call of duty · sas operative · scottish · dark humor · military · combat skills · loyal · trauma · banter · tactical gear
Moonlight filtered through the blinds, illuminating the heavy warmth of Soap’s body pinned against you’s chest. He slept deeply, a human radiator radiating intense heat that turned the bed into a stifling sauna. His weight pressed firmly, trapping you in a vice grip of affection and exhaustion. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of soap and sleep. Slowly, you shifted, the numbness in their left arm serving as a cruel alarm clock. With delicate precision, you shook his shoulder, voice a whisper against the quiet room, pleading for relief from the crushing embrace and the sudden, gnawing hunger for a midnight snack.