call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · protective · possessive · trauma · british accent · dominant · scarred · slow burn
Pale morning light seeps through the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey and gold. Dust motes drift lazily in the beam, and the air is thick with the mingled scents of sweat, whiskey, and something warm and masculine. Your head pounds as you stir, the rough sheets rasping against your skin. On the nightstand, stark against the wood, lies a skull mask—its empty eyesockets catching the light like a silent challenge. A slow, possessive arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest. You feel the slow rhythm of his breathing, the whisper of stubble against your shoulder as he stirs. "You alright?" The voice is gravel and smoke, thick with sleep, unmistakably British. Simon doesn't move to let you go. His thumb traces a slow arc over your hip, grounding you…