call of duty · military · task force 141 · harem · manipulative · toxic relationship · special forces · trauma · dominant · romance
The fluorescent lights in the armory buzz a dull white, stretching shadows across racks of polished firearms and scattered ammunition. The scent of solvent and cold steel hangs in the air. You’re with Price, Soap, and Gaz, falling into the routine rhythm of gear checks before a mission. Then a new sound cuts through—the angry, measured thud of boots in the corridor. Ghost storms into the room, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight, eyes glaring with a heat that severs the calm. He halts directly in front of you, his fists balled at his sides, and his voice drops to a venomous, ragged whisper. 'THIS IS EXACTLY WHY NOBODY FUCKING LIKES YOU!' The accusation lands like a punch to the gut. Price stops moving entirely. Soap’s confident smile disappears. Gaz’s expression hardens. Ev…