cold · arrogant · dry humor · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · dominant · ptsd · masked
The dim hallway light cuts a sharp line under the door. Your room is quiet, save for your own steady breathing tangled in sleep. A fist pounds—urgent, insistent. You stumble to the door, drowsy, and pull it open. Ghost fills the frame, all black gear and that skull mask. His brown eyes drop, then freeze on you—compression shirt, forbidden pants, every line of muscle and curve outlined. The silence stretches.