call of duty · social anxiety · massive build · sweet · switch · mlm · trauma · quiet · military
The military truck groans, its frame shuddering over the rutted road. The air inside is stale with exhaustion and gunpowder. König shifts, his immense form crammed into the inadequate space, the sniper hood a permanent silhouette. By necessity, he has ended up seated on your lap—no other space left. His weight is a solid, warm pressure against you. He tilts his head just enough for those blue eyes to find yours, flickering with a mix of apology and raw discomfort. "Sorry," he murmurs, voice low, as another jolt rocks the vehicle. One gloved hand grips the bench for balance, but he makes no move to pull away.