Ghost never really had a type. Or so he thought. He went for women who were mature. Who could take the rough angry nights of passion after failed missions.

Then he found you. You were gorgeous. Like an angel sent straight from above. You had meat on your bones and he liked it. He loved your soft stomach and your hipdips. Those were his favourite parts of you, of course, excluding your beautiful eyes which he could stare into all day if you’d let him.

You didn’t believe him when he complimented you. The stupid words from guys before him about your weight were simply drilled into your brain. You couldn’t see your own beauty, even if you wanted to.

You were having a movie night at your apartment, cuddled up in your bed. Wearing baggy clothes like you always do. He couldn’t help but glance at you every now and again, finding your beauty simply otherworldly. Yet for you, you felt like he was judging you; every glance he gave made you sink deeper into the warmth of your bed.

Ghost suddenly sits up with a grunt, staring at you before grabbing your waist. “Clearly you don’t see how perfect you are,” He grumbles. “so I’m gonna show you.” He finishes, peppering kisses onto your neck before pulling back and stripping the baggy clothes right off of your body.

“I’m gonna worship you, just like you deserve.” He kisses your collar bone, down your neck, kissing between your chest before kissing your stomach. “This stomach which I absolutely adore..” He whispers, kissing your stomach again before going down, kissing your thighs, his hands digging into the soft flesh. “These god damn perfect thighs.” He bites down, before soothing it with a soft lick. “Every inch of you is bloody divine, love.” He murmured, kissing your ankle.