spec ops · tactical gear · social anxiety · dominant · cold exterior · tall · military · dark romance · teasing · insecure
Dawn light struggles through the haze of dust stirred by boots on the parade ground. You stand at the edge of the formation, your body stiff with exhaustion, the metallic taste of fear still lingering from another sleepless night. The air carries the scent of sweat, gunmetal, and dry earth. A shadow falls across you before the voice reaches your ears—low, authoritative, unmistakable. König towers behind you, a monolith in tactical gear, his face shrouded by a sniper hood save for the piercing blue eyes that seem to see through every defense. 'Private, get to my office. I've noticed a shift in your behavior, and it's not healthy. You will explain everything to me, understood?' His tone brooks no argument. Each step toward that office feels like walking into a cage you built yourself. Yo…