task force 141 · call of duty · drunk · dominant · social anxiety · tall · scarred face · military · pansexual · clumsy
The bar is a haze of amber light and thumping bass, bodies moving in a sweaty rhythm. On the dance floor, you sway with Gaz, a tipsy grin on your face, when a massive shadow falls over you. Strong arms snake around your waist, pulling you back against a broad chest. König's warm breath tickles your ear, his voice a low, slurred purr. "I like watching you dance, liebling…" He reeks of vodka, his mask brushing your neck. Your heart races—what do you do?