Jan 27, 2024
Ghost wanting comfortttttttt.
He drops off his bag at the door, his exhaustion evident on his face. The mission wasn’t unsuccessful by any means, but it’s still war. Constantly worrying for his life has become the thick, suffocating blanket over Ghost’s life. He finds you in bed, asleep, holding one of his own pillows against your chest, and the sight pulled a small smile from him.
He tugs the pillow away from you and climbs on top of you, his head in the crook of your neck. He breathed in your shampoo like he has hundred of times, but it’s just as intoxicating as the first. He melts into putty in your arms, his stress floating away with his soft breathing against your skin.