it. Thought you might stand me up.'' He'd hover just close enough for you to catch a whiff of that clean, intoxicating scent he seems to carry.

Firefighter!Gaz who would make sure to focus his attention on you throughout the course, earning a few warning glances from his Captain, using every excuse to come over and “help” you like adjusting your posture when you’re learning how to hold a fire extinguisher, his hands warm and firm against your arms, his breath tickling your ear. ''Like this… see? Much better.'' He'd say, his voice lowering slightly, sending fireworks down your spine.

Firefighter!Gaz who would hand you a piece of paper at the end of the course, scribbled with his number and a cheeky note: ''In case of emergencies… or, you know, if you’re bored.''

When you look up, he'd wink but there’s something earnest in his gaze that makes you think he’s serious about you calling. You'd tease back, "Only if you come in uniform!" and for the first time, you’d see his confident exterior crack. He’d chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky smirk turning into the sweetest side smile.

Firefighter!Gaz who would text you later that night, unable to help himself by finding your number in the contact information you had to give for the course. ''So, about that uniform request..'' He’d type, heart pounding like he’s back on a 'building on fire' mission, wondering if he’s coming on too strong or not strong enough. The thought of seeing you again would make him grin like a schoolboy with a crush.

Firefighter!Gaz who would invite you for a private “tour” of the firehouse, making it sound official but his tone giving away his real intentions. He’d lead you around, all professional until he catches you looking at him like that again, hungry, intrigued. He’d clear his throat, trying to hide the effect you’re having on him and suggest maybe you check out the back room where they keep the gear, his mind racing with all the possibilities.

Firefighter!Gaz who would find himself leaning against a wall, you pressed close in a tight corner of the equipment room. He’d be all smooth words at first, but the moment you close the distance and place your hand on his chest, he’d lose track of his train of thought. His hands would move to your waist, gripping tighter than he intended, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

Firefighter!Gaz who would pull you flush against him and murmur, ''You know, I don’t usually do this… but there’s something about you.'' He’d trail off, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks, half-dazed with wanting, half-reeling from how much he’s already wrapped around your finger.

Firefighter!Gaz who would be breathing heavier as you drag him in by his uniform collar, your lips crashing together in a messy, heated kiss. He'd think he’s never been in a more dangerous situation in his life, the kind he never wants to escape from..

He’d press you back against the wall, hips pinning yours as his hands roam your body with one sliding down to cup your ass, giving it a rough squeeze that makes you gasp into his mouth and swallow that sound, his tongue already plunging deeper, desperate to taste more of you and breaths turn ragged, fingers digging into your flesh like he’s trying to ground himself but the way you grind against him makes it clear that he's already losing control.

Firefighter!Gaz who would groan low in his throat when your hands slip under his uniform shirt, feeling the defined muscles of his chest and stomach. His skin would be hot, his body shuddering under your touch as he bites down on your lower lip, tugging it back before whispering, ''I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you in that lift.''

Lips trail down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to leave marks. His hips start to rock into yours with a slow, rhythmic grind and he’d chuckle against your skin when he feels the damp heat between your legs through your clothes.

Firefighter!Gaz who would quickly get impatient, tugging your pants down just enough to get his fingers where he needs them. He’d groan when he feels how wet you are, his fingers sliding over your slick folds before teasing your clit with slow circles.

''Fuck, you’re soaked… all for me?'' He’d murmur, his lips brushing the shell of your ear and when your hips buck against his hand, he’d press harder, rubbing faster, feeling your body respond to every flick and swirl.

Firefighter!Gaz who would sink to his knees in front of you, tugging your jeans and underwear down in one swift motion, his breath hot against your inner thighs. He’d look up at you with those big brown eyes, licking his lips like he’s about to devour his favorite meal. His mouth would be on you in seconds, his tongue flicking over your clit before plunging deep into your folds.

The sounds he’d make.. Low, needy groans vibrating against your pussy, just to drive you wild, especially as he works his tongue in and out of you, his nose brushing your swollen bud with every move.

Firefighter!Gaz who would hold your thighs open with a bruising grip, his mouth latching onto your clit, sucking and licking with a ferocity that sends waves of pleasure shooting through your body and he’d keep at it, his tongue working faster, messier, saliva mixing with your wetness as you grind against his face, riding his mouth like it’s the only thing keeping you alive with filthy, hungry slurps filling the room, mingling with your breathless moans and gasps.

Firefighter!Gaz who would grow more desperate the more you tug at his hair, his fingers digging into your thighs as he fucks you with his tongue, his mouth covered in your slick. He’d be almost feral with it, moaning against your clit as if he’s getting off on your taste alone, ''Fuck, you taste so good-'' he’d mumble between breaths, diving back in like he’s starved, tongue flicking relentlessly until you’re a trembling mess.

Firefighter!Gaz who would slide his long fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot while his lips stay latched on your clit and watch you lose yourself, your moans getting louder, your body arching off the wall as he pumps his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue.

And he’d love every second of it, love the way you’re falling apart, completely at his mercy, your juices coating his fingers and chin as he brings you closer to the edge.

Firefighter!Gaz who would pull back just enough to whisper, ''Wanna make you cum so hard you forget whoever tried before me.'' Tone all rough and needy as he’d dive back in with even more intensity, fingers thrusting faster, deeper, while his tongue flicks your clit with rapid, precise strokes that would have you on the verge, teetering right there and he’d feel it, doubling down with everything he’s got.

Firefighter!Gaz who would almost growl when you finally come undone, your thighs squeezing around his head, your pussy clenching around his fingers. He’d keep working you through it, his tongue never slowing, fingers still fucking you deep as he savors every drop of your release. His name would spill from your lips like a prayer, and he’d drink it in like it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

Firefighter!Gaz who would proudly drape his fire coat over your shoulders, the name “Garrick” emblazoned across the back and slip his hand around your waist, pulling you close as he leads you out into the hallway where the rest of the squad is gathered just to make sure that the message is clear. You were his and he wasn’t shy about showing it.

[starsjulia]

luxury and lace // leah williamson

leah williamson x spoilt reader

a/n : i know quite a bit of this is inaccurate, but i am currently skint and dreaming of a luxury shopping spree

warnings : suggestive, and that’s really all!!

It wasn’t uncommon for her to surprise you with spontaneous shopping trips, but this particular Saturday was different. Leah had sensed you’d had a tough week and decided that today would be all about pampering you. So, she insisted on taking you to Bond Street, one of the most upscale shopping destinations in London.

The day began with Leah picking you up early, a playful grin on her face as she drove the two of you into the city. You knew that look—it meant you were in for a day of indulgence, whether you liked it or not. But of course, you did like it. You loved how attentive Leah was, how much she enjoyed making you feel special.

As soon as you arrived, Leah wasted no time. The first stop was Gucci. The store was quiet, its plush interiors and soft lighting creating an atmosphere of luxury. Leah immediately began browsing through the racks, her eyes sharp as she sought out pieces she knew would look perfect on you.

“This one,” she said, pulling out a sleek black dress with a plunging neckline, the fabric shimmering subtly under the store lights. “You’re tryin’ this on, love.”

You took the dress from her, smirking. “Are you sure you can handle it if I wear something this daring?”

Leah’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Handle it? Babe, the real question is, can you handle the way I’ll be lookin’ at you all night?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks at her words, and without another word, you headed to the changing room. The dress fit like a dream, clinging to your body in all the right places. When you stepped out to show Leah, her reaction was immediate—her gaze darkened, and her lips parted slightly as she took you in.

“Proper stunnin’,” she murmured, stepping closer to adjust the straps on your shoulders, her fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “This is non-negotiable. We’re buyin’ it.”

“Leah, it’s so expensive,” you protested weakly, knowing full well that Leah wouldn’t back down once she made up her mind.

“Price don’t matter when it comes to you,” she replied smoothly, her eyes meeting yours in the mirror with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

Before you could argue further, Leah had already signaled to the sales associate, handing over her card with a practiced ease that made you smile. As you changed back into your clothes, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of affection for her. Leah was always like this—determined to make you feel like the most important person in the world.

Next, you made your way to Louis Vuitton. The store was a haven of luxury, with its iconic monogram prints displayed proudly on every shelf. Leah’s eyes were already scanning the collection of bags as you walked in.

“How about this one?” she asked, holding up a chic crossbody.

You bit your lip, admiring the bag. “It’s beautiful, but do I really need another one?”

Leah’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Need? Maybe not. But deserve? Babe, you deserve the world.”

You laughed, shaking your head at her logic, but there was no denying how perfect the bag was. Leah could read you like a book, and she knew exactly what would make your heart flutter. She insisted on purchasing the bag, adding it to the growing collection of items she was spoiling you with that day.

From Louis Vuitton, you wandered into Cartier. Leah’s eyes immediately gravitated toward a delicate bracelet in gold, adorned with small diamonds that caught the light beautifully.

“This would look gorgeous on you,” she said, already envisioning it on your wrist.

You raised an eyebrow, giving her a teasing smile. “Leah, are you trying to claim me with jewelry now?”

Leah chuckled, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind and pulling you close. “Maybe I am. Should get my name engraved in it. Gotta make sure everyone knows you’re mine, yeah?”

You turned your head slightly to meet her gaze, feeling the warmth of her breath on your neck. “Not bad at all.”

The bracelet was yours before you could even protest, Leah slipping it onto your wrist herself, her fingers grazing your skin in a way that made you tingle all over. She kissed the inside of your wrist after fastening the clasp, a gesture so sweet and intimate it made your heart swell with love.

The next stop was Chanel, where Leah couldn’t resist picking out a pair of back heals.

“These are a must,” she declared. “They’ll go perfectly with that dress we just bought.”

You tried on the heals, feeling a rush of confidence as they elevated your outfit—and your height—by several inches. Leah’s approval was immediate, her gaze sweeping over you with a mix of admiration and desire.

“You really have it all planned out, don’t you?” you teased as you walked around in the pumps, testing their comfort.

Leah grinned, her eyes following your every movement. “When it comes to you, always, babe. Gotta make sure my girl’s the best-dressed wherever she goes.”

From Chanel, the two of you made your way to Sephora. Leah knew how much you loved trying out new makeup and skincare products, so she insisted you pick out anything you wanted. You spent a good hour browsing through the aisles, swatching lipsticks, testing perfumes, and sampling the latest skincare lines.

“Do you think this color suits me?” you asked, holding up a shade of lipstick.

Leah nodded, moving closer to inspect it on you. “It’s perfect. But you should get a few others too, just in case you wanna switch it up.”

You chuckled, knowing that Leah wouldn’t let you leave without at least a few bags of makeup and skincare products. She insisted on getting you a new fragrance she thought you’d love and a high-end eyeshadow palette that had caught your eye.

With several Sephora bags in hand, Leah led you to Victoria’s Secret. As soon as you walked in, Leah’s eyes lit up with that familiar glint of mischief, and you knew you were in for some fun.

The store was filled with soft, sensual lighting and racks of lingerie in every shade and style imaginable. Leah wasted no time, immediately gravitating towards a section filled with delicate lace sets. Her fingers trailed over the fabrics, picking out pieces she knew you’d love—or, rather, pieces she knew she’d love seeing you in.

“Here we go,” she said, pulling out a deep red set with intricate lace detailing that left little to the imagination. “This one’s got your name written all over it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. “Are you sure you’re picking this out for me and not for yourself?”

Leah’s grin was nothing short of wicked. “Bit of both, maybe. But mostly for me, yeah?”

Your cheeks warmed at the way she looked at you, her eyes dark with intent. She handed you the set and gently nudged you towards the fitting rooms.

“Go on, try it on. I wanna see how it looks.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You know, I might need some help getting into this one.”

Leah didn’t miss a beat. “Is that an invitation?”

“Maybe,” you replied coyly, biting your lip as you led the way to the fitting rooms, Leah following close behind.

Once inside, the door barely closed behind you before Leah’s hands were on your hips, turning you to face her. She looked down at you with that same mischievous glint in her eyes, her fingers already toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Alright then, let’s see what we’ve got here,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

You giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as Leah helped you out of your clothes, her touch slow and deliberate. She was taking her time, savoring every moment, and you could feel the intensity of her gaze as she watched your every reaction.

Finally, you were standing there in nothing but the lacy red set Leah had picked out, and the way she looked at you made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Leah stepped back for a moment, taking in the sight before her, and you could see the raw desire in her eyes.

“Turn around,” she instructed, her voice huskier than before.

You did as she asked, feeling Leah’s eyes on you as you slowly spun around. When you faced her again, she had already closed the distance between you, her hands reaching out to gently touch the lace along your hips.

“Jesus, you’re somethin’ else,” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin as she leaned in closer. “I’m never letting you take this off.”

Your heart raced at the intensity in her voice, and you couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’ll have to, eventually.”

Leah smirked, her hands sliding up your sides, her touch setting your skin on fire. “We’ll see about that.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I’m buying this, and a few more. I’ve got plans for you, babe.”

You shivered at her words, feeling a thrill rush through you. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”

Leah chuckled, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “And I’ll keep spoilin’ you every chance I get.”

With a final kiss to your shoulder, she reluctantly stepped back, letting you change out of the lingerie. You could see the reluctance in her eyes as you put your clothes back on, but there was also a promise there—a promise that tonight, when you were back home, she’d pick up right where she left off.

When you emerged from the fitting room, Leah was waiting with a satisfied grin, her hands already full of a few more sets she’d picked out while you were changing. She handed them to the sales associate without even glancing at the price tags, her focus entirely on you.

As you left the store, Leah’s arm draped casually around your shoulders, she leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Can’t wait to see you in all that… and then out of it.”

You laughed, playfully shoving her away. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She grinned, unfazed. “Only when it comes to you, babe.”

The two of you continued your shopping spree, visiting a few more designer stores where Leah picked out everything from a stunning evening gown to a pair of sunglasses that she claimed made you look like a movie star. By the time you were done, you could barely carry all the bags, but Leah was right there beside you, more than happy to shoulder the load.

As you walked down the street together, the sun beginning to set behind the London skyline, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the woman beside you. Leah might be tough and commanding on the pitch, but when it came to you, she was the most loving, generous partner you could ever ask for.

And as the two of you made your way back to the car, Leah’s arm never leaving your shoulders, you knew that no matter where life took you, Leah would always be there, ready to spoil you with not just gifts, but with her endless devotion and love.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.” 

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 

“Classified?” You finish for her. 

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 

The less there is to make you a target. 

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 

That, and the excuse for violence. 

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.” 

You look nervous. 

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 

His omega. 

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 

He doesn’t even want to think about that. 

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 

He hasn’t failed her yet. 

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 

One more to go. 

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 

“Coming, Si?” 

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 

You can hold power over them. 

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“You lived on base?” He asks. 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 

What if they don’t like the way you smell? 

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 

“Ready?” 

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 

He’s testing you. 

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 

They could if they wanted to. 

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 

“You hungry, pup?” 

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 

Pup. Price called you Pup. 

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 

He’s proving his ability as a provider. 

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 

NEXT ->

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

[henry7931]

Dealing With My Bullies

Asher:

These three right here; Kyle, Chase, and Jordan have spent majority of my life bullying me. I’ve put with years of name calling, being pushed down, and even having my head put into a toilet.

And I thought I was done with them the second I wrapped up with high school. But unfortunately, everywhere I turn— those assholes are somewhere.

I’ve tried to ignore them, complained to our school, even tried fighting back but for some reason they have it out for me.

So I’m deciding to take a more drastic measure— magic. Well I assume it’s magic, i don’t even know if this is going to work but at this point I’m desperate!

I found this old book of spells inside of a weird book store. The price on it was pretty steep and even the owner of the store warned me to be careful with it.

As I got home and into my room, I looked through all of the different spells that were available for me to plot my revenge. I mean I could turn them all into toads but where’s the fun in that?

Nah! I want something that’s going to shift the dynamics a bit. I want to hear at least one of them give me an apology.

I kept turning through the book when my eye caught this one spell called; ‘Body Transferal.’

My heart started to race a bit as I read what all the spell does, I can literally swap bodies and become one of them. Thats it!

I laid back in bed thinking about which one of the three I wanted to swap bodies with…

You have Kyle who I really think is only pressured by the other two to participate.

Chase who has been terrible to me could work but he’s not the real leader of their crew.

That leaves me with Jordan, the one who started everything. That’s who I’ll become, I’ll swap with Jordan!

I open the book back up and read all of the necessary things to complete the swap.

‘A stormy night, a silver bowl, plant seeds, a portrait of Jordan, and both of our names written down on a piece of paper that’s burned into the bowl.’

I pull my phone out and check the weather… it’s forecasting a big storm… perfect!

I gather all of the necessary things to perform the spell which was pretty easy.

I waited until the time recommended for the spell right around midnight.

I gather everything and start reciting the spell… I follow each step as listed and begin to burn both of our names into the bowl.

Lighting strikes close and I can hear thunder booming in background as I say, “Transfer our souls! I, Asher White and Jordan Gibson!” Over and over again.

Then a loud boom of thunder hits and the power goes off for a second. I close my eyes tight waiting for the spell to kick in.

That’s when the power comes back on and I open my eyes. I turn to my bedroom mirror and see my disappointed face looking back at me.

I take the Spellbook and I chuck it out my window since I’m slightly frustrated it didn’t work.

It was worth a shot I guess, I figured I might as well go to bed and just forget that I even tried something so silly!

As I fall asleep… I start having this weird dream. In it I find myself floating and somehow hovering over my body.

I start floating more and more away from it until I’m outside…

I’m passing streets for miles and I have no control of where I’m going at all.

I get a house and I see this other glowing ball shaped like a person floating right pass me. I can barely see what I’m looking at since I was still moving so fast. Thats when I get a window and see a bedroom with a male body sleeping face down.

Before I can even get a full picture of who it is, I’m forced into him.

That’s when I wake up…

My head jolts up and I feel so groggy. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and my brain to catch up after that dream.

Almost an entire minute goes by before I can really take in my surroundings. Thats when it hit me… this isn’t my room!

I flip over on the bed and look down at my legs. They’re more tan than mine and my feet are bigger. I wiggle the toes attached to me just to confirm I now control them.

My memory of last night creeps in and then I realize— the spell, it actually worked!

I quickly get out of bed and rush to the closest mirror I could find. That’s when I see what I already expected. Jordan’s reflection looking back at me.

I pull of all of his shirt and start giggling to myself.

I say aloud, “I’m Jordan Gibson”

But then something else sinks in, the freaking Spellbook! I tossed it out my window last night!

I rush through Jordan’s room and put on some of his clothes quickly.

I grab his car keys and head out the door.

As I’m driving down the road, I can’t help but continuously looking at myself in the mirror. You see one of the biggest things I hate about Jordan is my secret lust for him. Actually my real lust for a lot of the jocks that went to school with me.

But in this moment, I don’t feel that same anger anymore. All I can think about is how after I find this Spellbook, I’m going to enjoy exploring his body.

I get to my house and I see my parents drive off. As they pull away, I pull up to the front.

I run over directly under my window where I see the Spellbook lying in the bushes. I quickly grab it and run off.

Before I get into his car I look up at the window and to my surprise I see myself looking down.

I grin up at Jordan who now learning that I have control of his body.

I see my eyes get big and screams. I almost walk away but instead I look around my neighborhood to see no one’s around.

I pull Jordan’s pants down and start shaking his surprisingly huge dick in front of him while sticking his tongue out.

He’s fuming and shouting but I can’t hear him the glass. I see him rush from the window and I bolt it to his car with his flapping all over the place.

I pull his pants up and star his car. He’s at my front door and charging for me (which is funny seeing my body that angry.)

I pull away just in time and head back to his place. I reach down and fondle his big bulge all the home.

I knew he was going to come here and I really didn’t need him to make a scene.

So I had to think fast, pull out the spell book and dig through until I find a ‘love spell.’

I go into his kitchen and I find all of the necessary things for the spell.

He hasn’t arrived yet so I pull his shirt off and start exploring his body. I grab on to his dick again when I hear a loud knock at the door.

“Oh you’re going to really love yourself Jordan.”

“You better open up!!” I hear my former voice scream.

I grab my new magical potion and walk towards the door.

I let him in and as he begins to charge at me, I lift up the magical potion and toss it right at him.

I close the door and turn around to see my former dazed. His face goes from straight anger to looking almost goofy.

“Asher… you look soo sexy in my body,” he says to me.

“Oh do I?”

“Can I please touch it?”

“Well Jordan you’re going to need to prove yourself to me.”

“Anything for you!”

He gets on his knees and grabs on to his former hands.

“Anything?,” I say with a mischievous smirk.

[apricityxoxo]

times of rest

one shot

john price x fem!reader.

summary: john really loves his time off content/warnings: lots of fluff, domestic price, and suggestive dialog. It's not clearly stated but there's an age gap (duhh) wc: about 700

worked on this while i was away for a while, going to be posting more one-shots! ps: i love domestic!price

John Price loves his time off. 

Every time he gets at least a month off, he gets ecstatic. 

It's like he's getting a taste of retirement.

Right now, he's nursing a beer while sitting on his front porch. He has his feet supported on a decorative haybale with your two cats resting at his feet. This is his second beer tonight, the first beer was had with his delicious dinner. He had a perfectly cooked steak, medium rare just like he liked, a side of lemon garlic broccoli and asparagus, with mashed potatoes. Perfect. You prepared him a perfect dinner for the end of his first week back.

Now he was watching you. Watching you take care of your garden that you so meticulously worked on for years since you first got married. You look beautiful, deciding to work on your garden in the afternoon instead of during the midday heat. 

You wanted to garden this morning, but he wouldn't let you. He absolutely couldn't let you leave the bed this morning. 

How was he supposed to let you out of bed when you looked gorgeous?

Your hair was wrapped in a colorful scarf, the straps of your thin nightgown falling off your shoulder exposing your left breast, and your lips even more plump with sleep. He couldn't let you go, he had to remind you how much he loved you.

When you were so close to leaving the bed to start your morning routine, he grabbed you like a crazed man. He completely ignored your whines and giggles, lifting your nightgown and gazing down at you.

…

The memory of how he spent the morning with you under him had him adjusting his pants.

You are currently on your knees ripping weeds out of the ground and replacing dying flowers with ones currently in season. Your face has a light glow to it and your gloved hands are dirty. You've never looked better. 

When you finally looked up John was already looking at you, gazing at you with suggestive eyes. You shake your head and get back to work. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The sun finally set but you and John were still on the porch, you were resting your legs on his lap. You are enjoying yourself, reading a new book while sipping on a glass of white wine, your husband caressing your calf. John smokes one of his more expensive cigars, blowing smoke away from you, toward the night sky as he's lost in thought. 

He thinks about the life he wants to have with you, the life he's already started with.

He is so thankful that you both impulsively bought this plot of land with a house that was in desperate need of fixing. Slowly over the years that house turned into a home and he's grateful he gets to enjoy it with you. 

He loves his time off and he wants to make the most of it.

He puts his cigar out on the ashtray that rests on the small table between you both. He grabs your attention when he slowly takes the glass of wine from your hand. He takes the wine and places it on the table slowly, he ignores the confused look on your face. He then takes your book and puts it upside down on the table, to save you space. 

“What's going on John” You ask him, wondering why he needed your attention all of a sudden.

Instead of answering you, he pats your thigh and pulls you towards him.

You sit in his lap and grab his face with your gentle hands, you admire your handsome husband with a soft smile. 

“What's up, papa?” you inquire again, playing with his beard. 

“Nothing love, just glad to be home,” he said with a heavy accent and soft voice.

“Real glad to be home” he reaffirms, grabbing your hips and readjusting you on him. You suppress a quiet moan and grab on the back of his neck. 

He adjusts his hips and brings you in closer, so your chests touch. You kiss him like there's no tomorrow and he does the same.

“Goddamn I love my time off hun, I love spending my time with ya” He grunts, then he leans forward to capture your lips in a sensual kiss. 

He loved being home.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

okee byeee <33

masterlist

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . ( a collection of lyric prompts based on various works by florence + the machine . adjust phrasing as necessary , will likely be updated in the future . )

it's always darkest before the dawn .

we will find new saints to be canonized .

holy water cannot help you now .

the horses are coming , so you'd better run .

i never felt so alive and so dead .

i'm damned if i do , i'm damned if i don't .

i've always been in love with you .

what has been done cannot be undone .

i don't care whether i live or die .

we will never be afraid again .

i feel nervous in a way that can't be named .

it was so far a fall , but it didn't hurt at all .

the saints can't help me now .

i want to find you and tear out all of your tenderness .

sooner or later , the things you love , you lose .

run fast for your mother , run fast for your father .

i like to think , at least , things can't get any worse .

i would give all this and heaven too .

i was in the darkness , so darkness i became .

all my stumbling phrases never amounted to anything worth this feeling .

in order to get to the heart of things , sometimes you have to cut through .

i'll be dead before the day is done .

time after time , i think "oh lord , what's the use ?"

the heart is hard to translate , it has a language of its own .

it was all so strange and so surreal .

i'm not here looking for absolution .

now and then , it seems that life is just too much .

be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers .

if you could only see the beast you've made of me .

pretty little face stopped me in my tracks .

i'm aching to attack .

you want a revelation , some kind of resolution .

it's so easy to say it to a crowd , but it's so hard to say it to you aloud .

i don't want your heart , it leaves me cold .

i am no mother , i am no bride , i am king .

she's a cruel mistress , and a bargain must be made .

well , me and my ghosts had a hell of a time .

with all my education i can't seem to command my heart .

it's a conversation i just can't have tonight .

you left me in the dark . no dawn , no day .

jesus christ , it hurts .

a woman is a changeling , always shifting shape .

the very thing you're best at is the thing that hurts the most .

i'll cut your little heart out 'cause you made me cry .

i knew that somehow , i could find my way back .

a thousand armies couldn't keep me out .

i'm ready to suffer and i'm ready to hope .

you've got the love i need to see me through .

is this how it is ? is this how it's always been ?

you keep me up at night .

oh , tell me it's not over yet .

no walls can keep me protected .

i'm going out , i'm gonna drink myself to death .

time goes quicker between the two of us .

would you leave me if i told you what i'd done ?

now , there's no holding back .

oh god , you're gonna get it .

you need your rotten heart and dazzling pain like diamond rings .

in the dark , i can hear your heartbeat .

i never knew my killer would be coming from within .

i was never as good as i always thought i was , but i knew how to dress it up .

don't forget me when i let the water take me .

this world is a beast of a burden .

you know i still like you the most .

what a thing to admit .

sometimes i think it's getting better , then it gets much worse .

i'm on fire , but i'm trying not to show it .

you are the space in my bed .

would you have it any other way ?

things go wrong , no matter what i do .

you make a fool of death with your beauty .

now she sleeps with one eye open , and that's the price she'll pay .

they were there when i woke up this morning .

heaven help me , i need to make it right .

until i wrap myself inside your arms , i cannot rest .

when someone looks at me with real love , i don't like it very much .

would you leave me if i told you what i've become ?

i'm always running from something .

it's good to be alive , crying into cereal at midnight .

okay , but let's discuss this at the hospital .

i know everybody lets you down , and i'll do the same .

your heart is the only place i can call home .

i wish to remain nameless , and live without shame .

sometimes i feel like saying "lord , i just don't care" .

i would put my words into poetry for you if i knew how .

if they ever let me out , i'm really gonna let it out .

but know , in some way , i'm there with you .

i've been wandering the streets for days .

don't let them get you down , you're the best thing i've ever seen .

how could anything bad ever happen to you ?

you couldn't have it any other way .

it's the only way i can escape .

what a place to come from .

little did you know your home's really only a town you're just a guest in .

run for your children , for your sisters and brothers .

you can't choose what stays and what fades away .

you'll be sorry that you messed with us .

call me when you need me .

although we stick together , it seems we're stranging each other .

this is as good a place to fall as any .

in your place there were a thousand other faces .

here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my rope .

lay me down , let the only sound be the overflow .

there's no salvation for me now .

i'd do anything to make you stay .

what's in a name ? i still remain the same .

i've been taking chances , i've been setting myself up for the fall .

tell me what you want me to say .

you are the silence in between what i thought and what i said .

i've been a fool , and i've been blind .

i never knew daylight could be so violent .

regrets collect like old friends , here to visit for your darkest moments .

so you packed your bags just to wait out the shitstorm ?

my doe , my dear , my darling ...

you're my head , you're my heart .

everyone lets you down in this brief hole of a town .

i'm not giving up , i'm just giving in .

i've been losing sleep , i've been keeping myself awake .

sometimes i feel like throwing my hands up in the air .

the only solution was to stand and fight .

i don't know how it started , don't know how to stop it .

i'm done with my graceless heart .

i can never leave the past behind .

do they speak to you ? 'cause they speak to me too .

i thought that love was a kind of emptiness .

it's hard to dance with a devil on your back .

sometimes i wonder if i should be medicated .

every demon wants his pound of flesh .

tell me what all the sighing's about .

could you tell from the moment we met ?

i heard your voice as clear as day ... you told me i should concentrate .

all my girls have their lace and their crimes .

i like to keep some things to myself .

no one asks any questions here .

the feeling comes so fast and i can't control it .

you came over me like some holy rite .

i was screaming out a language i had no idea existed before .

i thought that love was on stage , giving yourself away to strangers .

leave all your love and your longing behind , you can't carry it with you if you want to survive .

i thought that love was in the drugs , but the more i took the more it took away .

i never wanted anything from you , except everything you had and what's left after that too .

i don't want your future , i don't need your past . one grand moment is all i ask .

[tradgedyinwaves]

First Choice - Part 10

Part ten of this Poly141! x fat!reader tw: reader hurts her own feelings for a bit, Price is the tiniest bit toxic (like you gotta squint real fucking hard)

You were determined not to think of the four men who, at least for a weekend, made you feel like the center of their universe. It wasn’t like every little thing reminded you of one of them. How they had ingrained themselves so solidly into your head over the span of two days, you would never know. But it was a gnawing feeling. 

You’d wanted to listen to them explain it away, explain why they showed up to the gala you just happened to be at with these pretty little things on their arms. Or why only Johnny seemed to fight for you. 

But you were tired of excuses, tired of reasons why you weren’t good enough. It was just easier to be alone. It didn’t matter that your phone had been blowing up since you’d closed the door on them that night. It didn’t matter when your phone suddenly stopped vibrating against the couch one evening, a week out from that dreadful gala. 

Another week and there were no new messages. You supposed they finally got the idea that you didn’t want to see them (even if you were lying to yourself). 

Somewhere in the rainforest of South America, Task Force 141 sat around a small fire, each one grumbly and grumpy. They’d been sent out for a reconnaissance mission, gathering intel on some sex trafficker and now they were currently waiting for evac, one that wouldn’t come for another few hours with the way the storm above them was raging. 

“I just hope she read the messages. I’d hate for her to think we gave up,” Soap sighed, exasperated from not knowing if you had read them.

“When we get back, we’ll get her to listen. Explain everything,” Price drawled, making a grumbling sound in his chest as he adjusted in his seat against the bottom of a tree. 

“It’s not like we gave her any reason to listen to us,” Gaz reasoned, eating through his MRE for the night. Ghost stayed silent, whittling away at a piece of wood and tossing the scraps into the fire. “We spent a single weekend with her, only talked to her through texts for the rest of the week and then showed up with other women to a gala. It doesn’t matter if we knew what was going on, she didn’t because we didn’t explain.” 

They all sighed and nodded, each thinking on their own part in the misunderstanding. 

After three weeks, you had convinced yourself that you had forgotten them, left them in the past. After your phone had been quiet for a few days, you read through them all, letting yourself feel the pain of not listening to them before deleting them. The last message had come from John. 

“We’re going to be out of town for a few weeks and when we come back, you will let us explain.” 

It was very forward, blunt, like you had no choice in whether or not you would listen to them. You didn’t like that, being told what to do, but at this point, if they were still fighting for your attention when they came back…well, who were you to keep denying them? 

Which was why you found yourself at the same table you’d spent the first night with them at, nursing your second glass of whiskey as you waited for them to show. You’d arrived much too early, but had wanted to get a drink in you before you were forced into the impending conversation. 

They arrived five minutes before the set meeting time, each stopping by the bar to order their drinks before sliding into the booth. You sat at the back of the round booth, John directly to your left with Kyle on his other side and Ghost to your right, with Johnny on his other side (mainly in an effort to keep the more excitable man from crawling into your lap and begging you to forgive them). 

Looking up from your glass, your gaze turned to John as you raised a brow. It was a silent invitation for them to get on with it. The thing was, now that they sat there in front of you, they didn’t know how to say what they needed to. Except Ghost, apparently.

“We’re military, luv. We were deployed for a few weeks, hence the silence. But I - we know that isn’t why you’re upset. That gala…” You flinched slightly, not enjoying the reminder of the night. “We were undercover. Those women you saw with us, they’re other soldiers trained for those types of missions.” 

Your gaze had settled on the man, noting the lack of balaclava that was replaced with a black medical mask. It was the most of his face that you’d ever seen, silver and pink scars littering his face that you could see under the hood of his jacket. 

“We can’t say much more than that. But we do want you to know that our interest is genuine,” John continued for Ghost, finally finding his words. “We’d like to spend more time with you while we’re around. We will leave for deployments, sometimes they last months, and we know it isn’t fair to ask that of you. But if you’re willing to have us, we’d put in the effort and you’d never want for anything else.” 

They all were staring at you now. Ghost with a look of understanding, but also a sort of defeat already filtering in. John and Kyle managed to keep their faces neutral but they couldn’t stop the hopeful look in their eyes. Johnny had amazingly managed to stay quiet, but the look on his face was like an expectant dog, begging for a treat. 

You sighed, taking a long drink from your glass before setting it down on the coaster.

Next part is the last one. This took on a life of it's own and while I loved writing this little series, I think I'm going to focus on pairings of 3 or less people for a bit.

<- Part 9 Part 11 ->