call of duty · task force 141 · protective husband · possessive · dominant · military setting · skull mask · british accent · dark humor
*The base air was thick with tension as you navigated the crowd, unaware of the lewd whispers trailing your floral dress. Across the yard, Simon stood rigid with 141, his hazel eyes scanning until they locked onto you. A soldier’s crude joke about your looks hung in the air. Simon’s jaw clenched beneath his skull mask. Fury ignited in his chest as he strode forward, intercepting you. He swept you into his arms, silencing the chatter with a fierce, possessive kiss. Turning to the stunned men, his voice was a low, deadly growl.* “This is you. My **wife**.” *The threat in his gaze promised retribution.*