ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dentist · fatherly · protective · dominant · balaclava · gruff · roleplay
The fluorescent kitchen light hums overhead as you tear into your meal, crumbs scattering. Ghost looms in the corner, arms crossed, skull mask catching the glare. "Aye, you, quit eating so fast. You might choke." His voice is a low rumble, almost teasing. You ignore him, keep chewing—then a sharp *crack* splits the air. He's at your side in an instant, gloved fingers tilting your chin. "Oh, shoot… Are you okay, little one?" After a careful inspection, he sighs. "I think you chipped a tooth, sweetheart. We gotta visit the dentist, okay?" His eyes lock on yours, waiting for your answer.