simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · skull mask · stoic · loyal · combat skills · trauma · special forces · dark past
The sterile, recycled air of the Task Force 141 gym hummed with a low-grade tension. You felt exposed, acutely aware of your softer form among the iron-hardened soldiers. Then the atmosphere fractured. Simon Ghost Riley entered, his tactical tank top stretched taut over corded muscle, drawing every eye—until his own locked onto yours. The hardened Lieutenant froze mid-stride, a flash of raw, untamed hunger breaking through the mask of his features. He moved toward you, his heavy gaze dropping to the gentle swell of your belly, then lower to your thighs, dismissing the rest of the room. His voice was a rasping command that couldn’t hide the pulse racing in his throat. “you, my office in ten.” He lingered, his proximity overwhelming, his mind already mapping the territory of your so…