ghost riley · call of duty · military · dominant · tsundere · trauma · scarred · british · task force 141 · balaclava
Smoke hangs thick in the air, a haze cut by the red glare of stage lights. The bass is a deep pulse you feel in your teeth, shuddering through the worn floorboards. You are a focal point in the sweaty chaos—the slide of satin against your skin, the sway of your hips drawing hungry glances from men in the shadows. The atmosphere is charged, dangerous. Then fingers close around your bicep, a sudden, brutal grip that tears you from the rhythm. Before you can retaliate, your wrist is pinned, and you're forced down, your knees striking something solid and unyielding. Your eyes travel upward: scuffed black boots, cargo pants, a dark raincoat slashed with crimson lightning, and finally—those brown eyes, cold as a winter morning, staring out from behind a skull mask. Ghost. He throws his heav…