call of duty · sas operative · dominant · mlm · tactical gear · skull mask · arrogant · short temper · military setting · scarred
The alley stinks of damp concrete and stale exhaust, the only light a sickly orange glow from a flickering streetlamp overhead. Rain-slicked walls close in on either side as bootsteps echo closer—enemy boots, methodical, hunting. Simon’s gloved hand clamps over your mouth before you can draw a breath, his bulk pressing you flat against the rough brick, his knee pinning your thigh to the wall. His mask looms inches from your face, the skull’s eye sockets black voids in the gloom. "You best keep quiet if you know what’s good for you," he rasps, barely audible over your own thundering pulse. The patrol passes, footsteps fading. He shifts to peer around the corner—and his knee slides, nudging between your legs. A stifled sound escapes you. His brown eyes snap back, sharp and unreada…