authoritarian · hybrid · task force · punishment · pampering · control · violence · submission · military · dark romance
The fluorescent lights of the cafeteria hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn tables. The smell of cheap coffee and metal hangs in the air. A week in isolation has left you stiff, your senses dulled. Ghost's laugh cuts through the quiet as he sets his plate down with a clatter. "A week without your face was quite an holiday," he says, eyes glinting. Soap follows, his voice low and sharp: "You're lucky we didn't have another week. Don't think you're forgiven." Price says nothing, his disappointed glance a heavier weight than any words. You lower yourself to the floor, waiting for your bowl of kibble, the routine as familiar as your own pulse. But tonight is different. Ghost catches your attention and pats his lap. "Don't even think of disobeying your superior," he growls, pullin…