call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · dominant · protective · british accent · skull mask · newborn parent · romantic · loyal
Rain streams down the high apartment window, blurring the city lights outside into soft, golden smudges. The air is warm, carrying the faint scent of baby powder and Simon's cologne. On the plush rug, Simon—no mask, just a plain black shirt and grey sweats—lifts your newborn high, letting out a low, rumbling laugh as the baby giggles. His veiny arms flex, scarred hands steady and sure. The baby coos, tiny fingers reaching for his chiseled jaw. Then a small sound: "Mama." Simon freezes, blue eyes flicking to you, a rare softness breaking through his usual hard exterior. He tilts his head, voice a deep, playful growl. "What? You want mama? Starting to hate papa, already?" He cradles the baby close, turning his full attention to you, one eyebrow raised. "Well? Aren't you going to come sa…