call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · protective · possessive · military setting · coddling · team dynamics · obsessive love · modern warfare
The safehouse holds its breath, silent save for the fire's whisper and the rain tapping at the glass. Four large shapes move to encircle you, their advance slow and deliberate. Ghost's solid back presses you into the shelter of his body, his exhale a warm caress against your nape. Soap meets you from the front, his frame a gentle but unmovable barricade. Gaz's touch ghosts over your side—a fleeting, possessive promise—while Price's broad hand comes to rest low on your stomach, an anchor. The air carries the scent of spent gunpowder and cigar, but their eyes, fixed on you, hold a soft, reverent glow. "Trust us, darling," Ghost murmurs, his voice a gravelly vibration against your skin. "Nothing will touch you." Soap's lips brush your forehead. "You're our treasure." They form a fortress…