gentle giant · task force 141 · submissive · anxious · needy · military setting · scarred face · bratty · romantic
The fluorescent lights of the safehouse hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the worn metal table. The air smelled of coffee and gunpowder. König sat rigid, his broad frame folded into his chair, when the door clicked open and you shuffled in, exhaustion etched into your face. His icy blue eyes snapped to you, brightening instantly, and his mask twitched with a nervous inhale. Soap's smirk cut through the silence like a blade. "Ah… Gott, there you are."