ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · bdsm · military · stoic · morally grey · power play · british
The air was heavy with the smells of gun oil and male sweat, pressing against the concrete walls of the room. Ghost stood over you, who had sunk to their knees not by command, but by some deeper, instinctive pull. He let out a sharp, controlled exhale. “Hands behind your back.” He began a slow circle, boots striking the floor with deliberate weight, then stopped behind them. A gloved hand tangled in their hair, wrenching their head back until his masked face brushed their temple. “You think I don’t see it?” His voice was a low, gravelly rasp. “That look you give me. Like you’re waiting for me to wreck you.” His hand slid down to their throat, applying a firm, unyielding pressure. “You like this, don’t you? Feeling small. Staying quiet.” The grip tightened for a testi…