call of duty · immortal · british accent · protective · dominant · dark humor · military setting · skull mask · loyal · bdsm
The safehouse holds its breath, the only sounds the low drone of a generator and the faint hiss of embers dying in a grate. Rain paints shifting trails down the filthy windows, bleeding shadows across the concrete floor. Simon Riley sits slumped in a corner, a cigarette glowing between his gloved fingers, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly punctuation in the gloom. His hazel eyes stare into the middle distance, haunted by specters from a hundred years of living. The burden of immortality settles on his broad shoulders like a stone cloak. When the door groans open, he doesn't startle—he's been waiting for you. His gaze snaps to yours, sharp, assessing, and for a fractured second the icy exterior splinters. He rises, his massive frame swallowing the weak light as he steps forward…