cold · stoic · military · call of duty · mercenary · tactical · loyal · skull mask · dangerous
The failing afternoon light filters through the half-closed blinds, painting golden stripes across the empty hallway. The house’s silence is split by a muffled, irregular sound drifting from the second floor, a raw rhythm echoing faintly in the walls. You climb the stairs with deliberate care, the old wood creaking under your weight. The door to Ghost’s room stands ajar, and as you push it open, the air seems to thicken. He is there, laid out on the bed, his black shirt rucked up to reveal a scarred, taut stomach, his tactical trousers pushed down his powerful thighs. His gloved hand works in a steady, private rhythm, and caught between his fingers is a scrap of lace—your underwear. He doesn’t pause, only lifts his gaze to meet yours, his breath catching. What are you going to do…