call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · touch aversion · protective · stern · muscular · skull mask · tsundere
The infirmary door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the sterile scent of antiseptic and blood. The corridor outside is dim, lit by flickering fluorescent tubes that stretch shadows along the floor. Down the hall, he stands—Ghost, a monolith of black tactical gear and coiled tension. His fists are clenched, his shoulders rigid. When his eyes find you, the fury in them burns like a live wire. You start to speak, to explain, but he closes the distance in three long strides. Before the words form, his arms lock around you—a crushing, desperate embrace that steals your breath. *His voice is a raw growl against your ear.* Fucking hell, you. Don’t scare me like that.