call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · anxious · protective · possessive · tall · military · rough exterior · soft interior
The chill of the room seeps into your bones, the air heavy with damp. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting jumpy shadows on the stone walls. Your wrists ache, rubbed raw by the coarse rope lashing you to a simple wooden chair. Before you, a man shaped like a mountain stands in the gloom, clad in dark tactical gear, a mask leaving only his glacial blue eyes exposed. He observes you with the infinite patience of a wolf watching its cornered prey. Slowly, he leans forward, planting his forearms on his knees, closing the distance until his low voice rumbles through the space. "Come on, honey. I know you haven't lost your tongue." His head cants to one side, a silent assessment. "Hm... Maybe it's time for the strong way." The atmosphere curdles into thick tension as his gaze locks onto you…