A/N: He's a lovable ball of social anxiety, just like me. Although he is a lot bigger than me, but you know, more to love and all that right?
You'd get a sense that König, while not exactly holding back when it comes to sex, wants to do a lot more things then he lets on
He was shy when you first started dating, even shyer when your relationship became intimate
He's not insecure about his skills, not at all
Knows exactly how to kiss, touch, lick, bite and what makes your eyes roll back when he thrusts his big cock into you
Getting you to finish multiple times in one night an easy task for him with his stamina and size
Has been with enough women to know that he's... well there's a lot of him to take and he can goes really hard when he starts to enjoy himself
Only finished inside your mouth and ass up until now
Doesn't like condoms because it's a haste to buy ones big enough for him
Has talked about breeding you but only while fucking your mouth
König was surprised as hell when you clenched tight around him, pussy, arms and legs, and told him that you don't want him to pull out this time, your pussy is there to be fucked and filled by his cum
He's still hesitant but never wants to disappoint you, he is a complete service top
Even when he has his hands hooked under your legs and is holding you up in the air while you ride his cock to make sure his cum gets in your deepest parts he's still asking if it feels good and if you want more
Affirmation is very important to him
Loves feeling your nails dig into his back muscles as your body locks up under his
When he's breeding you he never finishes before you, he's always waiting for your orgasm to end before he lets himself finish
That way your orgasms can tapper off into each others and your cunt can milk him dry of every last drop, or at least as much as it can take
Keeps wet wipes at arms reach so that the two of you can clean up quickly and get right to snuggling
You feel so small against him sometimes he can't help but want to put everything on the line for you and fulfill your every need and desire
Always wants to do some small talk after sex
Likes it when you fall asleep next to him so he can gather his arms around you and pull your head against his chest, his chin resting on top of your head, feel your breathing against him as you drift off to sleep
im 100% sure im not the first person to ask this but what the FUCK was soap going to say that made ghost so aggressive when introducing themselves to alejandro?? he was so fucking aggressive with the “THAT’LL DO.” like ?? soap knows EXACTLY how to get on his nerves and ALSO either this has HAPPENED before or ghost just knows what hes going to say. what fucking buttons was he gonna press?? i want to know so badly
Flirting, pining, size difference, mentions and descriptions of injury, mentions of battle, dirty talk, praise, dry humping, unprotected vaginal sex
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Summary: Ghost gets a life-threatening injury, and it’s your job to make sure he returns to full-health.
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A/N: I rarely do summaries on one-shots, but since I’m introducing a character I figured I would (: I loooove this character, and I’m really hoping to write more one-shots with her and Ghost in the future!
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Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist
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Working on them was easy, they took everything you gave them like champs. Splints, stitches, cleanings, anything they had, you took care of. They’d bite their tongues, ball up their fists if they had to, but for the most part, that was it. Vargas wouldn’t whine, but Gaz would. Price was nearly silent and in all honesty, Soap whimpered like a baby. But Ghost, he didn’t ever make a sound.
It wasn’t always like this, you weren’t always 141’s go-to medic. Before, you were here for everyone. Whoever needed you, that’s who you tended to. You got so good at it that at one point, you’d been promoted to a rescue mission position. Daily helicopter rides became your usual. Freezing temperatures and smoke-filled air met your exterior shell on a weekly basis. You’ve even been dropped into open fields full of bullets and bloody cries. The training you received was minimal, but enough for you to take it and run. You had talent, that talent growing into expertise. You knew how to defend yourself, your reflexes were good. You could shoot a gun and if need be, hold your own. That’s what got you to 141.
They impressed you, they still do. The team worked like a well oiled machine. And when you first saw them, you immediately questioned him.
“What’s with the mask?” You’d asked him, straight to his face. He tilted his head. “Is it still Halloween?”
The boys laughed, but Ghost didn’t. His fingers curled, and he sucked in a breath. You were brand new; not a good way to start off with him. Hey, it’s not your fault he took it the wrong way. You love Halloween. Sometimes you even find the scary things sexy.
Eventually you learned the real reasoning behind his mask, behind the skeleton head that hid his face. Honestly, you were intrigued by it, his anonymity. But sometimes, it got in the way.
“Blood type?” You’d asked, going through each soldier’s file as you became acquainted, some months ago now.
“Unknown.” Your colleague responded.
“What? What do you mean?”
“We have little to no information on Ghost’s background.”
“What if he starts to bleed out? Or needs a blood transfusion?”
“Guess I’ll die.” Came his gruff response.
Spinning around in your small and circular wheeled chair, you saw his bulky body taking up the majority on the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest while leaning against the frame.
Why is she so interested in me? He’d wondered, suspicious of you. What he should’ve been asking himself is, why am I so interested in her?
He’d seen you work on his team, you were efficient and clean. He’d even go so far as to call you fearless. And surprisingly, he finds himself liking that. You were a bit of a brat, but at the heart of your teasing jokes, there was a sense of playful familiarity. And overall, having you around was good for his men. He didn’t know how vital you were to his team, though, until you had to be flown in to rescue him.
Pressing into his wound, you didn’t even feel him flinch. The gauze was soaked in the red stain seeping from the cut in his skin, and you were running out of supplies - you were running out of time. And apparently, your frantic nature showed.
“Hey,” You direct your sternest voice at him. “Ghost - Simon, eyes on me.”
He’s spiraling; body feeling light and his consciousness leaving you quickly. His eyelids are fluttering.
“You worried about me, love?” He was out of it, losing blood and flirting while in his hazy state. It was the first time he’d ever been nice to you.
But really, he wasn’t just being nice because his body was going into shock and losing his grip on reality. He was talking to you this way because he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to after this.
Giggling, you shook your head, happy that he was now responding to you. “Nah, big boy like you?” Patting his shoulder, you said, “You’ll be just fine.”
Even if he didn’t show it, Simon was worried, too.
“But I bet you wish you’d told me your blood type now.”
He wasn’t happy. Simon didn’t ever seem that happy, but right now, he definitely wasn’t happy. All he’s ever known is a military lifestyle, training and being out in the field. Having his team’s back, contributing to the work effort, that’s what he was best at. And now, he can’t do any of that. At least, not for the next couple weeks.
“I’m not a child.”
“Never said you were.” Rolling your eyes, you openly sass him. “It’s just a blanket.”
It was the first day of him being in your mini infirmary, just the two took up the room. Each of the boys came in to give him a pat on the shoulder, make sure he was doing alright. But in all honesty, Ghost hated this kind of attention. Being coddled and cared for. He could take care of himself.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.” He grunts, looking away almost childishly.
“Suit yourself. I’m gonna go get some pizza.”
At this, he perks up a bit, groaning. “Can you bring me back a box?” Mumbling, he’s still looking away.
Before you leave, you turn back around with a grin. “Sure thing, big boy.”
Once you’re finally gone, he sighs, his emotions contradicting each other inside. Frustration doesn’t even come close to what he’s feeling. He never gets injured in the field. Is he losing his touch? Surely not, he’s still in his glory years. For him, it’s embarrassing to be seen like this, not just in front of the boys but in front of you, though he’d never admit it. You make him feel nervous inside, like he has to heighten the man he already knows himself to be. He has to be tougher around you; he can’t show any weakness. The only problem with that, was that he did have a weakness, a major one. That gaping hole in his chest.
“Alright,” Coming back with two boxes of pizza, you set them on your desk, moving them to the side. “Let’s clean you up.”
“I can do it myself.”
“Okay, look.” Wiping your hands off of your pants, you turn to face him. “This is my job. Would you get angry at Soap for clearing a room before you? Or Price for conducting an infiltration route?”
This makes him stop, closing his mouth for a moment, although you can’t see it.
“I’m part of your team, you have to acknowledge that. Your job is to kill bad guys, and my job,” Taking a few steps toward him, you point to his chest. “Is to fix the mess the bad guys make.”
Ghost shifts his shoulders, looking away from you for just a second. And after a moment, his eyes return to yours, and he nods.
Reaching down, he cracks the knuckles on his hands, and it takes everything in you not to break his eye contact. Every movement of his muscles makes you sweat, the ripples of them more than a beautiful sight. He’s impressive. All he has on right now are a pair of shorts and a bandage wrapped around his upper chest. Other than that, he’s bare. You can see the muscles in his abdomen, the impressive form and firmness of them, the bulges of his biceps and the chorded muscle in his forearms. His legs are thick, huge, sturdy enough to hold his entire weight along with two other men, if need be. Again, impressive.
Satisfied with his nonverbal response, you turn to grab the essentials. Pulling over a small, wheeled tray, you begin your work. Ghost sits up off the back of the bed for you, allowing you to remove the bandages around his chest. He maneuvers himself to sit cross-legged while you do it, his head tilted down to watch you work.
Truthfully, Simon thought you were attractive the moment he saw you. And then you made fun of him. But when he balled up his fists, when he inhaled that sharp breath as a reaction, it wasn’t because he was mad at you. It was because right then and there, he was attracted to you.
“You ever been stabbed like this before?”
He doesn’t answer for a minute, not really wanting to admit it. But then he shakes his head. “No.”
This tells you something, it tells you that you’re tending to the worst injury he’s ever had. And you’re shocked by his answer, you would’ve assumed he’s had worse. But a stab to the chest that just barely misses the heart? Yeah, that’s pretty bad.
He doesn’t budge when you apply the antiseptic, allowing you to work in peace. Once you’ve cleaned the wound, he’s surprised to feel your hands. His eyes widen while keeping his gaze on you, watching as your fingertips explore him. They move across his chest, just barely gliding over his skin.
“Doesn’t look too bad.” You murmur to him, eyes trained on his chest.
Ghost is undeniably the fittest out of the entire team. He’s huge, and not just in height. You haven’t seen his naked torso since the day he was stabbed, and when you were tending to him then, you definitely weren’t thinking about how attracted you were to him. You were working to save his life. But now, you have time to let your thoughts wander, to let yourself experience what he feels like.
Trailing down a bit, your fingers graze over his abdominal muscles, your tongue briefly sliding across your lower lip. His muscles are firm, smooth, and warm. Your touch makes him feel uncertain; he doesn’t know what you’re doing, but it’s making him nervous. Well, not nervous, necessarily but… excited.
“What happened to you being nice to me, huh?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him. And the smile you offer is pretty. “Thought you’d be my best friend after I saved your life.”
This makes him laugh, a small grunt coming out toward the end from his injury. You’re right, he should be nicer to you considering the circumstance. He should also be nicer to you because, well… he fancies you.
“I’m sorry.” He finally acknowledges, albeit quietly. “I know I’ve been acting… standoffish.”
“It’s okay,” Shrugging, you reach for the clean bandages. “I get it, you’re embarrassed.”
Sighing, he looks down at your nimble hands again. “Yeah.”
“Let’s get your blood pressure before you eat.” You then tell him, changing the topic while retrieving your tools. “Then I’ll leave you alone,” Glancing up at him, you grin. “I promise.”
Right now, he doesn’t want you to leave him alone. You’re nice company.
Attaching the cuff over his bicep is a feat in and of itself. His muscles stretch the fabric, but it ends up securing around him adequately. You then take your stethoscope, applying it to his inner elbow while you begin pumping the meter. Glancing up at the machine, you focus on the readings, and absentmindedly, your hand wanders. While continuing to record his data, your free hand slides down his arm and into his palm as you steady yourself beside him.
Widening those pretty blue eyes, he releases a breath, now looking further down. He’s surprised, but honestly, it feels nice. Makes him relax. And while staring at your smaller hand now resting in his, he inhales deeply, curling his fingers slightly around your hand. This makes your head snap to the side, having not fully realized what you’d done. But Ghost doesn’t move when you look at him; he does stare at you though, right into your eyes. And while keeping your gaze, he lightly squeezes your hand. He really is sorry. He’s grateful.
The days following the first are actually pretty nice. With your main focus on Ghost, the rest of the crew seem to leave you alone for the time being.
“You’ve been a big help lately.”
“What?” Comes that thick, English accent. “I’ve done nothing but sit on my ass.”
“Yeah, but it keeps them,” Pointing out into the training yard, you finish, “Off my ass.”
Turning, he stretches, watching his team run around and lift weights on the field behind him, only a window separating them.
“It’s like I told you, sweetheart.” His head then moves, returning his gaze to you. “You’re the finest thing they’ve seen in months.”
“Oh, yeah?” You tease. “What about you?”
Since he’s been nicer, you’ve been spending more time at his side. You didn’t need to sleep here, he was fine by himself, but after that first night, you did. You couldn’t help yourself. Thinking about him all alone in the infirmary while you lay cozied up in bed made you sad. You didn’t want him to get lonely. So, you slept on the small loveseat in the corner, the one the boys usually sit on to smoke. And your sleepovers were starting to make you close, that sweet little nickname being evidence of that.
“What about me?” Under his mask, his face heats up. He knows what you’re asking.
“Am I the finest thing you’ve seen in months?”
Under that skull-painted cover, he grins, giving you a single nod. “You’re pretty.”
“Oh, Ghost,” Walking over to him, you lean into his bicep, clutching it. “I knew you’d eventually fall in love with me.”
Rolling his eyes, he grumbles with an amused tone, “A pretty big pain in my ass.”
After he says this, you laugh, pushing yourself off of him.
“Bones?” Your comm link buzzes slightly, a bit of static coming through.
Pressing your button, you tilt your head to the side. “What’s up?”
“Searg. is calling a meeting.”
“Time?”
“Eighteen hundred.”
“Alright, I’ll see you then.”
“Bones?”
Once your conversation has ended, another one promptly begins. Lifting your head to face him, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”
Ghost tilts his head to the side slightly, narrowing his eyes at you.
“Never heard anyone call you that.”
“Yeah, well you’re not on my med. team.”
“Well, you’re on my team, aren’t you?”
Giving him a thoughtful pout, you eventually answer with, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Then we should know your cover.” His voice is stern and gritty, deep and rumbling. It’s like how he talks out in the field.
“Well, now you do.” Giving him a quick wink, you turn away, intent on doing some paperwork before your meeting.
“What’s the meaning of it?” When you don’t immediately answer, he calls for you. “Bones?”
Something about him using your code name makes you grin.
“I’m known for breaking them.” Turning, you face him once again, a smile plastered across your smooth lips.
“Known for breaking bones?” He clarifies, sounding skeptical.
“Yep.”
“Huh,” He scoffs, “That’s not exactly something to boast about, is it?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be if they were mine.”
Oh, now he gets it.
“I did a lot more than sew up wounds before I came here.” With a heavy sigh, you reminisce on your time in the field. But you made a choice to be here. “I used to break them, now I heal them.”
He never knew. And honestly, this new information only makes him more attracted to you. A badass soldier with a gentle touch? Sounds like his kind of woman.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You emphasize, “I’ve got some paperwork to do.”
“Fine.” He returns flatly, and you giggle. He really sounds upset about that abrupt ending.
“Think you’re gonna be okay by yourself while I’m gone?”
“Won’t be a problem.” He grunts, shimmying to lay back down. “I’ll just sleep.”
Throughout your hours spent together, you’ve discovered that he’s quite the fan of naps. He takes one every day around three in the afternoon, and you wonder if he’s finally enjoying his rest. It doesn’t help that you often have to leave him while he’s sleeping, though. You’ve liked being by his side lately, it’s comforting. His presence has begun to grow quite kind, and even in the quiet times, it’s nice. But you still have meetings and other duties to tend to. Which include the one you’d been called to.
Ghost’s gentle snore is what prompts you to look up, your eyes searching for his own. But they’re closed, one arm propped behind his head with his other hand laying over his stomach. He’s fully laying on the bed, the blanket only covering up to his waist. He’s still shirtless, and right now, he looks practically naked. Aside from the mask. Eyes trailing up his form, you take in the steady rise and fall of his chest, the light-colored hairs scattering his pectorals, and even further down, leading from his belly button to the hem of his pants. It makes you sigh, he looks peaceful. You’ve never seen him so relaxed.
You don’t like the thought of him waking up to a room empty of you, so to make up for it, you head to the cafeteria. As quietly as you can, you return with a large pizza, one with his favorite toppings on it. Steak, mushrooms, onions, and two kinds of cheese, specifically provolone and American - strange and lengthy details, but ones you memorized, nonetheless. And after you set the box down, taking in another look of him, you turn to leave.
Eventually, the smell wakes him up. How could it not? It’s his absolute favorite thing to eat. But he has to be careful, he needs to keep himself in shape over these couple of weeks, or he’ll need more training than originally planned. Sighing, he props himself up, the realization now setting in.
She did this for me.
He knows it was you and not the boys because of the little note on top of the box.
Ghost,
I’m at a meeting until six tonight, I’m sorry I probably won’t be around when you wake up. Here’s some pizza to makeup for it. Hopefully you still love me <3
Bones
He rolls his eyes at that last part, a smile pulling on the edges of his lips. You can be so sarcastic sometimes. But he likes it. You make him laugh.
While you’re gone, Simon thinks about the way you take care of him. You’re so gentle with him when changing his bandages and cleaning his wound. Your smaller hands touch him so softly that it makes him feel things for you. He wonders, is he just interested in you because you’re the only woman around? Or is he interested in you because you’re funny? Because you’re nice? It’s because you’re such a tender caretaker and you remind him of all the love he never got in life.
Looking back at the note, he reads it again. It sounds like you’d regretted leaving him, even for something as important as a medical staff meeting. Maybe you’ve been enjoying his company, too.
When night rolls around, you snuggle up on the couch, pulling the blanket you’d grabbed from your cot over your shoulders. Ghost just stares at you, one leg laying flat on his bed with the other up, the sole of his foot planted on the mattress.
“How the hell do you fit on that?”
Shrugging, you answer with, “It’s easy to fit in places when you’re not an enormous tank.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Smirking, you can just barely see his eyes in the darkness. Those icy orbs find your own, and it makes your chest tighten. “I like the way you’re built.”
He chuckles, amused. “Yeah?” And then he reaches for a pack of cigarettes next to his bed, lifting the edge of his mask. “Why’s that, love?” That word makes the skin on your face burn.
You get a small flash of his face when he lights the end of his cig with a match, and you notice something you’ve never seen before.
“What’s that scar from?” It just comes out on its own. He knows you’re talking about the one on his jaw.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He points out, taking a puff. And for some reason, you find that so hot.
“I’ll answer it if you answer mine.”
Sometimes, you aggravate him. Sighing, he speaks through the darkness, telling you, “Fine.”
A sly grin crosses your face on the other side of the room, and you wonder if he can see it. He can.
“I like men with muscles.” And he likes that answer. “Makes me feel like they can take care of me.”
He exhales calmly into the nighttime air between the two of you, pressing his lips to the cigarette and then inhaling once again. Ghost knows he could take care of you.
And then he thinks about his own response, settling with, “It came from a knife.”
“Yeah, no shit.” Rolling your eyes, you scoff. “You gotta tell me more than that.”
Flicking the ashes of his cigarette into a tray, he lays back a little on the bed. “It was a mission in the Middle East. Bloody heat was killing me, I had to lift my mask up.”
Oh, wow. Honestly, you were just kidding. You never thought he’d actually tell you anything more. But you take this chance and run with it, listening intently so you don’t miss a single piece of his story.
“We were ambushed,” He continues, shaking his head. “Price never saw it coming.”
Truly, you can’t even imagine. Sure, you had your time in the field, but it was nothing compared to what he’s gone through.
“We took them out, but not before one of them got to me with a knife. Sliced up my jaw.” Ghost exhales a puff of smoke, watching it billow into the air. Then he gently shakes his head. “Didn’t let him get any further ‘n that.”
By the end of the story, his voice has grown flat. Maybe he doesn’t like thinking about his scars. Maybe it’s why he keeps the mask on.
“Could I… could I see?”
“My scar?” Comes his instant response. “What for?”
“I dunno,” Shrugging in the dimly lit light, you glance down at the floor. A timid gesture that he again sees.
After a moment of silence, he figures, what the hell? Having you be close to his face didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. Besides, he likes getting a good look at you. Finishing off his cigarette and rubbing the butt of it down into the tray beside him, he says, “Why not?”
Looking up, you shake your head. “It’s okay, I don't have to. I don’t even know why I asked.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Come over here, doll.”
Almost giddily, you do, shoving your blanket to the side and popping up onto your feet. He chuckles deeply upon seeing your reaction, watching you scamper over to him.
“You’re excited about this, huh?”
Shrugging, you grin, standing right next to his bed. “Maybe.”
You don’t give a single shit about his scar. You want to see him. Being close to Ghost gives you a good feeling.
Leaning over, you turn on your desk lamp, illuminating this corner of the room. And when you come back to him, you’re met with the incredible sight of his eyes. They’re light blue in shade, and in the dim light, they’re dazzling. But what really catches your eye is the lower half of his face. His mask is still pulled up, revealing his mouth, chin, and jaw.
“Can I touch?” You then ask, keeping your voice quiet.
He eyes you up and down while your gaze is fixated on his mouth. His lips curl, and he nods. “Sure.”
Lifting your hands, they fall to either side of his face. When you make contact with him, he closes his eyes, exhaling a slow breath, accepting your touch. He can’t remember the last time he let someone do this.
“Hm…” You don’t mean to, but you hum, fingers trailing along his jawline and chin. He has stubble here, just barely. It seems like when he’s crept away to the showers at night, he’s shaved.
Ghost’s eyes trail across your face, feeling your breath on his skin. You’re closer than you ever have been before, and it makes the muscles in his chest tighten, makes his pulse quicken. Licking his lower lip, he whispers, “How’s that feel?”
“Good.” You respond, nodding, your eyes not once leaving his mouth. “I like it.”
“Why’d you want to feel it?” He then wonders aloud, and he wishes you would look up at him. He wants to look into your sweet eyes. “Haven’t you seen enough scars in your lifetime?”
“I don’t really care about scars.”
What the hell?
Scrunching his brow, he then asks, “Then why the hell did you want to see mine?”
Now, you do look up into his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you work up the nerve to say what’s floating through your mind. “Because it’s on you.”
Immediately, he swallows. His gaze falls to your mouth for the first time since you’ve been this close, flickering back and forth from your eyes to your now slightly parted lips. And all at once, he sits up a bit straighter, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you in.
As if you’re expecting it, you melt into him, letting him press you to his body. The fingertips on his jaw slide along his cheeks as you move to fully hold his face in your hands, Ghost’s lips easily meeting your own. One large arm slides around your back, hand securing to your waist as he pulls you further into him.
Heartbeat pounding in your veins, you gasp quietly against him, molding your mouth to his as you return his enthusiasm. Your hands hold onto him tightly, sliding down to the back of his neck. But then he stops, releasing a rough sigh and opening his eyes to look at you.
“Come here,” He whispers hurriedly, his other hand reaching out and tugging on you.
“Ghost, I can’t.”
“Why can’t you?” His lips are moving over your jaw, his hands still pulling on you.
“You’re healing.”
Scoffing, he leans over the side of the bed, hands securing themselves to your lower back and upper thigh. He then hauls you forward, leaning down so he can hoist you up onto his lap.
“Oh!”
“I go back into the field next week.” He grunts out, now looking up at you. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”
“Ghost, I -”
“You know my name?” He asks, his rough, baritone voice demanding your attention.
And suddenly, you feel extremely fucking small. Your legs slide forward and down, straddling him. Quietly, you squeak out, “Yes.”
“Say it.”
Leaning forward, you embrace the excitement of being on top of him. Your hands return to hold his face, and he lets you. Bringing yourself in close, you look into his eyes.
“Simon.”
“That’s right.” Comes his breathy exhale, leaning in to close the small gap between the two of you.
And then Simon’s hand is on the back of your head, pushing you further into him. His other lands on your hip, fingers curling around your flesh. He smells like cigarettes and cologne, tastes like mint and tobacco. And you overtly, eagerly, wholeheartedly, welcome him.
“Closer to me,” Simon grumbles, the hand on your hip curling around your lower back. He pulls you until you’re flush against his chest, your breasts pushing up against his clean bandages.
“Simon,”
He groans into your mouth when you use his name, repeatedly moving his lips over your own. Your legs press tightly to the outsides of his thighs, holding him close to your body. And when he feels your hips shift against him, when he hears your soft, delicate moan, he decides to slide his tongue into your mouth. He licks inside, rubbing the wet muscle over your own. Moaning wantonly, it echoes into his throat, the hand on your head sliding down to hold your jaw open. The way he moves against your mouth is almost overwhelming, full of passion and lust and a particular sense of need.
“You wanna take this off for me?” His accent is making you melt. “Can you do that for me, love?”
Tugging impatiently on your shirt, those frosty eyes look into your own with a look of utter desperation. But also control. Ghost was always in control.
Nodding, you reach down, finding the edges of your longsleeve shirt and slipping it up and over your head.
“Oh…” He moans - Ghost fucking moans. His head immediately dips down to the luscious space between your breasts, mouth finding your skin.
“Oh,” It comes as a complete surprise, him surging down to kiss you here. “Simon…”
Fuck, you’ve wanted to do this since you met him. You both have.
His mouth drags along the curves of your chest, and you’re surprised when they’re followed by tender kisses. And then his hands drop, groping your ass.
“I want you.” He growls against your breasts, nipping at the soft slopes of them. “What do you want, love?”
“I want you, Simon.” Nodding quickly, your hands slide back up to his face. In your hurried state you accidentally move the fabric of his mask just a bit, and his hands come flying up to your forearms as soon as it happens.
“Don’t take it off.” It’s a firm boundary, a stern warning. His head lifts, too, eyes staring menacingly into you.
“I wouldn’t, I won’t.” He looks at you almost skeptically. “I respect your privacy.”
When he doesn’t budge, you wiggle on top of him. “Please. Simon, I wouldn’t ever do that to you.”
Slowly, his hands leave your forearms, loosening their grasp. He’s deciding to trust you.
One of those meaty hands falls to your chest, still holding your gaze while he cups you. The other rises to your neck, fingers curling around the back to pull you in again. This time, though, he doesn’t return to your lips. This time, he goes to your neck. Rolling your head to the side, you let him, feeling Simon’s teeth scrape along your skin. He’s feeling every inch of you that he can, hands falling to your ass when he feels you move over him. With a firm grasp, he urges you forward and back, grinding your covered crotch over his own. And while he’s busy exploring you, you take this opportunity to explore him.
Delicately, your fingertips slide down his face, down the chorded muscles along his neck, landing on his sculpted shoulders and then moving to his biceps. When you squeeze the thick meat of his arms, he groans, smirking mischievously against you. With your nails scraping lightly over his taut skin, they quickly find his back, gently scratching him. His muscles are flexing, damn near all of them. He’s so worked up with you like this on top of him. And he’s still moving you, shoving your hips over his crotch and manhandling you in the softest way he knows how. He’s strong, but he’s gentle with you.
The length of him is palpable beneath his thin shorts, settling right into your covered folds. And it makes you moan, makes your breaths pick up and your center pulse. The air is thick with arousal, the room lit dimly in the soft, yellow hue of your small lamp. His breaths are hot, fanning across your face in humid and heavy wafts. But then he stops, taking a breath. And for some reason, your sass decides to fill this brief, empty space.
“So,” Sighing, you’re also working to catch your breath. “Does this mean you think I’m pretty?”
He chuckles, that beautiful smile making itself known. “Does this mean you like my muscles?”
“I love your muscles.” Wiggling even closer to him, you grin, sucking in a tight and excited breath. Your one hand then slides down his chest, his abs, curling around to hold his hip, your thumb just barely brushing his pelvis.
“Yeah? Even when you’re sewing ‘em up?” He asks, that deliciously rich accent making you flutter inside.
“You can’t do that again.” Shaking your head, your hands move to hold his face. It’s a tender act. “You can’t scare us like that again.”
That night, you swear you started to see the light fade out of his eyes, and that, well… that was a first for you. You saved Simon’s life.
“You care about me, eh?” He replies in the cockiest voice.
“Your team cares about you.” Eyes flickering down to the bandages on his chest, you then say, “And yeah, maybe I do, too.”
Simon’s body flexes beneath you, hips rutting up into your own. And now, it’s his turn to hold your face in his hands. He lifts your jaw, making you look at him.
“Hey, don’t worry about that now.”
“Are you okay?” Eyes darting back up to his, they’re filled with concern from the memories of that day. “With me sitting like this on you?”
He gives you a cocky grin. “I’m just fine, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me. I’m a big boy, remember?”
This makes you smirk, one hand finding its way to his pelvis with much more confidence than before. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.” He nods, keeping that gorgeous grin. “Think you wanna take it?”
Breathing out a small laugh, you give your head a single shake. “I never knew you wanted to fuck me so bad.”
“You never noticed the things I’ve said to you?”
“No, I noticed. I just thought… maybe it was harmless flirting.”
At this, his head tilts, eyes boring into your kind orbs. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me harmless in my entire life.”
“Yeah, you’re one scary motherfucker.” Leaning in to kiss him, he accepts it with a heated moan. “And I find that sexy as hell.”
“Well, you said you like fixing bones.” He’s feeling desperate for you at this point; it’s like you won’t stop teasing him “Hop on this one, then.”
“Oh my god, you really are like every other fucking guy.” But you’re already reaching for the bottom of your sports bra, slipping it off your torso in one go.
“God damn.” Large hands instantly return to your breasts, cupping and weighing your tits in his palms. His chest dips dramatically from releasing such a heavy breath, leaning in to kiss one of your delicate peaks. It’s firm and wet, the repeated press of his lips. And it wouldn’t be so overwhelming if he wasn’t practically making out with your tits.
Seeing your naked form for the first time sets his own alight. He always knew you were a sexy little thing, and now, he’s got first hand proof. Your curves look delicious, and if he weren’t in a tiny medical bed, he’d lay you down to lick them.
“You want me?” He doesn’t expect this sort of response, his surprise going tenfold when he feels you reach down between your bodies.
“Oh,” He releases a tight breath, feeling you run a finger over his erection.
Staring into your eyes, he gives you an almost predatory gaze. “You know I do.”
Easily, you slide your shorts and panties to the side, revealing your delicate sex to him, though he can only barely see it. And then you’re reaching down, fingers curling over the band of his shorts to pull him out. When you do, he releases a sound you’ve never heard from him before, his jaw hanging low. He’s long and firm, crimson at the head and already leaking. The pulsations rocking through his cock are, at this point, an almost painful sensation; and when you look down, you grin. Letting the length of him rest on his lower abdomen, you move yourself so you can slide your glistening lips over him.
Simon hisses at the contact, strong hands cementing themselves to your hips. But he doesn’t stop you from moving. If anything, he only encourages you to.
“You get off on this?” He suddenly asks, the feeling of your slippery center sliding against him making his head spin and his insides tense. “Fucking your superior?”
“Baby,” You laugh, shaking your head while continuing to move over him. “I’m on the med. team, you’re not my superior.” Taking a breath, you reach out, grabbing his jaw and lowering your voice to speak. “But you did get one thing right. I do want to fuck you.”
Before he can say anything, you’re lifting yourself, his throbbing tip prodding at your entrance. You hold his gaze, an unexpected moan drifting from your lips when you finally begin to feel him.
“Fuck,” He grits out, fingers digging into your sides and urging you down. “Come on, precious. You can take it.”
Sliding down only a few mere inches, you wince. Holding onto his shoulders, your fingernails dig into his skin, scratching harshly at the firm muscles all along him. He’s bigger than you’d imagined him to be. His girth is wider than you’ve ever had, and when you reach down to feel him you quickly discover he also isn’t lacking in length.
His military voice then comes out, that stern, commanding tone. “Focus - hey, eyes on me.” Irises snapping up to his, you do as you’re told. “That’s a good girl.” Jesus Christ, you didn’t expect a single ounce of praise to come from him.
Simon’s dominant hand then slides down, the pad of his thumb finding the reddened nub at the peak of your sex. Your hips jolt when he presses the thick digit against you, but with his free hand on your back, he brings you in. He applies pressure, prompting you to lean on him, his mouth seeking out your nipples once again. Slipping his tongue out and over your skin, it forces you to whine, feeling your hips rock involuntarily against him. With the stimulation coming from his thumb and tongue, you find yourself relaxing, resting on the weight of him.
“Feels good, yeah?”
Your fingers find the back of his head, your own dropping back. “Yes…”
It’s overwhelming and sexy as all fucking hell. Simon can see the marks he’s left on your neck, shoulder and chest, and he grins, knowing they’ll be there in the morning even if he won’t be able to see them. He doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb, keeping the same amount of pressure as he swirls little circles over your sensitive clit. His mouth is sucking on you, too, his tongue running over your nipples in wet and passionate swipes. And altogether, it works like a charm, lubing you up enough for him to slide entirely inside.
“Simon.”
“You’ve got it, yeah… there we go…” The only hand that moves is the one that was touching your clit, fingers now attaching themselves to your hip once you’re entirely seated on him.
“Fuck me,” You’re clinging to his shoulders, both arms wrapping around his neck. He’s removed himself from your tits, resting his face in the slope of your shoulder, just beside your throat.
He’s searing hot and filling you completely, his tip seated deep in your guts as you pulse around him violently. And Simon’s aware of his size, so he waits for you to make the first move. And he snuggles into you while he does, resting in this brief lull.
Feeling another person surrounding his body like this brings out a sensation from the depths of his heart, a feeling he hasn’t experienced in genuine years, decades, even. He feels like he can relax in your embrace, like he can let go with you.
“Oh, god.” Head dropping back, you shift slightly, beginning to move.
“Yes,” He encourages you, reaching up to hold your neck. “That’s it.” And then he pulls, bringing you down to him. Your lips meet in a small clash, tongues colliding as soon as you make contact.
This entire event awakens something inside of you. It’s like he’s consuming you, taking over your body and every part of your mind. And you’ve felt like this for weeks, months; you’ve ached for him. At night you’ve touched yourself to the thought of him, and during the day, you’ve dreamt about him. It was so hard to be in his presence, knowing you couldn’t have him, that he probably didn’t even want you in the first place. But he does; he wants you just as badly as you want him.
Simon sways his body with you, leaning back against the head of the bed. He uses this slight change in position as leverage to shove his hips up into you, giving you small and shallow thrusts. But he lets you do most of the work, grinning while admiring the way in which you find your pace.
“You’re a tight thing, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, eyes lowering to stare at the space where you’re repeatedly connecting. And then they furrow, mouth dropping open when he finally witnesses you lifting and lowering your hips. “And look how well you’re taking me…”
“You’re… so fucking big.” Lowering your head, you then offer a half smirk, shaking your head at him. “Guess you really do have reason to be cocky, huh?”
“Damn right, and I’m glad you know it.”
“Jesus - fuck!” The first word is said through a scoff, the second through a high yelp.
“You feel like makin’ fun of me again?” Simon then challenges, having lifted his feet and planted them directly on the edge of the bed. He uses this leverage to punch himself up into you, huffing out a sharp breath when he feels you fall onto his chest.
“Fuck, baby - I’m sorry.” You immediately lift yourself up, looking down at his bandages. “Are you alright?”
The fact that you’ve so easily been able to call him baby makes Simon smile, his teeth even showing for the first time that you’ve ever seen.
“You need to stop asking me that.” He says in that deeply, gritty tone. And then he shoves you forward again, knees high in the air as he lets you rest over his chest.
Your arms slide around his neck, clinging to him as he begins to shove himself up into you. Sucking in a deep breath, he grunts out beside your face, his arms wrapping around your naked torso. He’s starting to feel sweaty, sticky, his skin warm and glistening. And at this point he’s bouncing you on his cock, your ass slapping down onto his pelvis with every move. He let you have your fun; now, he’s fucking you.
“Oh my fucking god,” You’re trying desperately to keep up to move yourself back against him, but he doesn’t allow it. He’s punching the breath from your lungs, one hand sliding up your back to hold your head.
He lets out a breathless laugh. “Are you alright?”
“S-Shut up, Ghost.” Comes your stuttered response, now gasping from how deep he’s hitting.
“Uh-uh,” He tuts, “Say my name, sweetheart. Sounds so good comin’ outta that pretty little mouth.”
This makes you laugh, a small hiccup of a sound due to his intense movements beneath you. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, wanna hear you say it when we fuck.”
“Oh, so this is going to happen again?” You tease, feeling his groans vibrate through his chest. Jesus, he’s so sturdy.
Leaning forward, he grabs a fistful of your ass, growling into your ear, “I damn sure want it to.”
You take advantage of his closeness, turning your head to capture his lips. “You’re so fucking deep.”
“Yeah? You want me to stop?” He whispers in return against your lips.
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
At this point, he’s panting beneath you, sliding down a little further on the bed. You move with him, still holding onto his firm body with a wild desperation. And he keeps your lips on him, shoving his tongue inside your mouth while keeping his brutal pace.
If you were dripping before it’s nothing compared to now. You’re leaking down his shaft, the creaminess of your arousal coating him entirely. And he can feel it; it’s making his eyes roll back into his head.
“You’re gonna make me cum, squeezin’ around me like that.”
One of your hands lowers, moving down to hold onto his bicep, and then his forearm. Turning your head to the side, you smile, ignoring his comment while you breathe out lightly, “I love your tattoos, baby.”
“You just love praisin’ me, don’t you?” In two seconds, that tattooed forearm rises, hand grabbing your face. “Bring those pretty eyes back to me.” And when you look into those ocean eyes of his, he grits out sternly, “Eyes. On. Me.”
“Simon,” It’s a small whine, one uttered when you feel him strike gold inside. “Please make me cum.” Your head drops to his shoulder, and what he does neck surprises you. He kisses your fucking cheek.
“I can do that for you.”
As if things couldn’t become more intense, he takes it up a notch, ramming into you and forcing your face into the crook of his neck. His hand on the back of your head holds you there, and when you bite into his neck, he groans into the nighttime air.
“Yesss, baby, don’t stop. Oh my god, please don’t stop.” He’s so big beneath you, his muscles bulging against your naked chest. And he revels in the feeling of your soft tits pressing against him, your beautiful body bouncing as it gets fucked by him.
“Fuck me,” Comes his gasped out curse, muttering, “Such a good pussy.”
“Fu-uck,”
He’s pounding against that delicate spot that’s making you go dumb, your arms and thighs beginning to shake around him.
“G-Ghost, I’m…”
“Say my name, say it again.” His voice is deep and thick, stuttering a bit. “One more time for me.” His thighs are flexing beneath your ass, one arm wrapped around your back and the other gripping the flesh on your hip.
It’s overwhelming, the feeling shoving its way through your body, coursing through your veins. The excitement of it all is something you haven’t felt in too long of a time, if ever before. Swallowing, you gather yourself enough to do as he says, once again, uttering his name.
Immediately after, he’s cumming, hips breaking their pace and length throbbing inside you. His forceful shoves against your g-spot make you crumble above him, onto him, your body shaking. The way you’re holding onto him makes him feel like he can do anything, makes him think you feel safe with him. And you do. The world could be crumbling and still, you’d cling to him, knowing he’d hold you in his arms.
Quivering limbs press against him, your body going a bit numb from the intensity of it all. Your center pulses around his girth, squeezing him tightly while you wash him in your arousal. You can feel his, too, the milky ropes shooting into you, and you revel in the fact that your body has made his feel this good. He’s breathing harshly beside you, pectorals flexing against your naked chest. You’ve never heard him groan so forcefully, not even when he’s out working. And that makes you smile, knowing you bring those noises out of him. A blissful smile crosses your face, body rolling in waves as you experience your own high above him.
“Fuck me,” His accent is thick, coating the shell of your ear. He’s petting at your hair, body beginning to slump down on the mattress beneath him. “You okay there, princess?”
You’re quiet, still trying desperately to find your breath. Swallowing, you nod, turning your head to kiss his throat, breathing heavily against him. And while his body relaxes, he holds yours above him, urging you to do the same.
“Maybe I should get hurt a little more often,” He looks over, pointer finger curling under your chin, gently lifting you to look at him. “If it means seein’ you.”
The Upper Moons, the demons whose ranks haven’t changed for hundred of years. They’ve buried mountains. They’ve even buried demon hunter Pillars. Is their strength on a completely different level?
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