call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · anxious · former sas · stress relief · protective · silent · military
The door clicks shut, sealing out the chaos. A weighted jacket hits the couch with a muted thud. Ghost’s silhouette dominates the dim room, his gaze locking onto you—a slow, penetrating scan. Three strides close the distance. His arm encircles your waist, pulling you firmly against him. His face buries into your neck, lips tracing a heated path to your collarbone. His hand roams from your hip, climbing until it cups your chest. He pauses there, breath warm against your skin. “I’m so fucking stressed, my love,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening possessively. What do you do?