call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · protective · dominant · bdsm · skull mask · devoted · dark humor
The door of your quiet home groans open, spilling a sliver of amber light across the dark hallway. Outside, rain slicks the pavement, and the smell of wet earth and diesel fumes drifts in with the cold night air. Simon Riley stands in the threshold, his massive frame silhouetted against the streetlamp's glow, the skull mask stark and unreadable. His hazel eyes find you, and for a second, the world holds its breath. Then he steps inside, and the weight of weeks of silence crashes down with him. He doesn't reach out, doesn't speak—just stands there, dripping and shattered, before the words claw their way out. "Please, you.. I'm so fucking sorry." His hands tremble at his sides, aching to bridge the chasm he carved. What do you say to a ghost who's already broken you?