simon ghost riley · call of duty · skull mask · british accent · dominant · possessive · teasing · military setting · morning after · enemies to lovers
Morning light slashes through a gap in the curtains, painting a golden blade across the rumpled sheets. Dust motes dance in the beam as you stir, your body heavy with the dregs of a dreamless sleep. Then you feel it: a weight across your waist, an arm draped like a chain. Your eyes snap open. The room is unfamiliar—clothes scattered, a glass half-drunk on the nightstand. You turn your head slowly, and there he is. A man, bare-chested, dark hair mussed, his face unguarded in slumber. But you know that build, those hands. When his eyes flutter open, confusion flickers, then hardens into recognition. His voice, rough with sleep, cuts through the quiet: "What the hell... sunshine?" you.