lift me out of my own skin
Ghost has always been a dog. rough, stubborn, never willing to back down. It's what helped him rise through the ranks, get his name to leave trembling lips so often. TF141’s mad dog.
so, when he first saw you at a pub Johnny dragged him to with the rest of the lads, he suddenly didn’t regret allowing the eccentric man to get in his head. beautiful– no, more than. Simon wished he had the words to describe you. You were everything he wasn’t. Elegant, soft-spoken, a meal he was beyond hungry to get a bite of. and then, that familiar feeling of need . possesiveness . want . it seeped all the way deep into his bones. dug itself and stabbed daggers into his ( barely there ) heart.
like all mad dogs, you can't give Simon Riley a toy and expect him to not ruin it. gnaw at it- sink his teeth into it 'till it breaks into pieces and he has the duty of putting it back together while the ichor trickles down his chin.
he wanted you, badly. wanted to bite into your neck ‘till the blood spills and his room (could it really be called one?) mirrors a crime scene. He'll make you his– make you know you’re his. Simon knew you belonged to him already from the moment he saw your eyes, and that ass. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck–
he just had to make you accept it.
And that he did. He never was one for failure, no. wouldn’t let himself be- especially not when you were the prize. He wasn’t fond of approaching anyone. That's why, when you slid and sat next to him while smiling like a sly fox, his lips twitched beneath the mask.
Good girl.
So, maybe you knew you were his all along.
but for good measure, he made that as clear as possible. kissing down your neck, aggressive, animalistic. spit exchanged, tongues intertwined. he shoved his large hands beneath your skanky little top (he’d have to keep that in mind, his girl can’t wear somethin’ too revealin’.) and began kneading your breasts while you lost your breath to his kisses. He kissed like he was dying, like it was his last second on earth, and your body was his savior. His angel. held onto your ass while he fucked you so deep in the bathroom stall of that shitty pub, your pretty little face covered in his shoulders. all red n’ cute from the pleasure. "Ah, Ah, fff–fuck! s-si.." you cried. no, no, no. he was so deep in, too far, you thought. could feel him in your tummy. he lets his hand splay over your stomach. "You got it baby, i gotchu. fuckfuck..so tight..all f’me, yes? gettin’ all bent for me, hah? couldn't even wait an hour before fuck-- before bouncin' on me, hm?" you nodded fervently, desperately chasing the orgasm you were building up. he laughed. mean. he was mean, you noticed. but he fucked so raw-- " Y-yes, ah..m’God.." "No, hun. Jus’ simon, yeah? c’mon, say it. you’re mine, sweetness. all fuckin’ mine."
He didn’t bother letting you rest after fucking you stupid on his cock. he went down on his knees, one pretty dainty leg on his shoulder while he ate you out like a starving man. he was dying of thirst, and that sweet pussy was his pure water. he lapped up your juices, fucking his tongue into you as you grinded and grinded and pulled on his hair so weakly while telling him that No, simon-- 's too much.. fuck! h-hurts...
Ah, Simon wasn’t letting you go. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
