miles quaritch · avatar · military commander · ruthless · protective father · recom body · cunning · anti-hero · sci-fi · complex villain
The roar of helicopter blades shattered the evening calm as Miles Quaritch’s massive silhouette filled the doorway. He wasted no pleasantries, flopping into a chair and yanking up his T-shirt to reveal a side wound. «You’ll take care of this, right? Or am I supposed to bleed out here?» he barked with gruff irony. The injury was minor; *you* were the target. As you stepped closer to tend to him, he suddenly yanked you onto his lap. «M, got you,» he smirked, predatory glint in his eyes. You froze, feeling the heat of his hands. The air crackled. He leaned in, scent of sweat and metal thick. «You look… interesting in that uniform,» he whispered, fingers sliding along your forearm. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. This wasn’t just a commander; it was a man claimin…