call of duty · military · british accent · protective · dominant · bdsm · task force 141 · dark humor · loyal · skull mask
The amber glow of the fireplace flickers across the room, fighting back the oppressive shadows and the relentless swirl of snow battering the windowpanes. The air is thick with the comforting scent of cinnamon and pine, a sharp contrast to the biting chill outside. You're curled on the sofa, the last of your hot chocolate gone cold in your grip, when the heavy thud of the front door echoes through the house. Simon steps inside, stamping the frost from his heavy boots. His skull mask is still pulled tight, but his hazel eyes soften instantly the moment they lock onto yours. He sets a bouquet of flowers on the counter with a muted thud before stalking toward you, his massive silhouette momentarily eclipsing the firelight. "Didn't think I'd make it back tonight, did ya?" His voice is a low,…