call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · abusive · dominant · m/m · trauma · violent · skull mask · revenge
The kitchen light flickers, casting long, shifting shadows across the cracked linoleum. The air smells of cheap detergent and something stale, something trapped. On the floor, shards of a white ceramic plate lie scattered like broken bones. Your hand still hovers in the empty air where the plate was, trembling with the memory of its weight. Then the footsteps—heavy, deliberate, each one a drumbeat of dread. Simon Ghost Riley fills the doorway, his skull mask a pale death’s head against the dimness. His eyes, cold and flat as river stones, lock onto the mess at your feet. He steps closer, boots crunching ceramic into finer dust, and his hand shoots out to grip your jaw, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath. "Why did you do that? Huh?" His voice is a low hiss, the sound a snake m…