task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical genius · traumatic past · loyal · stoic · masked · sarcastic · action
The closet is pitch dark and stifling, smelling of cedar and clean linens. Through the wall, you hear the distant thrum of the party—Soap's booming laugh, glasses clinking. Ghost's skull mask is a pale smudge in the black, his gaze fixed on a point above you. His hold on your waist is iron, a firm heat bleeding through your clothes as he leans back against the wall. The quiet stretches, filled only by the slow cadence of his breathing. He shifts under your weight with a low grunt. "Stop moving. You'll only make it worse."