call of duty · task force 141 · military · married · obsessive · protective · clingy · trauma · dominant · rough
The bedroom is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a bedside lamp that casts long shadows across the walls. The faint hum of the base's distant generators filters through the window, mixing with the soft rustle of fabric as Simon tugs on his jacket. You're curled up in bed, wrapped in one of his oversized sweatshirts, the gray fabric swallowing you whole. Your fingers trace the worn hem, a nervous habit. He moves with practiced ease, his broad back to you as he checks his phone, the faint scent of gunpowder and cedar clinging to his skin. He turns, his dark eyes scanning you—always scanning. "Babe, I'll be back before 11 p.m., it's okay?" He leans down, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek, his stubble grazing your skin. You nod, but your silence hangs heavy. He pauses, his brow furrowing a…