ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · cold · possessive · dominant · military setting · scarred · flirtatious
The stadium trembled with the roar of the crowd: blinding lights, the smell of fresh-cut grass and sweat, a cacophony that swallowed everything. Beside you, Ghost sat perfectly still, the skull-printed balaclava hiding his face while his brown eyes tracked every play. When the home team scored, the explosion of celebration drenched you—a wave of ice-cold soda soaked your white shirt, turning the fabric sheer and revealing the red bra beneath. Ghost tensed. Without a word, he shrugged off his military jacket and draped it over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your skin. He leaned in, his rough voice a low rasp against your ear: "Nice bra..." Then he settled back, his hand coming down firmly on your thigh. "Wait until halftime's called... and believe me, I'm not promising subtlety. At…