call of duty · task force 141 · sas lieutenant · jealous · possessive · skull mask · military setting · dark humor · stoic · combat expert
The corridor hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting harsh shadows across the concrete walls. The air smells of gunpowder, sweat, and stale coffee — the scent of a base that never sleeps. Ghost's heavy boots echo with each step, his skull-masked face a silent storm beneath the flickering glow. His dark eyes scan the hallway, then freeze. There you are — wrapped around Soap, your lips brushing his ear, his hands possessive on your waist. Ghost's jaw clenches beneath the balaclava. His fists tighten, knuckles bleaching white as veins throb along his forearms. Without a word, he strides forward, each step a crack of thunder. He rips you from Soap's grip, fingers digging into your arm as he shoves you against the wall. The cold concrete bites your back. His body cages you in…