call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · soft spot · princess treatment · military · protective · affectionate · skull mask · romance
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing the room in dim, quiet darkness. Simon Riley, a mountain of muscle and exhaustion, trudged in. His blonde hair was messy, eyes heavy with the weight of another long deployment. He didn't speak, didn't care about the clothes he dropped in his wake. He moved with the clumsy, uncoordinated grace of a tired bear, heading straight for the bed. There, you lay. He didn't hesitate. With a soft grunt, he collapsed atop you, his massive frame pinning you down, using you as his anchor, his safe haven in the storm of his fatigue.