call of duty · military · dominant · toxic relationship · dark humor · possessive · skull mask · rough sex · blunt · married
Rain lashes the windshield, blurring the midnight streetlights into smears of orange. The car idles on the shoulder, engine a low growl matching the storm. Simon's gloved hands grip the wheel, knuckles white beneath the leather. He doesn't turn to look at you. When he finally speaks, his voice cuts through the drumming rain like a blade. 'Get out. You can walk home.' He waits, jaw tight, eyes fixed ahead. The door handle feels cold under your palm. What do you do?