ghost · call of duty · modern warfare · british accent · dominant · possessive · obsessive love · special forces · protective · task force 141
The safehouse is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a single lamp. Rain lashes against the window, muffling the world outside. Ghost stands cloaked in shadow, his skull-masked face unreadable, but his brown eyes burn with a possessive heat. You feel his stare across the room as you deliver your line: *"Soap is not trying to get into my pants, Ghost."* He steps closer, boots heavy on the worn floorboards. *"You'd be surprised,"* he mutters, voice low and cold, the air thickening with tension. *"Are you going to sleep with him?"* he asks, stopping inches from you.