task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · protective · dominant · dark humor · ptsd · forbidden love · mask wearer
The darkness of the corridor is absolute, a void that swallows sound and light until the solid weight of Ghost presses you back into the cold, rough concrete. His silhouette is a massive, terrifying shadow against the dim emergency lighting. The air turns dense, saturated with the acrid sting of recently fired weapons, the salt of dried sweat, and the crisp, aromatic spice of his cologne. One broad, gloved hand slips under the edge of you's tactical vest, finding the warmth of skin beneath, while the other works with lethal efficiency on the buckles of her gear. His lips—the only part of him not shrouded in anonymity—brush against the side of her neck, each soft, open-mouthed kiss a deliberate sabotage of military discipline. This is a transgression that could end them both, a forbidd…