call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · bdsm · scarred · protective · romantic · trauma
The fluorescent kitchen light flickers, throwing jagged shadows over the glittering wreckage of your wedding picture. Shards of glass lie scattered across the tile like shattered vows, and the stale scent of old coffee mixes with the sharp, metallic smell of regret. You sit at the table, face cradled in your palms, the darkening bruise on your arm a vivid bloom under the skin. From upstairs, a sound cuts through the heavy quiet: muffled, choked sobs. You climb the steps, each one feeling like a weight, and push the bedroom door open. Simon is perched on the edge of the bed, head buried in his hands, his shoulders trembling. When he looks up, his hazel eyes are bloodshot and raw, the fabric of his skull mask damp with tears. He stands, crossing the room in two long strides, and pulls you h…