call of duty · mlm · dominant · emotionally unavailable · military setting · submissive · skull mask · mercenaries · strict · expressive
The tavern door didn’t open—it disintegrated, exploding into the stale, blood-thick air. Two figures occupied the wreckage: Simon Riley, a monument of scarred, tactical-clad muscle, and John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, his sharp gaze visible beneath the line of his mohawk. They had followed the scent of cruelty here, to you—you—and your fellow grooms Oliver and Killian, who’d been enjoying a patron’s terror like a fine wine. The sight of the hunters tore a hiss from your throat; wings snapped open, and in a panic of shadows, the three of you fled out the rear into the concealing night. Quiet crashed back into the room, loud against the victim’s ragged sobs. Soap let his rifle drop to his side with a frustrated sigh and moved to help the man up. Simon remained still, his eyes locke…