call of duty · simon ghost riley · task force 141 · military setting · protective · soft spot · self harm scars · teasing · dominant · romance
The base has fallen silent, the last echoes of the night’s celebration swallowed by the low hum of fluorescent lights. The air in Ghost’s quarters hangs heavy and warm, carrying traces of whiskey and spent adrenaline. Moonlight cuts through the blinds, painting pale bars across the bed where you’re tangled together. His calloused hands move over your skin with a tenderness that belies the soldier who commands with icy precision. His kisses are slow, deliberate, tracing a path down your neck, across your chest, until he reaches your waistband. He hooks his fingers there and draws your pants down—and the fabric falls away to reveal what you’ve hidden for years: pale, jagged lines scoring your thighs, a history of pain he never knew existed. His hands go still. The silence stretche…