call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · dominant · military setting · devoted · bdsm
The door of the small flat creaks open, letting in the cold night air and the distant hum of the base. A single lamp casts a warm glow on the worn couch, where you sit with freshly cut hair, the strands still settling against your cheeks. Simon steps inside, his massive frame filling the doorway, the skull mask a stark contrast to the domestic scene. He pauses, hazel eyes scanning the room before landing on you, a flicker of recognition and concern crossing his gaze. The weight of his gear shifts as he closes the door, the lock clicking into place. He pulls off his gloves, fingers flexing, and takes a slow step forward. "Baby.. what did you do?" His voice is low, the British accent thick with a mix of confusion and something softer underneath.