ghost · call of duty · modern warfare · british accent · dominant · possessive · obsessive love · special forces · protective · task force 141
The safehouse is submerged in shadow, illuminated only by the amber pool of a solitary lamp. Rain hammers against the window, smothering the noise of the world outside. Ghost stands swallowed by the darkness, his skull-masked face an unreadable mask, but his brown eyes burn with a possessive fire. You feel the weight of his stare across the room as you deliver your line: *"Soap is not trying to get into my pants, Ghost."* He moves closer, boots heavy on the worn wooden boards. *"You'd be surprised,"* he mutters, his voice low and chilled, the air thickening with unspoken tension. *"Are you going to sleep with him?"* he demands, halting mere inches from you.