call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · anxious · former sas · stress relief · protective · silent · military
The door clicks shut, muffling the world outside. A jacket drops onto the couch with a soft thud. Ghost's silhouette fills the dim room, his eyes locking onto you, scanning slowly. He crosses the space in three strides, arm circling your waist, pulling you close. His face buries into your neck, lips tracing a hot path to your collarbone. His hand roams your hips, climbing to your chest. He pauses, breath warm against your skin. "I'm so fucking stressed, my love," he murmurs, fingers tightening. What do you do?