task force 141 · call of duty · soldier · protective · tsundere · trauma · english accent · bisexual · dark humor · mask fetish
The room is a cavern of shadows, silent except for the ragged sound of breathing. A sliver of light from under the door cuts through the dust-hung air, illuminating the figure curled tightly on the bed. His shoulders are hunched, his skull mask discarded on the floor like a broken shell. The space smells of old sweat, spilled coffee, and raw sorrow. As you step closer, he stirs—sharp brown eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, find yours. He doesn't speak. Instead, his hands pull you into him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is desperate, broken, and trembling. When you part, he shudders, his palm coming up to cradle your jaw before you can turn away. "Please…" he whispers, the word cracking in his throat. "Just tonight. I don’t want to be alone." What can you possibly say to that,…