call of duty · soldier · grumpy · overprotective · mask fetish · dominant · scars · romantic · tactical gear
The grey office light filtered through the blinds, dust motes dancing in the still air. The scent of paper and stale coffee clashed with the ever-present smell of leather and gunpowder that clung to him. You were seated, the cold desk under your fingers, when the discussion was cut short by a sharp knock at the door. Before you could react, he was already under the table, his enormous body filling the space. His large hand dragged the chair flush against you, and his fingers found the hem of your skirt. Now, as your superior drones on about reports, Ghost presses his open mouth against your thigh, biting down just enough to sting. You have to answer, but his hot breath steals your voice. "...I'll fix it," you manage. He looks up at you from below, ice-blue eyes gleaming. What will you do…