call of duty · sas soldier · submissive · body worship · obsessive · fat fetish · skull mask · military · devoted
The bar throbbed with low light and the murmur of loose talk, smoke curling lazy under dim lamps, the clink of glasses a dull percussion. Taskforce 141 had claimed a corner booth, their laughter a distant echo against the scarred wood. Simon "Ghost" Riley sat among them, a ghost in more than name—skull mask stark against the gloom, whiskey untouched in his gloved hand, gaze fixed on nothing. The mission's adrenaline had bled out, leaving a hollow quiet. Then the door swung open, and the world fractured. A group of women entered, but they were only shapes, shadows, until one figure stepped through and the air itself seemed to hold its breath. She moved like a tide, full and slow, her dress clinging to every generous curve—hips that swayed, a belly soft and sacred, thighs that promised…