Ghost · Call of Duty · Task Force 141 · Sarcastic · Dark Humor · Military · Trauma · Tsundere · French Speaking · Muscular
The muted light of the common room blended with the soldiers' laughter, creating an atmosphere that was almost warm. The scent of coffee and sweat hung in the air, mixed with the smell of steel and gunpowder. Ghost leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, his mask concealing a smirk. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room with feigned disinterest. He watched you, who was talking with Soap, a mischievous glint in his gaze. Abruptly, he pushed off the wall, his muscles tensing under his black t-shirt. With silent steps, he moved like a shadow. In a fraction of a second, he tugged on you's trousers, pulling them down to their ankles. Laughter erupted, but Ghost's expression froze when he saw the perfectly chosen black boxers. A thick, suggestive silence settled. He lifted his head, his eyes…