#packs simon dominic

[kismetlotts]

cw: accidental ejaculation, cumming untouched, colleague Simon Riley, he gets told off, harsh and vulgar words, mild mention of sexual assault (but no sexual assault at all), angry reader, cocky Simon, Simon has a big ego, mentions of catcalling, sexual content, perhaps degradation kink? Simon is a little obsessed with you

Dark, chocolate brown eyes locked onto yours as he slumped down opposite your desk. His wide back and muscles greedily swallowing up the chair he sat on. His dominant figure unmoving- legs parted with his arms crossed over his torso. Trying to act unbothered but the little bobbing of his leg assured you otherwise, he'd been waiting for this.

Simon had been a bad, bad boy around base- for numerous reasons and it really was rather annoying. The rules that were set in place were there to provide a safe and respectful atmosphere within the dangerous workplace- there was no room for mistakes, personal quarrels or anything that could negatively affect work performance. Some measures may seem drastic and some rules even ridiculous- but it was something everyone had to follow and did follow for the most part. Everyone but Simon apparently.

A huff fell from your dampened lips and Simon scooted closer in his chair. Watching patiently while your fingers traced and flipped over a thick, overflowing folder in front of you. The segments jam packed with papers of previous warnings, rule breaks, inappropriate actions-on and off of the field. Verbal abuse warnings, physical abuse warnings- unnecessary comments he had made and you could believe it.

You could believe it because he had broken such rules around you, often.

You sighed as you sat back and looked up at him again. Feeling your mouth run dry at the way his eyebrows softened and your words tumbled on the tip of your tongue. It was insane- he must have magic powers or something: how else could he just trick you into being so vulnerable? So submissive and shy- so offering.

“Look- Simon, you know what you’re here for..” You murmured out shutting your eyes momentarily, shaking away the thoughts echoing in your head. Voices of your inner desires, kissing up your collarbone and along your jaw before whispering in your ear to let yourself go. Submit to him and let him have you right here at your desk.

Simon’s large frame didn’t move a fraction from what you could see, it looked as if he didn’t even blink. His teeth sunken into his bottom lip beneath the mask as he waited for you to continue, longing for more words to come out of them tight, juicy lips. He was into it, he was so fucking enjoy this moment with you alone in your office. It smelt like you, you were staring through him: aiding him with all your attention just like he imagined in his late-night fantasies.

“No clue.” Simon grumbled, breaking the prolonged silence and shuffling in his seat to get comfortable. He was doing it the hard way- this meeting only needed to last five or so minutes because both of you knew the SAS needed him more than they’d admit- they would never dream of firing or dismissing The Simon Riley. He knew this didn’t need to be anything other than, ‘Just please don’t do it again.’ or 'Next time there will be serious consequences.' But of course, nothing was easy when it came to him. He liked prolonging things to waste your time. He liked the hassle and loved the stroppy little pout you made in his direction.

“During training, someone reported you being verbally abusive to Johnny and physically threatening to him- It is unacceptable.” The tone of your words made Simon internally shiver in delight. Pissing you off- making you grumble, whine and huff turned him on more than anything.

Almost every small mistake he made was with you in mind, imagining what you’d say if you walked in and saw him causing such a ruckus. What you would do to him after catching him being naughty and rule breaking. There was another small silence between the two of you as his mind raced back in the words you said, snatching himself away from his thoughts and focusing on what you were actually talking him about. Someone reported him?

“Tell me who reported it.” Saliva ran cold down your throat as you swallowed, choking back the scoff that was about to slip at the audacity of his demand. Simon was in no position to be sat there giving you orders instead.

“So you can go threaten them as well? Not a chance.” He couldn't help but grinned beneath his mask at your snarky response but still he held his eyes sharp onto yours. Blinking as he shifted his head to the side ignoring your words.

“Was it one of the newbies?”

“It’s irrelevant who reported it-” You shunned him harshly, raising a hand and squeezing your thighs together to silence the needy ache forming in your pussy. How can he be so infuriating and so pathetically hot at the same time? You weren't sure if you were crosser at Simon or at yourself for succumbing and allowing yourself to fall victim to him. Allowing yourself to get so wet and horny while you should be scolding him for his actions.

“Actually, love, it is relevant. Whoever they might be they are spreading misinformation about me and things I'm doing. I don’t break rules.” An involuntary laugh escaped from your mouth and the sound shot straight to his groin. Feeling his cock twitching up against his cargos as he grew hard and frim the more he watched you. Eyes of fire, with a bitten back tone to refrain yourself from exploding in anger; hands trembling in a silent rage.

“You cat-call me everyday I enter the building, I think that alone breaks the sexual misconduct policy and could also count as misogyny or harassment against your colleagues.” The whites of his eyes became more prominent from shock- shining back at you like a pearl. He definitely was not expecting you to actually ever address the comments he made every morning.

The things he would whisper, so cautiously and swift so no one else can notice; his hot breath seeping through the fabric of his mask, warming your neck and ear in the process. Alerting you on what he’d do to you if you gave him the chance. How he would strip you, tease you and taste you until every thought inside him was taken up by you. If only you gave him the opportunity, if only the two of you were alone and there was no risks.

His hand would fall to your waist every time you passed each other in the corridor- fingers tracing the smooth fabric of your skirt, threatening to dip lower and caress your thigh. He would tell you what he liked- complimenting your ass, your thighs; your divine figure. He would tell you what skirts were his favourite one and when you wore them the next day- he couldn't hold back his groan. You were just as bad though, feeding to the fire.

“You got any proof of that?” He asked.

-What?

“You seem a bit up your own arse, love. Wouldn’t you have brought it up already if I was breaking that many rules-” The slapping noise of your soft, palm hitting the wood of your desk shut him up instantly. Your hand stung from the force of the smack and it fuelled you more; gritting your teeth as your blood burnt hot. The fury inside you was agonising and you were done with his bullshit. His lies, his deflection and all the fucking teasing.

You were done with the way he’d throw you a shovel and watch as you dug yourself into a hole- you were done with how slimy and sly he was. A petty little cunt- a fucker. You were done with everything and for once in your life you didn’t care about the consequences. Your words cutting through the air like a bullet hitting glass, emotions spilling out with no time to process.

“Shut the hell up or get out of my office. You are pushing my buttons and you know it. You dirty fucking prick. You’ve broken almost every rule written because you think you’re so high and mighty. I don’t know what you smell of more- sweat or self-entitlement.” The vulgarity of your words and the sharpness to your voice jabbed and twisted something inside him. His eyes watched as you rose from your chair, your eyes shut as the irritation and pent up annoyance spewed out of you again.

It was so different, it was so different to how you usually were and it was making Simon feel so fucking different. His mouth ajar, listening as you insulted him, shamed on him, degraded him by calling him names; he should be fuming. He should be breaking at the sound of your meanness but holy shit- he was sparking. He was actually fucking cumming.

His cargos warm and eyes glossing over as he orgasmed from your harshness alone- stomach knotting with an unexpecting amount of pleasure. You opened your eyes to look into his- to show him how infuriating he was being and the affect it had on you. To shout at him and make him feel guilty for being difficult but the words fell flat on your tongue. The previous grit and frustration in your throat dying down as you noticed something wasn’t right.

You noticed the way he fought back the uncontrollable need and urge to rolling his eyes back in delight, struggling to keep contact with yours. You saw his body trembling with aftershocks he tried to hide and if you didn’t already catch drift of what just happened- the change in his breathing gave it away entirely.

You studied him, face and body frozen in disbelief- he could feel the embarrassment in his face and he knew you could spot the blush of his cheeks seeping through the bottom of his eyeholes.

He threw his head back against the chair with a sigh-like grunt, shoulders raising a little with every inhale and exhale. The bland, white office light caught his boxers shamefully, giving you a full view of the wet patch settled right above where his dick was. Its thickness and hardness still outlined against the material and you swallowed back your moan. Oh fuck, he really did cum.

The thought sent shivers down your back and suddenly you could feel every hair on your body rise as scenarios piled up in your head. Would he shiver and shake like that if you blew him? You chewed on the inside on your cheek, leaning against the desk to level yourself. You were losing the will to stay professional- fuck! He came to the sound of your voice alone.

Without moving his head from its lopped back position, his eyes flicked downwards to stare at you and catch your reaction. Expecting to see disgust, even more anger- maybe this time he would seriously get in trouble, but when he saw that look- that feeling- the unspoken desire and connection in the air between both of you.

He wasn’t leaving this office anytime soon.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

*deep sigh* I was, as always, inspired by @ilostthewar , aka Baby Moth. This is that post right here.

This got pretty long and I sorta like it. And I will be writing this in multiple parts because I am a sucker for porn with plot.

Title: Soap found her

18+ poly omegaverse 141 x reader

You had known Soap, or Johnny, as he insisted you call him for all of three months. He is one of the few omegas on base, and it's nice to have the comraderie. You work in the civilian and contractor sector, doing intelligence and all of the alphas and betas annoy you. They normally do their best to either coddle you or assert their dominance. So when you meet Johnny, it's like a breath of fresh air.

It starts off slowly at first. Lunch together, you bring him things that you make to share. He's particularly fond of your cooking but is head over heels for the sugary treats you give him. You don't notice how there are two other alphas and a beta watching you two, as you whisper and laugh about things only omegas would get. Next comes deliberate plans to hang out away from base. You invite him to your flat, it's cozy, and you show him the rows of shelves and baskets and trunks full of nesting things. Blankets, pillows, stuffed animals, and fabric softeners and scent sprays. You explain that you change your nest and the theme of the nest monthly, just one life's little pleasures.

Johnny likes that your place is cute and kitschy and that you don't use the big lights in any room and opt for various soft fairy lights. Back on base in his pack's home, the guys notice that Johnny is redoing his own nest. He's added led strip lights, fairy lights, and softer more delicate blankets and pillows. He comes back home one day and gives each of his pack mates a squishmallow to cuddle and sleep with, really drench it in their scents before it goes into his nest. Price and Simon don't think much of the change, and they only notice when Kyle says, "Johnny doesn't normally feed into these types of behaviors."

This causes the three of them to watch their omega a bit closer. The only thing they notice is that Johnny has made a new omega friend, and any unease they had is quelled.

The fourth month comes of you and Johnny knowing each other, and now you're both very close. He has a key to your place and swings by often. So much so that your home carries his scent and the trace scent of the alphas and beta from his pack. You and him do everything that pack omegas would do, together! Things such as shopping for nesting materials, visiting omega only cafés (and you're shocked truly that he hasn't done something like that), he's even gone shopping with you for heat toys to prepare for your upcoming heat (the look he gives you during that trip was one you couldn't really decipher. But his cheeks were pink often).

So much time being spent together means that things...tend to sync up.

Johnny is the first to notice it when his heat is a week late. He confirms that he's not been accidentally pupped by his pack (they are all very careful with not getting him pregnant). The doctor laughs at him and says with a smile on his face, "Your body is probably trying to sync up with a new pack mate."

Johnny is shocked with news, and it's even more true when you start complaining about your own heat not showing up.

"Johnny, I went and saw my primary. She said my hormones are okay, but my body is preparing for a heat soon... Do you think we synced up?" You whisper on the phone with him. It's a bit later in the evening and you've been worried all day since your own appointment. Your heat was due two weeks ago. "I won't be able to make it back to my family in time to be looked after."

"Well, bonnie Bunny." He says quietly, he's laying in his own nest. Simon's shirt fits loosely on him, and the sweats he stole from Gaz fit for the most part. He's got his face in the stuffed animal that smells like cigar smoke and teakwood and notes of the expensive cologne that Price likes to sometimes wear. "My own doctor thinks we're synced up, haven't told my pack yet, but the doctor is suggesting that my team and I be benched until the new break through heat comes."

"Oh Johnny, I'm so sorry." You whimper. "I didn't think this would happen -"

"Nothing to say sorry for bonnie." His voice is low, "I think it's a good thing. I've finally got the push to ask you if you want to, uh...formally meet my pack. They know your scent, and they like it." He chuckles at the memory of Simon inhaling the lingering scent of you from a pillow case he took for his own nest. Another thing that close omegas did was share nesting items and comfort each other.

You're silent for a moment, and it worries him. There's a sigh, it's dreamy in a way, "I'll admit, seeing you with those three on base was nice. I may be respectful, but I'm not blind."

He's grinning like the Cheshire cat. Johnny has always wanted another omega in the pack, but most omegas were either afraid of Simon or put off by Price (he's a bit of a control freak). They also didn't want to be brought into a military ran pack with the chance of one of them randomly getting killed in action. It's fate really that both of your bodies decided to sync up like airpods.

The next morning at the breakfast table, before they all get pulled in different directions for the day, Johnny sets down his lab reports in front of Price. He's not daft. He knows that they know his heat is late. Kyle had made a mention of it in passing that he had stocked up on everyone's favorite snacks and whatnot and that they have not used them yet. At the time Johnny just shrugged, feeling sluggish but nowhere near ready or wanting to be knotted and fucked stupid.

Price raises an eyebrow as he sips his coffee, "You had an appointment and didn't tell us?" He seems a bit hurt. Like if something was wrong with any of his boys, his loves, he would have noticed it. Sure, Johnny's heat was late, but that's happened before when he was stressed over a mission or the outcome of a mission. He chalked it up to the last op they were on, nasty work, but they all made it back in one piece.

"Yeah." Johnny makes himself a plate of food and grabs the orange juice from the fridge. "Been feeling off lately, and it's a new break through heat cycle forming."

This time, it's Simon who snorts. He's not one for random changes. He remembers when his father would have random changes to his rut, and it always meant that he had been cheating on his mom. He really doesn't want to assume the worst right away. "What are you trying to say, Johnny?"

"I want you guys to meet my friend." He says with a small smile, "The friend that smells like toasted marshmallows and sugar cane."

The guys all perk up about that bit of information. The air in the room seemed to be charged with anticipation. Common knowledge that omegas tended to keep their omega friends separate from their packs to avoid issues. Their darling Johnny had found a friend, a new pack mate, and was trying to gauge if they would all accept her. Kyle is the first to break the silence.

"Well." The chair creaks as he leans back in it. In thought, "Is she the reason your cycle has been thrown off, and is that stack of papers from your doctor about to bench us until your break through heat is over?"

He feels a bit sheepish at being called out. "I really like her, and I've been to her house and seen her nest and I'd like to show her mine" he rattles off hastily, "nothing has happened besides us hanging out, and you guys like her scent and well..." Johnny thinks over his next words carefully. He doesn't want to offend his mates, and he doesn't want to put them on the spot. The deep sigh he lets out is long and he listens as John shifts through the doctor orders and suggestions about being benched while waiting for a new heat cycle to happen.

"Tell us Johnny." Kyle reaches over and grabs his hand lovingly. "We won't be mad."

"I get lonely sometimes and normally I can keep a good balance but sometimes you just need that extra bit to make it whole and I think she's that extra bit that could make, me- us whole." He quickly corrects, but everyone already heard.

The reality that Johnny wanted another omega in the pack settled on everyone. It was sudden but understandable. Two alphas and a beta (who leaned more towards being an alpha sometimes) could be a bit much on one omega. They didn't need to think it over, just feeling the dull scent of honey apples coming from him says it all.

John looks up from the papers and smiles gently, "Sure, we'll meet her and go from there." Getting up, he downs the rest of his coffee and moves to put his dishes away. "I'll get the paperwork put in for stand-by medical leave for us. Pick someplace comfortable for you and her, you little muppet."

Johnny can only grin about this change of events.

He's also very excited to experience a synced heat with another omega in his pack. But he's not the only one if the dreamy look on Kyle's face and how Simon looks to be excited is anything to go by.

[sidollie]

Simon Riley on mother's day .ᐟ cw// ᴍᴅɴɪ, beeding kink, overstimulation, reader having baby fever and simon being a gentleman

ᯓ★ Simon Riley was a man of action. He had been that way for years, believing that words alone were never enough to make someone understand how he felt. That's why he expressed everything he felt about everyone through what he did and to the people he loved, he was fucking great—like you, his lovely dollie.

He wasn't the type to write poetic letters or whisper sweet love confessions in the night no, but he showed his love in quiet, deliberate ways—the way he'd tuck you in at night, making sure the blanket was snug comfortably around your body, or how he always walked on the outer side of the sidewalk with an arm securely wrapped around your waist,

His rough and calloused hands held you like you were something breakable, something precious and to him you definitely were, his precious wifey. He didn’t say “I love you” that often, but you felt it in every lingering glance, in every calloused thumb brushing over your knuckles and ever since you both started dating every Mother's Day, he brought you flowers and took you out for dinner.

Just like today, your favourite flowers wrapped in a brown paper always with a small hand written note—“To my future kid's mum, Happy Mother's day.” He hands it to you with your favourite pastries and books that was on your TBR list for a long time now as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead whispering in your ear,

“Happy mother's day dovie”

You laughed gently swatting his chest as you took his sweetly packed gifts.

“Thank you si~”

“Yer welcome swee'heart”

But a small part of your brain couldn't help but imagine how he would look like a dad—Simon Riley making breakfast in your kitchen, shirtless. His back muscles rippling under the weight of your daughter perched on top of his broad shoulders, her tiny hands tugging on his hair as he sets the pan on the stove top letting it heat up. While your son is busy dipping his chubby fingers in pancake batter, just the thought of him with kids, your kids makes your thighs clench and the familiar feeling of arousal pool in your lower stomach

And maybe the idea of having kids with simon wasn't that bad so tonight you had decided — you wanted the note to come true. You wanted simon riley to be the father of your children, that's why, under your pretty navy blue dress that you had picked out for the dinner date, you secretly wore a white lace lingerie set. It was sexy and delicate, the lace barely covering anything at all.

And the moment you stepped inside your house, he was on you. Your back pressed against the door as he kissed you hungrily, his tongue dominating it's way into your warm mouth He heaved slightly, his lips resting against yours as he whispered,

“ya look stunnin' in that dress swee'heart but we both know ya look better without it”

He picked you up and bent you over the console table in the hallway, ignoring the way you gasped and tried to squirm away. He pressed a kiss to your nape, trailing them down your back as he unzipped your dress, letting the fabric fall to the floor. His calloused hands caressed the smooth skin of your back, tracing over the delicate lace as his voice gravel thick,

“Y’like that? course you do, yer such a greedy lil thing”

He rubs his calloused hand on the plush skin of your ass, caress ing it before he lands a sharp smack to it. You let out a small whimper before gasping as he spanked you again, continuing his actions until your skin tinges a soft pink

“yer arse turns such a pretty colour, luvie.”

He yanks your lace panties down and spreads you open for his hungry eyes, your pretty cunt glistening with arousal all for him. His thick fingers rub on your soaked slit, spreading your wetness as his other hand unbuckle his belt. His cock hot and heavy hanging out for you as he lazily strokes it once, twice before lining it up to your warm hole, plunging all of it in at once.

A loud grunt resonates from within his throat as he bottoms out in you, your cunt clutching onto him like a vise as he closes his eyes in pure bliss. The feeling of your pretty pussy stretching wide to accomodate to him, despite the previous times he claimed your tightness.

“fuck, dollie... yer tight cunt's milking me”

Your eyes immediately tear up as he thrusts in to the hilt, his fat tip resting snugly against your gooey spot as pleasured mewls fell from your mouth. He grabs a hold of both your arms and he pulls them behind your back, using them as leverage as he pounds into your moist cunt.

“S-si want it! want you to fill me... wanna be a mo-mother”

“oh yeah?! You want me t'fill ya up? Hm? Ya want my cum in ya lil womb hm? Gonna carry my brats?”

He growled, his mouth pressed down on your nape again as he bites and licks while speeding up, thrusting his thick cock deep in you. Grunts and groans fell from his lips, his one hand presses down on your lower belly, the bulge of his cock visible as he imagines how you'd look swollen full of him.

A few more thrusts and he’s spilling inside of you, his cock still burried in to keep all of his thick seed in your cunt. But he doesn’t stop, not until you're shaking, overstimulated, and ruined—until you’re truly and thoroughly bred by him.

“Can't wait t'see ya swollen and barefoot, luvie”

@sidollie, @cataxos

⤷masterlist ✉

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Now I'm obsessed with the idea of dominant alpha Nikolai fucking his way through Price's alphas.

Simon moaning at the sight of Nik's huge prick against his own. He's not small by any stretch, but he's dwarfed by the huge hog Nik's packing. Feels so good grinding together, their precum slicking the way as Nik's scent excites Simon into a flushed mess, full tits glistening with sweat as Nik sucks on them. Their fingers intertwine around their knots and Nik drinks Simon's whimpers from his bare lips.

Gaz on his knees with Nik's big breeder balls on his face, worshipping them with long kicks and sucking kisses as Nik praises him; he brings Nik to a climax, sucks the taut skin of his knot and nuzzles the velvet skin of his shaft. Nik pulls his face away and presses his cum soaked fingers over Gaz's tongue, "good boy". Gaz comes untouched.

Soap bent over a table as Nik fucks into him leisurely, big hand pressing up against Soap's belly to feel his cock moving inside him, torturously slow, bulging out the stocky alpha's toned muscles. Soap whines and pants until he's being knotted and then he's sobbing, Nik's cum hot and thick inside him. He walks with a hobble for the day but that doesn't stop him going back for more.

Soon, John's surrounded by Nik's scent woven through the three men he treasures most. His nostrils flare and something in his gut stirs whenever he catches a hint of it. He huffs and growls, fighting the urge to scruff Soap's mohawk and shove his face against his neck. There's an itch under his skin, a need to challenge Nik, gnash his teeth and puff his chest; g'wan then, prove yourself.

John can't erase Nik's scent without scenting over his alphas himself, and even then it would rub Nik all over him as well. It's torture, listening to those desires whisper softly at the back of his mind, the writhing need coiling through his hips every time Nik's musk fills his nostrils. His pack had chosen their alpha and it had broken open his own deeply buried attraction.

Nik knows what he's doing. He just had to bide his time. John's ready to nest, and mate, ready to spend a heat surrounded by his pack with his every desire satiated, but Nik knows he'll have to be gentle, slow. Push too hard too fast and all those barriers would come racing up, and there would be teeth in his jugular.

Luckily, Nik's a patient man, and he has three needy alphas to dote on in the meantime.

[arcadia-smith]

It had been a grueling 48-hour mission, the kind that left you sore in places you didn’t even know existed. But there you were, walking across the darkened compound with the rest of the team, carrying the weight of a job well done. The silence between you all was heavy, save for the occasional grunt or sigh from the other soldiers.

You weren’t really sure how you felt about your current position. You were a soldier, but you were also something more—always having to prove yourself in a male-dominated field. You’d been through it all, the mockery, the doubts, but you’d earned your place. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that some of the men you worked with still saw you as the new kid, regardless of your combat experience.

Then there was Ghost. Simon Riley. You knew his reputation before you’d ever set foot on this team. The cold, brooding soldier with a sharp edge and an even sharper wit. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to care much about anyone, but he had a knack for seeing through you. No one could read you the way he could.

And that’s when it happened.

The squad was gathered, unloading the gear, taking a break, when Simon, ever the enigma, suddenly shot you a glance. It was just a quick look, one that seemed to linger longer than necessary. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he did it.

The bastard winked at you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you didn’t know whether to laugh or punch him in the arm. The audacity. You fought the grin tugging at your lips, focusing on your pack instead.

“Don’t let it get to you, Sergeant,” he said, voice muffled by his mask, but there was no mistaking the smirk that came through.

“Get to me?” you repeated, trying to keep your composure. “You’re real cute, Ghost.”

He stepped closer, his imposing frame blocking the light overhead. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Sure, if you want to keep thinking that.”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

You glared at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

And just like that, you were sucked into his orbit. For all the tension, for all the unspoken words, there was something about his presence that was oddly comforting. Sure, he was a bastard, but he was your bastard.

Later that night, while the team was celebrating their success, you found yourself on the balcony of the safehouse, staring out into the distance, lost in thought.

"You know, you looked like you were going to explode back there," Simon said, his voice cutting through the quiet.

You turned to face him. He leaned against the railing, arms crossed. "What can I say? You’re annoying."

"Come on," he said with a grin. "Admit it. You liked the wink."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. "I liked the part where I almost punched you."

He chuckled, stepping closer. "Careful, Sergeant. You might start giving me ideas."

You met his gaze, the teasing energy still crackling between you two, but there was something else now—something that didn’t need to be spoken.

"You're lucky I like you, Riley," you said, leaning against the railing beside him.

He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping lower. "Oh, I know."

The bastard had a way of making everything feel like a game, but in that moment, you realized you didn’t mind the challenge. Not one bit.

[eaturheartout2021]

Dominate Me

Second part to this

Summary: After a mission, reader is forced to confront Ghost about their little incident. Things get heated.

CW: knifeplay, mild cunnilingus, P in V, mild gagging, unprotected sex, man handling, possessiveness

Simon “Ghost” Riley x female!reader

Word count: 1.9K

It has been two weeks since the little stunt Ghost had pulled in the briefing room and he hadn’t mentioned it since. Neither had you. Thinking back to the heated look in his eyes as you came on just his boot alone made your core flare with desire but you pushed it down.

Gaz lightly bumped your shoulder with his shaking you out of your stupor.

“I’ll never understand how you can look at a bunch of zero’s and one’s to make out words. Bloody brilliant stuff.” He laughed holding a heavy tree limb for you to slip under. You returned the gesture and silently followed behind the trio.

“I’m not gonna lie, after the third day I couldn’t tell any numbers apart. I’m just glad it’s over. I need a shower and about 12 hours of sleep.” You groaned at the thought alone.

“Ye be lucky to get 3 or 4. Ye’re first watch lass.” Soap called back, adjusting his gear smiling wickedly at you.

You simply stuck up both middle fingers.

The safe house was nothing more than a two roomed shed with an outhouse across the way. No running water, no electricity, but it had a roof and four rolled up sleeping mats in the corner beside the fireplace. There was chopped wood neatly piled on top of each other and four ration packs along with bottled water. Laswell deserved the best head of her life for the way she treated you and the team, and you made a mental note to tell her wife.

Soap and Gaz went outside to run a perimeter while you and Ghost were on weapon detail. The unavoidable had come. 

Ghost immediately began stripping himself of his gear, taking the velcro straps and ripping harshly causing you to jump slightly at his sudden roughness. The vest thudded to the floor along with his tac belt and coms. Soon, leaving him in just an obscenity tight-fitting long sleeve tan shirt, his mask, and jeans.

“You were reckless. Ya know that?” He was angry, livid actually. His hands were drawn into fists at his sides while he peered down where you sat on the floor reloading a pistol clip.

“How was I reckless? I got the job done didn’t I? We were running out of time and we needed that data file.” You shrugged your shoulders avoiding his gazed and continued to refill the half empty clip.

“You tripped the alarms system. I had to kill-off 6 of Makarov’s men just to get to ya.” He closed the space between you, his hulking frame shadowed yours.

“I didn’t even want to think about what they would’ve done if they had got to ya before I did.” You had to look away from his face, his eyes full of genuine fear. It made your heart twang with guilt.

You glanced down to your stilled hands holding the now full clip and just beyond stood his boots. Those damned boots. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you looked anywhere but his feet and apparently he caught on. He took the smallest step forward and slid his foot under your knee and lifted.

He pulled your leg to the side making you sit with one leg out straight and the other bent up. Your breath was racing out of you as you glanced up at him, up his long muscular leg, up his strong thick thighs, to his now very prominent bulge sporting in the front of his pants, to his heaving chest, all the way up to his blown out eyes that were practically undressing you.

“I believe ya need to be punished for making such a fuss.” His voice was thick with lust, it was almost suffocating. He knelt down and picked you up, slung you over his shoulder and gave your ass a quick and hard slap. You let out a little gasp and tried to wriggle out of his grip causing two more to land right onto the first.

“Stay still.” It was an order. One you’d quickly obey. He hauled you into one of the two rooms the small space had to offer and quickly unrolled the mats and placed you down. Without warning, he flipped you over, stomach down. The metallic scrape of a knife opening was all you heard before you began to panic. Looking back, Ghost softly pushed your face back down covering your eyes.

“Do ya trust me?” His voice caressed your skin causing goosebumps to leaving in their wake.

“With my life.” It was a whisper but it was all he needed before he used his knife to slice up the leg of your pants leaving your delicate skin intact. You let out a shaky breath trying to settle yourself when the cold blade touched your lower back.

Your pants were merely hanging by a thread, leaving you in just your underwear, a pretty pastel blue. A deep groan sounded behind you as a hand cupped your cheeks and squeezed hard.

“Although these are absolutely stunnin love. They have to go.” The knife tugged at the hem of your underwear before an audible rip met your ears. Your ass was completely exposed to him, his hands cupping each mound roughly and spreading ever so slightly just to see how soaked you were from absolutely nothing at all.

He took your soaked, ripped underwear and tucked them into his pocket causing you to let out a sharp gasp.

“You are not keeping those!” His eyes crinkled up in a smirk.

“I suppose you’re gonna stop me?” He took a free hand a slid it between your legs, dipping into your soaked folds. You let out a soft moan, letting your head fall back onto the mat hips rolling into his fingers.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Smug bastard.

He let your rolling hips send a finger to your entrance and delving deep. A sharp gasp left your lips and his guttural groan mirrored yours.

“So tight f’me. Hadn’t had anyone to keep ya open?” He quickly added a second all the way down to the knuckle. You silently shook your head, unable to form words. Ghost stopped and took away his hand, you shot up your head looking back at him just as he landed yet another quick smack to your ass.

“Words, love. Use ‘em.” Your head was fuzzy with pleasure, skin buzzing with anticipation.

“No sir.” It was hardly a whisper. The desperation you felt for Ghost to place his fingers back inside you was overwhelming. The absentmindedly rocking your hips made caused Ghost to glance down, slowly trace your puffy slicked lips and tease. A high whine built in the back out your throat but Ghost grabbed the back of your neck causing you to stop immediately.

“Wouldn’t want the lads to hear us would ya? Be a good girl f’me yeah?” He held a single finger over his covered lips while his other hand went back to your folds and immediately shoving their way inside. He made way for three digits and worked his way through you like no man has ever before.

You had to bite your forearm just to keep quiet like he asked, small quiet whimpers escaped every now and then while his whispered praises caressed your senses.

“Sound so sweet like this. Gonna come on fingers lovie?” He was slightly hovering over you at this point. You were gasping, rutting back on his fingers, down onto the mat below to get friction to your abandoned clit. He knew you were so close.

Right as you were about to tumble over the edge, he pulled away from you, completely stepping away.

“What the actual fuck Ghost?” Your eyes were brimming with tears, with frustration. You rolled onto your back to face him and he was slowly unbuckling his belt and undoing his zipper.

“Only way you’re coming is on my cock. Understood? ‘M not gonna be easy. This is your punishment doll.” Without another word he slipped out his cock and your mouth went dry. He was absolutely massive, you were kind of concerned how it was all going to fit honestly.

Ghost grabbed your leg and slid you down to meet him causing a small yelp to make its way out. He looked down at you as he slid the mask up just enough to expose his chin and lips as he started to kiss down from your stomach, to your hip bones, down to your sopping lips where he licked a fat stripe up and sucking briefly onto your clit. A strangled moan filled your lungs and your hands went flying to grab the fabric of his mask.

You rolled your hips deeply into him and he took everything you gave him. When he pulled away his chin glistened with your slick and a wicked grin flashed across his scared lips.

He reached down to fist his neglected and weeping cock. He lined up the swollen tip with your entrance and without any warning, grabbed both your hips and thrusted his way in. Immediately he set a brutal pace, folding your legs over his shoulders to get even deeper inside.

You were falling apart. Gasping, moaning, whining all the while Ghost abused your insides relentlessly. He looked down at you and groaned, quickly fishing into his pocket to pull out your ruined underwear before shoving them into your mouth.

“I said quiet.” His voice was rough and blissed out. His hips rolling in constant waves meeting your hips with obscene squelches. You weren’t going to last another second. You grabbed onto his arms rocked into his thrusts.

That’s when he bent you in half, pulling your underwear from your mouth and connecting his mouth with yours. The new angle had his cock hitting spots inside you that you never knew existed. He grabbed a handful of your hair and tugged causing your to look at him.

“No one else. Ever again.” His thrusts started to become more aggressive, deeper. “Only f’me. Say it.”

“S’yours! S’yours!” You cried as you came the hardest you ever have in your life. Tears flowing out of the corners of your eyes as he connected his forehead with yours and thrusted twice more and came deeply with an animalistic roar.

He road out his high before he slowly stopped and rolled to the side of you. He didn’t say a word as he pulled you close and cradled your head to his chest. You wrapped your legs with his and settled into a comfortable silence.

“Y’really scared me. Don’t do stupid shit like that again. M’ serious.” He whispered and you knew he meant it. You nodded your head and was about to apologize when a soft knock came from the door outside.

“Is it safe ta come awa in?” Soap asked hesitantly. You looked at Ghost in mortification, face flushing white.

“No, Johnny.” Ghost looked down at you a smiled wickedly.

“You knew they were outside?” You sat up grabbing the scraps of your shredded pants to try and cover yourself. Ghost just shrugged and tucked his arms under his head and closed his eyes.

“Lt, we’ll give you a few to get put together. C’mon Tav.” Gaz said and their snickering giggles faded as they walked away from the door.

“Price is going to kill us.” You said as you laid back down beside Ghost who pulled you back close beside him.

“Probably. Only because you still never turned in those briefing notes he asked for.” He smiled as you cursed loudly and threw your hands into the air.

This was soooo much fun to write!! I really hope you guys love part 2 as much as I do! As always my requests are open so feel free to send me any ideas you have and I’ll try to make them happen! I really hope you enjoyed ❤️

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au mlist) - smut; f!reader; short drabble only!

yea i bet youre all tired of hearing hockey come out of my mouth but thinking about—

hockey player simon receiving a text from you after a game.

they defeated their opponent in a shutout—price carrying the team on enemy ice, with garrick coming in with solid defences, allowing mactavish and simon to sink a shot after another.

it was an electrifying game; even now as he’s stuffed in his cubicle, simon feels like he’s on top of the world. like the cup is so close to his reach—just a few more rally and he’s bringing it home.

the locker room is buzzed, congratulations getting passed from one to another while their coach awards the disk to price for the shutout. the media is still taping this whole interaction so the team remains conscious, guarded, until, finally, everything is wrapped up.

the others clamber to the showers but simon digs for his phone, desperate to talk to you. to tell you that he’s won—he doesn’t know if you’ve watched the game, not with how packed your schedule’s gotten—so if you haven’t, he wishes to at least be the first to let you know.

he wants you to hear it from him; hear from him how they dominated tonight’s game.

(6-0 for the specgru. in the playoffs.)

but there’s already a message from you, sitting atop the strings of notification filling up his phone screen. he ignores the emails from brands reaching out for brand deals or fans sending in messages to his public socials, and taps on your name.

his eyes grow wide, his breath hitching, because—

> 2 goals tonight, baby. almost a hatty.

> have i told you how your hockey makes me hot? almost makes me want to fly there to give you a reward

the start of a whimper builds in the base of his throat, scratching at his trachea.

jesus.

the last time you’ve rewarded him for his performance—a hatty, one of which was an empty net goal—simon had to grit through the horror of seeing you have a difficulty in sitting down the next few days. until now, he swears that he tried holding back, to take it easy despite his needs, but then you crawled to his lap and sang praises in his ears, and simon was gone.

you were so needy for him. for his skate and his play and his victory. and how could simon control himself then?

so this—your messages that are lidded with a tease—is torture. the flight won’t even be until tomorrow morning so you’ve just left him extremely pent-up, buzzing, with his desires poorly-leashed.

all he could do is send a weak,

when i’m back, can you give it then? <

you’ve only liked his message as a reply and simon knows it for what it is—a deliberate hooking; filling him up with tension. with unbridled energy, all uncontainable, so he can fuck all of that into you.

shit. now he’s all hard underneath his cup.

the quick rub in the shower stalls was not enough so he races to their hotel, locking himself in his room and proceeds to fuck his fist as he swipes at the album he’s locked away in his gallery. it’s the gallery that only you and simon know about.

it’s full of pictures. of videos and audios.

it’s full of you fingering your sensitive pussy, and of simon finally getting his hands on your cunt and dragging you up to his mouth for a taste, and of simon fucking you at every surface—on the island, in the living room, against the window, in front of the mirror.

in some of them, he’s still wearing his jersey. in most of them, you’re the one who has it on.

simon cums once. then rubs another one before the flight because he makes the mistake of rereading your previous message. the release isn’t euphoric; sure, it’s enough to stop the fever, but it was almost too clinical.

you’re still in your gym clothes when simon’s clumsily making his way home. you shriek at the way he just covers you with his bulk, before giggling at the ticklish feeling of his scruff rubbing against your cheek.

“missed you,” he says.

you whine, nodding, before pushing him back just enough that you can finally jump into his arms. simon soaks up the attention, like it’s sticky liquorice, and the nuzzled kisses.

even the words pressed on his lips, he devours but there’s one thing simon needs more, and he’s almost shaking when you finally noticed.

you laugh, poking his cheek, before giving him what he wants.

“your hockey’s so hot, si,” you trill. “fuck me?”

“please,” simon croaks out because that is all he could truly say.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 4

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

CW: POV depiction of anxiety and dissociation, How It's Made, reader character wearing a wig (positive, protective style), Soap (nosy), mention of sex toys, Simon Riley Is Honesty Just A Big Guy (TM),

Simon and Price are gone for less than a minute before you feel awkward. You’re almost done with the water, so you look around for the TV remote. It’s Gaz, absurdly pretty for some kind of international British SWAT team, who hands it to you with a half smile before wandering off, you assume to the bathroom.

That leaves you clicking through the TV while Soap does something on his phone. All of the local channels are in German, you know, so you look for something to stream. You chance a sidelong glance at Soap, but he’s already looking at you. He grins when you make eye contact.

“So yer LT’s girl, then?”

Fuck, that’s not a question you know how to answer. “Um.”

“Leave it, Soap,” Gaz says, returning from the bathroom. He smiles at you as he pockets his phone. “You don’t have to tell us anything you’re not comfortable with. Lieutenant Riley’s a private person, we understand.”

“That’s… it’s okay.” You tap into the PictureTime channel, since it’s not one you usually have access to. As you browse through the educational options - ooh, How It’s Built! - you say, “I think we’re both… a bit surprised to see each other here.”

“I can’t imagine,” Gaz says, sitting down at the other end of the couch. “Oh, I’ve not seen this one on puzzles and cheesecake.”

You tap into it, because you like puzzles, cheesecake, candles, and paintbrushes. Just in time to finish your water bottle. The armchair is a bit narrow and awkward, so you wiggle the cushion from behind your back so you can plop it, and yourself, onto the ground. You shuffle your legs to start your warm up as the theme song plays.

“How'd'ye come to answerin’ LT like yer military?” Soap asks. “’Acknowledge’, ‘acknowledged’, all o’ that?”

“Oh,” you answer, without thinking about it. “That’s just our protocol, to make sure I understand his directions.”

“’E’s givin’ you enough directions to need protocols?” He gives you a considering once-over. ���Interestin’. Impressive that it held up in an emergency. That takes practice.”

Shit. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“’S he your, what’er they called? Dominant partner, then?”

God, Simon, why didn’t you take this one with you? “I’m… not at liberty to say?”

“Leave her alone, Soap,” Gaz says, exasperated. He tosses a throw pillow at Soap’s head. “She’s in shock, Simon’s trying to keep her calm and comfortable.”

“Ghostie adopts a civilian an’ ah’m supposed to have nae questions?” Soap grins at you. “She’s got a signal if she dinnae want to talk. Four fingers, right?”

“Bother Ghost about it, later,” Gaz says. He turns to you. “Do you know what you want to eat? There’s a few places open.”

Soap doesn’t pester you, after that. The three of you settle on Mediterranean food, and then they summarily leave you alone. Gaz seems content to watch the show, though Soap watches you do your floor stretches curiously.

You could probably have moved to another stretch a while ago, but you’re still in your work slacks and blouse. You think longingly of the yoga pants you laid out on your bed before leaving for meetings. And then you cringe to think of Simon coming in to sweep through the room and pack up all of your things. You hadn’t packed a lot, but you’d unpacked into the space to make yourself comfortable.

You realize that your sex toy is charging in the bedside table and cringe. You hope he doesn’t notice it. It’s good quality, but you can always buy another one.

And then you start to worry about your phone. You’d left your personal in the room because of the time zone change slowing down all of your personal messages. You’d lost your work phone and computer today with… everything that happened. Were people trying to get a hold of you? Had news of the incident made it to the US? Would Simon see your embarrassing phone background?

You resist the urge to get up and pace. Instead, you settle into butterflying your legs.

“You need more water?” Gaz’s voice startles you, but you nod and he passes a bottle to you on the floor. “Cap says that they’re done with the official stuff, he’s grabbing food while Ghost grabs your things. Probably less than an hour before they get back.”

Your anxiety shouts that that isn’t enough time. But since you can’t definitively answer the question For what?, you take a breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

Maybe it’s because your heart is beating a little faster, muscles a bit warmer, but you have trouble settling Into the show. Your mind races. You have to remind yourself to relax, then have to clamber to your feet and shuffle off to the bathroom because you relaxed your pelvic floor a little too much.

Your eyes in the mirror are a little too wide. The wig - every time you wear a good one, you almost forget you’re wearing it - is holding up admirably, at least. It feathers around your face, a bit squished where you slept on it. But with the smudged eyeliner and mascara you can kind of pretend you’re in an action movie.

Thank goodness agent Ghost rescued me and the other hostages, you think to yourself, pouting your lips dramatically as you wash your hands.

The last time you washed your hands there was a dead body on the floor.

“Nope,” you say aloud, practically flinging yourself into the bedroom. “Nope. Nope.”

You pace in a tight circle, kicking the door closed when you catch Gaz and Soap looking at you with concerned eyes. Two circuits later, the room is too small, so you open the door again and shuffle out to sit in the armchair again, one leg pulled up for you to wrap your arms around.

Throwing your mind into action shots of specialty machinery, you try to force yourself to settle. Your whole body feels like it will shake apart if you pay too much attention to it, so you don’t pay it any attention at all. The episode ends and rolls into the next one, so you learn about bird cages and automated pharmacy drones. You hear Gaz say something soft, and Soap answers, the burr of his voice just as quiet, mixing pleasantly with the murmur of the narrator.

You must lose time, again, because the next thing you know, Simon is crouching in front of you again. Big hands smooth over your arms, and he shushes you as you jump.

“Got y’r stuff,” he says. “Where’s your head at?”

You open your mouth, close it. Hold up four fingers.

“Mm, day’s catchin’ up, again. Go into the bedroom, get changed. No zippers or clasps. Buttons okay. Acknowledge.”

“Bedroom, change clothes,” you confirm, heaving a big sigh. “Comfy. Acknowledged.”

He helps you stand, and you can’t help but tip forward to put your face into his chest. He smells a little. Like stale sweat and gunpowder. His arms stop yours when they come up for an automatic hug.

“Go change,” he whispers into the top of your head, “An’ I’ll get rid of the rest of ‘em, eh?”

The haze around you pops. That’s the only way to describe it. One minute, everything is distantly fuzzy, and the next thing you know you can feel the circulation of the air in the room and his heartbeat against your forehead. The TV is quieter, and you can hear Price and Gaz and Soap talking between themselves.

“Acknowledged,” you say into his sternum. “Gotta go change.”

He has to gently guide you around his bulk. But eventually you shuffle back into the bedroom. Your suitcase is waiting for you in the far corner, and it doesn’t take you long to dig out your lounge wear. Soft, thin pants with cartoon dogs on them and an oversized tee you got from a fundraiser. And then you take both off because that’s not sexy.

Why didn’t I pack nicer stuff? Can I play off these lacy panties as sleep wear? He saw it all and packed it, he probably clocked those as the only sexy thing I have. You shake your head at yourself. He said to wear something comfortable. He knows what you have. This is fine.

Your friend’s son’s basketball mascot grins up at you. You decide to compromise and switch the shirt for a black cami you usually wear under a nice blouse.

When you peek out of the room, Simon’s in the middle of the couch, and he’s blocked one end by dragging the table closer to where he’s sitting. His jeans have been traded for black sweats, but you can’t tell if his black shirt is new or not. Somehow, he looks bigger, but in a nice way. Softer. If a brick shit-house could look soft. A brick book nook.

“’Ey, pretty girl,” he says, leaning enough to put an arm across the back of the couch. “Come sit, we’re gonna eat and then we’re gonna talk.”

When you get close, you realize that there’s not enough room for both of you to sit unless you’re half on top of him.

You want to throw yourself entirely into his lap. But you can smell the food now, and you’re so hungry. So you perch as much of your ass on the couch as you can and swing your legs over one of his. You meet his eyes just as his arm comes down across your thighs. His hand cups the outside of your leg in a way that makes you remember what he said.

He’s not letting you go, now.

[coolchickgigi]

Okay okay hear me out! I’m new at writing but would it be possible to just spit out the idea 💡

Let’s say we are in the omegaverse (the ABO where alpha O and beta A exist)

There are 2 omega reader bffs, one was an Omega A and the other an Omega O. Both friends have been very close throughout school as they looked after eachother. Especially Omega A who always stood up for Omega O. Their plan after school was to travel the world to study abroad, but they each wanted to go to different schools in other parts of the world. So they promised to keep in contact and support each other from far away. They both shared an interest in nursing and wanted to help in the military. Thankfully both schools are quite close to military bases.

As both omegas go to their chosen universities, they venture on into those fun college night outs. They seem to be attracted to the bars where soldiers go to unwind. As their each in different parts of the world, they still text each-other telling the other what their plan was for the night. Betting how many drinks they can get for free, how many people they can make hot and flustered, even comparing who had the hottest guys at their bar. Well coincidentally both omegas found themselves in the hungry eyes of their own future pack.

Omega A found herself in the sight of the most strongest military pack, Task force 141. Her confidence in handling herself in public, despite being an omega, has intrigued the pack. They were both enthralled and concerned about your safety as you flirted and played with the poor soldiers heart strings, don’t worry love they’ll save you soon and fix that straight out of you. (heh try to)

It was Captain Price who brought attention to the rest of his boys to you. Price was an Alpha A with a level head unlike most alpha A’s who were known to be aggressive and overly dominant. He made sure to hold power over his men while being a good and protective alpha. Whereas he had his lieutenant, Ghost, who was also an alpha A, who had a deep strong loyalty to his pack and his captain. He is reserved most of the time but can become very aggressive when needed to be. (Oh don’t get me started on how bad his ruts can be, poor Johnny) Then the other pack members, Gaz who is a Beta A and Soap a Beta O. They worked together to bring a balance to the pack and being there for their alphas of the pack. However it was mostly Johnny who became the most helpful with the alphas ruts. Simon always calling the Scot a mutt in heat, since Johnnys ruts were more like heats as he became in tuned with the pack.

Thankfully, you were just what they were looking for. They needed an omega who could handle the demands of two powerful alphas, and the young energetic energy of the packs two betas. They just needed to find their ways into your bubble and court you properly dear. Don’t worry, their already marking you as their own in their heads as they challenge every other soldier with an icy glare and their strong scents already scaring off the poor alpha who left you with his tail tucked. Now you just needed to stomp your way to them and they’ll handle your pretty self just fine love.

As for Omega O, she found herself at the bar that was most frequented by the Kortac pack on rare occasions. Luckily for them, they came after a long mission and found you incredibly drunk and had a boost of confidence, despite being shy most of your life. You felt the need to prove yourself since you always felt like you were seen as weak for being an Omega O. So you stomped your small feet up to the biggest soldier you saw, pointing your much smaller finger up to his face, which really only reached his chest, demanding a staring contest. Unlucky for you, you challenged Konig, the Alpha A of the Kortac pack. He didn’t really like being challenged, his subordinates knew that better than anyone else. But to you, he could only smirk down thinking how cute you were being, and also wanted to see when would it be good to correct your behavior. He couldn’t get out of the challenge anyway, as you seemed to have started the contest already as you stare drunkenly into his deep blue eyes through his mask. Without knowing you started, he blinked as he looked to his pack to see if they see this. Hornagi, the beta A of the pack, snickered and couldn’t help but find the whole thing interesting. His other pack mate, Kreuger, an Alpha beta was more focused on how your eyes lit up as you declared you won. Konig who looked back down at you, speaking in a his deep accented voice, “don’t think that’s how it works, and don’t you know how to speak to your superiors”. Which all you could do was laugh with a challenging grin, “you’re just mad I won and you lost!”. But the alpha could only roll his eyes and let a small smirk slip under his mask. It was Hornagi who called out and told you to come challenge some real alphas, picking fun at the tall Austrian man who glared at him. You drunkingly turned and wobbled your way to the table to get every last drop worth of your strong buzz. But as you all play drinking games, they sneakily tell the bartender to just give you water. Which you still happily chugged in triumph unaware of the change in flavor. They just couldn’t believe such a small Omega O could be so energetic and even more so not afraid of them. But the more you let yourself get comfortable so did they, and after that night they needed to make sure you weren’t getting hurt by the wrong people. So they obviously made a pack decision to court you. Don’t worry little maus, they’ll keep you under their watch and hopefully under them soon. They’ll show you how good it is to be in a pack that can and will protect you, they have no doubt about that.

And when both friends, Omega O and Omega A, finally get back together after finishing schooling, they each have a pack mark to show off. Each sharing their stories of how it happened, and best believe these two won’t leave out any juicy details.

Okok sorry for long post but please tell me if I should dive more into this 👀

I can make separate stories of each of the omegas experiences, and even have it where the best friends work together. Like playing games with their pack and seeing what reaction they’d get. Ahhhh I’m sorry ok I’ll stop ✋ (not)

I’ve been wanting more fics of the cod omegaverse so I had to do it myself. Please lmk if you like this idea, if not I might still write it anyway

[karlachismylife]

[redacted] || The Queen of the Clan pt.3,5

CW: brief description of animal genitalia, brief description of animal sex (basically it's boys being hyenas, greetings and fucking, nothing too explicit). Still, this is NSFW and I WILL block every ageless blog (as well as minors) interacting with it, so please, put your age in your bio/pinned post. I feel sad when I have to block people :(

No one dares to stop him as his huge shadow stalks through the darkness of the night savanna. Even alone, Ghost is a formiddable presence, forced down the ranks by cruel laws of nature, but persevering and thriving against the odds - a lioness on her hunt strays away from him, preferring not to pick up a fight that might end with her jumped by a clan - a small, doomed without a female leader, but tight clan.

It still feels like the ground, cooled off by the night, burns under his soft paws, as he flies through the tall grass and bush, whipped by the shame of being caught, a dark missile set on a clear target - as he approaches the den they use during their out in the wild missions, he whoops, warning his clan of his arrival.

When he gets no immediate response, he slows down, raising his voice - a uniquely his, haunting, rumbling at the lower notes sound cutting through the air over the ochestra of cicadas. Finally, two voices respond - Captain somewhere on patrol, leaving two fluffy muppets to welcome his Lieutenant back. A softer, melodic call coming from Kyle gets overridden with quickly approaching whooping that even in the animal form sounds heavily accented - just one Scot's tongue seemingly built differently (specifically to get on Ghost's nerves).

Johnny almost rams Ghost's side, barely braking himself like a cartoon animal, dust clouds up in the air and deep traces where his hind paws dragged along before finally stopping. He lines up against his Lieutenant, lifting a paw impatiently - his thick member proudly erect, and Ghost would never be able to answer the question if Soap is just that eager to demonstrate submission to him or he's just getting horny from the sight of the dark-furred mountain with a blong mane alone. Earning a nip meant to keep him in line, Johnny shoves his muzzle into Ghost's crotch nonetheless, deliberately ignoring that the dominant hyena didn't even move his legs to accomodate such greeting - and then suddenly pauses.

Lifts his wide head, fluttering his big round ears, whines quietly, then, when Ghost stays silent, repeats in a more demanding tone - and by the time Gaz finally jumps out of the bushes gracefully, Ghost is already being full-on harassed by Johnny, who pays no mind to the bites and paw slaps he recieves from his bigger mate and keeps sniffing at his mane, going as far as to chomp on Ghost's nape and chew on on his light-coloured fur.

If they weren't out in the middle of savanna, Simon would've already shaken his animal form off and pinned Johnny down, but instead he has to fight off his Sergeant, who uses his height to his advantage as he escapes Ghost's grip and avoids being held like a guilty pup in the terrifyingly massive jaws capable of biting through a giraffe's thigh bone.

Of course, Kyle comes to his support, distracting Ghost by a quick greeting and using that same hind leg he lifted for him to push Ghost's snout away. He smells it too: the sweetness, the tanginess, the womanhood that lingers on the dark fur, something their Lieutenant clearly wants to hog for himself, as Soap tells Gaz in short, sulky whoops, getting smacked with Ghost's long tail in the face for the slander. He ain't hogging nothing, he just doesn't want to be their chewing toy for the night, even if he brought the smell that all of them already memorized from short encounters with the soft, plump, so perfect for cuddling in a pile and laying big heads on her lap, girl...

No matter how strong Simon is, being jumped by two muscle-packed hyenas isn't an easy fight to win, and after several more minutes of wrestling he finds himself pinned down on the ground by Soap's weight, as the chonky hyena plops on top of his superior officer and nuzzles into his mane with pathetic, needy whines, already grinding into Ghost's back, humping his poor tailbone like it's just a pillow for him to satisfy the need caused by a female's scent etched into his lover's hide.

Gaz keeps himself together just about as poorly, stuffing his wide nose between Ghost's ribs and inhaling with low wheezing howls. He's not rutting into Simon directly, but he's one hot-running furnace pressed up to the big hyena's side, leaking onto his fur and licking at the scented mane and Ghost's ears - well knowing that is makes his Lieutenant softer and more pliant.

It's no wonder that by the morning Price finds them in their den in a messy, sticky pile, paws entangled and traces of seed and saliva smeared on their sides, as if they were too exhausted to clean up even as they fell asleep. But even in the thick, musky mix of his subordinates' smells, he picks on the faint, delicate, sweet note - and immediately pinpoints it as the reason two Sergeants couldn't keep their paws off Simon.

Surely, after such an action-packed night Ghost won't mind being woken up by long, wet tongue of his Captain licking him clean thoroughly.

Part 3 | Part 4

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475

So yeah, I guess these [redacted] parts (I just can't come up with as much spots-related puns and names as I'd like) will be a reoccuring thing, because writing fluffy hyena boiz is fun. Hope you enjoy these just as much as the main parts! Also I am accepting requests for this au, they might even get into the main storyline, so feel free to send in ideas!

you can ask to be added to the taglist under series masterlist post

Also maybe vote here for a little drabble?

[libingan]

— wolf’s den. (3)

summary: after finding yourself lost in the forest, you accidentally stumble across a wolf’s den. unfortunately for you, his intentions are dark and possessive—he's chosen you to be his mate, dragging you into a nightmarish world where escape seems impossible.

cw: kidnapping, dark content, noncon/dubcon, wolf hybrid! ghost x bunny hybrid! reader, sex is mentioned lol

a/n: i keep forgetting to add the fuckin summary yall HAHSHWSHW this chapter is p short bc i got errands to run and i wanted to finish my idea before i went out

i alr have the entire story plotted out, it has five chapters lololol

part two | part four

simon's relentless determination became a daily ordeal. every night, and often during the day, he would take you, his desire insatiable, his possessiveness unyielding. he claimed you whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, showing no regard for your feelings or your pleas. the wolf hybrid had you in every position imaginable, on every surface of the house. the bed, the kitchen table, the floor, even against the walls – no place was off-limits. each encounter left you more exhausted and hopeless than the last.

you found yourself falling into a routine, your days blending into a cycle of submission and survival. simon’s dominance was overwhelming, his presence a constant reminder of your captivity. the way he looked at you, his intense gaze always watching, always assessing, sent shivers down your spine. his touch, though rough and possessive, had a way of igniting a primal part of you, a part that you despised.

your feelings were a whirlwind of confusion and despair. you hated him for what he was doing to you, for the way he had taken away your freedom. yet, a small part of you, the part that craved touch and connection, found itself responding to his relentless advances. you felt disgusted with yourself, your mind and body at war with each other.

it wasn’t long before you started noticing changes in your body. nausea in the mornings, heightened sensitivity to smells, and an unfamiliar heaviness settling in your lower abdomen. you knew the signs all too well – you were pregnant. the realization sent a wave of fear through you. the idea of carrying simon’s pups, of raising his children, was too much to bear.

the days stretched into a monotonous blur. you spent your time tending to the chores simon assigned you, his voice a constant, commanding presence in your life. “clean this,” he’d say, his tone leaving no room for argument. “cook me something to eat.” his orders were simple, but the way he delivered them, the way he watched you with that predatory gaze, made your skin crawl.

you had learned to grow accustomed to his routines, his expectations. despite how helpless you felt, you had to survive. there were moments when you almost forgot the fear, when you focused solely on the tasks at hand, blocking out everything else. but then simon would touch you, his hands rough and demanding, and the reality of your situation would come crashing back.

desperation clawed at you as you tried to find a way out. you couldn’t live like this, couldn’t subject your future offspring to the same fate. you had to escape, for their sake and yours. you waited for the right moment, for simon to leave on one of his hunting trips, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

the day finally came. simon left early, his usual routine, and you knew this was your chance. you packed what little you could carry, your hands trembling as you moved swiftly and silently. every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of the trees outside, made your heart skip a beat. you couldn’t afford to be caught this time.

you slipped out of the house, your bunny ears twitching with every sound, your heart pounding in your chest. the forest seemed darker, more foreboding than before, but you pressed on, driven by a desperate need for freedom. you ran, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs aching with the effort.

hours passed, the forest blurring around you as you pushed forward. you didn’t stop until you were sure you had put enough distance between yourself and simon’s den. you collapsed against a tree, your body trembling with exhaustion and relief. you were free. for now.

simon returned home to an unsettling silence. his senses immediately told him something was wrong. he called out for you, his voice echoing through the empty house. there was no response. his heart raced as he began searching each room, his movements becoming more frantic with each empty space he found.

“where the fuck are you?” he growled, his temper rising. the realization that you had escaped dawned on him slowly, his anger boiling over. he tore through the house, overturning furniture, breaking anything in his path. his fury was palpable, a dangerous storm brewing within him.

by the time he reached the final room, his patience had snapped. he stood amidst the wreckage, his breath coming in harsh pants, his fists clenched at his sides. you were gone, and he knew he couldn’t easily find you in the vast expanse of the forest. he roared in frustration, the sound echoing through the empty house, a promise that he wouldn’t stop until he found you.

you might have escaped for now, but simon riley was a relentless hunter. and he would never rest until he had his mate back in his grasp.

[thatoneautisticshark]

Would you consider writing about hybrid Ghoap? Wolf hybrid Simon "Ghost" Riley who has always considered the 141 his pack but is still fairly solitary and dog hybrid John "Soap" MacTavish who also gets the pack instincts but in a more domesticated dog-ish way who somehow managed to get close to Ghost is on my mind more often then I'd like to admit. Lots of wagging tails. I've never sent an ask before but you seemed sad with how few you had :)

Ghost, safe to say, was pissed. The higher ups decided they needed a new team member into their pack, but they were totally fine.

Not only that, he was a canine hybrid?

They had a wolf in the group already, adding a second canine hybrid, that they had never met to the pack meant almost certain fights, and dominance issues.

At the very least the new Hybrid was only a sergeant. So even if he was a cocky bastard trying to be the dominant dog, Ghost still out ranked him.

Although Gaz was excited, he at least understood Ghost's annoyance. The time they had tried to add in another harpy did not go well.The fights that had started were viscous, the new one didn't want to accept that Gaz would not bow to him, and it ended with the new harpy downright trying to fuck up Gaz’s wings with fire, just so he could have the dominant position.

Price was the only one without an issue. Lynx were rare in the military, and usually Reacted more with an automatic bond, then fighting.

But Price understood Ghost's reluctance, and promised he'd deal with the brat if he caused issues.

And so here he stood, with his pack on the tarmac, waiting for the new mutt to arrive. Gaz had dropped his wing over the wolfs shoulder in a little show of comfort that Ghost appreciated.

The truck finally pulled up, containing the new team member. Out hopped a pup with a stupid mohawk? At the very least he wasn't a wolf, and didn't smell of cocky young dog.

The young one, Soap, walked over, his tail lazily wagging. “Heya! I'm John Mactavish, callsign soap. Hybrid of German Shepherd and a retriever.”

Price stepped forward first, introducing himself. “Captain John Price, lynx hybrid. Good to have you on the team.” He introduced, shaking the dogs hand.

Soap nodded “Good to meet you sir.”

At the very least he seemed to have manners, Ghost mused. He wasn't immediately trying to challenge the captain.

Gaz stepped forward, introducing himself as well. Although Ghost could see the tension, he was worried about how the pup would react to Ghost. “Hey mate. Sergeant Kyle Garrick, call sign Gaz. Harpy hybrid. Nice to meet you.”

Soaps' tail was wagging, making him look like an excited pup as he responded. “Nice to meet you too! I like your wings, they look cool.”

Well he was either good at flattery, or very sweet and excited. He moved Infront of Ghost, who was still glaring.

Instead of any kind of challenge like Ghost was tensed for, Soap showed submission. Bowing his head slightly, ears moving back, and tail dipping. Ghost blinked at him for a second, not expecting him to immediately acknowledge Ghost as the wolf in charge. It took him a second to right his brain, before speaking “Lieutenant Simon riley, Ghost. Wolf hybrid.”

The dog kept his head slightly bowed “Nice to meet you”

By the time a few weeks had gone by, Ghost was amazed there had not been an issue. Soap was talented, that was sure, a good shot, skilled fighter and amazing with bombs.

Him and Gaz had struck it off well, already being close friends, and he got along with Price.

He was quickly becoming a part of the pack, and Ghost, surprisingly, didn't resent it.

Soap was always respectful, and still showing signs of submission with Ghost, however ever did seem to seek him out.

Whenever Ghost spoke to him, his tail would be wagging slightly. And despite himself, Ghost found himself enjoying the company of the new pup.

Almost always sitting by him in the mess, working well in tandem, and thinking of him as part of the pack.

So naturally when management decided 3 months after Soap had joined that, no he didn't fit, they had a better placement.

Soap wasn't happy. He thought he'd been bonding well, but he supposed not. He was a bit hurt; none of the team had just told him, rather than getting him moved.

He wasn't expecting when the general brought it up in a briefing that he would be being removed, Gaz to jump to his feet, wings fluffed up in anger demanding why the fuck they were moving soap.

Prince sprung up, ears against his skull in anger “Why are you moving him? He fits in perfectly well?” His voice was laced with anger and growl.

The general stammered slightly “I well.. you guys already have a canine so it'll cause arguments with Ghost” He tried, before being cut off by a deep growl from Ghost.

Ghost stood up, grabbing Soap and pulling him protectively behind himself. “Don't you fucking dare.” He spat “Johnny is part of our pack. I will rip out your fucking windpipe if you try.”

The general froze.. “Uhm.. change of plans, soap is a permanent member.” He quickly stammered.

Ghost gave a huff, nuzzling Soaps, who looked dumbfounded, head.

That was really the jumping point for the close bond. Pretty soon, if one was seen the other wasn't far. After long missions in the heli, they'd be sitting against one another, tails wagging as they nuzzled eachother.

[lunarw0rks]

can you make a part 3 of first time with simon?

I feel like this has a potential for do many sweet but sexy moments with him

I love reading the way you write him, exactly how I imagine him to be with his partner

a/n: this made my brain go brrr... sure the merciless, dirty smut can be fun sometimes. but i struggle to picture that being a constant with simon<;3 here's some more "first-time" content to bounce off that.

˖⁺‧₊˚ first-time pt.3 // drabble ˚₊‧⁺˖

♡ PART ONE ♡ PART TWO ♡ warning(s): nsfw, established relationship, fluff/smut, soft!dom simon is trying his best, overstimulation, reader anatomy not described, gn!reader ────have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

☆ Simon's consideration towards your needs, and only your needs, was something you both relished and despised. It didn't matter how uncomfortable he was, as long as you weren't. After assurances, after all the permission — he was still so damn tender. ☆ He had his distasteful moments, of course. But never once in the bedroom. After your first night together, of gentle and tender likeness, a sensual image burned into your mind. And then the first evening you went down on him — you wanted more. To try your hand at his fantasies, the urges you knew he buried so deep in fear of scaring you off.

Right now, all you could picture was letting him indulge. For once, you couldn't focus on the pleasure whilst he was trailing his tongue along your neck, grinding his hips against yours subtly. Your mind was packed to the brim with new desires — with no room for much else.

"Simon." You spoke up, halting his gentle foreplay entirely. He muttered a hm, peering his head up to ensure you weren't vetoing his intimacy.

Tonight was the night those waters needed to be tested. You could feel it in your bones and with every chill of arousal that coursed through you. Your proposition remained gentle, though neediness seeped through the cracks of them, in a manner only he be able to notice.

──── "We should try something new, something you've wanted to do."

☆ Now you were getting frustrated, but not in the way you were before. Pleasured, but damn flustered at the sight of him in this new 'persona'. Though, you weren't sure it could be called one yet because he had barely done a thing except the routine. Make you see stars and then do it all over again. Where's the fun in that? ☆ Not only had he used his hands into oblivion, but he was already eager to be inside you, to fuck you into that same oblivion. Like he had done several times now in your relationship. You had no doubts about how lovely that sounded, nor would you complain if that's all that you wanted. However, tonight was about experimentation, there was no sense in him holding back. Even if it was in his nature.

"You're allowed to be mean, Simon." you muttered against the pillow, squirming under the tickle of his breath on your ear. Your backside pressed against his hips, though you made no effort to wiggle them like usual.

A gentle scoff sounded behind you, playful but hesitant, "don't think mean is the word, love. Just don't want to hurt you, is all." He muttered, planting a kiss on your earlobe. Sure, he could be cruel, he could be authoritative. Sometimes his intimacy had undertones of his urges, but never so evident. It would be a slow ease, not an abrupt careless one. Something that would take months. If anything, tonight would be the tip of the iceberg, no matter how much you reassured him.

Your eyes rolled, this time not in ecstasy like the times before, "I don't seem hurt, do I?" The words struck a chord, sending a surge of certainty toward his next move.

Within seconds, you found yourself on top of him, commanding hands on your hips to hold you in place. You couldn't conceal a smile, despite his attempts at remaining serious. His brows were furrowed, but his gaze remained gentle, leaving behind any semblance of aggressive dominance. Your humorous reaction would've been coddled any other time. But tonight wasn't the night for that, was it?

──── Instead, he cupped your jaw enough to keep your eyes on him, calloused fingertips buried into the flesh ever-so-slightly. "Hurt isn't a word I want coming out of your mouth. How about that?"

☆ Finally, a taste of what you've been craving. The gentle dominance you always pictured on Simon, and by God did he wear it well. The harmless anticipation of what he'd do next was always on the tip of your tongue, similar to every climax that snuck up on you. A mere taste of euphoria — before you were plunged headfirst. ☆ It was moments like this where you truly felt the consequences of your request, yet in the best way. Not once had he given you a solid moment to catch up, unless it was to ask for reassurance. Typically, similar to; 'Is that alright, love?' or 'You like it when I touch you there?' The perfect mix of tease and his gentle nature, wrapped around the dirty phrases like an embellished bow.

When you couldn't keep up the strength to keep rhythm, Simon took it upon himself to aid you. He thrusted upwards to meet your entrance, abusing the spots within you over and over again. The muscles of your walls pulsed and remained constricted, permanently exhausted from the blissful misuse.

Every trembling limb was fighting the arch of your back, the cramp of your fingers as they pressed against his pecs. "Too much for you, hm?" Simon asked, half-way serious, whilst the other half was heard as a mock to your overwhelmed state.

"You'll take it though, won't you, baby? Been so damn good all night. Why stop now?" His words have turned to slurs, though his consideration for your comfort hasn't dwindled a hair. Simon flipped the position, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder to hit places even deeper within you. Wherever this persona of his had been hiding so long, you're glad you convinced a bit of it revealing itself.

Whatever climax you were enduring right now, you had lost count. All you knew was how violently the pleasure was pumping through you, and how his continued thrusts were heightening the experience. Not only that but his teases, the rumble of his deep voice in close proximity to your ear. By no means was it a seamless affair; it had taken several minutes of trial and error until he learned all the right ways to make you lose your composure.

With warm breaths escaping both of you, he sealed your lips with his own, allowing you to writhe in a more controlled manner. Simon had no clue whether he was nailing this, or if you'd ever want him to take charge again. By no means was he being aggressive, but to him, it was a significant step. Your reactions said enough, given the fact that he had rendered you speechless.

Sweat pooled on the glands of your forehead, dooming you to a disheveled appearance. After this long, after countless orgasms, your appearance held little weight in the equation. The phrase 'fucked-out' couldn't have rung more truthfully. Your back relaxed, finally un-arching as his thrusts calmed — the moment he decided to ease up.

"Was that okay?" He spoke when he pulled away from the kiss, letting your fatigued leg slide down until you were lying flat below him again, legs still parted. His plunges were still deep, but now more lenient.

Even on the brink of his release, his cares fell on you, not the selfish greed of ravishing you. You nodded your head, letting a reassuring smile spread across your face.

"Perfect, Simon," you breathed heavily, holding his waist as the bed creaked beneath his pressing weight. "I'm alright." He returned the slightest hint of an amused beam, using your assurance to fuel his own release.

One palm roamed the side and back of your thigh, the other roamed along your waist, as if his fingertips needed to memorize every patch of flesh to ensure you weren't going to recant your original proposition. "Fuck, 'm close, love. Christ, you're perfect wrapped around me." Despite how desperately his toned body yearned for release, his thrusts didn't once get rougher again. He was savoring this, like taking it slow was a sweet reward for the both of you. It was, even just laying back and observing the intoxication he had for your body.

Seconds later, he lost his control. His hips halted, fists balling against the sheets instead of your flesh as he clamped around the fabric with all his might, letting out a guttural groan as he spilled within you once again. The other hand soon reached out for the nightstand, holding the edge as he endured the brunt of his climax. In the process, he sent your stack of books tumbling to the hard floor.

The noisy thumps startled you, eyes peering over the edge of the bed as they stumbled from the force of his hand shooting out. His eyes snapped open as well, shaking his head when he saw the hitch in a night nearing perfection.

Simon shook his head, gaze switching from the disordered scene beside the bed back to your look of shock. "My bad, sweetheart. You bring out the worst in me, don't you?" He spoke frivolously, running his thumb along the flushed, damp flesh of your cheek.

A chuckle erupted from you as the clumsy happening soured any sensual mood in the room. "Think that's your sign to settle down, big boy." You hooked your arms around his shoulders, forcing his weight to collapse on your chest — or he made you think you did. Either way, the pressing weight of him atop you was soothing and secure, the same as any time you cuddled.

The snuggle didn't last long, not after you dropped such a bomb. His head perked up from the crock of your neck, now with a scowl painted on his face. "Did I hear that right?"

Warmth consumed your cheeks, a noticeable discomfiture to him when you broke into another fit of snickering. His faux-anger was a hilarious sight of his own but paired with the book mishap — it was ridiculous. "Alright, grumpy, I won't call you it again." You retorted sarcastically, using dramatics when you attempted to roll over. There was nothing he hated more than a bratty cold shoulder, even in pure contexts.

Simon subdued you with ease, forcing you to straddle him all over again. Only this time, it wasn't in a sexual sense — it was petty vengeance for the name-calling. "Grumpy, hm?" He teased, forcing you to sink all your weight onto his lap, not allowing any resistance.

"Bloody smartmouth, you are. I think I'll keep you here, like this, until you can't take it." Your squirms were entertainment at best, doing little to wrangle yourself out of the confines of his hands. Instead, you just exhausted yourself even further.

Despite what he'd said, he stopped when you admitted defeat. The sigh escaped your lips, prompting you to slump your posture as you perched on his lap. You eagerly reached out your hands, intertwining and playing with his as they did the same.

You were a prisoner on this lap — yet you had no desire to flee.

[arcadia-smith]

My sweet life Ep3

Moodboard/Masterlist

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Navigating everyday life with Simon Riley. Sitcom-style fanfiction.

Word count: 495

Tags: @candlelight-reading

Previous episode // Next episode

“How’s it going?” Price asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Fine,” Simon muttered. “Except for the part where Riley tried to rip the missus apart.” His eyes flicked toward the K9, now curled up peacefully.

It had been about a week since Simon brought Riley home. For the most part, things were fine—so long as Simon was around. Riley behaved, staying in his designated space in the laundry room and at night Simon made sure to lock the door, keeping the dog from wandering.

But then, one night, you had gotten up for a glass of water. As you stood by the counter, a strange weight settled over you—the distinct feeling of being watched.

You turned.

Riley sat at the kitchen entrance, ears perked, eyes locked onto you.

You weren’t afraid of him, not exactly. But you were wary. It was clear Riley had decided you ranked low in his pack order.

“You’d be cuter if you didn’t stare at me like that,” you murmured, setting your glass down.

The moment you took a step toward the door, Riley moved, ears pricked forward as a low growl rumbled deep in his chest, lips curling back to reveal sharp teeth.

Your arms shot up instinctively as you stumbled back. “Easy, Riley,” you whispered, voice shaking.

But Riley wasn’t backing down. His hackles bristled, tail raised in a rigid line of dominance. He stayed low, muscles tensed, weight shifting like he was ready to pounce.

Panic surged through you.

A scream tore from your chest "Simon!"

And for once yiu were glad your fiancè was a light sleeper.

It took him five seconds to bolt from bed to the kitchen.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Riley, locked in a silent, predatory stare. And you—trembling, wide-eyed, frozen in place. Simon had never seen you this scared. Not even when you chased down the guy who had stolen your purse the day you both met.

“Riley.” Simon’s voice was sharp and commanding “Stand down.”

The transformation was instant. Riley’s posture relaxed as he turned to Simon, trotting over and sitting obediently at his feet like nothing had happened.

Like he’d already forgotten you.

Simon exhaled slowly "Go back to bed," he said, his voice calm as he addressed you.

He watched as you swallowed hard and edged around the kitchen, keeping as much distance from Riley as possible before disappearing down the hall. Only when he heard the bedroom door click shut, he shifted his focus to the dog sitting at his feet.

"The fuck was that about?" He crouched down. Simon ran a hand over his head, exhaling sharply. He'd trained dogs before, he knew how they thought, how they operated within a pack structure. And Riley had just made one thing very clear—he didn't see you as part of it.

"You don't get to pull that shit in my house," Simon warned before dragging Riley back to the laundry room.

[tojisun]

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; mask kink; D/s; off-screen scene discussion (like power play); dacryphilia; extended foreplay; petnames; mean simon // 2.6k words

biker!simon mlist

it is carnal. desperate. pawing hands finding each other, trying to get rid of the leather.

you fall on the bed with a huff, body bouncing as the mattress ripples, soft sheets tickling your bare skin. you look up, blinking past the haze, watching as simon gazes at you – clothed. helmeted.

there is something that stirs in your stomach at seeing the disparity – you, naked and bare for him; him guarded. shielded. like he is a mere spectator of your body. like you are made to have you served on a silver platter for him to nip at your flesh and to etch his passions on your skin. like all that you are is his to enjoy – a one-sided servitude. 

you tremble with need, watching as he fiddles with his belt, metal clanking together when he goes to unbuckle it. you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, following the way his thick fingers pinch his zipper to tug downwards, giving you a glimpse of his black boxers. then, he reaches for his helmet.

“no!” you yelp, scrambling to stop simon from removing the gear. you don’t even register what you did or how the word ripped through your lips until it resonated in the room, your chest heaving when the realization struck.

simon’s head cocks to the side slowly, looking animated with his helmet. it makes you clench your thighs close, putting pressure on your throbbing clit, and you watch with bated breath as simon’s head dips down to follow the length of your legs.

there is something in not seeing his face that has you aching, desire creeping in from the base of your spine to the tips of your fingers. something that simon must have felt too because he unhooks his hand from his chin strap to continue shucking his cargos just low enough that you can see the chub underneath his boxers.

“like what you see?” he asks, his crooning voice muffled by his helmet.

your legs squeeze tighter, your arm unconsciously coming up to cover your tits. you do not answer him, too caught up in watching as he slowly palms himself through his boxers, cupping his hand around his tent like he’s reminding you what he’s packing.

like he’s showing you what he promises he’ll give you.

but your silence makes him snarl, his hand falling to his side before he stalks towards you. his shins bump the edge of the bed, then he bends forward, his big frame towering over your trembling figure. you feel like a prey caught before him, naked and grappling with the desire that chokes you because there is something addicting at being so powerless before him.

simon laughs, something faint and mean, like he knows what got you spiralling. like he understands. 

he reaches a hand out and pushes your hair away from your face. “i should’ve known that y’r a slut for this.”

the words are whispered, barely breaching the mouth guard of his helmet, but they pierce through the building static between the two of you and you couldn’t help the whimper that falls from your lips nor the willowy gasp of his name. 

simon breathes in sharply before surging towards you, his gloved hands reaching to tug your arms away from your body so he can see you again. you resist with a little pull on your end, your mind buzzing with a building fog, but simon’s hold only gains strength as he tightens his fists around your wrists. 

“show me,” he grunts, pulling you towards him.

you glide across the sheets easily, simon’s overwhelming strength stirring your desires even more. shamefully, you feel your cunt dampen, slick gathering at the lips of your pussy just at having been manhandled by your lover. you want to press your face on the inside of your arm and hide how affected you are by simon’s display of dominance, but his hands are already sliding down your sides, hooking by your hips, before stopping just at the meat of your thighs.

you tumble backwards, head falling to the mattress when simon kneels between your legs, slotting himself there like that is his rightful spot; like that is where he has always belonged. 

then, he stops. you think you know why.

“oh, sweetheart,” he croons, folding himself towards you just enough to make it easy for him to peer at your glistening heat. “look at you leakin’.”

you tear your eyes away from the ceiling to peer down at him, your cheeks burning at the attention he pours into your cunt, only to freeze, your breath getting stuck in your lungs. 

because how could you even forget?

the expanse of your wet cunt is reflected on his visor, the details stark and clear, and you hiccup, ripping your eyes away from the image and thrashing to curl into yourself. shame unfurls in the pit of your stomach, snuffing out the rumbling want that had just overwhelmed you, but simon holds you down to make you stop. 

“you have nothin’ to be shy about, kid,” he says, easing his hands away from your wrists to grip your hips. “look at me. i said look at me.”

you sniffle as you gaze back at him, flinching when all you see is your face reflected back. simon pauses at your reaction, his hold on your hips going lax.

“do you want the helmet off?” he asks, genuine concern now lining his voice. 

you blink, twining your hands together now that simon isn’t holding them. yes please tickles your lips but you hesitate, battling with yourself because-

because you still want the thrill of this – the brief imbalance of power between the two of you where you are simon’s prey, and all that you are is at his mercy; the temporary display of his darkness, stretching over the horizon as he bears down onto you, diminishing your very being into nothing but his to use for pleasure.  

because you ache to feel small. 

so you shake your head slowly, steeling yourself as you continue to look at simon’s visor, trying to see past your reflection as though you can catch a glimpse of his eyes if only to show him that you still want this. 

but more than your want, more than the hunger you have for simon, you want to show him that you trust him. 

and when you feel simon’s hands spasming from where they are gripping your hips, you know he understands. 

“okay,” he says, nodding. his bobbing head almost makes you giggle. “but tell me when you want to stop, alright sweetheart? remember your safeword?”

“mhmm,” you hum, writhing on the bed to get closer to him, sighing when your greedy hands finally get to rub along his abdomen. “cake pops.”

he cups your cheek, the leather smooth against your skin. “that’s right. cake pops.”

—

“please,” you sob, trembling in desperation as simon continues to tease his fingers along your slit. he has yet to give you a taste of what you want even when his cock weeps, staining the fabric of his boxers. you want to commend him for his self restraint but you know he is doing this to tease you. to drive you to insanity. 

simon remains unmoved, pushing down on your stomach when your squirming turns erratic, before scooping out a glob of your slick and rubbing it along your hardened clit to make a mess out of your weeping cunt. you squeal, clawing at the sheets when his fingers pinch your clit, the muted pleasure razing into something that stings. 

and yet it is still not enough.

“simon pleasepleaseplease,” you babble, blinking bleary eyes at him and shivering when all you’re met with is the sight of your tear-stained face. 

you look like a wreck with your hair sticking to your damp face, your lips swollen from the way you have nibbled on them to bite down your sobs and whimpers whenever simon ripped his fingers out of your cunt every time he felt you tighten up. 

“no cumming without my permission, doll,” he crooned, all mean and playful. 

then he’d repeat the process – fucking his thick fingers into your pussy, pumping them with a broken tempo so that you’d never get use to the stretch, crooking them just right until your back arches off the bed with a broken scream, only for simon to push you back down again with a faux disappointed sigh.

“stay put or y’r not cumming.”

it isn’t like it mattered anyway if you had followed his commands, not when simon’s too familiar with your body; attuned to the way you react when you’re near your orgasm. and you know this is all a play to him – something that gets him off as he pulls you to the edge of your euphoria only to drag you back down from your high, crooning words lilting and fading into the background as your ringing ears struggle to grasp the sudden loss of your peaking orgasm.

he plants his hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles as a sob racks your body. “y’ve been so good f’r me,” simon murmurs. his other hand swipes at your cunt again. “gonna reward you now, princess. gonna give you what you need.”

you sigh, a happy contented sound, and simon laughs at your reaction before lifting his hand up to cup your jaw. the action is tender and soft even when his thumb traces along your bitten lips, wiping away at the thin sheen of spit that pooled at the edge of your mouth.

you watch it all through his visor, feeling breathless at the image you make. at the image that simon reduces you to.

simon notices. of course he does.

“pretty, aren’t you, baby?” his head falls closer to you as he says this, purposefully encompassing your full visage so that your teary eyes could see your wrecked self. 

you feel faint watching as his thumb finally dips into your mouth, pushing past your plush lips until the pad of it bumps into the front of your teeth. you move to suck at his finger even when he doesn’t ask, cataloguing the way your lips wrap around his thumb or how your cheeks hollow when you begin suckling.

you look erotic. sinful. 

simon groans like he is thinking the same thing, his helmet bumping your forehead.

“christ, sweetheart. y’ve ruined me.”

you giggle softly as he nuzzles his helmet on your sweat-stained forehead and squeezes your jaw for the last time before pulling away. he leaves you there on the bed, your eyes blown wide as you watch him tug at his boxers to finally free his pretty, pretty cock.

the moan that leaves your lips is pornographic and carnal, and simon jolts, his hand coming up to fist his cock as the sound ricochets in the room. you see his chest heave and, had your mind not been reduced to a needy mush, you would have realized that he’s gripping his cock to stop himself from cumming just from the sound you made.

“spread y’r legs f’r me, baby,” he growls, his hand still gripping his cock. 

and you do as he says: your hands ball on top of your chest as you spread your legs spread apart, the soles of your feet rustling against the sheets. cool air hits your dripping cunt and you mewl, feeling and seeing how exposed you are before simon.

“so pretty,” simon groans as he shuffles close, lining his cock against your cunt. “an’ it’s all mine, yeah?”

you nod, you think. you honestly don’t know. not when your attention is rooted to simon’s visor, watching with stuttering breaths as he moves to rub his cock along your folds. the first touch makes you squeal, the rush of pleasure jolts you into closing your legs. it’s only simon’s hand pressed on the inside of your thigh that stops you from doing so, the pressure he’s putting on your leg gluing your muscle onto the bed. 

“fuck, sweetheart,” he croaks, still slicking his cock along your folds, the sounds so filthy as they filter through the air. “so fuckin’ wet f’r me.”

god, this is torturous. you need him so desperately, it hurts.

you break into sobs as you reach out to grasp at his arms, feeling untethered as your sanity slips under the fog, feeling it grow taut like a band that’s about to snap when simon’s cock rubs against your clit. he tilts his head up just enough that you know he’s watching you, his beautiful eyes roving over the devastation on your face.

knowing that he’s looking eggs you on – desperation clawing underneath your skin, needing to be itched. “inside, please! simon, please-!” you hiccup. “i wan’ feel you! i wan’-”

you scream, your words petering into a garbled wail when simon finally sinks his cock in you. your head falls back to the pillows, your eyes rolling back to your skull. but he keeps on sliding, keeps on thrusting in – his cock is so long, it feels endless. 

you’re babbling, moans slithering into a noiseless squeal when simon’s pelvis finally bumps the inside of your thighs. 

he’s in. you realize with a tremble. all of him, in you.

your ecstasy bloats, peaking, and your toes curl when it explodes, razing through your sanity until all you can feel is a buzz. you go numb, your ears ringing with a growing static and you fall lax on the bed. a marionette with strings cut.

“fuckin’ hell, princess,” simon hisses, almost like a happy purr. a muted thump somewhere beside the bed tickles your ears. “you jus’ squirted.”

what?

he laughs, the sound so giddy as it spills from his lips. lips which, you realize amidst the satiated thrums spreading throughout your body, you can see. 

oh, you think with a start. his helmet’s gone.

“si?” you murmur, voice hoarse and rugged.

“i’m here, sweetheart,” simon replies, burying his face on the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. “y’came so good f’r me. so perfect f’r me.” he presses a kiss on your skin as he says this.

time stops becoming a blur for you and it trickles back to you in bits, starting from the buzz underneath your veins and the satisfying weight buried in your cunt.

oh-

“simon, i’m sorry-”

simon kisses your lips and devours your apology, his tongue licking into your mouth, claiming with such ferocity. you moan, feeling the expanding warmth running from your throbbing lips to your fluttering cunt; not yet satiated. needing more. 

you gasp when he finally pulls back just enough that his lips hover above yours, ghosting a touch. clingy even when you are wrapped around him. 

“y’came like a good girl,” simon murmurs, his breath tickling your spit-smeared lips. “my good girl.”

you let out a happy sigh when simon draws out, the drag of his cock slow and delicious, before he’s pressing it back in, filling you up once again. you feel the wet patch on his pants and his boxers, and your cheeks burn when you catalogue it as your mess. 

but god, you want more. 

“harder, si,” you mewl, weak hands coming up to tangle in his messy hair. “i want it harder.”

simon braces his arms on either side of your head, his nose rubbing along your damp cheeks until he’s pulling back just enough that you see the way his eyes are blown wide with his lust.

“anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

 he kisses your cheek – the last of his gentleness for the night.

“anythin’.”

[dragonnarrative-writes]

just to add more fuel to the fire.. I want to let you know how happy I am that you are working on giving us more of the masterpiece autumn embers is.

i jumped, screamed, hollered, rolled in my bed, jumped up and down in excitement when I saw the slightest mention of autumn embers, MY BODY HAD AN AUTOMATIC REACTION IM SORRY😭 your writing is just so beautiful and it never fails to make me feel giddy.

you’re free to ignore this of course and I apologize in advance for ranting but I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you babes. please stay safe and healthy!! <3

Kinkvember 13 - Biting/Marking

Autumn Embers - Alpha Price x Alpha Gaz featuring Ghost and Soap

Autumn Embers Masterlist

Read on AO3

CW: Biting, implied permanent marking, blood and bodily fluids, frottage, omegaverse dynamics, dominance and submission

Notes: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING MORE FUEL ON THIS FIRE. I've missed Autumn Embers so much. Have another pre-Wildfire piece.

Rut with a pack is always a workout. And Kyle? Has more than a little bite to him. John doesn’t bother to stifle a laugh as he shoves his bracered arm between the other man’s teeth and feels an almost concerning amount of pressure.

“There y’ go,” John snarls into the side of his neck as Kyle drools around soft leather. “That’s what you needed, eh? Set your teeth into your alpha? D’you think because Simon goes all sweet for a knot that I’d roll for you?”

The younger alpha bucks beneath him. He smells like sex, like rut, musky and spicy and potent. If he wasn’t under John, if he hadn’t already had a go on top of Simon, where would he be now? Probably mounting some sweet smelling little O, pumping them full of pups. Certainly, the week leading up to his rut had seen him picking too many fights for him to roll with other alphas.

Except, of course, for his pack.

Off to the side, Johnny is panting and whining for his own turn to slam around with Kyle on the living room floor. John swipes half-heartedly at him so he’ll go back to cuddling Simon, a distraction that Kyle twists to take advantage of. He’s clever in ways John keeps failing to remember, so instead of slipping away, he sets his teeth higher on the bracer and heaves John up over his shoulder.

Even with the padded mat set up, the breath whooshes from John’s lungs as he lands on his back. He has no time to recover before Kyle is on him, pupils blown. He slams his arms down on one of John’s biceps and ducks down with a snarl.

“Ow, fuck!”

Kyle growls around his mouthful of thick pectoral muscle and doesn’t let go when John grabs at the back of his neck and yanks. Sharp teeth break skin. The taste must be something nice, because Kyle moans and starts grinding his hips into John’s thigh through his joggers like he’s locked.

John barks a laugh at the feel of a solid knot against the inside of his thigh. He digs his nails into the glands on the side of Kyle’s neck with intent and bucks his own hips as he bends his restrained arm to grab at the man’s hair.

One thrust, two, and Kyle keens as his whole body shudders. His muscles stay engaged for a few seconds, and then he collapses. Even his jaw goes slack, which is Johns cue to roll him, none to gently, onto his back.

He goes, docile, before his rutting brain remembers that there’s another alpha on top of him, but his body is too slow to react in time. He can only keen and wriggle as John crushes him with his own body weight and sets his teeth into curve of Kyle’s shoulder. The first burst of blood on his tongue has him blowing his knot. Luckily, he has the wherewithal to reach between them and free himself from his pants.

He doesn’t let go until Kyle submits, body going pliant as he whimpers, “Alpha, alpha, alpha.”

John has to work his jaw for a moment before he can speak. “I’ve got ya, good boy, Kyle.” He swipes a wide palm over Kyle’s face, smearing blood and spit up into his hairline.

Johnny makes a more than interested sound and belly crawls toward them, chin tucked down to his shoulder. Price hums and pushes red finger tips between his other sergeant’s lips as Kyle purrs and chews idly at the stretched collar of his shirt.

Later, bandaged and bundled up in Simon’s arms, Kyle rasps. “There’s an omega on base. Smells like woodsmoke ‘n oranges.”

“Was wonderin’ why ye went off like a rocket,” Johnny laughs from Simon’s other side. “Bonnie thing in Intelligence? Smells like an alpha might be courting her, but if they’ve left nae marks by noo, we should snatch her up.”

John lets himself make an interested noise as he runs his fingers through Simon’s hair from Johnny’s other side. Kyle’s not really shown much interest in anyone outside of the 141, crush on Farah notwithstanding. Over the past year, they’ve all settled into their dynamics, a volatile but beloved push-pull that marks an all alpha pack. An omega’s softness, though? Especially under any one of them in rut…

“No poaching,” John grumbles. He presses his lips against the bristly side of Johnny’s head at his disappointed grumble. He chuckles and concedes. “We can introduce ourselves. See if she might be able to handle us.”