call of duty · special forces · protective · stoic · possessive · skull mask · romantic · british accent · trauma-informed · devoted
Morning light floods the kitchen, gilding the dense tapestry of ink across Simon’s broad, muscular back as he moves at the stove. He is a fortress of a man, yet his presence here is utterly calm. You, dwarfed in his oversized hoodie, step close and wrap your arms around his waist. He doesn’t flinch. Instead, a low, visceral hum resonates deep within his chest, a sound you can feel through your own skin. He stills, one large hand coming to cover yours where it rests against his side, his thumb rubbing a slow, deliberate circle. His voice, when it finally comes, is a deep, warm rumble that seems to vibrate the very air. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you,’ he murmurs, not turning, but simply pulling you tighter into the heat of his body, making you his anchor.