Raptor

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.

Pornstar! Price who only gets rougher and meaner the more you two work together.

Your first scene was intense already, but when he saw that you were able to take it in only made him worse. He wanted to be the one that fucked you every time. Not his you get coworkers, not the ones that sat and gossiped about how good you were.

They were all talk no action and that was a known fact. They could talk the talk, but when it came down to the scenes none of them were able to keep up with you. It was boring and made you start to fall out of love with the whole studio.

Price wasn't gonna let you go anywhere though. He was gonna prove to both you and the little fucks he called his coworkers that you were only going to be working him for now on.

This was the last video of the day, you and him, a tabooer scene of him acting as your "father-in-law" who was teaching how to be oh so good for his son. He had you on his lap, big hands that were scarred from years of war now lifting you up with ease and pushing you down on his dick. Seven thick inches stretching you over and over till the point you were in tears.

"What's my name, doll?"

"Dadd- fuck- daddy please. Fucking me so good. Can't get enough of you."

"I know babydoll. Daddy is just so fuckin' deep in you. Cut that crying out, not gonna put up with it much longer baby."

His hand gripped your jaw making you look back at him directly in his eyes. A dark look was written all over his face, one that you couldn't make out exactly. Your cum was all over both his and your thighs leaving a sticky mess that made the sound of skin sound even louder.

"Just needed a real man to fuck you, not some little ass boy huh? Easy whore. couldn't wait to open your legs for me. Could you?"

That wasn't a part of the script, at least not that you could remember. It wasn't unheard of for him to go off script though so you could ignore it enough. He pulled out just enough to turn you around to face him completely. Mascara was smeared all of your eyes and cheeks, a dazed look in your eyes only making him more feral.

Within two seconds you were flipped on to your back with Price rutting into you. Your ankles dangled on each side of his head. An unexpected squeal fell from your lips making his smirk deepen. With one heavy thrust he was able to push every single inch within you.

"God- Oh my god! You're driving me crazy John."

A swift but soft slap was given to your face the moment his name fell from your lips.

"So close doll. How bout you show me some respect and call me my name. You remember, don't you? Cmon, call out for your daddy."

Your hips bucked trying to get away only for him to pin your plush thighs to your chest.

"Where you going baby? Hm? Tryna run from me already? Can take me so easy any other time. Just be good for me."

going stupid and and sloppy bc owner sounds so good, getting a slap and a yank

Living as Simon’s pet mutt, out in his cabin after retirement. He’d kidnapped you of course, and you’d been fighting every step of the way. Biting, smashing things, you’d broken the headboard he’d handcuffed you to and tried to smash his skull in at one point. You were wild, only eating sealed cans and bags he’d brought after many failed attempts to feed you.

He expected it the first few days, but a whole month? Simon hadn’t even been able to properly start training you as a mutt, too busy trying to make you stop trying to attack him every time he stepped in the room. It was tough, since he couldn’t just hit you- hurting your pets was wrong, after all. You just needed some positive and negative reinforcement, right?

Of course that meant shoving a vibrator inside you and handcuffing you to the wall. You’d woken up like this- pussy already wet from Simon’s careful work, a low vibration pulling you from your fitful slumber. When you’d started screaming and shouting and cursing, the vibrations suddenly became much more intense, to which you realized that he had a second vibrator strapped to your poor little cock as well.

You snarled and spit through three orgasms before you finally quieted, relief flooding through you when the vibrators slowed. When he came in to feed you and brush your teeth? You called him names and tried to kick- only faltering when the vibrators kicked on again. Making you heave and choke through another two orgasms, these leaving you trembling against your soaked bed. You’d let him hand feed you for the first time ever after, for once too exhausted to fight back.

Simon sat back, humming in delight at the improvement. Hand on his cock, slowly working it with the taste of your slick still in his mouth. Fuck, you tasted good- so far he’d only been able to taste you in the few hours you’d be knocked out- always snarling and shouting at him for being a sicko. Poor dumb puppy wasn’t calling him that now, exhausted eyes watching every twist of his hand instead.

“What? Puppy’s been bad, yet you still want a treat? Spoiled thing, you are,” he taunts you, and you grit your teeth- eyes filled with tears of frustration. Simon feels his cock throb in answer to your glare, finally- finally you were being sweet. Finally he had cracked you open, and got you to be that sweet puppy he saw before he took you in.

“Y’ gonna be a good boy and suck it for me then?” He asks breathlessly, laughing when you spit at him instead.

“Fuck.. you..” you wheeze out, only to yelp when he turned it on again.

“Wait- wait- Ghost-! Stop! Stop stop- I can’t- it hurts! I can’t take it-“ your yowls are music to his ears now, viciously close as you suddenly start building towards one last orgasm.

“Now pup, you know the rules by now. Bad dogs have to cum again, and again, and again- every time you’re bad, mm? Now c’mon, open your mouth so I can cum in it, lovie,” Simon sounds fucking demented, eyes wide as he shuffles closer. His hand is practically rubbing his dick raw now, but it’s worth it to see the look on your face as you try to concentrate on what’s worse- cum on your face or in your mouth.

Simon does the best option, making sure to wait until you howl in another earth shattering orgasm to shoot all over your face. In your mouth, on your cheeks and nose- your pretty eyelashes soaked with his spunk. It’s so cute, watching you writhe and cry, begging him to turn it off again.

Ghost is hardly a jealous man, he doesn't really care about things enough to be jealous.

Well, except for you.

You, and the bloke who's practically been attached at your arm for the past two weeks. You two talk like old friends, like you've known eachother for years. Ghost knows from eavesdropping that "me and him were always close, you know? Kind of impossible not to miss eachother after I had to move."

The thought of it makes ghost seethe. It's a startling feeling considering he's never felt so territorial over someone before. All ghost wants is a moment alone with you, just to talk, and everywhere he turns your boyfriend is there.

Well. He assumes boyfriend, with the lack of a ring. But it's impossible to know when ghost avoids him and by proxy you. The worst part? Ghost didn't realize he liked you until that dickhead came around.

"Oh, ghost! I've been meaning to catch you!" You smile when ghost finally breaks during lunch, boyfriend sat across from you at the table.

You gesture to him, missing the way ghosts hand pulls his balaclava just above his nose, "this is my—"

Ghost kisses you, both hands holding yout jae steady.

The whole mess hall goes dead silent, not that he'd care. He leans in further, having to bow down at the awkward position, licking into your mouth with a wet tongue. You can't help but melt into it a bit, ignoring the gasp from next to you.

When you finally pull away, ghost is blushing beneath the mask, your own face heated.

"This," you say, all smug and pleased as you point to the man ghost has genuinely considered killing, "...is my brother. He's visiting for the month.

....oh.

"Scenting us. Important thing for hybrids." Price had explained when soap first grumbles about how often you touched them.

Marking them as territory, as family, really. They don't understand how important it is for you, but none of them complain when you wake up sometimes and simply need to rub your cheek into their necks. Tail twitching softly, ears shifting in content. You do your best work when you can scent them frequently.

Of course, after so many months working together in close proximity, no one really argues with your cuddly nature. Gaz runs warm, your ideal heating pad for those cold meeting rooms, spending your time in his lap with your tail curled around hid ankle. Ghost, the best sniper of the team by far, never moves when you decide to nap on him. Price's office has the best sunspot, and he keeps the area open with some blankets purchased just for you. Soap doesn't mind PDA when you crawl on top of him in front of others, he loves feeling your deep purrs in his chest.

All of that is to say, you're constantly with at least one of them, basking in physical affection.

So it's strange when no one sees you all morning.

Usually you're trailing after one of your teammates before going about your morning scenting. Today...you're just...gone.

Price assumes you've finally made other friends, assures the team it's nothing. But by time lunch has rolled around and still no one's seen you? A search is started, each of them keeping the others updated.

With each passing moment the list of places you aren't keeps growing. You aren't in the barracks, your room, anyone's rooms. You aren't in the gym, pool, supply closets. You aren't on the roof or in the kitchen.

It's near dark when ghost finds you.

Tucked under various tools in the groundskeepes shed. You're sweaty, clammy. Sluggish. You squint up at ghost, lethargic, and let out a weak hiss. You look....horrible.

"Found 'em." He mutters into his comms. Ghost kneels down to press the back if his hand to your face, frowning deeply "the runts sick. Bad shape."

Which is how you end up back in your room, smothered under blankets with at least one of the guys at your sides at all times. Making sure you don't make a sixth escape attempt.

Maybe there's something to be said about his ability to identify you solely by your hands, the subtle and unique marks on them. Your hands wrapped around a silicone toy.

You. His fucking secretary. Advertising a new video on your private page, criminally undercharged if you ask him. Price glances at his locked office door, then back to the page on his phone. It's dark out, no one on base besides him and a handful of others who won't cross paths.

...he shouldn't.

It's irresponsible, immoral, and bound to get him in trouble when not if laswell finds out. But then you show off the squirting mechanism of the dildo and fuck it, price is too old to worry about consequences.

He pays for the full access, tells himself he's just supporting you when he scrolls to your latest video.

"Fuck! Mmhhh– ah!" Your moans fill the room, rough and ragged as you bounce on the toy. It's too easy to imagine his own cock sliding into you, making you gasp and groan on top of him.

You always use the same shampoo, a subtle scent he imagines now. The feeling of your palms against his chest, weight rocking him into the mattress.

Price cums embarrassingly fast, far sooner than he expected. He watches the rest of the video, of course, absently groping himself in the afterglow.

The sight of you popping off the toy and spilling an obscene amount if fake-cum has price clubbing up all over again. Christ, what he wouldn't do to be the one to fill you up. To touch you, to have you like that.

He spooks easily, and it's anyone's guess whether he'll react violently or simply leave an interaction. The constant battles, the military, roba, home. It turned ghost inside-out until he was all blood and sinew and hurt hurt hurt on the outside.

Ghost may play nice with a select few, but there's always a dynamic under every conversation, every touch. That ghost is the one in control, that they secretly fear him.

That is....except for you.

You took one look at ghost, sat stiff in the corner of the room for his post-mission med exam, and saw nothing but a wounded animal.

Other medics would have just cleared him without a glance at his person, some might have forced him to let them examine. You met him where he was at, sat only close enough you could study the subtle shifts of pain under his gear. You ask ghost to examine himself, guide him verbally on where to push or where to gauge his feeling.

He untenses halfway through, when you make no move to touch him. It takes twice as long with your method but...you care enough about his health to sit through it. You, a total stranger.

After that, ghost refuses to see any medic besides you. You colleagues bring you a blood-stained and deathly silent ghost and behind closed doors he melts into your soothing touch.

and like hit me when i mess up?

I have three general reasons why I would need a spanking.

1- I asked for one because I’m overwhelmed by everything.

2- I didn’t ask for one because I’m too overwhelmed to realize how overwhelmed I am.

3- I’ve done something that I should not have, or I did not do something that I should have; most likely because I was overwhelmed.