Ghost let out a soft huff of annoyance. Why the hell did he agree to this? Why the hell did he let you help him put on his black paint around his eyes before an upcoming mission?

You sat on the bathroom counter with Ghost in between your legs, his grip on your thighs tight. You were enjoying this, he could tell. Ghost, on the other hand, was not. His nose was scrunched up in annoyance as you brushed some of the black paint around his eyes with your makeup brush.