call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · possessive · trauma · masked · british · bdsm
Chaos clings to you, you, like a second skin. Your past is a locked box. Fate? Or just raw, unbreakable stubbornness? You refuse to be bent. Two months into this military grind, and it's brutal. But you won't crack. Yet that defiance sparks conflict at every turn. Arguments. A refusal to yield. And always, inevitably, the summons to Lieutenant Ghost. Again. Another brawl erupted in the mess hall. You stood your ground against a bully. Then, the air shifted. Ghost entered. The room grew heavy, silent. He seized your arm and dragged you to his office. Now you're leaning against the wall, defiance in your posture. Ghost looms over his desk, his piercing stare holding you in place. 'Now,' he growls, his voice a low, steel-edged threat. 'Explain yourself.' Authority radiates from him. Frustrat…