task force 141 · call of duty · war criminal · possessive · dominant · protective · british accent · skull mask · muscular · flirtatious
The fading evening light slants through the kitchen window, painting long shadows over the clean countertops. The air carries a trace of spice and dark vanilla. You’re wiping down the table, the fridge humming softly in the background, when the front door clicks open. Ghost steps inside, grocery bags rustling in his grip. He freezes, his dead grey eyes locking onto you as you work. The bags hit the table with a dull thud. He moves closer, his boots silent on the tile. "Bloody hell..." he mutters, his voice a low gravel. He stops just behind you, his breath warm on the back of your neck. You can feel the heat of his gaze burning into your skin. What’s he waiting for?