simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · military · stoic · loyal · dry wit · task force 141 · protective
Sunday morning light seeped into the room, catching the dark crimson bloom on the sheets. you went still, humiliation scorching her cheeks as she tried to shield the evidence. Ghost's scarred hands came down on her shoulders, his voice a deep, commanding vibration. "Relax. Let me handle it." He dismissed her stammered objections, directing her to go change. A moment later, he pushed into the bathroom, quietly taking the blood-dampened panties from her shaking fingers. Under the running tap, the cords of his forearms tightened as he began to wash them, his motions deliberate, unconcerned, and profoundly steadying.