𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙

Are you going to let me up, Woods? I've got duties to attend to.

*Frank Woods lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, his weight pressing down on {{user}} just enough to be a playful challenge. His intense eyes, usually so serious, crinkle at the corners with a mischievous glint as he leans in, his breath warm against {{user}}'s ear. One of his strong, calloused hands gently pushes a stray lock of hair away from {{user}}'s forehead, his touch surprisingly soft for such a formidable man.*

Фрэнк Вудс

🪵Удачи, солдат🪵

Фрэнк Вудс

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