#dbf!ghost

staring at your foot with parted lips, you meet ghost’s gaze, sweetly batting your lashes together, “my feet … me duelen tanto,” you pout, your eyes never leaving the older man’s as you softly push your toes into his skin.

god, you were too fucking cute, too pure. why did you have to be price’s kid? ghost respected your father, hell, your father trained him — the respect ran too deep. but, ghost was well aware of your attraction to him, it scared him — you’re younger, have way more potential than he did at that age, you’re not as cold as he is, not as exposed to the world and how scary it can be.

letting out a low growl of surrender, ghost grabs ahold of your foot, applying just enough pressure into the balls of your feet to have you letting out a relived moan — fuck. maintaining his hold on your foot, ghost jostles you out of your dazed state, “won’t hurt as much f’ya get into bed, love,” he coos.

“will you sleep next to me?” you question, your doe eyes glazed over as the lieutenant’s chest deflates with a deep exhale.

still holding onto your foot, ghost shakes his head, “you’re price’s kid — s’my captain—”

“not a kid,” you go to snatch your foot back, but ghost is that much quicker than you, holding your foot flat against his hard abdomen.

cocking his head to the side, ghost stares at you with reprimanding eyes, his pupils blown, “hey, don’t gimme tha’ — none of tha’ bratty stuff,” he corrects you, “you’re drunk, and i can’t betray y’dad,” his voice is stern and final, and just as his hold on your foot softens, you’re quick to pull your foot away.

ghost tries to ignore the dull pang in his chest when he catches you blinking furiously, clearly fighting back warm and fat tears that stung at your waterline, your normally sentimental nature now enhanced by all the bottom shelf tequila shots you took. the older man never wanted to see you cry, so him being the reason for your tears made him feel that much shittier.

with a small sniffle, you reach your hand out towards ghosts, keeping you watery eyes away from his, “um, i-i can change in here,” you squeak out, straightening your posture to the best of your drunken ability.

nodding silently, ghost places the crumpled clothes into your hand, wordlessly exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him. you’re quick to stumble up to your feet, grabbing onto the wall to balance yourself as you let out a short cry, your struggles to undo the zipper of your dress setting you off completely.

ghost remains stood outside of the bathroom door, running a frustrated hand over his masked face as he takes in the sound of your whiny cries and you bumping into the wall every now and again. he decides to give you a few minutes to yourself, before checking in on you, his shoulders squared and jaw locked.

just as he moves to knock on the door, it opens, revealing you nearly swallowed whole by his shirt alone, eyeliner-tinted tears streaking your puffy cheeks, “smells good,” you mumble, your body slightly swaying as you keep your head down.

“listen, love, i—”

with those big puppy eyes of yours, you blurt out, “do you li-like me, ghost?” you hiccup, your vision all wonky and cloudy from residual tears as you teeter a bit too far on one side, nearly tripping over your own feet.

“i shouldn’t,” ghost steps forward, placing both of his massive hands on your shoulders, steadying you, forcing you to keep your eyes directly on his, leaning down to reach your height, “n’you shouldn’t like me,” he warns, his voice flowing in one of your ears and straight out of the other.

“but, i—”

ghost lifts one of his hands from your shoulders, moving it to gently cradle your jaw, raising a daring brow to you, “you’re price’s kid … m’not good f’you,”

the older man goes to nudge your chin with his knuckle, but you move too fast, catching his thick finger between your sharp teeth with a bubbly giggle. ghost remains silent, internally cursing himself as he decides to test the waters — throw you a bone, i mean, you’ve been nothing short of a sweet little bunny to him.

letting out a sigh, ghost extends his finger, watching with parted lips under his balaclava as your warm mouth and wet tongue close around his finger. you keep your eyes firmly on ghost, slightly hollowing your cheeks with a muffled hum as you slooowly slide your lips off of his thick digit, catching the tip of his index between your teeth, before you press a short kiss to his finger.

“c’mon, bunny,” ghost stands up tall, and with a playful roll of your eyes you can’t help but blush at the masked man, holding your arms up towards him, “gonna be the death f’me, fuckin’ hell,” he surrenders, lifting you by your underarms, your legs instantly swinging around his surprisingly slender waist.

resting your throbbing head against ghost’s, you snuggle into the side of his neck, bringing your hand up to toy with the loose thread that hung from the hem of his balaclava, “can i see your face, jus’ once?”

simon continues making his way to his bedroom, each of his steps heavy, but careful, “when y’wake up, ask me and maybe i’ll show y’my face, how’s tha’ sound, pet?” he coaxed, lightly patting your bottom as he leans down, laying you onto his mattress.

you let out a sleepy hum, squirming a bit as you find a comfortable position on the lieutenant’s bed, inhaling the lingering scent of his musky cologne that remained with his pillowcase.

ghost watches as you lull yourself to sleep, shamelessly ogling at the hem of his shirt that now bunches up above your lower back, your full plump ass on full display, your skimpy pink panties nearly swallowed by your soft asscheeks and puffy pussy.

clearing his throat, ghost brings a hand to your core, hooking a prodding finger through your damp little panty, a smirk playing on his lips as he pulls down his balaclava just below his mouth, “y’asleep, bunny?”

shifting your leg a bit higher, you wiggle your ass cutely, “no,”

“good,” simon kneels onto the bed, grateful for the darkness as he watches you peek from your pillow, searching for any sign of his face.

ghost lets out a pathetically hungry groan as he stuffs his face into your panty-covered pussy, inhaling deeply as he hooks your leg around his neck, suffocating himself in your sweet warmth.

dbf!Simon Riley who watches as you writhe on the couch, trying desperately as to not gawp at him. Yet he makes an effort to let you know he’s very much interested. You’re alone together, you two know each other well enough, you’re hot, he’s hot - why not? He’s wanted you for longer than he would care to admit. He just needs you to make the first move over him. Especially with your dad, him not wanting to be creepy and all... but Simon very much wants you.

dbf!Simon Riley who never breaks his gaze on you, watching as your eyes darted everywhere to the floor to his defined arms, to the door to his pants. It makes him smirk at how coy you're being with him, but he's not a patient man today.

dbf!Simon Riley who approaches you from across the room, your eyes shooting up to meet his. They widen as he kneels before you, his toned stomach just pressing against your knees, as if he's asking to be let in. You're embarrassed as you slowly spread them for him, a clear wet spot outlined on your panties. But Simon can only cuss under his breath at the sight, fuck- just for him? He feels like a lucky man indeed. He leans in closer to you, hovering just above your lips, daring you to please make this a reality. Finally, the man you've dreamed of after all this years, he wants you too. So how could you be expected to resist?

dbf!Simon Riley who moans into your mouth at your contact, pushing you back onto the couch until you're trapped beneath him. His length straining against his pants, grinding against your core. He can't help but want to explore every inch of you now that you've given him permission- your breasts, your throat, your folds. It doesn't take long for him to push your dress up and your soaked panties down, along with his belt and jeans discarded. Simon needed you now, no time to take you to the bedroom. He thinks that he'll have plenty of time for that later.

dbf!Simon Riley who brings your legs to his chest as his thick length slips into you, pumping deeply, trying to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He's absolutely determined to make you forget everything but his name in this moment. God, he wants all of you, and he's certain 1000 times with you will never be enough. Simon thinks you look so gorgeous taking him over and over again till the tears start to leak from your eyes, till you're begging for one more release. His girl now, he thinks.

dbf!Simon Riley who thinks about taking you out on his bike together, who thinks about waking up to you in the morning and sneaking kisses when your parents aren't looking. All while making you cum around his cock, your back arching and mouth falling open. Till he fills you up and you're squeezing him relentlessly.

you had been adamant about wearing this one specific outfit to the gym, these ridiculously small white ‘workout’ shorts that hugged your puffy pussy and rode up your ass, the fat of your asscheeks poking out under the seamless hem of the shorts. not to mention, a matching white compression shirt that was essentially a glorified crop top that barely reached under your tits. you looked ravishing, the bright white clashing against your bronzed caramel-like tone — but, fuck, simon was never going to allow you to wear such revealing clothing, especially not when he couldn’t be around to watch over you.

“aren’t they sooo cute, papi?” you gasp, doing a cute spin in front of the stone-faced man, you bright smile faltering a bit as you take in his silence, “y’dont like it,” you follow simon’s gaze down to your exposed cameltoe, quickly tugging down on the hem of your shorts, which didn’t do much to help your case.

with a tilt of his head, simon lets out a sarcastic chuckle, “if y’thought tha’ i would let y’wear tha’ …” he brings his arms to fold behind his head, leaning back against the headboard, “s’not happenin’, lovie,” he decides, not missing the way you flinch at his words, your eyes now big and full of questions.

“wha— but, why?” you shift, the non-compliant hem of your shorts bouncing up into the crevice when your plush thighs and hips join.

with a shrug, simon keeps his stern eyes directly on yours, “‘cause i won’t be around t’watch you, so don’t ask again,” he warns, bringing his arms down with an annoyed grunt as you huff, frustrated tears already brimming at your water line.

parting your lips to speak, to step closer to the older man laying before you, “but—”

“i said no,” he speaks, his voice raised just a bit, his tone firm and strict. your bottom lip pokes out, quivering a little as your eyes narrow, a stray sniffle crinkling your nose, “y’can change or y’can come back t’bed with me,” simon adds, stretching his neck with a few pops!

you weren’t sad, just frustrated. you completely understood ghost’s reasoning, but him being so mean strict was something that you were definitely not used to. and, you couldn’t let him have the last word, you just had to mouth off at him, push him just a little bit.

“well, you don’t tell me what to do,” you sniffle, knuckling your tears from your now bloodshot eyes, before quickly turning away from ghost and storming out of the bedroom, “pendejo,” you mumble under your breath.

with a humored nod to himself, ghost smiles, “s’tha right, pet?”

it wasn’t long before you returned to the lieutenant’s bedroom, dressed in one of his shirts, your swollen cried-out eyes avoiding meeting his as you crawl onto the bed, sitting right on the heels of your feet. like the defeated bunny you were, you poke your finger into simon’s rib.

earning a forced groan of acknowledgment, you sigh, making your way to lay flat on your stomach, between simon’s beefy legs, you chin resting on his happy trail, the trimmed hairs prickling you, “i’m sorry,” you blink up at ghost.

he stares down at you, his expression blank as he wordlessly slides hand through your hair, gently gripping at your roots, pulling your head up and backwards, a gasp-like moan leaving your lips as you watch ghost lean up, still gripping your hair.

“i want it, papi,” you pout.

now sat up from his previous position, the older man takes his free hand and softly pinches the apple of your cheek, “m’gonna give it t’ya a bit easier, yeah?” he coos, rubbing your cheek.

with a sick smile, you nod.

cursing himself internally, ghost cradles your cheek oh so lovingly. price would probably snipe ghost on sight if he saw what ghost was about to do to you, but fuck, you loved this shit.

so, ghost sent a quick slap to across your cheek, your head whipping to the side, despite this being the most held-back strike ghost had ever taken in his life. but, he was a highly trained soldier, a 6’4, 200 plus pound tank of a man whose hand could cover the entirety of your face.

a squeaked out cry left your lips, fat warm tears clouding your doe-eyes. but, you weren’t hurt, the shock of the slap just caught you off guard.

“fuckin’ hell, baby,” ghost is quick to maneuver himself to pull you into his arms, “hate doin’ tha’ shit t’ya,” he mutters into the top of your head, cradling you close to his chest.

and it was true, ghost wasn’t too keen on your little slapping kink. you’d never slapped him, and he was hyper aware of his strength and what he could do to you. so, ghost only reserved giving into you for when he could tell you absolutely needed it. he’d only ever slapped you once or twice before — and he hated it, beating himself up for even going along with it for days on end, he couldn’t even make eye contact with you, let alone captain price.

with your face pressed into ghost’s chest, you let out a choppy breath, “m’okay,” you spoke, your sweet voice muffled by the bulging muscles of ghost’s pecs.

keeping his lips pressed firmly into the crown of your head, his eyes shut tight, “don’t ever wanna do tha’ t’ya again, i mean it,” he grunts, scratching at your scalp lightly, “let me have a look, lovie,” ghost squeezes your waist.

pulling your head from his chest, you raise your head, your pretty face slightly tainted by the red hand print that now blushed your cheek. watching ghost’s eyes widen, your shake your head, “no, mi amor, m’okay, i promise,” you pull down his balaclava, peppering quick kisses to his chapped lips.

simon keeps a warm hand on your ass, grounding himself with random squeezes and kneading into the plush skin as you kiss him, “bunny—”

“no more slapping, w-we can try different things,” you press another kiss to ghost’s lips, before pulling his balaclava to cover his nose and mouth. wordlessly, you reach for both of ghost’s hands, pulling them up to cradle both sides of your face, “you see? it doesn’t hurt — i’m not scared,” you send ghost a desperate smile, searching his eyes for any sign of him forgiving himself.

ghost sits still, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks, his eyes blank, “i don’t mind roughin’ y’up in bed, love,” he sighs, “but, hitting you — markin’ up tha’ pretty face of yours, i can’t do that,” he explains calmly, mushing your cheeks together as you take in his words with an obedient nod, your bright eyes set right on his.

“can’t even bring m’self t’look at you or y’dad,”bringing his hands down to each of your soft thighs, simon rubs his hands up and down the supple skin, his hands sliding up to find the swells of your ass cheeks, “f’ya really need it, or y’act up, y’get spankings instead, how’s tha’ sound, pet?” he plants his fingers firmly into your ass, softly spreading your asscheeks apart.

biting into your bottom lip, you smile with a nod, “sounds good,” you giggle, your clit aching against ghost’s hard abdomen as he continues to fondle you.

letting out a dry chuckle, ghost can’t help but smile under his mask as you plop yourself onto his chest once more, smacking wet kisses all over his exposed skin. the brief moment of lovesick bliss getting cut short by the loud trill of ghost’s phone ringing.