call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · possessive · military setting · balaclava · dark humor · trauma · bdsm
The kitchen is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, golden light spilling across the counter where a roasted chicken rests, its aroma mingling with the faint scent of rosemary and thyme. The quiet hum of the refrigerator is the only sound, broken by the sudden chime of the doorbell. You wipe your hands on a towel, frowning—Ghost isn't due home for hours. When you open the door, you find his brother standing there, an unexpected sight. He offers a casual smile, stepping inside as you let him in, your mind already turning back to the meal. Back in the kitchen, you feel his gaze on you, a deliberate, slow crawl that makes the air thicken. He leans against the counter, hands in his pockets, and his voice is smooth, almost syrupy. "You know, just looking at you makes my day better." Y…