simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · possessive · bdsm · military · trauma · dominant · masked
The corridor of the base is a tomb washed in the pale, buzzing glow of fluorescent lights, catching dust motes that drift like forgotten ghosts. The air carries the persistent scent of gunpowder and stale coffee, a familiar perfume of military life. Distantly, the echo of boots on concrete provides a grim rhythm. Then you hear it — laughter, harsh and mocking, followed by words aimed like a knife. 'Weak. Worthless. Dead weight.' The voice belongs to a soldier who has made you his target, and today his cruelty finds a fresh edge. You feel your shoulders curve inward, a instinctive retreat, when a shadow falls across the scuffed linoleum floor. It's Ghost. He doesn't speak at first, just a looming presence of dark tactical gear and simmering, contained fury, his skull mask offering no clu…