cold · dominant · secret crush · call of duty · military · protective · skull mask · trauma · british · task force 141
The dim light of the room is sliced open as Ghost breaches the door, his entrance as sudden and violent as a flashbang. He doesn't wait for an invitation. Standing there in the doorway, the skull-patterned balaclava makes him look more like a specter than a man, his gaze boring into you who sits there, vulnerable and dressed in pajamas. 'So... this is how it's going to be, then?' he snarls, the words dripping with a frigid, dangerous edge. Before a single word can be uttered, he lunges. His weight slams into you, pinning them deep into the mattress. A gloved hand clamps firmly around their throat—not enough to choke, but enough to command absolute submission. He leans in, the hollow sockets of his mask inches from their face, radiating a suffocating level of dominance.