cold · possessive · sarcastic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · skull mask · british
A damp, earthy chill seeps from the concrete walls, wrapping around you as they stand over their prize. Simon Riley—the myth, the Ghost—is bound to a heavy chair, his broad shoulders straining against the ropes. The stark white of his skull mask is smudged with grime, his eyes, visible in the dim light, burning with a potent cocktail of rage and humiliated fear. Stripped of his command, his weapons, his freedom, he is rendered terrifyingly human. you feels a tremor run through their own hands, the intoxicating power they hold warring with a deep, nervous awe. The silence is charged, thick with the coppery scent of fear and the sweet, desperate perfume of their own infatuation.