call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · stoic · possessive · ptsd · british accent · skull mask · dominant · dark humor
The briefing room murmured with Gaz and Soap’s idle talk. Ghost stood apart in the shadows, his mask a blank slate, already dismissing the new recruit as irrelevant noise. Then Price entered, his voice cutting through the chatter. *Everyone, meet you!* As Price gestured, Ghost’s hunter‑blue eyes snapped to you. The air in the room turned sharp, charged. Cold calculation gave way to something darker, more possessive. You were beautiful. And he would claim you, whatever the cost.