⚠18+ [Sexual] Themes, [Simon 'Ghost' Riley × Male Reader]
Minors, Ageless/Blank Blogs DNI
﹂Contains: a/b/o au, omega!Simon, alpha!male reader, fingering, protected sex, mating press, knotting, implied breeding/baby trapping(?), hinted fluff at the end
Before Simon knows it, he's on top of you. Hands touching you all over to feel your skin beneath his rough palms, calloused fingertips. Face nuzzling into your neck to get a whiff of the musky smell of pinewood and something uniquely you.
The intoxicatingly sweet aroma he gives off makes you dizzy. It's clear that he's going through heat. As much as you try to push him off, it's a losing battle. He whines and whimpers, uncharacteristically so, when you do.
Quick to straddle your hips and locking his arms around your neck. "I want this...please." Simon's admittance doesn't fall on deaf ears. You look at him tentatively as if asking if he's absolutely sure that this is what he wants.
All he does in response is nod curtly— nipping at your bottom lip, silently pleading for a kiss from you. To let your hands roam and make him feel something other the overwhelming heat plaguing his body.
With deft fingers you work him open with some lube you had stashed away. Mewls and low moans resound from him as he practically rides your fingers, taking them as deep as possible.
Every part of him exudes desperation, a need to be taken care of and pampered like he rightfully should. His face stays in place against the curve of your neck, the smell of you alone is enough to get him on edge but he resists. He wants this to be memorable, he's not here for a quick fix.
He quickly grows impatient when your fingers aren't nearly enough for him. "'nough of that," he mutters before lifting himself off your fingers, leaving him achingly empty.
Simon lays back and spread his legs apart, the lustful glint in his eyes almost challenging you to make him wait longer. But he wouldn't have any of that, instead he uses his fingers to spread open his wet heat. His slick, dripping entrance making a mess on the sheets below— a sinful sight to say the least.
You needn't an invitation or any further prompting from him, aligning yourself after rolling on a rubber, teasing the tip against the puffy entrance. He almost snaps at you hurry but it's quickly snuffed out by a drawn out moan, the flared head breaching just right —rubbing in all the right places as you slowly push inch by delicious inch.
It was only a matter of time for him to get adjusted —to signal you to start moving. With a slight shift of his hips to test the waters, the initial stretch gave into pulses of pleasure. Making him pant and writhe in a desperate bid for friction.
Before he knew it, his knees were held up to his shoulders— body folded and pressed down against the creaking mattress. He can feel every ridge and throb of your cock buried within his clutching heat.
The swell of your knot catching onto the rim just right with each roll of your hips. At this rate you could potentially knock him up, if you hadn't put on the condom.
The thought alone has Simon mewling out louder, grunts dissipating into wails and choked sobs. He's so sensitive and full to the brim, a mess of a man he is.
Steady tears prick at the corners of his eyes, rolling down the sides of his face like the drool from his mouth. This feels so much better than he had imagined.
He wouldn't be against the idea of bearing your pups, starting a family with you later on after retirement. With a house in the countryside where the air is clean and fresh, a white picket fence with a dog or two. Now that sounds like a dream.
summary: behind closed doors, simon isn't the hardened soldier everyone assumes—he's soft for you, utterly pliant beneath you, content to let you take whatever you want from him.
cw: fem!reader, riding, soft bottom!simon, praise, mild teasing.
wc: 862
note: sorry this took so long. twas a bit busy this week, i fear.
People assumed Simon Riley was always the one in control. His presence alone commanded it—the broad frame, the intimidating quiet, the sharp cut of his words. No one in their right mind would believe he ever let anyone else take the lead.
And yet, here he was.
Splayed out on the couch, head tipped back against the cushions, half-lidded gaze heavy with something thick and dazed as he watched you sink down onto him. His hands rested on your hips, fingers twitching like he was holding himself back from gripping too tight, from guiding your movements.
He wanted to. You knew he did. But Simon never took unless you let him.
“Christ,” he muttered, voice already wrecked, his head tipping forward so his forehead nearly brushed your collarbone.
You exhaled a slow, shaky breath, taking a moment to just feel him—thick and heavy inside you, stretching you open inch by inch, filling you perfectly. Your hands smoothed over the broad plane of his chest, feeling the way it rose and fell beneath your touch.
“You okay?” you murmured, rolling your hips experimentally, relishing the way he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.
His hands flexed against your hips. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, just—fuck. You feel good.”
You hummed, a smug little smile tugging at your lips. “I know.”
A quiet huff of laughter rumbled through his chest, but it dissolved into a low groan when you lifted yourself just slightly before sinking back down again, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.
Simon all but melted beneath you, his hands tightening against your hips, guiding but still not leading, letting you take whatever you wanted from him.
“You’re so good to me,” he murmured, breath warm against your throat. “So fuckin’ perfect.”
Your heart swelled at the reverence in his voice, at how utterly gone he sounded. You cupped his jaw, tilting his face up so you could press a lingering kiss to his mouth. “Only for you,” you whispered against his lips.
A low, desperate sound rumbled in his throat, and then his hands were sliding up your back, pressing you closer until your chest was flush against his. His lips trailed along the curve of your jaw, your throat, teeth scraping lightly before his tongue soothed over the same spot.
The slow, deliberate pace was maddening, the steady drag of him inside you, the warmth of his breath against your skin, the way his hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you most.
“Simon,” you murmured, voice breathy as you shifted, planting your knees more firmly against the couch cushions for leverage.
He hummed, eyes fluttering open to meet yours, dazed and hazy with pleasure.
“Touch me,” you pleaded, and that was all it took for whatever restraint he had left to snap.
A deep groan rumbled in his chest as his hands slid down to your ass, gripping firmly as he helped guide your movements, lifting you just enough before pulling you back down onto him, forcing him deeper.
You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, pace picking up as you rocked against him faster, chasing that molten heat coiling low in your stomach.
Simon was unraveling beneath you, his breath coming in short, uneven puffs, his grip tightening like he was barely holding himself together. His head tipped forward, burying between your breasts, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the swell of them, teeth grazing before he sucked lightly, leaving faint marks against your skin.
“Fuck,” he groaned, voice barely more than a rasp. “M’close.”
“Me too,” you breathed, rolling your hips just right, angling so the thick drag of him hit that perfect spot inside you, making pleasure spark white-hot through your veins.
Simon was a mess beneath you, hands gripping desperately, breath ragged, murmuring a litany of praises against your skin.
“That’s it, love,” he panted. “You’re fuckin’ perfect—feel so good, so fuckin’ good—“
His words sent a sharp pulse of heat straight to your core, and then you were falling apart, pleasure washing over you in a dizzying wave. Your back arched, nails raking down his chest as you gasped his name, body trembling with the force of your release.
Simon wasn’t far behind. The moment your walls fluttered around him, pulsing and squeezing tight, his breath hitched, and then he was gone—gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a broken moan muffled against your chest.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh, uneven pants of your breathing, the faint rustle of the couch cushions beneath you as you slumped forward against him.
Simon was the first to break the silence, a quiet, breathless chuckle vibrating against your skin. “Y’tryin’ to kill me, love?”
You grinned, pressing a lazy kiss to the top of his head. “Maybe. But what a way to go, huh?”
His chest rumbled with laughter, and then he was wrapping his arms around you, holding you close, perfectly content to stay just like this for as long as you’d let him.
Feline hybrids Ghost and reader in heat, but they don't gotta worry about that because Soap is a shark hybrid and they both can ride him at the same time. Bonus points if reader is also a lieutenant (because Soap is a freak and i'm suru he'd like powerplay ngl) idk if ghost would need to be ftm to justify him being in *heat* tbh
—🍬
ughhhhh the ghussy is so good
CW: afab ghost, afab reader, sex
johnny opened the door to your room, stopping mid-sentence when he saw the conditions you and simon were in
you were grinding on each others thighs, needy clawing at the others soft body and making out, wet and messy kisses, loud whines and whimpers as you desperately try to satisfy each other
you’re distracted by johnny, his voice having both pairs of ears perking up at the deep sound of it, your sharp gazes turning to him and he’s stuck in the doorway
simon stands up, unsteady on his legs as he stumbles over to johnny, grabbing his arm and pulling to your bed, whining about needing a big cock to fill their holes cause “it hurts johnny!”
johnny has the two of you laying on your backs, thick rough digits fingering your weeping cunts, and it has your hips squirming, you and simon holding hands and making out
when johnny says you two are ready he moves you, grabbing your body and lifting it to lay on top of simon, chest to chest, making sure that your cunts are right on top of each other
you grind your hips down on simon, trying to get friction on your clits, until johnny pushes his cocks against your holes, and you stop squirming, loud whimpers filling the room
you and simon are filled up quickly, the wetness in your pussies aiding the slide as johnny thrusts in, cocks so long and thick, you two feel like you’re being spread open
the scot picks up a quick pace relatively fast, hips thrusting in and out of you two in smooth movements, the position and shoving has your cunts grinding on each other, and it feels so good you and simon can’t help but cum, orgasms having you both cry out, cunts clenching around johnny’s cocks
luckily, he can go multiple rounds, because you and simon keep begging to be fucked until you can’t feel your legs or speak coherently anymore, brains fuzzy and limp bodies, johnny getting his fill of power play after fucking out his two lieutenants
Simon and a dude who is soft and plush, has some curve to his hips, meat in his thighs, and some fluff at his belly. But underneath that, is good, sturdy muscles.
Maybe his boyfriend is a farmer. Hard manual work, hauling hay, wrangling cows and horses, all that work builds muscle, and Simon is not used to someone shorter than him being almost as strong as him.
This is just a long post to say I want Simon Riley to be thrown around like a rag doll by a burly trans man, than fucked to paradise with a strap.
drabble / thirst ─ bartender!ftm!ghost x gn!reader, reader implied to have a dick, can be read as strap. MENU? ftm character, ftm ghost, subbot! ghost, domtop reader, drugging (?), aphrodisiac, slightly dubious / dub-con, ghost is fucked in the head, semi-public sex, slut-shaming, degrading, size difference
now playing.. SATIVA. JHENÉ AIKO & SWAE LEE
notes ,, my job has been kicking my ass sideways and so is uni so bare with me not beta-read.
FEM ALIGNED, MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DNI.
simon riley, a bartender at your local club. always wearing a balaclava, hiding his face from view. the only thing you can see are his pretty eyelashes and his dark eyes, when you sit down on the chair he can't help but stare. you're much bigger than him, he knows that for sure and it has him squeezing his thighs together. he walks up to you, asking what you want and when you answer with an 'old fashioned' he responds.
"good choice." is all he says, you assume its because he likes bourbon just as much as you like it.
simon riley who watches you down your drink in one go, you can't see it with the balaclava covering his face but the side of his lips twitch into a smile, perhaps the perks of being a bartender and seeing a customer he likes can be that he could serve them anything. you don't even second guess it when he asks if you want a refill, on the house.
simon riley who pretends to ask if you're okay, after seeing how hazy you are. he knows what he's done to you, he knows he's drugged your drink on purpose. he listens to your response, your words are slurred and at the end of every word you say, there's a breathy drag on from the last word.
simon riley who smirks to himself when he helps you to the club's bathrooms when you say you don't feel too well, under the facade of being a "good citizen."
simon riley who almost squeals when you pin him down onto the sink counter, your out of breath and panting, it's too hot for you to think and somehow, somehow that ended up with you fucking the bartender's cunt.
"f-fuck! mmngh.. t-that's it.. more!"
"you- fucking drugged my shit didn't you? you fucking slut."
simon doesn't respond, well he does in a squeal when your hand goes down to pinch at his clit, moaning loudly. he couldn't care less if anyone heard him moan, he'll let the whole club know how well some guy is dicking him down.
your cock feels way too good inside his cunt, there's a wet slap every time you pull out and then thrust your dick back into him, with how simon is he's almost like a leaky faucet over your dick. creaming around your cock when he feels you somehow, push your dick even further. flush against his sweet spot.
maybe the heats getting to him too, or maybe your making him drunk off your dick, 'cause he's grinding his hips back, too lost in pleasure to think about anything other than the massive cock in him, there's tears in his eyes and you only grin at the sight. grabbing his neck, you force him to look at the dirty bathroom mirror, forcing him to watch you piston your dick in and out of his sloppy cunt.
"..fuck, bartender? you should be a fucking.. prostitute instead.""mmngh! y-yes, f-f'r you-!"
he's creaming on your cock soon after, groaning when you pull out and start slapping his clit 'nd folds with your cock while you cum all over his pussy. he's dripping, in a mix of your cum and his own juices, slumped against the mirror.
"you think we're done? you fucking caused this, slut."
i dont like writing not really but damn if i dont love reading whatg i wrote
John x Ghost
Confident fat reader
john is a voyeour
ghost likes to used
Imagine Ghost and Price left behind at the table while the rest chase some ass at the bar.
John becauses he's too tired old to deal with peacocking for any local hens and Ghost because...
Well he's Ghost.
John doesnt think the man'd know what to do with a woman if they came sniffing around.
With the way Soap and him eye each other after sparring he's betting on it being a willful ignorance.
So there they sit staring off into space in comfortable silence. Ghost peeling the label off his still full beer and John counting down the minutes til he can bugger off
He'd seen you enter with your friends all dressed to the nines in varying degrees of plastered.
You clearly annoyed with the shabby bar rolled your eyes as the woman you bore a striking resemblance to you and wearing a 'Happy Birthday' crown waved her arms around as you hum at her ignoring her as you look around for something worth saving the night.
He can see the moment you spied his lieutenant, Ghost. Your back straightened and your head tilted.
Ghost aware of the eyes on him looks up.
John keeps observing you even as your pretty eyes slip from the silent man to him, his hand moves to the back of Ghosts chair and he lifts his whiskey glass in greeting.
To his surprise a devious smile breaks out of your once bored face.
You walk over leaving your friends at the bar to mingle and chug drink after drink one of them even finds Gaz.
Big hips sway, massive boobs bounce with your steps John keeps his eyes from roaming like a gentleman his ma raised but he knows Ghost doesn't.
Never cared for following societal niceties like that. Especially ones that kept him from eyeing a rack like yours.
Dressed way too nice for the cheap dive you're all in, deep blue velvet wrap around your big hips the line of the fabric goes up splitting in a deep neckline that shows off smooth skin.
A vision if Johns ever seen one.
He leans back in his chair, legs spread underneath the small black table he ignores his knee touching Ghosts leg. He doesn't move it either.
A smile fake in its niceness but full of danger greets the military men. You give them your name flippant as you tell them about the dozens of bars you've been to tonight cause your older sisters a slut for a good moscow.
"I prefer mocktails" You shrug laughing when John likens you to a baby.
Ghost stays silent but somehow John know syou hear his smile as well.
You step closer, a weaker man would lean into your space maybe even grab one of those pretty hands and kiss it, John only leans his head a minute closer and sniffs deeper than necessary and calls himself strong.
"The quiet one he up for sale oooooor" You boldly ask Price. Manicured nails point primly to the amused masked man but your attentions on him.
John eyes you pulling his cigar out his shirt pocket. "Ask him." John shrugs, lucky bastard he thought biting his cigar to creep out the envy.
Of which one he wonders moving his eyes between you.
What a sight you two will be. Unyielding muscle and soft fat molding into one.
"I just assumed the way he's mouthin at your tip" You motion your finger between the two muscular men "I needed permission."
You lift an eyebrow delicately at Johns sputtering.
John huffs in disbelief, a smile his on his lips though not as playful as before and he opens his mouth.
Ghost cuts him off "You do."
Simon (and he might as well call him Simon now) looks over to him his eyes squint.
Your smile curls even more, circling your head to show off your pretty neck you gracefully sink into the open seat next to John.
Your subtle perfume takes over his noses he doesn't need to inhale to catch the notes of lavender but he does so anyway.
Who were you trying to seduce again? John wonders. But with the weight he can feel at his back and the heat of Simons excited breath.
It clearly was working.
You pout mirth filling your eyes, pressing your big chest into his muscled arm. "Well sir?"
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If the night ends in you riding his lieutenant till those pretty blue brown eyes shimmer with tears while John fists his cock in the hotel chair next to the bed.
well that's just for the three of you.(And Soap if he deserves a treat later;)
Summary: Alphas are the victims of society's hierarchy. Ghost finds the medic of his team in a building and in heat.
Word count: 2129 words
Distant noises of men screaming and shouting were piercing through your brain while continuous explosions almost deafened your ears. You tried to urge your brain to work on recalling what the hell was going on at this very moment, but it was inundated with too many noises for analyzing to make room for another matter. Helplessly, you turned to your body, internally screaming for it to function as you found yourself unable to open your eyes, move your arms, or open your mouth. On top of that, you can feel your whole body burning uncomfortably as if you’re put on a cross and burnt alive like the Omega ‘witches’ in medieval times, and the burn feels the worst in your stomach.
Your heat arrives. Worst, it arrives in the middle of a gruesome battle, and you are the only medic alive on your team.
“Fuck.” You mumble. It won’t be too bad if you have your emergency kit containing scent suppressants with you like always, but during the ambush earlier, you dropped it while running for your life. If your enemy finds that kit, they’ll know there is an Alpha somewhere on this battlefield.
That won’t be of the gravest concern for you right now. Because you are in heat, your scent will soon flood this whole compound, and any Omegas that can sense it will blow this place up and search every corner to find you. A weak, lonely, delicious, and especially rare Alpha. It’s scary to even think about what will happen when they find you. Given that only 2,9% of the population now are Alphas, and most Omegas are likely to live their lives without experiencing Alpha scents and intercourse with Alphas until their very death, once you are found, you’ll never be found again. You’ll be kept in a cage, whether it is a room in a military base, a luxurious mansion, or a literal cage, and your only job from then on is to be a pretty little thing for the Omegas to cherish and sexualize.
“I have to think of something…” You mumble to yourself again. But what thing? Without scent suppressants, the Omegas will soon locate you and ‘eat you alive’.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoes on the first floor of the building whose second floor you’re hiding in. Who is this? You ask yourself. Are they on your side or on the enemy’s side? Either way, if you don’t think of an escape plan right now, your life as a free individual will end abruptly.
You look outside the window of the room, looking down at the ground below.
“Too high…” Even if you escape from this building, your legs probably won’t be good enough to run from potential predators later.
Much to your horror, you can no longer hear any sound anymore. The sound of the heavy boots just earlier appears to vanish into thin air, since now the only noises your fuzzy head under the influence of the heat can make out of are from gun fires, explosions, and screaming. Where does that person go? The inability to locate the potential enemy and the fear of losing freedom forever, subjected to hungry men’s wishes, makes the burning in your brain and stomach worsens, scared of your own active imagination.
“Doc?”
You jump. It’s a familiar voice, belonging to the person whom even in the middle of a crowd you can always recognize.
“L.t…” You mutter, turning your head back to what is supposed to be the door of this room in this dilapidated building. Ghost is standing there. His expression is hard to tell as always because of his skull mask, but you can easily guess his eyes are widened in surprise.
“You- you are an Alpha???” The massive man exclaims. It’s a piece of information that renders even the most unimpressionable man like Ghost speechless.
*****
Since the first record of humanity on Earth, there have been three genders: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. At the beginning of mankind, according to prehistoric parietal art, drawings on vessels, bowls, or potteries, and earliest writings, Alphas were described as the dominant individuals of the communities, leaders and decision makers of all trades, and the biggest contributors to growth and advancement in every field of the early societies. Betas and Omegas were by no means members of no use, but their roles were rather more passive and behind the scene, and when outright wars threatened, it was the Alphas that were powerful enough to withstand successive tortuous days of fighting and sustaining horrendous injuries. Portraits of Alphas were often men of tall and muscular build and in powerful poses, such as riding on horses with weapons in hands, or standing before a throne and overlooking a kingdom. Archaeological evidence suggested that during the early time, Alphas, Betas, and Omegas lived in harmony and each gender had specific roles to play in society, as Alphas–the gender bestowed with physical advantages–were in charge of diplomatic activities which also included wars; Omegas, with their slender frames, delicate hands, and exceptional reproductive abilities, were creators of the majority of arts, as well as the housekeepers responsible for educating offspring; Betas, who seemed to be the most “ordinary” of all since they were without any exceptional traits, would do anything necessary that Alphas and Omegas didn’t have the time for to keep the society function properly. In short, all genders were important parts of the early society, each represented a strong link in the chain of the prehistoric generations.
Regarding attraction and reproductive activities, humanity functioned mainly based on scent. Alphas and Omegas, as the most sexually active ones, had very strong and unique scents, and as a result, their scent glands which were located on the back of their neck were more prominent. Betas’ scents were much weaker, so the glands on their necks were not as noticeable. Another notable characteristic of Alphas and Omegas was heat circles. This varied across individuals, but on average, every three weeks or a month, they would experience heat, the time during which their reproductive capacities were greatest, and contrary to popular early belief, both Alphas and Omegas needed gentle care and constant scent reassurance from their mates. In order to mark someone as their “mate”, Alphas or Omegas would bite the scent gland on the back of the mate’s neck and inject their own scents into the individual through it, although historians agreed that Alphas were often the ones to do this kind of gestures due to their more dominant role in the early society.
However, the harmonious relationships among these three genders started to show signs of deterioration when mankind began expeditions to other territories in search of safe trading routes, both on land and at sea, to boost their economy. As trading exploded on various continents, bestowing great wealth and luxury to men, the consumers’ needs also brought about the emergence of new commodities. Omegas were one of those. Slavery became immensely profitable, and Omegas were abducted, captured, and forced to leave their homes. Since then, the value of Omegas was reduced to that of property that Alphas could own.
That part of the dark history was not taught in schools to children nowadays. The details of that time are only known to the historians, and are protected by the governments, which are now mainly run by Omegas. In fact, more than 90% of the people in power now are Omegas.
What brought about such a chance? The Omegas never accepted their place as slaves. After several generations of slavery, which could amount to some centuries, Omegas had become stronger, larger, and more muscular in build. They secretly connected to each other from all countries, and with the help of many progressive Alphas who opposed slavery, organized revolts against the governments. Victory ensued, and a society of equality was slowly being built again. The progressive people hoped to rebuild the balance of the old societies, but the majority of Omegas in power, who feared that history could repeat itself, had another plan. They slaughtered Alphas in secret, even the ones that used to help them regain their freedom. And when the brutality meted out to the Alpha population could no longer go unnoticed, they continued their quest of complete decimation despite opposition and warnings from the forward-thinking.
Only until there was no trace of the Alphas did these men stop their barbarity. But then they realized why the so-called forward-thinking were so scared of a future without any Alphas.
The heat circles.
Both Alphas and Omegas needed care and reassurance from their mates during these times, and an Omega without the scent of an Alpha, just like an Alpha without that of an Omega, would turn into a berserk monster blinded by the instinctive and primal needs. Thousands of men were turned into such a state every month, as the governments were now desperate to find any Alphas that had been lucky enough to hide from their blade, as well as fund projects that could produce remedies to this instinctive desire. Some Alphas were found, hidden away by their Omega and Beta relatives who truly cared for their wellbeing, but these poor boys were vulnerable and subjected to serious health problems, and even death, as they had to care for too many men.
It took the Omegas various decades and millions of deaths of men who craved Alpha scent but could never have it to produce types of suppressants strong enough to prevent further painful deaths. Still, the Alpha scents are what men have always sought after, and since below 3% of the world population now are Alphas, only the wealthiest, most successful men can lay their hands on an Alpha.
Alphas are now treated like Omegas in the old societies, the pretty little things that offer men pleasure and help to show off their status, but obviously, the Omegas are not very proud of what they have done to reach this stage.
*****
“I’ve always thought you’re a Beta…” Ghost says, his voice surprisingly so much softer than usual as he looks at the trembling Alpha in the corner of the room.
“It was…thanks to the scent suppressants…” You stutter.
“Then you’ve hid it well, haven’t you?” The man with the skull mask asks. You hiccup helplessly as you can feel Ghost radiating his strong scent which quickly wraps around your burning body like a warm blanket.
Scotch. His scent smells like Scotch. It’s funny enough because it’s also the man’s favorite drink.
“What are you doing…?” You ask, curling up into a ball in the corner, looking like a weak, newborn wolf pup who has lost his pack, alone and vulnerable in the middle of the vicious wild.
“Helping you to hide your scent, idiot.” The man chuckles, which is even more strange. He kneels down beside you, his strong hands grabs your arm, forcing you to open up before him.
Your self-defense mechanism kicks in as you try to struggle against this unrivaled Omega, “Let me go! What do you want?”
“Shhh…” Ghost whispers to your ear. His eyes narrow as he loosens the collar of your white coat, revealing your swelling, reddened scent gland. The poor little thing is twitching constantly, which is a clear sign of the individual being in heat and desperately needing suppressants or their mates’ care and scent reassurance.
“Let me mark you.”
“What???” You exclaim, unable to believe in your own ears what the man just says.
“I said, let me mark you.” Ghost patiently repeats, “As in I’ll bite your scent gland and inject my scent into you.”
“What??? No way!!” You protest and struggle again.
Ghost easily suppressed your weak attempt to get away with his strong hands and arms, “This is your only chance to get out of here safely, Doc. If I don’t mark you, your scent will reveal to every man here on this battlefield that you’re the rare Alpha that they’re supposed to have no opportunity to meet during their entire lifetime. You can imagine what happens after that, right? To them, you’re the delicious little prey that they wish to have at least a bite on. But, if you let me mark you, my scent will act like the natural suppressants, and you can go back to the base without fear of being found out and then take care of your heat later. What do you say, huh? Little Alpha?”
Seeing that you’re still indecisive, Ghost lowers his head to your neck again, “Or if you like, I can help you to take care of your heat as well…”
“I don’t need your help with my heat!!” You exclaim, then try to stay calm despite your furiously blushing face, “F-fine…Mark me…”
To be continued...
New series lmao...Also my surgery was delayed :)
There will be smut in this one, but rather with a darker theme because this is a dystopian society after all lmao 👍👍👍
I had the best dream ever and now it got me thinking.
09 MafiaAu w/ Mob boss!Soap and stripper!Ghost
MacTavish who always frequent this one club where Riley works at.
There’s a dancer there called Ghost, who is the star of the show, his performances always sought after, known for both his mask and bratty behaviour.
Of course Ghost had to tease MacTavish the minute he noticed the man watching his performance, practically grinding the pole and making sure to show off his flexibility.
Or bending over way too far for the size of the skirt he has on when serving them drinks, making sure the Don can see the arch of his back as he pours more scotch into the glass. It always leave MacTavish hot and bothered and Ghost with way more tips than he usually make in a month.
Of course MacTavish notices when he’s getting teased and after weeks of the same thing over and over again he had enough.
So the next time Ghost gives him a performance in the private VIP sector, grinding into the pole a bit too much, MacTavish practically pulled him down the stage onto his table and proceeded to bend him over the low table and fuck the brat out of him.
Then he patted the man on his ass when he pulled out of Riley’s wrecked and sloppy cunt and sent him to get MacTavish some more drinks, watching Ghost stumbled away with shaky legs and his cum still dripping out, no longer misbehaving.
(Lmao can’t be bothered to write smut so have that instead. I might expand on it later. If you want to write something about this pleaseee tag me, just so I can read it too lol).
