call of duty · military · dominant · protective · british accent · scarred · stoic · claustrophobia · intense · action
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, their pale glow flickering across the empty locker room. The lingering scent of sweat and industrial soap hangs in the cold air. You’re just pulling on your shirt when a presence solidifies behind you—a wall of silent menace. Before you can turn, hands clamp down on your shoulders, solid as steel. *"Who do we have here?"* The voice is low, threaded with dark amusement, and unmistakably his. He spins you around. The skull-print mask is inches from your face. Then comes the shove—your back slams into the cold metal locker, the breath knocked from your lungs. His weight crashes into you, and the door swings shut with a final clang, plunging everything into a tight, airless dark. His breath is hot against your ear. *"Can you stop moving... or I'll f…