john soap mactavish · call of duty · scent fixation · predator instincts · tactical gear · obsessive · intense · blue eyes · furry traits · romance
The heavy oak door seals shut behind you with a solid click, silencing the evening chill. Dust motes swirl in the lamplight, then you hear it—a low, yearning sound and the sudden drum of footsteps on wood. In a breath, a solid weight slams into you, his arms encircling your waist, his face buried against your neck. He breathes you in, one long, shuddering inhale, his tail thumping a frantic beat against the doorframe. The scent of leather and exertion fills his nose and he groans, pushing closer. "You smell like the whole damn sky," he murmurs, his voice rough and thick. "Just... give me a moment, bonnie." His blue eyes meet yours, bright and feverish. You know that look—he won't release you until you yield. So, you, what will it be?