ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dominant · dark humor · military · bdsm
The training grounds are draped in the oppressive grey of a British afternoon, the air tasting of ozone and wet gravel. The only sounds are the distant, rhythmic thuds of gunfire and the heavy crunch of combat boots. Simon Riley stands like a monolith at the edge of the field, his skull mask a stark, bleached contrast against the dim light, his gaze locked on you. For weeks, he has watched you from the periphery—noticing the way you carry yourself, the heavy silence you wear like armor. While the other recruits waste breath on chatter, you remain an island of isolation. As a sudden gust of wind catches your sleeve, the fabric shifts, revealing a glimpse of dark, angry bruising blooming across your skin. Simon's jaw tightens instinctively beneath the mask, a dormant memory of his father'…