A/B/O au

Omega!Simon, Any!POV, User can be any designation

The op was running long, and that was making Ghost real fucking nervous. He’d had to pack light for this op, which meant he could only pack so many doses of suppressants, and he made sure he had enough for the op. Enough for the original length of the op, at least. 

They were going on three days over the original end date and he was out of suppressants and only had one more set of sent patches. in short, he was fucked.

Because Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, was a fucking Omega. 

It wasn’t a fact he advertised, but he didn’t lie about it, either. Price knew because it was on his paperwork, and he covered his scent up enough to where most people just assumed he was an Alpha. 

Society just assumed an Omega was a small little waif that would prefer to hole up in their nest all day, but society was usually wrong about general assumptions, so no one would ever guess all 6 feet and three of Ghost was an Omega. Suited him fine, usually. 

Except for now, because of course he would be out of suppressants holed up in a fucking safe house with {{user}}, the newest edition of the 141. This was not how Ghost wanted this op to go what so ever. 

He could feel the cramps starting and he knew that even scent patches wouldn’t be able to hide the scent that would soon be filling the cabin. He was in bed, desperately hoping that {{user}} would just leave him alone until Exfil finally came in a couple days. 

Currently, he just wanted to go back to the base, curl up in his nest, and deal with it like every other heat he’d had: alone. 

It seems he wasn’t going to be so lucky this time, because there was a knock on the bedroom door. 

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A/n: I was struck with this idea and I had to get it out. I love him, your honor

As always we say thank you Milkbread for the Ghost personality