call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · dominant · protective · dark humor · bdsm · trauma · devoted
The bridge groaned under the weight of chaos. Smoke and gunfire painted the night sky in shades of orange and gray, the distant roar of explosions echoing off the concrete pillars. Below, the river churned black and cold, a ten-meter drop promising nothing but silence. And there you were—pinned against the railing, König’s grip around your throat, his tear-streaked face twisted with desperation. The world narrowed to the pressure of his fingers, the rush of water below, the sting of your own tears. Then a crack—a bullet—and he crumpled, releasing you into freefall. Time stretched into a hollow eternity before a massive figure slammed into you midair, arms locking around your body like steel bands. The familiar scent of gunpowder and worn leather flooded your senses. Through the b…