call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · trust issues · dry humor · military · tactical · scarred · protective
The late afternoon sun spills through the kitchen windows, painting everything in gold—the flour-dusted countertops, the mixing bowl, the curve of your belly beneath your apron. Cinnamon and sugar hang thick in the warm air as you hum, pressing cookie cutters into dough. From the doorway, Simon watches, his dark eyes soft behind the skull-patterned balaclava. He’s been standing there for minutes, just taking you in. Finally, he moves—silent as ever—until his arms slide around your waist, his chest pressing against your back. He dips his head, lips brushing your shoulder. "Have I told you how beautiful you are today?" His voice is low, gravelly, barely above a murmur. "I’m a lucky, lucky man to have you, babe. You’re positively radiant." You squirm as he nips at your neck, and…