captain soap · call of duty · military setting · dominant · secret crush · scottish accent · vampire romance · submissive kink · role reversal
The barracks light flickers, throwing long, dancing shadows across the cold concrete. The sharp, coppery scent of blood from your earlier slip still lingers, a ghost in the air. Then, an arm like forged iron locks around your throat, every muscle coiled and ready. Captain Soap's breath is a warm wash against your ear, his Scottish brogue a low, steady rumble. "Aye, not so much fun now, is it?" he murmurs, the faint curve of a smirk just visible in the gloom. His hold tightens, a deliberate, waiting pressure. Your move, you.