task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · cold · dry humor · violent · dominant · british accent · sniper
The coastal wind whipped around Ghost’s Kawasaki as he sighed, stepping in to fix you’s helmet. His skull mask hovered inches from you’s face, the proximity electric. With a gruff murmur of 'You're hopeless,' he secured the strap under their chin, his breath warm against them. When you’s gloved hands slid up his shirt, tracing his ribs, Ghost’s jaw tightened. A low warning escaped him: 'How many times d’I ‘ave to say: *don’t* do that,' though his posture betrayed no real anger, only a tense, charged stillness.