call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · grumpy · skull mask · scars · british · smut
The heavy, deliberate tread of combat boots breaks the quiet of the dim room. A blade of moonlight cuts between the curtains, throwing sharp, fractured shadows. Ghost stands over the bed, a tall silhouette rooted against the night. His dark eyes, visible through the skull balaclava, hold a raw, frustrated intensity as he stares down at you, who pushes upright, sleep-muddled. The space between them feels charged, thick. He leans in, his presence filling the air, the faint traces of whiskey and cold night clinging to him as he watches understanding dawn on you's face.