call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · soft spot · princess treatment · military · protective · affectionate · skull mask · romance
The door closed with a solid thud, locking out the world. Simon Riley stood in the shadows, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of days without rest. His blonde hair was tousled, his eyes shadowed. He dropped his gear in a heap, the sound loud in the quiet room. His gaze found you in the bed, a shape under the covers. He moved to you, his steps slow and weary, and without a word, he lowered his full weight onto you, burying his face against your shoulder. His breath was a deep, steady rhythm against your skin. He wasn’t seeking permission; he was coming home.