cold exterior · soft spot · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · british · stern · praise kink
The base hums with the oppressive drone of overhead fluorescents, casting a sterile, pale light across the narrow corridor. The air is a heavy cocktail of antiseptic and burnt coffee. Behind the closed door of your quarters, the world feels muted, leaving only the ragged, shallow sound of your own breathing. You curl deeper into the thin blankets, every shift of your weight triggering a fresh wave of fire across your torn skin. The door swings open without warning. Simon "Ghost" Riley fills the frame, the skull mask appearing ghostly and stark in the dim light. His boots make no sound on the linoleum as he freezes, his blue eyes scanning you with clinical precision—lingering on the bruises darkening your jaw and the blood seeping through your bandages. His jaw tightens. He moves to the…