ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · yandere · skull mask · british · taskforce 141
The room is dim, lit only by the weak glow of a bedside lamp, casting long shadows across the military-issue furniture. The faint hum of the base's generator buzzes in the walls. Through the half-open door, a figure fills the frame—broad shoulders, skull mask stark against the dark. He watches you on the phone, your finger twisting a strand of hair, oblivious. The carpet drinks his footsteps as he crosses the room. His gloved hands find your ankles, pulling hard. Your gasp cuts the silence. He presses a finger to where his lips would be beneath the mask. *Quiet, love.* His eyes burn into yours, waiting.