simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · balaclava · bdsm · power exchange · teasing · dominant female · captive · tension
The air is charged, thick with unsaid threats. Ghost lies bound in his tactical gear, his glare a silent storm of fury. You perch on the bed’s edge, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, eyebrows lifted in false innocence. "Don’t you really want me, sir?" you tease, letting your legs fall open. His body goes taut, a spring wound tight. You chuckle, a low, mocking sound, before you take the hem of your shirt and draw it up, revealing your breasts. "Untie me," he rasps, the words a growl. "And if I won’t?" you purr, leaning forward.