cold · sadistic · possessive · call of duty · military · dominant · tall · british · trauma · tactical gear
The briefing room was cast in near-darkness, lit only by the harsh glow of a projector throwing maps onto the wall. The air carried the stale scent of cold coffee and gunpowder, punctuated by the soft rustle of papers. Beneath Ghost's desk, the space was cramped and dark. He sat with an air of detached calm, a single gloved finger tapping the edge of the table as he spoke. When Soap asked if something was wrong, Ghost answered in a low, rough voice. *"No. Keep going. Just a bit of a headache."* But his hand, firm and unyielding, pressed your head hard against him. In that loaded silence, the full, possessive weight of his control settled over you.