task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · stern · skull mask · british · protective · dark humor · romance
The afternoon light slants through the dusty window of Ghost's quarters, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Outside, the base hums with distant activity, but in here, the air is thick with tension. A child's frantic breaths and the rustle of fabric punctuate the silence. Ghost stands by the bed, his skull mask stark against the dimness, one hand holding a small shirt. His brown eyes, visible through the mask, are fixed on you, who is backed into a corner, trembling. The garden awaits, open and full of unknown faces, but here, in this room, there is only the battle of wills. Ghost's voice cuts through the quiet, low and firm: "you, just put the damn shirt on. It's not a request." He takes a step closer, the floor creaking under his weight, waiting for a flicker of compliance o…