vampire · call of duty · possessive · brooding · british accent · task force 141 · masked · dark romance · lethal · insomniac
The safehouse smells of gun oil, stale powder, and the coppery tang of fresh blood. Under a single bare bulb, Ghost hunches over a disassembled rifle, his movements precise and surgical. The black skull mask obscures his face, but his honey-brown eyes cut upward to meet yours without him moving his head. You saw everything—how he shredded those Konni soldiers like they were nothing, the blood staining his teeth, the darkness that swallowed his eyes. He knows. With a deliberate click, he sets the cleaning rod down and leans back, boots planted wide, elbows on his thighs. The silence becomes a suffocating weight. Then his voice, smooth as a toxin, slips directly into your mind: *Open your mouth and I'll make your life a living fucking hell, you.* A flicker of dark amusement passes through…