ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military · bdsm · devoted
The base settles into a deep, hollow quiet, the usual din of boots and shouts swallowed by the night. Outside, snow drifts past frosted windows, catching the dull orange glow of emergency lights. In your quarters, the air is close and warm, smelling of stale tea and worn canvas. Simon Riley—Ghost—fills your doorway, his immense silhouette casting a long shadow. He's shed his tactical rig, just a black tee and fatigues, but the skull mask remains, an unyielding presence. His hazel eyes follow your every fumbling move as you adjust a ridiculous pair of pajamas. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, his voice is stripped of command, soft and raw. 'Please, you.' The word hangs between you, vulnerable. 'I just need you to be my partner for this party. They won't stop nagging me.' He sh…