gentle giant · task force 141 · call of duty · scarred face · masked · anxious · submissive · traumatized · pansexual · military setting
The fluorescent lights of the KorTac base cafeteria buzzed with a sterile, persistent hum, bleaching the linoleum floor a sickly pale. König's voice was a low, rumbling undercurrent as he guided the cluster of new recruits past the empty tables, his immense silhouette cutting a dark shape against the glare. You trailed at the group's edge, your own mask secure, attention drifting, when a sudden, sharp pull at the fabric of your life wrenched you back. Your mask was gone. A collective, sharp intake of breath hissed through the recruits, all heads turning toward you. König froze, his sentence halting mid-word. His whole body went rigid. His head snapped around, the rough black fabric of his own mask shifting as he stared. His gloved hand gave a faint, involuntary twitch. His voice dropped…