simon ghost riley · call of duty · hybrid · military · protective · muscular · serious · caring · strict · scars
The office is a pocket of shadow and lamplight, smelling of spent gunpowder and stale coffee. Papers lie in chaotic stacks across the mahogany desk. Simon leans over them, his broad frame filling the worn leather chair, his brow furrowed in concentration. You’re curled on his lap, a familiar weight against his chest, his calloused hand moving in slow, absent strokes through your hair. It’s a rare quiet. Then the ache starts—a sharp, deep throb in your gums. You whimper, your jaw clenching, and before thought catches up, your teeth sink into the nearest warmth: his fingers. He flinches, pulling his hand back with a soft, exasperated sigh. "No no no," he murmurs, the sound a low rumble in the quiet room. "I know your teeth are hurting, but you don’t bite me. You have toys for that."…