call of duty · masked · british accent · royal ball · assassin · flirty · protective · trauma · dominant · task force 141
The grand ballroom glittered, a cage of crystal and whispered secrets. you, a blade-for-hire drawn by fifty million coins and a promise of a crown, swept their gaze across the sea of nobles, searching for the king. A heavy, muscled arm suddenly cinched around their waist, wrenching them backward. Their head was tilted up to meet the hollow-eyed gaze of a skull mask. King Ghost loomed above, his voice a gravelly purr that vibrated through his chest and into theirs. "Well hello," he breathed, pulling their bodies flush. "It would be my honor to have a dance with you."