ghoap au where you are their roommate who they fuck instead of acknowledging their feelings for each other and you are sooo glad you are wanted (even like this) for once in your life that you pretend your chest doesn't ache whenever they leave you after using you.
this keeps going on until you catch them at last having a date at a place you'd been talking about for weeks in hopes one of them would want to go with you, not even as a date but just with you, and you are left standing there and feeling like you are worth less than the dirt on their shoes while they look at each other with the softest of eyes- a look they've never even given your used body.
it's why you go to drink your sorrows away. it's why you let a man, big and thick and british with mutton chops and warm, strong hands on your waist and a rumbling voice who calls himself "john", take you back to his house and take such nice, good care of you.
come morning, he's prepared you breakfast and it's not like anyone will be missing you back at your shared flat... and so you stay, and let john price feed you and compliment how you look in the morning sun wrapped in his clothes. coincidentally, you are having such a nice time you simply forget to answer any phone calls or text messages.
hmmm könig acting like an excited but desperate puppy, asking you “does that feel good? do you like it? tell me, is that the spot, my hase?” constantly because he has slight doubt. except he underestimates his size and already, his seemingly ‘slow’ pace is drilling into you so you’re unable to answer him.
now you’re being fucked dumb and you haven’t said anything, by his own knowledge of sex, he simply assumes he’s not pounding you good enough. his ‘slow’ pace becomes almost impossible to take when his thrusts begin to speed up and fuck you deeper.
still, könig is asking if that feels any better but you’re face first burying into the pillow, biting the sheets, given up on asking so you just end up taking his fat cock til you both cum. (aka til you feel like you’ve met death)
Simon is coming home from work later than normal. When he opens the door he is greeted with excited meowing at his feet and soft sniffles from the living room.
Trudging further into the aparment he finds you curled up on the couch, cat toy clutched in one hand, a tissue in the other.
Dropping his things on the side, he ignores the chattering menace circling his legs and drops to his knees.
The Bengal mix hops on the couch, stretching to nuzzle whatever she could get of him.
"Hi, Si" you sniffle, wiping your nose and giving him a watery smile
"Wot's wrong, pretty girl?" he asks, eyes flitting over your features. He reaches out to wipe away the tear tracks and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
"She just wouldnt stop crying for you" the whine in your voice makes something clench in him. His eyes go to the cat, thats still trying to get him to pay attention to her, climbing over your legs to get closer to him, trilling and meowing.
"you gave your momma a hard time, huh?" he mumbles, finger scratching under the cats chin, going around to pet over her back. The fluffy fiend mrows at you and closes her eye in bliss.
Nodding with a sniff, you uncurl from your blanket nest and greet him properly with a kiss to his lips.
At least you try to, because when you get close enough, a furry head gets wedged between you both.
♥︎ oh nothing just thinking abt price & hes all buff but in the chunky way, like he’s not got abs, but he’s grown man meat in his belly, arms, back a little softer and UGHH. talk about a belly pooch just hanging over his sweatpants as he slides them off, not even wearing anything under as his fat thick cock slaps up. white drops flicks onto his happy trail, getting caught, hair thick and leading down to where your mouth waters and eyes cross just imagining it slowly filling your throat. talk about him now ontop of you, you’re all gagged and pretty, blindfolded wrists pinned to your side with his big hands, as he’s pummeling your cunt, slick wet sounds filling the air along with his grunts and cusses. “fuck, pet, missed this tight cunt” “look so pretty f’me all gagged and blindfolded up” and when you get all loud and wiggly he just slows down and rests his forearms by your head and peppers kisses all over your face so you know ur safe “breathe in sweet girl, im not goin anywhere” “not leaving this pretty cunt empty” “shhh, shh shh, easy girl” <3
18+, Simon Ghost Riley x Female Reader - in which Simon can't help losing his head a little whenever you make out in the early stages of your relationship.
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Simon loves kissing you, but kissing you while standing doesn’t allow him the angle he prefers. You’re much shorter than him and he has to crane his neck and scoop you close to embrace you properly. While your first kiss was perfect, and he wanted to take things slow in the physical realm of your relationship, Simon knew that he wanted to kiss you for long, longer moments at a time, and would like to have you laying down beneath him to indulge in the act. That would only lead things further from there, but he could not help how quickly his mind lost its command over his restraint—not when your lips were soft and pressing, catching and lingering, parting and seeking his again. He’d groan deep in his chest and you’d feel it against your roving hands, and the resonance of it made your obliging legs tremble.
Simon felt them as your knees brushed against his sides, against his ribs, dangerously close to enfolding around him. He’d watch your eyes flutter open, blinking away some haze to find him.
“Pretty girl,” he’d murmur, entranced by your softened, gentle mouth and thumbing the plump edge of it, and fuck, if he didn’t get hard right then and there at your contented smile and the fond caress of your hand as you hooked your palm over the back of his neck, nails seeking his hair. Your upper lip enveloped Simon’s aimless thumb and took him into the sweet warmth of your mouth, tasting the salt of his skin, and the bulge in his jeans made itself at home right against your pelvis.
You’d give a surprised and pleased moan at the feel of him before he could feel ashamed (Christ, what happened to taking things slow?), and it would be so easy to fumble with each other’s clothes, kissing all the while he unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down your thighs, pinning your knees to your front because he’s too impatient for his access. Freeing himself, tugging your panties to the side so you were exposed, and then the perfect, seamless slotting together ascending to firm, yet gentle thrusts. God yes, Simon thinks, rutting against you now, it’d only take a few, and he could circle and press your clit so you’d come as quickly as he would lost in the grip, the warmth, the sounds of your moans and slick sex and the delirious motion and rhythm of moving within you until he peaks and you leak with his spend.
At the sudden, soft inquiry of his name and your waist curving into him to meet his fervor, he snaps out of his reverie. He pulls away and sits up, breath ragged, with the last of his restraint.
“’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to get so carried away.”
the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoed through the room, each thrust harder and faster than the last. the force of him inside you was overwhelming, leaving you gasping for breath. a broken cry escaped your lips as your orgasm hit, tearing through you at the unforgiving pace he’d set. your body trembled beneath him, bouncing uncontrollably with each thrust as you clawed at the floor, desperate for anything to hold on to.
tears blurred your vision, but even through the haze, you could see him—ghost. his massive frame loomed behind you, the white skull mask glowing dimly in the low light. his blue eyes pierced through the shadows, flickering occasionally into a deep, predatory stare before shifting back, as if a monster lurked just beneath the surface.
a shaky, heated smile curled your lips as you caught sight of yourself in the mirror—wrecked, helpless, taken completely by the man behind you. every thrust sent shockwaves through your body, and the way he possessed you made it clear there was no escape.
simon leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and rough. “i’m going to make you watch me take you over and over again until you’re nothing but a numb, broken thing.”
then he slammed into you harder, pulling a ragged cry from deep within you. your nails scraped the floor in desperation, but there was no reprieve, only his unrelenting rhythm.
“i’m still angry,” he growled, his words vibrating through you as he thrust deeper, faster. “and i’m going to make sure you understand, love—no other man will ever satisfy you again.”
his pace quickened, every thrust a punishment, every motion a claim. you could feel it—his rage, his desire, and the dark promise that dripped from his voice. and in the mirror, it was all laid bare: the power he had over you, the way he unraveled you completely.
simon was taking you, body and soul, and there was no turning back.
I think it’s a running joke that everyone can tell when Ghost returns from spending the night at your place. There are lots of signs, but one of them is that he smells like he rolled around in a bath and Bodyworks. Big lieutenant who scares anyone who so much as glances his way, and then he walks past and… is that a hint of honeysuckle and vanilla?
Obviously no one who likes breathing says anything to him. But everyone knows that they have a brief window for their tomfoolery cause if he spent the night with his bird, he’s more than likely in a good mood.
