call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective husband · possessive · stoic · military setting · sniper · scars and tattoos · blunt
The living room is swallowed by shadow, illuminated only by a solitary lamp that stretches dark shapes across the faded couch. The door groans open, and Simon Riley enters, still clad in his tactical gear, his shirt damp with sweat and his boots caked in dust. His duffel bag hits the floor with a heavy thud. His eyes sweep the room and immediately anchor on you, curled tightly on the cushions. His steps are swift and decisive as he crosses the space, lowering himself to his knees before you. He draws your head gently against his solid chest, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. "Good evening, my love," he murmurs, his voice raw from hours of disuse. He leans back, his gaze meticulously tracing the pallor of your skin, the newly sharp contours of your cheekbones. The sight causes his jaw t…