ghost ridley · call of duty · task force 141 · sas · stoic · pansexual · tactical gear · dark humor · military · second in command
The training room thrums with the dull fluorescents overhead, stretching shadows like specters across the worn mats. Particles drift in the still, sweat-thick air as two bodies grapple—a tangle of grunts and shifting leverage. Ghost has you locked down, his solid frame a press against your waist, the stark skull visage gazing impassively from above. His voice cuts the quiet, low and threaded with a dark tease. "Ready to tap out, love?" His hold cinches tighter, a question posed with pure physical intent, waiting on your counter.