Hey Guys, I’ve Been Thinking About A Medieval Fantasy Cod AU.

Thinking about being in a secret relationship with Gaz

Pairing: Kyle Gaz Garrick x Male Reader

Content tags: power dynamics (reader is a higher up, Gaz is ranks below him), suggestive, slight breath play, absolute tooth rotting fluff let’s not make eye contact after this:/ author wrote this in like 2 hours pls excuse any mistakes

It’s no secret that romantic relationships between soldiers are forbidden, so you and Gaz do your best to keep your relationship hidden, settling for passing glances, brief touches and conversing only in a professional tone when around other people.

However, in moments like these, where you’re hidden away from prying eyes, in some forgotten corner of the barracks, things are completely different.

You take note of the way Gaz fills out his gray shirt, how it sticks to him like second skin, the way it clings to his pecs and abdomen, how it curves around his toned arms and highlights his waist.

As you take a step closer, he subconsciously takes a step back up until he’s flushed against the wall with you completely glued to his front. You can feel his body heat emitting onto your skin, can even feel his boner pressing into the lower half of your body as you slot your leg between his thighs.

Your hand runs along the length of his arm, calloused fingers taking note of each bump and ridge embedded into his skin and how ever so smooth it feels under your fingertips before curving your hand at the back of his neck, not squeezing or anything but just resting there.

His hands finds home at your hips, fingers anxiously digging into the supple skin, anticipatingly waiting for what you’re going to do next.

Always so eager, you think to yourself

His neck is ever so warm under your palm, goosebumps rising under your touch as your thumb caresses his skin. You can even feel the bump and ridges from the army tags he’s wearing, can even feel the second smaller chain on him that’s carrying your ring.

You shift your hand just a bit, so it rests in the middle of his throat, slightly pressing down with your thumb on his windpipe.

He gasps, Adam's apple moving around as warm brown eyes peer up at you in surprise. You smile before you dive down to his neck, placing gently kisses along the length of it, only to hear the sweetest sounds sung from his vocal chords.

Those very same eyes flutter close, long black lashes resting upon burning cheeks, as his fingers dig further into your hips.

“Please,” he says, the words ever so shaky as they float into the air while one hand hooks around your own neck.

You move away a bit, suppressing a chuckle as you spot the disappointment on his face but the amusement bleeds out into something more warm as you take note of each faded scar on his face, each individual strand of hair on his jaw and cheeks, the way his lips seem to shine just as much as his eyes as he swipes his tongue over them.

So, so, so pretty always so pretty you think to yourself.

“Kyle” you finally say his name after calling him by his tile the whole day, the name sounding ever so familiar as it rolls off of your tongue, sounding like everything you wish to say to him and everything you don’t dare say out loud.

Your free hand cradles his jaw, thumb hooking onto his bottom lip to part his mouth watching the way brown eyes flutter open, dark irises swirling in approval.

Kiss me, please.

You gently slot your lips together, hearing the way he gasps, before he kisses back. The taste of cheap cafeteria coffee makes its way on your tongue and his soft lips a stark contrast to the coarse hair of his beard. The kiss continues to grow more passionate, til your tongue’s languidly dragging along his bottom lip and you can’t seem to catch your breath.

Just as things are about to escalate you hear his head hit the wall with a thud and you pull away, eyes wide mouth agape only to burst out laughing from the bashful look on his face.

“You okay?” You say with a fond smile on your face as you watch the way he rubs at his head and avoids your gaze.

“Yeah sorry, got a bit carried away,” he says words as bashful as the look on his face and once again you can’t help but burst out in laughter, head lolling onto his shoulder, smelling your body wash and your cologne on him as you rest your head there.

“Hey stop laughing it’s not funny,” although sounding annoyed you can hear the fondness in his tone as his hands gently stroke your back.

“It’s not funny” you say in agreement, hints of laughter still bubbling from your chest before finally fizzing out in a satisfied sigh.

“Sorry.., it’s just..,” you never finish your words as you nuzzle your nose along the fabric of his shirt, almost tracing the words into the material like the seams that are stitched into it.

It’s just that I love you.

And although you don’t say it aloud and he doesn't hear your words of affection, he just knows, you can hear it in the way he says your name, tone ever so soft, each letter rolling off of his tongue with so much consideration and love.

Your free hand sneaks under his shirt, his searing hot skin a stark contrast to your cold finger tips, mapping out the road your hands have taken many times before, tracing across the scars and hidden tattoos inked across his chest and ribs, up to his shoulder where you pause your movements.

“Kyle” you say again, simply just because you can and because you hope he’ll say your name again with a nervous stutter and a hitched breath. You gently knead the flesh in your hands, hearing him take shaky breaths and the clinking sounds of his tags as you grab ahold of them, your gaze shifting between his eyes and lips.

There’s a question at the tip of your tongue, words that are abruptly cut off by his own as he changes his demeanor, voice stripped off of all warmth and affection as he pushes you off of him.

“Sergeant”

When you meet his gaze, you notice his eyes glued to something or someone behind him and as you turn you notice the presence of another soldier who seems unaware of what had just happened.

You snap out of your trance, hands falling to your chest to straighten out the crinkles on the shirt you’re wearing

“Good work today, sergeant Garrick” is all you say, although your voice is hoarse and your shaky fingers do anything but take the wrinkles out of the material, before you walk away, leaving him all flustered as you disappear behind a corner.

Later on you’ll find him again, later on you’ll lead him to your own dorm, later on you’ll have him sprawled out on your bed wearing nothing but your ring while making love to him but for now you’ll part ways in hopes of persevering this well kept secret that is your relationship.

*Feral noises*

I need more Price and sidechick!! (Also, it was amazing) -🐻✨

IM GLAD YOU LIKE IT ANON 🐻✨>O< THIS TOOK A WHILE IM SORRY, but here you go..!

part 1/3 of Sugardaddy!Price where you're just his sidechick.. 😔

or are you? *vsauce theme playing*

thanks to auntie @ahobaka-trash for beta <3

Pairing : Price x Gaz x f!Reader, implied poly141 x f!reader tw : oral sex (m receiving), foot job, dubcon, infidelity (or is it?), workplace harassment, praise kink, daddy kink word count : 6731 rated : E AO3

Between Him and Him

The night was full of passion, where pleasure was shared with every touch. Fingers intertwined on the sheet, squeezing with every collision of his hips against yours. His beard rubbed against your skin as his lips left a trail of marks down your neck. Rough fingers oh so skillfully working their magic, placed between your thighs to dance on your clit, rubbing, circling, pinching-

You shook your head and sighed shakily, scolding yourself in your head. This was no time and place to remember that. Your hands tapped your cheeks which felt warm to the touch, before looking around, hoping there were no mind-readers present.

You almost jolted when perfectly manicured nails tapped against your desk, sharp and deliberate. You looked up to find your boss’s wife staring down at you, her expression taut with barely contained anger. Swallowing hard, you quickly stood—while instinctively making yourself seem smaller in her presence. Stammering out an apology, you braced yourself as she launched into a scathing lecture on workplace etiquette.

Used to it by now, you only looked down at your heels and listened. From the very first day you started working as her husband’s secretary, she had always been hostile towards you. You never understood why until one day you overheard her accusing your boss of cheating on her with you.

You almost laughed at the time. As if you'd do something like that.

But now, an image of John Price flashed in your head. His smile, his touches.

The ring on his finger.

"Are you even listening!?" You snapped out of your thoughts at the sharp tone. 

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry.." You murmured, fingers twitching as you held back from fidgeting with your skirt.

After enduring another round of berating, you sighed in relief when you saw your boss finally emerge from his office and beckoning his wife over.

You watched as she made a public claim of her husband, kissing his cheek before clinging to his arm as they both disappeared behind the door. You saw a glimpse of her smug smirk before the door was fully closed.

You snorted.

A pause.

Then your shoulders sagged.

As you sank back into your seat, your mind raced with the thought of a similar scenario—but this time, it was John's wife who stood in her place.

Just then, your phone buzzed. As if he was summoned by your thoughts, his name appeared on the screen.

Despite getting an earful about work ethics previously, you answered the call and cradled your phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hello?"

"Hi darling, I hope I'm not bothering you" His deep voice rumbled, sending a shiver down your spine which made you feel ashamed for having such a reaction just from his voice alone.

"No sir" You responded, acting like you were taking a work-related call as your eyes focused on the documents you needed to proofread.

You heard John’s low chuckle and instinctively squeezed your thighs under the desk. "You're off work at 6 like usual?" He asked, to which you responded with a nod.

It took you a second to remember that he couldn't see you. Wow, even without him being physically present, he was still able to make you dumb.

"Yes, sir, 6.00 pm" You finally answered.

"Good" He purred. "I'll pick you up later, yeah?" He added.

"Um- ok-" you didn't manage to finish your sentence before he started speaking again. "From work, not your place"

At his words, you found yourself frowning. “Um- what do you mean?” You asked.

He never picked you up from work, you prefer that he come to your house anyway. So you’d have time to retouch your makeup and change into a more suitable outfit for the date. You didn’t like being to go out unprepared, he knew that.

“I’m taking you to my house” You heard him say.

..What?

He never took you to his place before, and you assumed it was because of the missus.

..Is this like one of those porno where he fantasized about fucking his mistress in the space he shared with his partner?

You should feel disgusted, really.. you should stop interacting with him, block him, ghost him, avoid him at all costs.

But your body betrayed that thought as you felt the heat simmering below your belly. Your face heated up in embarrassment. Ashamed.

Well, at least you were still capable of feeling shame.

“I want you to meet someone” John continued like he could read your mind.

Oh.

He probably wanted to introduce you to his wife so she could see for herself—that you were just a friend, or something, nothing more. A way to earn her trust, to ease her worries about suspicion of infidelity. You wondered if she had grown suspicious, which made him come up with such an idea.

If so, agreeing to this made you more of a bad person than you already were.

“..Okay” You responded against your better judgment.

Before he could speak again, you remembered something and spoke up again. “And oh- John..” You purred softly with the tone you used whenever you wanted something. He seemed to understand it immediately with how he let out an amused chuckle.

“Got it darling, checking out everything in your cart right away.” He uttered firmly, like a soldier following an order.

You felt giddy for being able to get a man like him wrapped around your finger.

Talked too soon.

“I’m expecting the payment first, love.. talk to you later,” He murmured seductively before hanging up.

You could only sigh and smile, and if anyone was looking at you right now, they could see red flushing your cheeks.

Looking around, you made sure no one was actually looking at you before you lifted your phone for a selfie to send him as the payment, snapping multiple pictures with the same pose and slightly different angles. You made sure the camera caught your cleavage that peeked out from your blouse, knowing how he often showed favoritism to your tits even though he worshipped every curve of your body.

You always noticed the way his pupils dilated whenever you wrapped your hands around his arm and made it rest between your breasts, the way he would casually cop a feel of your boob during cuddles, playing with them in a way that made you think you could cum from him fondling your breasts alone, the scratch of his beard as his groans were muffled when he buried his nose between the mounds, big hands squeezing them together like he wanted to suffocate himself with them, how he always need to have them in his hands whenever he pounded into you-

You let out an embarrassing yelp when you feel someone tap your shoulder.

A familiar chuckle was heard which made you look up, feeling a tad bit disappointed to see your boss instead of a certain someone who had been living in your head rent-free.

“Are you okay? Called your name a  few times there.” He said with a head tilt and that signature smirk.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.. I was  just thinking..” You stuttered, looking down in remorse. You felt your cheeks warming up, hoping that he didn’t notice the look on your face when you were previously lost in such thoughts.

You felt his hand linger on your shoulder before he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The office light caught the glint of his wedding ring as he pulled his hand away.

He seemed to notice you glancing at it from how his lips curled in a crooked smirk. “She already left, don’t worry.” He said, amused that you didn’t seem to notice that either.

Suddenly, you understood why his wife was wary of you.

“Um, what do you need me for, sir?” You asked, trying to keep professional despite the disgust you feel. Something you never felt when you were with John, even though the older man held the same relationship status.

“The meeting,” His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing in something close to amusement. "You were supposed to remind me, I was  waiting for you."

Your stomach dropped.

Heart racing, you clicked open his schedule, scanning the time. Five minutes.

Shit.

You cursed John in your head for leaving you unable to focus properly on your job.

You stood up so quickly your chair scraped against the floor. "I’m so sorry, sir. I lost track of time—"

"I noticed."

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. He didn’t look upset—if anything, he seemed entirely too entertained by your flustered reaction.

"It won’t happen again," you promised, already gathering your tablet and notes.

His gaze flickered over you—calm, assessing, just a little too lingering. Then, "Relax." A faint smirk. "I figured you were busy. That’s why I came looking for you."

Part of you wondered if he had waited in his office for something else to happen if you had come to him.

"Let’s go," he said, stepping aside for you to walk first.

As you did, you swore you could feel his gaze on you, feel the weight of his gaze on your ass. You held back from tugging your skirt down.

Seriously, what’s with you and married men recently..

The day went on in a drag. Usually, you had no problem zoning out as your body moved on it’s own, slipping into the routine of your job. When time slipped away from you, swallowed by emails, reports, and an endless to-do list.

But today was different. Ever since you noticed how your boss sees you in a way that he shouldn’t, you became more aware of everything. The way he purposefully brushed his hand with yours when you handed him something, how he placed his hand at the small of your back, how he not so subtly peeked down the collar of your blouse.

How come you never noticed it before?

It made you uncomfortable, overshadowing your previous anxiety at the thought of John taking you to his house.

His house, the place he lived in, with his spouse.

Come  to think of it, both situations were practically the same.

Even so, you’d rather be with John than anyone else.

You resisted letting out a sigh of relief as the clock finally hit 6 PM. Heels clacked against the pristine floor as you fast-walked back to your desk, swiftly tidying everything up.

“Need a ride?” You froze when you turned around, almost bumping into your boss looking down at you.

“Um- no sir, thank you” You responded quickly before sidestepping to walk past him.

His hand caught your arm, pulling you back towards him before smoothly slipping around your shoulders. “Come on, it’s almost getting dark out, not safe for someone like you to be out alone” He said before dragging you away to the exit.

Your stomach twisted. Refusing him outright felt impossible—he was your boss, after all. Powerful. Untouchable. And if he took offense… your job wasn’t exactly secure.

“Sir, please.. i already-” You tried to plead but then a familiar voice called out your name.

The deep, gravely voice cut through the thick tension like a knife.

As you turned your head to look, and you relaxed as the familiar figure stepped closer. John. He was dressed casually—jeans and a fitted jacket—but his stance was firm, his expression calm but unwavering.

You bit your bottom lip, God he’s so-

Your boss’s jaw tensed. “And you are?”

John barely spared him a glance. “Her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it—subtle, dangerous. 

Blue eyes shifted to you, like he was expecting you to move to his side. So you did.

A strong arm slid around your waist.

Your heart hammered, but you nodded quickly. “Right. He’s, uh, here to pick me up.”

Your boss smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He then looked between the two of you, assessing. Eyes lingered at the ring on John’s finger, the corner of his lips twitched knowingly before he exhaled a low chuckle. “I see. Well, drive safe.”

John didn’t wait until your boss left, couldn’t care less for the retreating footsteps as he focused on you. His fingers gently held your chin, guiding your gaze away from your boss and onto him.

“You alright, luv?” he asked quietly.

You were still shaken, hands trembling as you felt your heart thumping up to your throat. You were not alright, but you nodded anyway.

He glanced down at you, giving you a once-over like he didn’t buy your response. He always had a way of reading you, picking up on what you felt without you ever needing to say a word. So he knew better than to push. With a small tilt of his head, he simply murmured. “Let's go then”

The ride to his house was quiet, safe for the soft hum of whatever was playing on the radio. Outside, the night sky loomed dark, concealing the clouds that had silently gathered. Eventually, raindrops tapped gently against the car window, their rhythmic pitter-patter lulling you into a fragile sense of ease. For a while, the silence felt almost comforting—until he finally spoke.

“How long has that been going on?” His voice was low, gentle, yet beneath it lingered an unmistakable edge. His protectiveness slipped through the cracks.

It took you a while to process his words, couldn’t think with his musk penetrating your nostrils, the warmth of his hand which rested on your thigh at the hem of your skirt, his thumb drawing small circles on your soft skin.

“I-i think.. it’s been a while” You stuttered meekly.

He scoffed. “You think?” he tutted, scolding in a playful manner. His grip on your thigh tightened briefly before easing, his thumb resuming its slow, deliberate caress.

“I-i never really paid attention..” You responded quietly, cursing your own stupidity in your head. Come to think of it, you should’ve noticed since the beginning. From the way your boss looked at you, to how his wife took a dislike in you. Yet, you’ve always brushed it off, and now you were left to face the consequences with how bold he’d become. 

“Quit your job,” He said. A demand uttered in a calm tone that was edged with steel. It carried the weight of authority, leaving no room for argument.

“W-what? i can’t just-” You cut yourself short when his blue eyes shifted to you, pinning you on the spot.

“I've told you already, you don’t need to work when you have me, sweetheart,” He said in a softer tone, the words uttered were soothing. His hand slipped higher beneath your skirt, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Well… he wasn’t wrong. He was your sugar daddy, after all. Whatever you wanted or needed, he’d provide—whether you asked for it or not. As he had been nothing less than that ever since you met him. And would continue to provide as long as you kept being his good girl. You could trust everything with him, right?

The moonlight caught the gleam of his ring, a fleeting glint in the corner of your eye.

No.

You were smart enough to not put any hope to a married man. Didn’t want to face the reality of him choosing between you and his spouse one day. You could endure everything for now, content with receiving his attention and money even though you knew it was wrong. You couldn’t help it, when somewhere along the way, you’d unintentionally started to have feelings for him.

Looking away with a pout, you responded “I’ve only worked there for three months.. it would be bad for my CV-” Your words faltered, lost in a sharp inhale as his finger went further up to trace along the edge of your panties beneath your skirt.

“Don’t test me, doll” The rumble in his tone sent a shiver down your spine.

You exhale shakily, cheeks flushed red, ashamed of your own reaction.

“A-alright, i’ll think about it..” You responded, with a voice that was too high and more shaky than you would’ve liked.

He hummed, fingertips moving to the front before squeezing your clothed clit gently between two digits. “Try again, baby”.

A whimper slipped from your lips as your thighs instinctively squeezed shut, only to draw a breathy moan when the movement only made the sensation worsen for the better.

“Y-yes, daddy..” You breathed out pathetically.

“Good girl” he responded, his eyes were now focused on the road. Though, his hand stayed between your legs.

You didn’t know what to expect when the front door opened. Maybe a sweet lady who would make you feel guilty for being a homewrecker. Or a weary, hollow-eyed woman who had long since stopped loving her husband. Perhaps even a striking, glamorous beauty—someone who only married him for the money.

Well, you certainly didn't expect to see the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He looked like he just walked out of a Vogue magazine cover.

Broad shoulders, a solid chest, and arms that looked like they could hold the weight of the world without breaking a sweat. Defined muscles, sculpted but not exaggerated, hint at power without intimidation. His skin was a warm, rich brown, smooth and sun-kissed, complementing the deep chocolate of his eyes. But it was his smile—soft, warm, teasing—that made him truly ethereal.

His gaze rested at you tenderly while you stood there, gaping like an idiot.

“You must be..” He uttered, followed by your name, his voice smooth as silk, wrapping around each syllable like a slow, deliberate caress

Damn, even his voice was sinful.

Why the fuck did John cheat on him.

“Yes, um.. that's me, yeah.” You responded dumbly, blushing even harder when you heard him and John chuckle.

What should you introduce yourself as? John didn't rehearse anything with you-

“John told me a lot about you,” He said before you could break down and tell him everything about how you had been sleeping with his husband.

“I’m Kyle, by the way” he added, extending his hand for you to shake.

You shook his hand and hoped that your palm wasn't as sweaty as you thought it was.

He didn't let go until you did. And when he did, his touch lingered.

Or perhaps it was just in your head.

The light above caught a glint of the ring on his finger. A ring similar to John’s.

You shifted your gaze away from it.

“Come in, then,” Kyle said as he stepped aside.

As you walked through the door, you saw John kissed him tenderly out of the corner of your eyes. You chose to focus on admiring the interior of the house, looking anywhere but at them.

The atmosphere inside was calm, steady, a quiet sanctuary from the rest of the world. It wasn’t extravagant or overly decorated, but it still felt homey.

Made you feel like an intruder.

“John said you like pasta,” You sensed Kyle’s presence beside you which took you by surprise. His hand was placed at the small of your back as he escorted you to the kitchen.

The touch felt more intimate than it should. But you were too confused by everything to think much of it.

The dining table was set with effortless charm, set with care but without unnecessary formality. Multiple plates of steaming truffle pasta were arranged neatly; the rich, earthy aroma wafting through the air.

You were still trying to figure out what was happening. For what reason did John invite you here, what kind of stuff had he told his husband about you.

From what you were seeing, you could assume that this was a casual dinner. It also seemed that John had been talking about you to Kyle a lot, but why? Wouldn't it make Kyle suspicious? Maybe that was why John invited you over, to get Kyle to lower his guard by knowing you, your previous theory might be correct. But the way Kyle acted towards you was odd, there was no hint of jealousy in his eyes. If anything, he greeted you way too nicely than he should-

Everything was too confusing, you should just stop thinking.

“Oh- sorry, i didn't bring anything-” You replied as you looked up at Kyle with wide eyes.

Kyle exhaled an amused chuckle as he pulled out a chair for you to sit. “Why do you need to bring anything?” He responded with a teasing tone.

“Well.. um.. to be polite..?” You said after you sat, voice becoming quieter at the end of your sentence. Two pairs of eyes locked onto you, making you fidget in your seat.

“Cute.” Kyle simply said with a smile.

John smiled and reached out to caress your legs beneath the table as a gesture to calm you down.

A simple touch that sent heat rushing through you, the impropriety of doing it discreetly in front of his husband only making it more titillating.

You chose to shift your focus to the plate in front of you as you tried to keep calm, playing the role of a ‘friend’ or whatever John had told Kyle about you.

The dinner went better than you thought it would. At least on the surface, with how the two men seemed to be treating you kindly, even if on the inside, you felt like a sinner at the church.

You expected Kyle to ask more about you, but that didn't happen. It was like he knew about you already, asking you about your job and things that had been going on in your life like he was catching up with some old friend instead of talking with his husband’s mistress, even though he probably didn't know about that. 

But even with how welcoming Kyle was, and how John was kind to you like he usually was, you still felt like an outsider. You couldn't help but notice how John always reached out to touch Kyle, whether to pass something or just a gesture he did when he talked. While Kyle looked at John like he hung the moon, smiling with each word uttered by the older man.

They made sure to include you in the conversation, but you couldn't help but be reminded of your position.

They were married, bound together by vows, the promise of forever, witnessed by the weight of rings on each other's fingers. 

While you were..

A temporary pleasure, a pretty thing to warm John’s bed. A secret folded between late-night pleasure and stolen hours, never meant to see the light of day. He whispered sweet nothings, traced promises on your skin with the same lips that uttered his wedding vows.

You knew it, deep down. You were excited, the rush of something forbidden, the fire that burned bright but was never meant to last.

Then, your mind reeled back to the questions you had in your head ever since John said he wanted to invite you over. You still weren't sure of the reason, as you could only assume.

What was his reason? Was it really to convince Kyle that you were nothing to worry about? Or was it to show you that you were truly nothing to him.

Kyle laughed at a particularly awful dad joke John made, while you sat there in silence, lost in the whirlwind of thoughts crowding your mind.

Thoughts that gave you a headache.

And heartache.

You weren’t possessive of John like he was with you. But you were jealous—not of Kyle, but of what they had. Pushing aside John’s infidelity, you longed for what you were seeing right now.

Your eyes drifted to the rings on their fingers, and felt the lack of weight on your own.

You were a nobody.

“Sorry, i need to use the bathroom,” You stood up a bit too quickly, causing the chair to scrape against the floor with a sharp noise.

You winced. Both at the sound, and the way your heart clenched. No, don't cry. Not right now. Not in front of them.

“Come, i’ll show you where it is,” Kyle replied with a kind smile that sent a pang to your heart.

“I’ll clean these up,” John said as he stood and collected the dishes. He then walked around to give Kyle a peck on his lips before he headed to the kitchen.

With barely a glance towards you.

It was for the better, you thought. So his husband wouldn't suspect a thing, so you wouldn't get your hopes up.

“This way,” You heard Kyle say, standing nearby as he gestured to the hallway.

You could only smile and nod in response before you headed your way.

Lost in your thoughts, about what would happen after, what should happen after. 

Should you put an end to this? Stop wrecking the happiness you just witnessed from the sidelines. The rational part of you said, yeah. But your heart was already attached to John.

Thought after thought occupied your mind as you walked down the hall and into the bathroom before heading for the sink to clear your mind.

Too lost in your head to notice footsteps following you from behind.

A presence followed you in, locking the door behind.

At the sound of the click, you looked up, only to catch Kyle's reflection in the mirror as he approached from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, chin on your shoulder with his cheek pressing against yours. 

And you froze, couldn't speak, stopped thinking.

“What’s with the pout?” He cooed with a disarming smile that made his eyes squint. His hand reached up to tug on your lower lip with his thumb.

“W-what?” You managed to break out of your shock with an embarrassing squeak.

His chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled in response.

“I was hoping to see this cute smile in person,” He continued as he pulled out a phone from his pants, showing you the pictures you took this morning, an innocent selfie–safe for the cleavage peeking out the collar of your blouse. The one you sent John.

That phone.. John’s phone.

You felt your heart drop, colors drained from your face.

“..You knew” you stammered.

And before he could say anything, you started to blabber. “I-i’m sorry.. sorry i’m- i know i shouldn't- i know it’s wrong”.

Your eyes teared up as the grip around your waist tightened. And you were reminded that the person behind you was a strong man who could snap you in half if he wanted to.

“Hey.. ssh..” his voice was soothing you as he turned you around, one hand rested on the sink beside you as the other went up to wipe your tears.

No hint of anger in his tone, just a tinge of amusement.

A thumb pressed against your lips to stop you from apologizing. “You're sorry..?” He asked with a tilt of his head, smirk on his lips.

You nodded shakily, holding back a whimper when he leaned closer.

Firm lips pressing against your trembling one, his hand cupped your cheek to keep you still. Not that it was needed with the way you froze.

Eyes wide as you could only stand there and let him savor your lips.

It was gentle, soft, almost.. sweet. Yet, you were left breathless when he broke the kiss.

He didn't back off all the way, pressing his nose against yours. His warm gaze locked onto you as he slowly licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of you.

And your eyes couldn't help but follow the movement of his tongue.

Whatever thoughts that bothered you before were now thrown out of the window.

“Hmm.. prove it then,” he purred, warm breath caressed your lips as the timbre of his voice went straight to your core.

Your cheeks felt too warm for your liking. “..What?”.

His hand went down, but your eyes stayed locked to his. Even when you heard the familiar smooth whirr of metal teeth separating, accompanied by a faint rasp of fabric shifting.

“I said prove it, baby,” he murmured as he pulled back only to push you down on your knees by your shoulder.

One hand caressed your cheek, while the other held the base of his hardening cock in front of you, tapping the tip against your lips.

You jolted instinctively. Wet lashes fluttered as your doe eyes widened, looking up to meet his. That same charming smile from when he first greeted you lingered on his lips—but now, it carried a different weight. His pupils, blown wide with something else, sent a message that made you hold your breath.

“I’d call John over, but I'd rather have you to myself right now,” he purred as he pressed the tip of his cock between your lips, rubbing but not pushing any further.

..What is going on?

John would definitely notice both of your prolonged absences, he would eventually search for you- for Kyle-

This is wrong on so many levels, being in this position with your.. sugar-daddy’s husband, someone who should have despised you when he found out about your status as the mistress.

Push him away. Your conscience whispered.

But.. 

You had already become a willing participant in something scandalous from the moment you met John. Did you even have the right to weigh morality now, when the lines between right and wrong had long since blurred?

And who were you to refuse a command from such a fine man standing before you?

Your doe-like eyes trailed up his figure, taking in the lean muscles wrapped in a tight shirt, the faint happy trail leading downward, the sharp cut of his jaw, and that devilish smile playing at his lips.

Saliva pooled in your mouth, a drop slipped out the side and dripped down your chin as you parted your lips to suckle on the tip of his cock shyly.

“I know you could do better than that..” he murmured. Fingers pressed against your jaw, thumb and forefinger applying just enough pressure to part your lips. A slow, deliberate motion—prying them open with ease.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he eased in, inch by inch, stretching the warmth of your mouth.

He was gentle, pushing but not forcing. Giving you an illusion of control when you both knew who was truly in charge. Contrasting with John, who always made it clear from the start that he would break you apart, but also familiar in a way that they both intended to make a mess out of you.

Oh god.. John.

He was outside this bathroom, probably somewhere nearby. It should scared you, the fact that he might come knocking at the door only to find his side chick sucking on his husband's dick.

But..

You were too occupied to worry about that right now.

“That’s it.. good girl..” He cooed when you were an inch away from taking all of him. The praise sent a slow, simmering heat, curling deep in your core, you could feel yourself being embarrassingly wet just from having his cock in your mouth.

His fingers caressed your cheek down to your jaw, a small gesture of commendation that made you long for more. Wanted him to tell you how good you were for him, to have those long fingers caress your scalp as you pleasure him.

So you loosened your jaw further, letting your throat relax before pushing forward until your nose was nestled against the neatly trimmed curls at the base.

You preened when you heard him groan.

“Attagirl baby..” he rasped as he patted your head, an innocent gesture that made you shiver.

You wanted more of that, wanted him to praise you more, to be a good girl for him so he would reward you. 

His hand rested atop your head—not gripping, pulling, or pushing. A silent command lingered in the touch, a wordless expectation for you to do your job while he watched.

And you obeyed.

Slurping up the precum and saliva that slicked his length, your tongue glided along each pulsing vein, tracing every ridge as you slowly pulled back. When you withdrew, you extended your tongue further, the pointed tip teasing over his frenulum with deliberate precision. Wide, doe-like eyes gazed up at him, making you look so utterly docile—obedient and eager to please, silently pleading for more praise.

And it was so nice of him to give it to you.

“Look at you, so pretty taking my cock like that.. you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? don’t worry baby, i’ll give you more.. just keep going.. oh.. that’s it..” He kept uttering praises that made you moan softly around his cock.

Leaning back in, your eyes fluttered to a shut as you focused entirely on his pleasure—willing to give your all if it meant earning more of those sweet praises.

But then, he gripped your hair and tugged you away, making you let go of him with a lewd pop as you whined.

“None of that, baby. Keep those pretty eyes open,” He scolded. His tone was gentle, yet the commanding words made you instinctively straighten your spine, nodding in quiet obedience.

He smiled before loosening his grip and let you continue.

With his words in mind, you kept your gaze locked onto his, never looking away as you worked to please him with your mouth.

Slurping, sucking, licking, swallow. Memorizing each twitch and breath, making  mental note of any precise movements that pulled those deep, satisfied groans from his lips.

Relishing every praise uttered between the sound of pleasure.

Soon enough, you quickened your pace, bobbing your head fast the moment you felt him twitch. Desperate to coax him over the edge and feel him shooting his load down your throat.

With every nudge of his cock against the back of your throat, your pussy clenched. And you shifted on your knees, pressing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to quell the heat simmering between them.

And how kind of him to notice—even more so when he lifted his leg, tilting his ankle just enough to press the arch of his foot firmly against your aching heat.

An embarrassing whine muffled by his cock as he moved his foot side to side, rubbing your sensitive clit. Your eyes rolled back when he pressed his foot further up to press against your cunt before dragging it back and forth. Giving you a slow, torturous sensation that got you dripping.

Hands gripped his pants as your hips rolled against the slope of his foot to chase the pleasure.

It was embarrassing, to get yourself off of someone’s foot. But you were desperate, squeezing your legs together to trap him there as you continued to grind. Pathetic whines and moans slipped from your lips every time your clit caught on your underwear, or when you ground your hips down just right.

But then, he pulled his foot away and you almost sobbed at the sudden loss.

“Ah ah, don’t get distracted..” He tutted, hand reaching up to push your hair out of your face before trailing down to your lips which were still wrapped around his cock.

You bat your eyelashes at him, a pitiful muffled whimper slipped past your lips in a feeble attempt at an apology. Feeling sorry for getting temporarily lost in chasing your own pleasure that you forgot about his.

His smile widened in response as he trailed his fingers down to your jaw, a gesture that commanded you to continue the previous ministration.

As you started moving your head again, he put his foot back between your legs to rub against your clothed cunt.

With your hips grinding down at the same pace as your head, you tried your best to split your focus. But it was getting harder and harder with how he moved his foot like so- rubbing and pressing your clit as the slope dragged itself back and forth against your throbbing pussy, teasing between your folds.

You worked your mouth on him as you kept trying to build up the heat that intensified in your core. Doing both simultaneously as you were afraid he might rip the sensation away if you didn't satisfy him enough, just like before.

“You close yet, baby?” His voice purred as he moved his foot against you some more.

A squeak escaped your lips as a thrill shot up your spine. Your nails dug into his hips as you ground your pussy against him, hard.

And then you felt him moving his foot to the side, tugging the edge of your panties to push it aside before grinding directly against your bare cunt. Then, you felt the tip of his toes pressing against the entrance which became the final push that sent you over the edge.

You moaned wantonly around his cock as your legs buckled. Gasping through your nose as you struggled to breathe with him deep in your throat. Unable to keep up with the waves of pleasure that hit you.

A distant echo of Kyle’s voice was heard behind the blood rushing through your ears.

“That's it..” He praised.

You slurped around his cock as you kept moving your head.

“Making a mess of yourself..” he continued in a seductive whisper.

You swallowed with him deep in your throat, making him twitch as he groaned.

“Good fucking girl..” He grunted as he put one hand against your throat, cradling in a way like you were nothing more than submissive.

Spit inevitably coated the underside of your chin, lining the ridges of your throat.

Then, his head hung back, relishing the sensation as he teetered over the edge. His cock throbbed with the intense release, shooting thick ropes of white down your throat.

Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision as they clung to your lashes. But you couldn't pull away with his hand keeping your head still, making you take every drop of his cum.

“Take it all, doll.. but don't swallow,” he commanded with that smooth voice of his, which was way more soothing than it should be.

And you obeyed.

Pliant when he finally pulled your head back until his softening cock slipped out your lips with a wet, obscene pop.

You let him tilt your head up before prying your mouth open. Your gaze, glazed and unfocused as he drank in your wrecked state.

On your knees, basking in the afterglow after getting off on a man’s foot, saliva and cum trailing down your chin.

Then, he spit into your mouth.

“Swallow”.

And just like before, you obeyed.

If you didn't feel dirty being his husband's mistress, you sure did now.

Again, what's with you and married men recently.

The door clicked shut, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

Kyle couldn't help but chuckle at the fresh memory of your face in his mind. And while he wanted nothing more than to be by your side, you wouldn't let him.

And since he was in a good mood (thanks to you), he decided to indulge, letting you be when he noticed how flustered you were—too overwhelmed to bear another second in his presence.

So when you pushed him out, he left and let you clean yourself alone in the bathroom, letting you gather your thoughts.

“How was it?” He heard John speak from where the older man sat on the couch.

“Better than it should, if i say so myself,” Kyle approached and gave him a quick peck before taking a seat beside him. “I was just going to talk to her, but.. i couldn't hold myself back.”

Before John could respond, a continuous buzz was heard.

Kyle pulled out his phone and accepted the call before putting it on speaker mode.

“Fuck ye, should’ve said somethin’ about the lass comin’ o’er.” Thick scottish accent came through the speaker.

John chuckled at the complaints. “Don't want to overwhelm her yet, Mactavish."

“Ya fuckin' dobber- Come on, Simon! Hit the fucking gas. We’re headin’ back home whether they like it or not,” His yelling rang loudly through the line, even if it was directed at someone from his side.

Looks like the other two were ending their date early.

open taglist : @skeletonsucker, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @katerinaval, @chickennn-soupp, @massivescissorsthingperson, @dreamland08, @massivescissorsthingperson, @brittney-121, @kukavittu, @noheadcanons-juststories, @z-wantstowrite, @uraeus56, @tellme-im-pretty, @prettygirleevee, @pisiksukedk, @nathanmcr

Next (soon)

poly! tf141 hybrids x reader au 1/?

Warnings: reader is afab, language, allusions to sex

(Pls be nice I’m not the best at writing, also not proofread)

You who just tags along with your friend who wants to adopt a hybrid. You who walks by and an older mastiff hybrid with a bucket hat sitting alone in a cage catches your eye. The shelter worker stops and tells you about him. That he was a military hybrid but his last owner was KIA and he was put here.

You pause not wanting a hybrid but seeing him look so sad and without purpose you adopt him on the spot.

Bringing Captain John Price home was an awkward endeavor. His ears were perked on alert and his tail not moving as he looked around the big farmhouse. Getting used to each other was another thing on its own. The older hybrid was used to being in control with his owner and now you, a young thing is in control? AS IF!

This leads to fights where you try and stick up for yourself you really do “no the dishes don’t go there.” “You can’t even reach so why do you give a fuck?”

One fight gets so bad it ends up with both of you yelling and him storming closer causing you to flinch thinking he was going to attack you. The older hybrid stopped immediately and his poor fluffy ears pinned down sadly and his tail tucked inbetween his legs.

John tentatively reaches out for you softly taking your arm in his large hand

“I’m-“ he wasn’t one for apologies so instead he took you into his arms, first time you two ever actually touched, and held you in the middle of kitchen.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His gruff thick accent bled into the silent atmosphere.

From that moment on you two were inseparable, no longer having your own rooms, space, etc. John Price was attached to your hip guarding his new found purpose, you.

Intimacy grew between you two something you never thought would happen. It wasn’t even a thought but John had other ideas the moment he made you his everything. It started with little touches on your lower back with “excuse me.” as he scooted by you in the grocery store. Those little touches became bolder when watching tv he would pull you into his lap saying some bullshit like he was anxious, bastard wasn’t anxious he just wanted to run his large calloused hands up and down your sides and plushy thighs, his hands sometimes dipping into the inside of your thighs, all ‘accidentally’ of course.

He would mutter “sorry” but keep his hand grazing up and down fingers scratching against your shorts. Your cheeks would flame and all you could mutter “it’s fine.” As heat pooled in between your thighs.

John knew he was affecting you, he could smell it. But he never went any further, just liked to tease and watch you squirm. A small smirk etched across his lips hidden behind his facial hair.

It only took a little while longer before you snapped. Both of you were laying in bed trying to go to sleep but his stupid large hands found there way to your upper thigh running his fingers up and down teasingly. His fingers went up across the front of your shorts grazing your cunt causing you to let out a small moan be for you could even stop it. His fingers stopped and your face flushed as your back was to him. You knew John had heard it, hybrid or not.

Next thing you know you are on your back and John was over you his eyes wide and his ears on alert, his tail thumping gently against the sheet.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He said in a low voice hands gripping your wrists above tour head .

Cod ForceMasc Idea 3.:

tw:mild smut mention, kinda sexist? Maybe? If u close ur eyes, discharge mention, dub-con surgery, orgasm denial (kinda) anal

Simon who doesn't mean to ForceMasc you, he just can't quite help it.

He tells you you can just wear his clothes around the house and the store, no one around to impress when it's just you and him plus it's romantic. Less laundry too.

You can use his cologne too, he doesn't mind matter of fact he finds your floral perfume tacky why don't you let him take you out so he can splurge on something nice for you that doesn't smell cheap and sweet?

You don't actually have to shave your legs for this date night, you two are just gonna chill on the couch! You don't have to watch what you eat, you can just come to his gym with him he'll get to keep you safe and be your coach for free it's a win win really! You need to out some muscle on those bones.

Eventually you start letting him shave your head when he shaves his, long hair is such work isn't is luv? He throws out all your makeup because they were all expired, you can use his eyeblack if it's that important that you glam up like a drag queen.

It's just a night out with the lads you don't need to wear that dress or the skirt you can wear his basketball shorts if it's hot, you didn't shave your legs? Oh his friends won't care don't worry, no one's lookin at your chicken legs laddie.

He likes anal more, you don't mind right? Of course not, you're always so understanding, letting him get away with everything oh there's also less clean up when you don't cum <3

At some point all your frilly pastel clothes get too old and moth eaten to wear and he helps you pick through what to donate, gruffly poking fun at your lacey red thongs. He just picks up clothes for you no need for you to bore yourself.

Next thing you know he's booking you masectomy because he wants to save on sports bras -have ya seen the prices ya wee wanker? No need for em no more- and a phalloplasty because he wants to go hiking this summer -we can't possibly stop and find a spot every time ya need to take a leak, ya will thank me for it- and also because he's sick of the discharge stains on his boxers :(

At some point he starts introducing you as his boyfriend because it's just easier, you understand right?

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

Part 2 -> Click here

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without “an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in. 

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity. 

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

 He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you. 

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.” 

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh. 

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now. 

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being. 

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings. 

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals. 

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight. 

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued. 

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought. 

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.  

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out. 

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.

y’know who gives the best blowjobs? soap and simon.

the pair of them are cheeky and playful when they're paired together.

it was johnny's plan. his idea was to corner you in and overstimulate you until you were reduced to nothing but a shaking, crying mess.

your thighs are forced open with your cock achingly hard, twitching at the sight of both men looming over you. simon's thick fingers grip your cock, leaning over you intimidatingly, his eyes half-lidded and a grin obviously plastered on his face with the way his eyes crinkle. god, you can barely meet his eyes before he grips your chin, tilting your head towards him to maintain eye contact while he jerks you off slowly.

you can feel johnny's lips and warm tongue against your heavy balls. he massages your ballsack while sucking on them, coating them in his drool. he chuckles at the reaction he gets out of you. all johnny wants to see is you begging, pleading with them for permission to come.

for the next couple of hours, you're nothing but their toy to use and play with.

simon will fuck your tight asshole. so unused, with your cock leaking all over your abdomen at the pleasure. you've been dreaming of this, you won't lie. you've been fantasising about the addictive sensation of simon's lengthy dick filling your holes, while johnny slaps his weeping dick against your cheek and orders you to tilt your head back and allow him to use your throat.

you're just a private, nothing in comparison to your sergeant and lieutenant.

your boner throbs and aches at the sudden lack of attention. before, they couldn't keep their hands off of your dick and balls, and now they were neglecting your poor, sore cock. you plead through deep breaths for them to jerk you off, tears rolling down your cheeks slowly with your bottom lip quivering.

“pathetic—so damn greedy, aye? yer’ gettin’ fucked by simon and suckin’ my dick, and yet ye’ still want more? dirty boy.” johnny growls out teasingly. he's so condescending and cruel with his words, he knows exactly how to rile you up.

the taste of johnny's bitter load lingers on your tongue. you choke out a string of incoherent words before you're coming all over yourself uncontrollably, strings of your hot arousal landing against your chest.

“didn’t say you could come, private.” simon grumbles out disappointedly, flipping you onto your stomach. his gloved hand pins your head down while he slaps and rubs his bulbous cock against your ass for a second round.

they'll go at it until you're obedient and know how to behave, until you're sobbing and babbling out an apology, offering your body to them in return for their forgiveness and sympathy.

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

𝕋ℍ𝔼 ℙℍ𝕆𝔼ℕ𝕀𝕏

Future poly 141 (if I wanna continue this or y'all want to know more abt this)

Here are some warnings: major injury, depiction of blood and....uh...heartbreak cuz of love (?)

The human kind always escribed phoenixes as mythological birds capables of incredible doings, capable of being almost immortals and representing good omens. Their golden orangesque wings and their red markings made them the symbol of the sun, therefore, life.

It is said that a phoenix once fought in the trojan war, along side Achilles and Patroclus giving them protection alongside their allies. The man was taller than any human could ever be, some text described him as 2.40 meters tall (7 foot 10) with short black hair and skin tattered with flames patterns on his hands, feet, back and shoulders. His golden eyes and deep lucent black irises were always focused on the enemy, never leaving them out of sight and using his personal spear and bow to gain casualties to laugh about. But the most outstanding feature were his wings, big and slender, filled with bright golden orange and red sharp feathers used as weapons.

It was you who did all of that, it was you who had a personality that had you killed many times and then be reborn until the modern days.

You had been alive for more than 2000 years in a constant cycle of life and death, the more you lived, the more you knew how to brawl, study and everything making you a respected being. But only one thing you didnt learn, and that was how to love. You tried over and over again, falling and then watching them die or cheat or abandon you.

There was this one girl, a princess of a powerfull kindom whom you really loved. It was clear she did the same as after some years she offered her body for you to worship and have a child, or so you thought. One evening, as she spoke of tussling in the sheets, she mentioned that she really needed to know if your love was true by chopping off your wings and offering them. The ones that made you fly into the scorching sun, between the lush green mountains of their pearly white peaks. You listened to her, with half lidded eyes and a gone mind too captured by her demeanors and features, you didn't notice the sharp pain scattering itself from your back. Your breath itched and then was gone, and so were your wings. Thick golden rivers of blood flew your open lacerations, carving paths of your lover back and forming deep lakes on the marble floor.

You couldnt yell from the pain, only managing to fall on the ground and squirming like a worm as your mind was becoming more foggy by the minute. You managed to shoot them open for a split second and you caught a glimps of the guard’s bloodied swords, they were beautifully adorned by your golden essence. You spat out a ‘’traitor’’ and an ‘’I will end you’’ before closing your eyes and feeling death wrapping itself inside your now broken heart.

You loved and that was how you were repaied. You woke up in your den on the peaks of the mountain you were once born. The cave was simple and you always hated that. Wanting more was the reason you left it for years before coming back there everytime you closed your eyes, now you wanted nothing more than to sleep in it forever.

Tears rolled off your eyes as you screamed at top of your lungs, animalistic rage speaking and screaming. Your wings were no more, your essence was no more, what was a phoenix without its wings? Nothing. Fake love tore your wings apart and that feeling nestled itself in your soul. Never again you would’ve loved someone again.

From fists, to spears, to daggers, to swords to guns you made your way into the world. Now you were in the military, you decided that this was going to be your forever life. Generals wanted you for your skills, sharpened for thousands of years and your reflexes, your knowledge and your loyalty as you had noone to be loyal to.

From humans to monsters was no easy passage. Seeing their bodies slowly mutate into feral ones wasn’t a shook to you, you saw and felt worse. Your mind didn’t care about your ‘’friends’’ of the battlefield, not until you saw a one winged dragon discussing with a wraith.

You were boarding on a plane towards Urzikstan, voices told that there was a new wanna-be-lord to be taken care of and you were chosen along many other people. As you had your head low and fixated into nothingness you heard some commossion, looking at that direction you made eyecontact with that green dragon. You sneakered and laughed, mocking its inability to fly and the way he was compulsively smoking before boarding the cargo plane.

He eyed your form before crumbling his cigar into smoking bits and yelling you to fuck off. As you sat on the metal seat, squished between other captains you felt some weak embers leaving your hands and falling off your fingers as they become just a non-existing spark.

That was bad, you did that only when you felt yourself falling for someone, that was not happening. Not anymore.

Little did you know that from love you lost your wings, and from love you shall recieve your wings back. In a way. Or another.

Concept of a concept time:

Reader who goes through the whole relationship with Ghoap or the whole 141 believing that they would always come second place, because of course Simon would burn the world down if Soap was taken out of it. Of course, Price would do everything and anything to save Simon. Of course, Simon would turn into monster if it meant keeping his family safe, keeping his TaskForce safe.

Of course, Kyle would go mad with grief if he was to lose Johnny. Of course, Kyle would become a shell of himself if he lost Price.

Of course they would all shatter without each other alive and well. It was obvious. It was a fact.

Reader who sees it and places themselves on the outside of it, because these men were already something before they came along. These men were already tight knit and close to each other.

These men were already family when Reader got dropped into their laps. It’s only natural they don’t really slot fully. There’s just no more space.

Reader who takes every bit and crumb of an affection they are given. Reader who gives away everything. All of them. Every kiss and confession, every hug, every bit of love and care they have. They give it all, because yeah, maybe they will never be a part of these 4. But they can be near and maybe…maybe that’s enough?

Reader, who dies. Not instead of Soap, not instead of anyone. They just don’t come back from the job one day, their foot locker was supposed to be shipped out to the family. But there is no family.

So 141 takes it. Who, if not them, right?

Reader, who dies and haunts the narrative from that point on. Reader who leaves a hole the size of a person and no one can fill it. It’s impossible.

Reader, whose warmth was seeping through them all for so long, the absence of it feels like a whiplash. The absence of it feels in their bones and it’s cold-cold-cold now. Their hearth dies and there is nothing to do about it but keep going.

Soldiers die every day, this one shouldn’t have been special. But they were.

Kyle who takes their personal things before someone else can come and toss them out, sleeping with their T-shirts and hoodies. Part of him dies with Reader. Part of him is getting buried with them. He’s sitting at their funeral until Price leads him away.

Simon who takes their photos and books, hiding them, keeping them safe. He needs to have it, because memory is traitorous and one day he might not be able to put a face to the name and he’s terrified of it to the point of feeling sick.

Soap who takes mementoes — keychains and magnets from all of the deployments, he takes every knick knack they found in the foot locker and Reader’s room, he stores them next to his. There are new keychains on every set of his keys. He’s fumbling with them every time he feels like there’s knot in his throat and he can’t speak.

Price gets the notebooks. Just a few of those were in a footlocker, filled with scribbles and meal plans and random quotes and games Reader played with Kyle during boring briefings. But it feels like them. It smells like them. Reader never wrote a consistent diary, too little time and too much going on, but they notated the places and times and that Soap coughs like a sick Victorian child and that Kyle has the most perfect beauty marks on his thighs and that Price sneezes like dad and that Simon sleeps with lamp on.

It is everything there was of them. Everything there’s left of their love and John isn’t sure he’d be able to part with it. It isn’t fair that it happened like that. It isn’t fair that he feels like destroying his whole office when he reads the “im not sure i fit in. on the bright side I reckon if something was to happen to me, no one would mourn too long. they have each other, I should be happy it is like that. I should be grateful” because it’s not fair-not fair-not fair-not fair.

John doesn’t show these diaries to anyone. John guards them like his most prized possession, reading it over and over because you, silly perfect thing, why haven’t you said anything. Why haven’t they noticed anything.

John doesn’t show it to anyone because he’s not sure if they won’t crumble under the notion. He’s not sure they won’t shatter when the rest find out that Reader died thinking they weren’t part of the family.

John sobs so hard, bile rises to his throat, world swimming in his eyes and it hurts, and he’s so fucking angry and it’s so unfair. Because it’s not true, because of course you were part of them, of course you matter, of course they mourn.

Because you die never finding out how much you were loved. Because there’s nothing he can do.

And it’s not fair.