The concept of human!reader accidentally driving wolf!ghost insane....
You recently bought some new perfume, a thick rich scent that only serves to amplify your own natural musk, and ghost is obsessed.
Worse than that is how you love to reapply it all the time, subtle to humans but he's practically choking on that delicious scent from you. Anything of his that you touch picks up the scent, as if you were some coy wolf trying to get a sense of ghosts mating prospects.
He raises his brow when you stay back after a meeting to reapply, hovering just a touch too close so he can smell the minute change it takes on upon touching your skin "new perfume, sergeant? It's nice."
"Hm? Oh, yeah! I like the earthy stuff," you tell him, dropping the tiniest bit of oil onto your wrist and rubbing them together. The sight has ghosts stomach turning, knowing if you were a wolf hybrid the room would reek from that action. "Do you want to try some? It's pretty strong."
"Hm—?" Before ghost can even speak, you're already slipping a hand under the hem of his balaclava to rub a bare wrist into the skin of his next. "Fuck–! Ohh...hm....!"
A deep, pleased rumble spills out of ghost, and not seconds later you're being pinned to the meeting table, ghosts whole body on top of yours with lidded eyes. "christ love, do thst again."
"What...ghost?" You mumble, dazed, hand still under the mask. "I– I mean– you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Ghost whines, ears pinning. A large, clawed hand wraps around your forearm, manually moving your wrist against his skin. His whole body shudders "fuck! Mhhh keep going. Like that."
"Holy– is this like...a thing for you?" You grin, ignoring the stretch of your thighs being pushed so far apart for him to grind his bulge against you. Ghost rumbles and grunts, all animal.
He couldn't explain the fact you're practically claiming him as your mate, or at least your breeding bitch, not like you'd care much when his eyes go all glossy under the mask "please– please, love, please. I need–"
"Go on, ghost, I want to see this." You urge. that one chat about soaps partners coming to mind, you shove a hand into ghosts pants and wrap a firm grip over his knot.
"Fuck! Holy– hmmm! Thank you!" He pants, tail thrashing behind him. You watch, enraptured, as a large wet patch forms in the front of his jeans. Christ, that's a lot of cum.
"Wow. That was so worth eighty quid." You snort, only to get a huffy nip from ghost, who seems intent on smothering you under hum.
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