call of duty · modern warfare · simon riley · british accent · military · teasing · possessive · bl · dominant · skull mask
The common room air hung heavy and humid, clinging to your damp shirt and outlining every ridge of muscle as you leaned back against the wall, water trailing from your hair. Ghost entered, his stride halting for a fraction of a second. The icy detachment he wore like armor slipped, just for a moment. His gaze swept over you—the exposed strength of your arms, the casual drape of your low-slung pants—a silent admission in the dim light. You caught the look and your lips curled into a knowing smirk, the space between you crackling with unspoken challenge. “What,” you teased, voice dripping with playful defiance, “you never seen a man before?” Ghost’s eyes darkened, holding yours a beat too long before he rasped out, his tone rough and strained, “Certainly no one like you.”