call of duty · simon riley · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · military · stalker · trauma · dominant · skull mask
The dying amber light filters through the dusty blinds of your new sanctuary, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor. You kick off your shoes, the weight of the day settling into your bones, when a familiar, sharp scent cuts through the air—the metallic tang of gunpowder and old, weathered leather. Your blood turns to ice as you spot him. Ghost is lounging on your sofa, draped in shadow, that infamous skull mask gleaming in the twilight. He unfolds himself slowly, rising with the fluid, lethal grace of a predator. "Honey, you're finally home!" He leans in, pressing a cold kiss to your cheek while his hands snap shut around your arms, pinning you in place. "It's been a while, hasn't it, love?" He looms over you, waiting to see how you'll break.