Sky Above, Voice Within

He talks about you constantly, his sweet angel that soon enough he'll have safe in his home. Price has always been one to fall too hard too fast, but even gaz can agree that something feels special about this time.

So, the team agrees to meet you.

Only for all of them to nearly choke or die when you come walking up to their table, practically hanging off price's arm.

Because each if them has slept with you.

Gaz has seen you spread out on his bedsheets, legs wrapped around his waist while you begged for just one more round. Soap has seen you in the back of his car, his knees aching from so long spent with his tongue between thighs. Ghost knows what you sound like choking on dick in the alleyway behind the local bar.

And now you sit next to their captain, and he's made it clear he wants to marry you.

When price steps away to get you a drink, you look them dead in the eyes and say "he fucks better than you and he's mature."

Yikes...

The man had his fixations: bones, bugs, dirt sometimes- he kept jars of it in his room, hidden under the bed for reasons he would not disclose. Wild life seemed to calm the man’s incessant anxiety, oddly enough. The rot, the violence and beauty intertwined in the forest. Humans tried to sanitize their existence, pretend they didn’t murder and fuck and shit themselves. The forest did no such thing- was upfront about its violence, its depravity.

Simon liked stuff like that, only ever had stuff like that.

So you never thought he’d actually keep the little skunk stuffie you’d gotten him. Just a 99 cent little beanie baby, black and white just like all his masks and clothes. You’d given it to him after a small shopping spree to the local thrift store, laughed about how he stunk just like it when you handed him the toy. It barely sat in his massive palm, the man staring down at it before stuffing it into his pocket with a grumble of something you couldn’t understand.

You couldn’t quite believe your eyes four months later, when you popped into his quarters in the night. Only there to grab some of his reports you’d forgotten, just to see the man actually sleeping for once- little skunk stuffie gripped tightly in his fist, the fabric of its tiny head pressed up against his face as he slept.

It was.. sweet. He still had that balaclava on, safe and tucked away in his own world. You debated taking a picture, before glancing at the shot gun next to his bed and deciding against it.

You hug Ghost extra tight the next day though, burrowing into his chest to hide your giddiness as he clutched onto your back. Massive hands gripping your shirt tightly, like he never wanted to let go- but couldn’t bring himself to cling to your actual body itself. Huffing your hair, rubbing his masked face against the top of your head like a weird cat.

"Hold on, lovie," Ghost's been working you open for what felt like hours, one arm braced next to your head and the other pumping three fingers into your hole.

Only after you had begun mewling and scratching at his bicep did he sit back and notch his tip against your entrance.

"Fuck, okay." Ghost inhales, eyes heavy with lust. The muscles under his skin coiled tight and ready to pounce. "Deep breath, biiiig stretch–"

Ghost times his thrust with his words, carefully drawn out. Like he's keeping himself in pace when all he wants to do is shove in and ravage you. The thick head of his cock nudging so deep you almost try to get away from it–

"No, you can handle it—" hot hands on your waist, pulling you down.

They squeeze tight for only a moment then fly up to grip the headboard instead. The wood creaks under his strength. Ghost shudders above you, cock twitching while he groans. "You can take it love, just be good, yeah? Mghh okay, nice and slow–"

As if ghost isn't just trying to keep himself in check. Remind himself that you're not some toy and he could easily break you. He just needs to take it slow, let you warm up, even if he wants nothing more than to hold you tight and fill you with cum.

Not like you make it easy, thrashing under him like a trapped animal. Mouth open in pleasure and hips working in small circles. Ghost wants to grind you between his teeth, wants to keep you all to himself, wants to have you like no one else can.

"Okay, it's okay, just hold on–" he grunts, head dipping down until his lips brush the thin skin of your neck. He presses a kiss to the junction instead of teeth.

Feels you come apart under him, clenching tight, legs shaking. He has to grind his teeth to stop from losing control, practically growling above you while his cock jerks and spills into the condom.

"Good job, lad." Ghost knocks his tip forehead against yours before making a swift retreat to grab a towel.

Something about feeding the ones he loves, about keeping them nourished and alive. He used to cook with his ma, dented cans and store-brand pasta. Despite how his ma hated it, simon would often give his lunch to the kid at his table who never had any.

Maybe that's why he notices you, the intern of some mechanic on base.

You, who always carries around a lunch box, but never actually eats anything. In fact, when ghost got the chance to look inside, it only held water bottles.

At first he thought it was a situation better handled by kyle but he noticed how you'd scarf down any food given to you. The same way he sometimes does and– oh.

Doing some digging, ghost learns interns are paid like shit.

"This is for you." A lunchbox slams down on your little table in the corner of the shop. You flinch, then look up to see the ghost nearly glaring down at you.

He crosses his arms "open it. Eat."

You remember the blood-splattered engine of the car you helped repair last week, your boss explained exactly what to expect from ghost. Oh shit, did you mess it up somehow? Is this how you die?

Ghost doesn't move. You slowly unzip the box.

The smell hits you first, absolutely delicious ham with rice, some grilled veggies on the side. Did he just make this?

Ghost hasn't moved from his position. He tilts his head, as if daring you to tell him no "yer not allergic to anything, I read your med file. If you want something else say it."

What.

Tentatively, mentally saying goodbye to your shitty job and your old ass car, you take a bite.

Flavor explodes across your tongue, warm and delicious and actually filling. You hardly take a moment to breath before shoving down the next bite, and the bite after that. Somewhere between one thought and the next you've completed cleared the dish.

Only then do you look at ghost and realize that squint to his eye is a smile under the mask.

"Good. Meet me in my office tomorrow, we'll need to discuss what foods you like." He nods, takes back the box and just...leaves.

People are used to you butting into soaps conversations just to make him hold your hands, enjoying the warmth in the middle of winter. Or seeing you two cuddled in a far too public space, you practically zipped up in just jacket to trap the body heat.

"My personal space heater," you tell him, hands cupping his face and cooing lovingly when you snuggle into the bed that's already warmed by johnny. "What would i do without you?"

"Ach, you couldn't shake me if you tried!" Soap laughs, pulls you into bed and unceremoniously flops down on top of you. By the end of the night you'll be sweaty from the heat, but right now it'd nothing short of comforting.

When soap doesn't come back from the tunnel, you're not sure what to do with yourself.

"I miss you, johnny." You tell the frame that sits on your nightstand. His jacket warmed by the dryer, heat seeping into the cold bed until all you feel is the bite of the winter.

Those long cold nights spent in bed, the winters without him.

People whisper about you when they think you aren't looking. They whisper about the man who's more ice than person, don't try to get close to him unless you want to freeze too.

You shower with the water set to cold, and not one of your teammates comment on it. You wear johnnys tags over your heart, the cold metal pressing against your sternum.

Ghost narrows his eyes, glances away in a grimace "the fock is this coming from?"

"I never say it when I should." You reply, thumbs rubbing gentle circles right below the corners of his eyes. Your face is open and slack in that 'too drunk to lie' way that you get, "you're beautiful, simon. Like. Really."

"You're drunk." Ghost grunts, prying your hands off his face and pointedly moving your wine glass out of reach. The movie continues to play, ignored when you frown.

"It's the truth, though. You're really good looking." It's true. You spend hours admiring ghost, the hook of his nose, that subtle blush and stupid tan line. His scars and pretty hair. The flush to ghosts cheeks deepen, so you continue. "not in the scarred way, or the dangerous way. Not in spite of. Just...Handsome."

"You think that all the time?" A blanket drapes around you, ghost pulling you into his lap.

"Yep. Love you lots, simon." Too easy with your words, you don't think much of it before cuddling into his chest.

Ghost doesn't say anything.

You're supposed to be casual. He should have get all caught up over some drunk rambling.

Weehhh doughbabies🥺 here's a doodle inspired by [ghosts baby using his mask as a blankie]

He questions you extensively about your nest preferences, asks to see photos of your previous nests, keeps a notebook of possible materials for you. Price may be a bit old school, he thinks it's an alphas job to provide his omega with the best possible nest.

Every so often, a new blanket or pair of clothes gets added to his den to soak up his scent. It's important he always has fresh den items for you to choose from, after all.

He spends hours cuddling with you in his den, rumbling all happy to make sure the materials only smell like good memories. To price, a healthy nest is a sign of a strong relationship.

So it drive him absolutely mad that you have zero interest in building a nest!!

You tried to explain that it's just a generational gap thing, that many omegas your age don't nest like that.

Because really, all you want it that hoodie he always wears. It's thick and light, reeks of all of your alpha. You can wear it anywhere and sink into that warm safe space, always have his comfort with you.

Lazy days on leave spent in the too-big bed kyle impulsively bought one drunken night, warm under fluffy blankets and cozy pajamas. Kyle at your back, one arm curled into your waist and keeping you tucked against him, the other tangled in soaps hair.

Soaps already awake, but he silently scrolls on his phone, basking in the total silence. The safety of it all. Your face nuzzled against his furry chest. No one really wants to move so no one does.

Giant of a man, thick muscles underneath the same black compression shirt he always wears off-base. The few times gaz can convince him to grab a drink or two at the bar, he's always being approached.

This time is no different when you spot him and gaz. Christ, they look good. Military, obviously, tall and strong and dangerous.

"Ever taken anyone to Paris, sir?" You grin, bat your lashes in the way you know men like when you glance between him and gaz.

"...killed a few politicians there." Ghost grunts into his drink, completely missing the look gaz shoots him.

"What."

"Screamed like hell." He gets this giddy little smile on his face, twisting the scar tissue. Next to him, gaz wondering what the point of trying to find a third is if this is how ghost acts. "Before I cut the tongues out, of course."

"No. Absolutely not."

"It's a must, just two months, that's all we need." Laswell states. She doesn't leave room for argument, only allowing you to a moment to look back at the outline. She nods to price sat next to you with an identical folder "You and captain price will be working undercover. You've both led successful undercover missions in the past."

"Yeah, separately!!" You hiss, then remember yourself at the unamused raise of laswells brow. Calmer, to add "I'm young enough to be his kid, no way anyone believes we're married."

Price coughs into his fist, adjusts his seating with a chuckle "quite the contrary, sergeant. Men my age tend to have a certain...preference."

"Sir. That's...whatever." you groan, you didn't need to know that about your captain. Another skim at the file, and tapping your boots against wooden floor and mentally debating the consequences of refusal because "Seriously? A house? One bedroom? This is undercover not play pretend."

"You're expected to invite some figures of interest over," laswell slides over another file, price opening it to pull out fake ids and passports "you need to play the part convincingly."

The thought of sharing a bed with your captain...of pretending to be all domestic with him. You want to hate it, and you want to hate that thrill up your spine even more.

"C'mon love, just for a few weeks," price grins, all teasing in the way the he gets when he's lauding his experience over yours "think you can behave yourself that long?"

"....fine." you relent, knowing damn well refusal is never an option anyways.

it freaks you out to the point where you ask johnny to stay the night, your nerves running you ragged because what if this guy tries to break in after johnny leaves? it’s only natural that he calms you down with soft kisses and gentle sex

simon only leaves his place in the alley after he gets a text from johnny, a photo of your head on his chest, fast asleep and his fingers running through your hair

a few seconds later another picture comes through, a pair of frilly panties with a damp crotch

The sanctuary workers assume it will be fine, ghost has never been aggressive towards other mers, only the occasional staff member. You should get along well...right?

Except ghost takes one look at you, much smaller than he is with your external gills and makes the logical conclusion that you're a weird mer pup.

Now this strange new mer won't leave you alone, always circling around you and trying to curl over you when you sleep. He keeps calling for a pup even though there's clearly not one in the tank! Though...him bringing you food so often is nice...maybe you like him.

The workers, on the other hand, are coming to loathe ghost for the simple fact he refuses to let any of them near you. His instincts tell him to keep the pup safe after all, it doesn't matter of the pup is his or not!

War.

There has been a war your whole life, in one way or another. Some hotshot Lord thinking he can usurp the King. A rival kingdom getting a little too close to the borders. Settling an old score with a country that keeps pushing buttons.

So it shouldn't be a surprise when you walk into the courtyard to find your King in his armor. It's a thing of beauty, and terror, to see him sitting on his horse with his three loyal men at his side. All of them gleam in the sun as they wait for the rest of the guard to gather.

"....what the fock was tha'?" Ghost freezes above you mid-thrust. Forearm braced above your head, breath hot against the curve of your neck.

Ghost is the space between a pulled trigger and the target it hits, the breathe of every soldier on a battle field. You should know nothing gets past him. You whine, low and needy and intentional, squeeze around his cock and push at his chest "c'mon si...why did you stop?"

Ghost narrows his eyes, fully sits up until he's resting on his heels, arms crossed and thighs keeping your legs spread open. "Stop that. Fuckin– stop it."

You twist in the sheets like a trapped animal, try to entice him to keep moving. Using all those tricks because you know he likes it from the way his cock twitches—

"I. Said. Stop." Two large hands pin you down, and when you finally meet ghost's eyes he looks furious "thought I wouldn't notice that fake shit? Fuckin' mocking me?"

Your stomach twists when he thrusts in, slow and deep, studying your every expression. "You think i can't make you scream? Can't please you?"

"You do! Si– you do please me–" you try to plead, clenching tight at the next thrust. "It's not because of that! You feel good, I promise–"

"Then what? Huh?" Another, deeper thrust that has your mind nearly shutting off from pleasure. His whole body rolls into it, more consciously putting on a performance for you now.

"It's...I...I don't make noise, si. I'm not loud." You whisper, face pinched. "I didn't want you to think I'm not enjoying it..."

For a moment, ghost just stares at you.

He lowers himself down, muscles moving under skin like a predator stalking prey. Full of potential to ruin you. His arms cage you in until all you can focus on is ghost.

"I want to hear you. Got it? Don't care what it sounds like so long as 's you." He grumbles, really settles his weight back into you.

Tentatively, you nod.

"Good. See? Wasn't so hard, now was it?" He pulls nearly all the way out, tucks back into your neck, and fucks you like he's trying to prove a point.

Quiet gasps, small whimpers and nothing more falls from your lips. Your orgasm is silent only in voice when you rake your hands along his back hard enough to break skin. When you have to bite into his shoulder after the second.

You love johnny, your roomate and maybe–boyfriend, and you love watching him enjoy himself. Mostly that means him spending four hours straight soldering...something, or watching a show with him on the couch.

Sometimes it also means this.

"Fuck— fuck, thank you—" soap whines into your neck, desperately grinding against your thigh on the couch. Absently, you play with the remote for the vibe in his ass, splitting your attention with the movie on screen.

"You're cute like this," you tell him, turning the vibe to the highest setting to watch him gasp and jerk. "Yknow, I saw someone strap a wand to a boot online yesterday. Seems like your kind of thing."

"Mmmhhh!! Please, please– I'd make it if you let me—" soap tries to bargain, fucked out and dizzy at the thought of it. Despite what others may assume, soap is embarrassingly easy to please without taking your clothes off.

He never once pressured you to do anything with him, and it took him months to make the connection between you not wanting "proper" sex to you being ace. Maybe that's why you feel so comfortable now, doing these things with him knowing it's never a precursor for more.

"Yes–! Mhhh yes, thank you, love you–!" Ah. He came.

You leave the vibe on until he starts squirming uncomfortably, only turning it off to laugh "were you serious about the boot? I think you'd look nice on your knees for me."