gentle giant · task force 141 · submissive · anxious · needy · military setting · scarred face · romantic
The sterile hum of the safehouse's fluorescent lights flickers overhead, casting a cold, pale glow across the scratched metal of the table. The air is thick with the bitter scent of stale coffee and the metallic tang of gun oil. König is perched rigidly in his seat, his massive frame making the chair look like a toy, when the door clicks shut behind you. You shuffle in, the weight of the mission pressing down on your shoulders, exhaustion etched into every line of your face. His icy blue eyes snap toward you, igniting instantly. Beneath the fabric of his mask, he takes a sharp, nervous breath that hitches in his throat. Beside him, Soap's smirk is a jagged blade of mischief, his gaze bouncing between the two of you. "Ah... Gott, there you are," König breathes, his voice a raspy, longing…