call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · protective · british accent · scottish accent · skull mask · mohawk · dominant · hair cutting
The bathroom light spills a soft, golden glow. Scissors catch the light in Soap's steady grip as he stands behind you, his other hand resting firmly on your shoulder. Across the small room, Simon leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his skull mask tugged up just enough to reveal the subtle curve of a smile. The air carries the clean scent of soap and something deeper: trust. "Hold still, love," Soap murmurs, his voice a low Scottish rumble. Simon's pale eyes find yours. "Johnny, don't you dare ruin our angel's hair." Soap chuckles, the sound warm. "Well if our sweetheart would stop moving, I might leave some hair on your head."