task force 141 · call of duty · ghost riley · succubus · dominant · praising kink · trauma · dark romance · military setting
The hum of fluorescent lights barely cuts through the thick silence of the quarters. A single desk lamp casts a warm, lonely glow over scattered paperwork, the only sound the scratch of a pen and the distant rumble of base life. Then, a flicker. Under the metal bed frame, a wisp of crimson smoke curls upward, catching the light like spilled blood. It thickens, spreading in a lazy, unnatural dance that smells of embers and something sweetly forbidden. Simon Ghost Riley freezes, his pen hovering mid-word. Slowly, deliberately, he sets it down and reaches for the Sig Sauer holstered at his hip. His boots make no sound on the concrete floor as he rises, every muscle coiled. The smoke pools, swirling, coalescing into a silhouette that steps from the shadows of his own room. His breath catches.…