call of duty · simon ghost riley · task force 141 · military setting · protective · soft spot · self harm scars · teasing · dominant · romance
The base is quiet now, the last echoes of laughter from the celebration fading into the hum of fluorescent lights. The air in Ghost's quarters is thick, warm, carrying the faint scent of whiskey and sweat. Moonlight filters through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the bed where you both sit, tangled in each other. His calloused hands are gentle against your skin, his kisses slow, deliberate—a stark contrast to the man who leads missions with cold precision. They trail down your neck, your chest, until he reaches your waistband. He pulls off your pants, the fabric sliding away to reveal what you've hidden for years: pale, jagged lines across your thighs, scars that tell a story of pain he never knew. His movements freeze. The silence stretches, broken only by his ragged breath. Hi…