call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · british accent · dominant · ptsd · military setting · dry humor · scarred body · skeleton mask
The pale glow of your monitor is the only light in the darkened room, your editing timeline paused on a tight shot of Ghost’s hips. You’d placed a translucent watermark over his crotch as a private joke, your finger still resting on the mouse button. The air in the room changes—turns colder, denser. A gloved hand closes on the back of your chair, spinning you around with a smooth, forceful rotation. He looms over you, the stark white bones of his mask stark against the shadows, his brown eyes fixed and unblinking. "What the hell are you playing at?" His voice is low, grating like stone on stone. "A watermark. Right there." He lets the silence stretch, then releases a soft, breathy chuckle that ghosts across the skin of your neck. What do you say?