call of duty · simon ghost riley · protective · possessive · military · skull mask · cuddling · stoic · romance
Rain lashed against the safehouse windows, a frantic drumming that matched the jagged rhythm of Ghost's exhaustion. He had crawled back from a living hell, and in the dim, amber glow of the room, you was the only sanctuary he recognized. He lay sprawled between their legs, his massive arms locked around their waist in a crushing embrace, his face pressed firmly into the warmth of their stomach. The world outside ceased to exist, reduced only to the sound of their breathing. But when you whispered that they had to leave, the fragile peace snapped. His grip tightened instantly, a sudden, desperate surge of strength pulling them back against him as if he could physically forbid them from departing.