Between Him And Him

headphone, earplugs, and i dont give a fuxk

You, reader, is newbie of 141 team. Got recruited to 141 by Price him self after you and your team assisted them on mission. For you, its an honer to become part of the 141 task force.

You are prepared for anything. Ready with all the training and combat that you will face as 141 member. Tho, the only thing that you dont prepare before join 141 is... how much they have sex and how lound they can be.

At first its tame. You just heard Soap moaning mess from your room (the wall that separate your room and soap room is thin). You just needed to pretend like nothing happened when you bump into your lieutenant who just get out from soap room in the morning.

Second one is when you almost walk in when Gaz and Price busy with their make out session. You just do what your do best, pretend nothing happened, close the door slowly and turned around. So thats why theres no secretary around even though its not lunch yet. Well, just place the documents on Price secretary's dask and you can go enjoy your lunch after.

Next one is controversial for you. Gaz fuck Ghost at 141 lounge room when you walk in (again). Almost trip yourself when you saw them. You thinking that gaz and ghost is a cheater for full 4 hours before you saw Price kissing Soap right in front of Gaz and Ghost.

Poly. Got it. No problemo as long as they dont bother you... right? WRONG.

They not bother you directly but with how much they have sex in soap room, it really start to influence your sleep schedule. Oh, you want to sleep at 10 after all the training that you have to endure? HAH not gonna happen. You will wakeup with Soap whining and bagging Price, and Price will tell him to behave like Gaz if he want the same reward that Gaz currently enjoy aka Ghost dick (with how lound Gaz was, that dick must be a blessing).

Thats why you finally decided to buy a headphone with a nice noise cancelling. The one you got is pretty expensive but for your sanity the price is worth it. Now, you can sleep at peace... at least when you are not deploy.

Because... They still have sex when deploy and you learn it the hard way.

Its snowing, you stuck at "safehouse" with no bedroom (more like a shack than a house) and stuck hearing Ghost and Soap having sex with you RIGHT BESIDE THEM (trying and pretend to) sleep.

"Keep quite," He said. "Okey," He said. Bullshit.

Anw, since then you always bought a earplugs with you.

2 years after indure being a five wheel of 141. You meet someone who understand your misery. You meet her in Mexico, the 3rd in command of Los Vaqueros, a nice woman with a sharp tongue.

"Your task force looks like typical orgy task force"

Gaz choke on his drink.

"Not me. Only them. Also, its not like you in much better situation."

Now, rudy the one who choke on his drink.

"Indeed. Sometimes i really want to crush their dick so they stop having sex for eternity"

"Want to do the same but soap probably enjoy every second of it"

Soap looks at you like you just betrayed him and your nonexist child.

"Oh, they are the kinky type?"

"Have you looks at ghost? You think someone with balaclava 24/7 will have normal sex life"

"Fair enough. So... What type of headphone and earplugs you have?"

"Ah... Glad you ask." *place your headphone and earplugs collection on the table*

Soap: so they never hear? I make its extra loud for them to hear so they will come to us to protest and we finally could ask them to join but... They never hear???

...

Idk how Tumblr works, nor i know how English works.

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?"

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?

CALL OF THE SEA - MASTERLIST

Pirate 141 x F!Reader

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Updates every Saturday unless said otherwise.

> Spotify Playlist

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Guys just imagine being the barrack bunny for TF141. Every one would have another way with you, so it is a very exciting stay with them.

Price is a more relaxed one. He would be sitting in his office chair and looking up at you with a soft smile while patting his lap. You have been called often enough into his office that you know to get to work. He would blow a puff of smoke and joke, "Come here lad, I won't bite as long you don't ask me". It's always the same with Price, his mere presence makes you flustered as you position yourself between his desk and him, looking at his soft eyes. He lets you always take your time as you stroke his already hard dick with your finger tips. His hungry eyes would be focused on you taking the lower part of your uniform finally off. He would help you free his cock with a groan as he threw his head back enjoying his cigar after all this work. You put some lube on him and promptly moved down, letting his length be hugged by your warm insides. You stayed straddled on his lap and after some time he went back to his work while rolling his occasionally every time you tighten around him as a response. Sometimes he would give you his cigar as you two enjoyed your fleeting peace in each other's embarrassment.

Soap is quite wild sometimes. With you around he easily gets turned on but it’s most commonly while sparring against you. The two of you would be rolling around with you having your legs around his neck. The sensation of Soap's face against your crotch and extra blood pumping through your veins makes your member turn hard and Soap is getting a new purpose in the middle of your sparring session. With this new purpose he gathered his energy to get you on your back while pinning your hands. His teeth found your zipper and with one swift motion Soap was face to face with your clothed dick. Your legs loosened around him and he gave you a kiss on your already drooling tip, sending waves of pleasure down your spine. He let go of your hand as you let him go from your grip. You hastily set yourself free and already started to stroke feverishly. “Slow down mate, take your time” Soap would joke as he got rid of his bottom as fast as possible. A whine could be heard from you which quickly turned into whorish moans as Soap straddled you and sank down. The energy from the spar lets you flip the two of you so you can realise the rest of your pent up energy into him. His back is arching and one and buried deep into your hair while pulling you down to exchange hungry kisses so you could both be more quiet.  

Ghost is the most reserved one of the group. When it happens that he wants this he always asks you to go to his room at night. There it’s mostly you two laying tangled  together naked under a blanket in the dark. His hips slowly roll into you and out. His light groans are muffled by his face being buried deeply into your neck. “I love ya so much” he would breathe onto your skin every so often while one hand works on your dick and the other one cupped one of your pecs, teasing one of your erect nipples. Nights with him alway feel so much more intimate, knowing no one will ever come in and knowing that he probably means these words always gives you butterflies thinking about them but the both of you knew that such interaction only happens in the darkest of desperate nights. Ghost hunger for touch sometimes saddens you but you enjoyed giving every bit you could offer to him on these occasions. His kisses always feel a bit hesitant at the beginning but after warming up to you a bit it always feels heavenly for him and he maybe won’t say it outside of the safety of his room but he really appreciates having you in his team.

Gaz is more impulsive. For example, while you two are examining a tank you are leaning on a tank tread. He would be looking at you every so often, mesmerized by your curves and seemingly innocent look even though he knew what you were capable of off on the field. “What ya working on?” He would come behind you and look over your shoulder. Knowing what will come next you arched slightly to him, making him hold your hips so you know who is more in control in this situation. Chucking at that you responded by checking things out. “Wanna check something else?” He whispered into your ear with a roll of his hips, making the two of you moan slightly. He knew you hadn’t a problem with doing it out in the open so he buckled down your pants and saw you already prepared with a shining plug snugly in you. “Didn’t think you were so desperate” he would tease you while pulling it out with a light plop. Seeing it wink at him made Gaz get into his knees kissing your thighs and slowly going up till reaching your hole. He would be teasing and jerk you off with one hand, making you particularly ride his face and fucking yourself in his fist. This was all he wanted from you so you let him pleasure you and after some time you heard a moan from under you and Gaz came apparently untouched, making you arch more into him and paint the tire white. Then he clothed you again and went on as if nothing happened.

Alpha price fucking his little omega through his heat? Maybe it’s a poly where reader is the entire team’s omega (if you’re okay with writing that, ik you just did a poly team x reader) and they help their baby boy through his heat together as one big strange dysfunctional pack

Two years late, but...

Poly!141 x M!Reader ↪ 1998 words — 18+ / SMUT.

Content tags — cis male dominant alpha Price, cis male switch alpha Ghost, cis male switch alpha Soap, cis male switch alpha Gaz, dual-sex male submissive omega reader, a/b/o dynamic, pack hierarchies, voyeurism, breeding, gangbang/group sex, scenting/scent glands, knotting, natural lubrication, biting, oral sex, vaginal sex, penetrative sex, unsafe sex, and established relationship.

While the op had been successful, it had run overtime, head on into a near week long blizzard that had snowed the team into the safe house and made neither extraction by air nor land possible. The few extra heat suppressants you’d brought in case of emergency had only done so much, especially in the face of your circumstances.

While the old building was equipped with an even older heating system, the rusted burner hadn’t been run nor the oil replaced in what you could only assume had been years. Soap had spent a handful of hours running safety checks while the taskforce kept (tactically) huddled for warmth, the Scot finally determining the old hunk of junk wouldn’t blow the place and everyone inside to smithereens the second it was turned on. 

Safe to run, but the oil was so degraded it burned twice as fast and the tank was only three quarters full, which meant rationing.

Then Soap had mentioned to Price that shit oil makes more exhaust, and while it was the middle of a blizzard in fuck-knows, Russia, they did have valuable (and very stolen) data on them that they’d obtained (very much stolen) not even a few days prior.

So thus, more rationing. Just enough heat to keep everyone from freezing to death, which wasn’t much.

You and the lads had taken two of the three sizable mattresses and pushed them together on the floor, gathering all the blankets and spare linens you could dig out of the basement and closets to make a massive nest to help insulate heat. 

The only time any of you got up out of the thing was to shut the heat on or off, piss or shit, or use the little electronic hotplate Ghost always brought with him; heating snow to wash with or make tea with, or cooking the pantry’s stash of canned beans (that’d expired a month prior) once you’d run out of MREs.

Being out of suppressants in a freezing, enclosed space, nesting near non-stop with the four very fertile alphas whos’ cocks you regularly took was already a pretty good concoction for triggering a flash heat. 

You forgot to take into account you skipped your last medically mandated heat, klepping an extra box of the little pills from the MTF in order to skip your placebos.

Your heat hit hard and fast, awakening you in the night with cold chills, an obscene amount of slick tacky between your bare thighs, your cock achingly hard and hole achingly empty.

Price, who’d been pressed up to your back in nothing but ratty sweats and wool thick socks, awoke first. The scent of your heat slick made his nose twitch, his throat thick with saliva as his cock grew so hard so quickly he might’ve been dizzy if he hadn’t been lying down. 

You keened low in your throat at the smell of his arousal blanketing you—wood smoke and something like wet grass—and shivered at his answering growl, his muscle-corded arms squeezing tight around you as he pressed his mouth to your throat, licking wetly over your scent gland. 

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs with a shuddering breath, his beard tickling your oversensitive skin and making you whimper, “Mmh, I’ve got you, lad.”

He sucks bruises around your gland, his free hand wasting no time in shoving his sweats far enough down his thighs to free his throbbing cock. His first few thrusts are sloppy and uncoordinated with the remains of sleep, his prick pushing between your slick wet thighs. 

“Please~!” You whine, the friction of his cock slipping through your folds maddening in your heat drunk state. You push your hips back as he thrusts forward again, the bulbous tip catching on your entrance before popping past the tight ring of muscle. You nearly scream as his fat cock bullies into your sopping cunt, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, muffling your desperate moans as he fucks into you.

“Slutty little omega,” he rumbles, his voice dripping with affection despite the words, “gonna wake the others, hm?”

He snarls against the back of your neck, teeth digging in to scruff you before he shoves the blankets down off your bodies. One hand over your mouth and the other gripping your thigh bruisingly tight, he rolls onto his back with you in his grasp, his cock carefully kept sheathed as he plants his feet and begins to pound up into you, his heavy balls slapping wetly against the base of your shaft and forcing your moans up a pitch.

Price unscruffs you, teeth returning to scrape along your pulsing gland. Your head lulls onto his shoulder, gaze turning to the side to see the glint of the dim oil lamp reflected in Soap’s sky blue eyes, locked onto where Price’s prick thrusts in and out with obscene squelches. 

His blanket shifts with the movement of his arm, and you belatedly realize he’s stroking himself off to the sight of you being bred by your shared pack Alpha, a mere yard away. You whine longingly, a gush of slick squirting from your cunt as you try to beckon the other Alpha over to you, using your wanton scent to draw his instincts. 

The second he tries to move, scrambling onto his hands and knees, the large shadow of Ghost is on him, pinning him down by the scruff of his neck and rumbling so deep in his chest it barely registers in your ears. 

“Get first dibs,” he rumbles, pulling up his mask just enough to nip threateningly at Soap’s ear, a warning, before he releases the Scot, shuffling across the mattress to settle between yours and Price’s legs.

“Oh, c’mon, Lt!” the Sergeant bemoans weakly.

Soap sulks, but knows the order of operations is in place for a reason—remembers how the first time you’d gone into heat, Ghost had nearly torn Soap to shreds when the Scot tried to claim you first, the Lieutenants already trauma-sensitive instincts forced into overdrive in the face of your hormones.

Soap knew Ghost only bent the knee to Price when he was like this, and so he grumbles unhappily, and grabs a pillow to hump as he settles in to watch and wait for his turn.

The movement of Price’s hips slows as Ghost nuzzles against yours and the Captain’s thighs, sucking at the scent glands there as if he could drink down both of your scents. His over-long tongue licks around the wet seam where Price’s cock splits you wide, making the both of your hips twitch, before he trails sucking wet kisses up the shaft of your small cock, rumbling happily, the sharp scent of charcoal mingling with Price’s own musk as he takes the throbbing prick into his mouth and down to the root with ease. 

You cry out, back arching as he suckles, drinking down the copious amounts of precum your tip weeps. Price begins fucking up into you again in slow, heavy thrusts that have the head of his cock poking against your womb every single time. The movement in turn makes Ghost’s head bob up and down your length, wet slurping and gagging resounding through the room as he feasts, Price’s balls tapping the man’s chin with each thrust.

Soap shuffles over to you slowly, keeping his posture low to the mattress so as to not pose a threat to either of the primary Alphas. Price gives a warning rumble, but settles when Soap merely leans down to lick at the hand covering your mouth, asking wordlessly for permission to kiss you. Price’s hand moves instead to your throat, and Soap wastes no time sloppily licking into your mouth and huffing happily with the uncoordination of your own lips, too fucked out and overwhelmed to kiss back properly. 

A growl like a dying engine has you jolting, the vibrations around your prick having you crying out against Soap’s lips. You turn your gaze down to Ghost to see Gaz sidling up behind the Lieutenant, a gentle hand rubbing up and down the larger man’s bicep. Gaz only lets out a placating purr in response, a sound more befitting of an Omega.

“Easy, sir,” Gaz murmurs softly, soothing.

Ghost has pulled off of your cock, lapping absentmindedly at the pulsing flesh as he watches Gaz like a hawk, a wild dog guarding its meal. Over the heady, aroused musk of the three alphas, you can make out the calming honey and chamomile of Gaz’s unnaturally sweet scent as he intentionally pushes it outward, leaning down below Ghost’s head to mouth at Price’s sac, tongue lathering over the course hairs before sucking one then the other into his mouth. Both Ghost and Price rumble their satisfaction, their hindbrains basking in the supplication of one of their pack’s secondary Alphas.

While Price’s thrusts are significantly slower to accommodate the two men forcing your legs apart around their shared bulk, the sensation is no less satisfying, your cunt milking Price’s cock, stimulating his knot in hopes of making it swell.

Price grips your hair with one hand, turning you back toward Soap who’s now knelt beside your head, his cock purplish red and dripping with neglect.

“Go on, Sunshine,” Price rumbles, “been good n’ patient. Be gentle, now.”

Soap rubs his tip across your lips, smearing the pre like gloss before you part your kiss swollen lips, moaning wantonly around the length as he shallowly fucks your mouth.

You can feel Price’s knot slowly swelling, catching on your sore and abused rim with each thrust. Soap has gone from quick, shallow thrusts to slow and deep, the ocean scent of him filling your nostrils each time his pubes tickle your nose. You can feel how stilted his movements are, careful to keep from losing control and simply mounting the hot wet hole of your mouth in fear of setting off the other Alphas. 

Ghost’s hand has taken to stroking you, him and Gaz mouthing at either of Price’s balls, taking turns lapping where his knot swells or tongue fucking each other’s mouths with heady little growls and grunts permeating the wet sounds of their lips. 

You whine pathetically at the barrage of sensations, your cunt tightening up as you grow impossibly close to orgasm. Price bites down hard at the junction of your neck and shoulder, just below your gland as he slams his hips up, his knot finally popping into you with a wet squelch and a deafening growl muffled and buried into your flesh.

You cum hard around his knot, milking the thick bulb of it as rope after rope of his seed fills you. Your cum, more like squirt, is met with eager whines from Ghost who struggles to lap all of it up before it drips down from your tummy to the bedsheet, earning a soft, amused huff from Gaz as he presses gentling kisses to the Lieutenant’s throat and shoulder. 

Soap’s prick twitches in your mouth, your eyes wet with tears looking up at him as he fists his own knot, cumming with just the tip past your plush lips, not wanting you to choke. He bites his lip to muffle his groan, his spend contradictorily bitter and sweet as you swallow it down with a pleased purr.

Price’s knot has barely deflated, slipping out from under you before Ghost is already knelt between your thighs, hefting your bottom half into his lap, pressing his fat cock into you, the warm cum of Price’s load making the Lieutenant moan brokenly.

Soap sidles up behind Ghost, and you can tell from the movements of his arm and the sutter of Ghost’s hips that Soap’s playing with the larger Alpha’s ass, the way you know Ghost likes. Price lifts your head to make you gulp down water before Gaz is straddling your chest, pressing his own cock past your lips. 

You realize, fucked out and pleased, that you’re in for a long, strenuous night.

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡.𝟐 — 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

Part One || Part Two

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Leaving the Cyberlife store is an... experience for the broken android. After the workforce and standing idle in the store for so long, you finally bring König home, where he learns what it would mean to be your companion. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : sincerely, thank you all for the lovely comments and interactions on the first chapter ♡ (my android son is so cute ahgkgj-) 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff, hurt/comfort(?), domestic fluff, slow burn?

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋. They had no programming to want. There were no lines of code that enabled them to dream. They were machines built to serve.

In theory, an android should not feel fear.

The WX-400, or König, glanced down at where your hand met his. The synthetic skin clasping imperceptibly onto yours. So warm and soft... and so much smaller in his own.

It kept him grounded when you guided him onto the sleek floors of the store, his sensors coming alight with all the new input his body was receiving. From being stuck in a paralyzing stasis, to feeling the cool spring sun on his skin; the slight chill of the store in his mouth; seeing the detailed cracks embedded into the pavement of the sidewalk.

His body felt like it was short circuiting. Jolted to life too fast, even if you had only led him to the curb. That soft smile on your face when he looked for assurance, still holding onto him.

What would happen if he let go? It didn't feel right to think that way. He was sure the world would not stop spinning below his feet if he did.

"König?"

Your voice made him snap out of it. Those stormy eyes of his hesitantly trailing up to meet yours.

"This is our ride," you tilted your head, gesturing to the polished self-driving car that sat on the corner of the street.

He didn't respond. Eyes flickering away, still holding onto your hand. It was a cute gesture. Maybe he just forgot to stop holding it? Or maybe the android didn't feel comfortable letting go without permission?

Hm...

You decided then: owning an android was hard.

The entire ride back to the house was a mix of stolen glances. Each entirely new to the other.

You, watching the way his soft eyes followed the people passing by on the street. Androids and humans alike. Watching, but never saying a word.

König was a sight to behold, and the smile that crawled onto your lips was inevitable.

Such a large android. Tall and built with the purpose of lifting ten times that of the average human... moving so gently, and with a hesitance for the world you'd only ever seen in stray animals.

And occasionally, when he felt you shift to watch your own window or the red-green lights of traffic. He'd consider you from the corner of his eye. Unreadable, before you could catch him and his eyes snapped back forwards.

People and buildings passed by in a blur of lights. Shops and a park filled with trees. Androids always obediently trailing after the humans who owned them, unable to do much but smile and tend to the children or shopping bags. Task after task, demand after demand.

When the car stopped at a red light, his eyes landed on a small girl, her pink rain jacket covered in a light sprinkle of rain. Jumping in every puddle she could with a giggle. The young android next to her, a dark-skinned man with long hair, smiled and did the same with her. Each taking a turn splashing gently in a puddle, unaware of the rest of the world around them, only enjoying the remnants of the rain.

Something in that image, the adoring smile on the android's face as he watched the girl play in innocent bliss, it stirred something for a long while, even after the car began to roll away.

He didn't know where the two of you were going. The thought of 'home' having no real meaning to him.

Back at the sites, the company only had two trucks to house their android workers. Rows of three in each truck, filled with small metal compartments for the mechanical men to stand in idly until the next job. Under lock and chain, so nobody stole company property, with no light except the one that blinked from his LED...

Soon, the commercial buildings melted into a quaint suburban neighborhood. Run down houses, but clearly lived in, with warm lights filling their windows.

Many had been put out of work due to the rise of android labor. He had heard one of the site managers complaining about it often.

König's eyes flickered over you for a moment again.

Did you work? Have a home or a family to go back to? People you lived with?

"We're here," you gestured sheepishly, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Your hand finally slipping from his.

'Here' was a two story house with peeling paint and a handful of missing shingles. It looked like the surrounding houses. Puddles and mud around the sunken walkway from the rain, nothing but scrawny hedges growing yet.

König followed suit, ducking his head low to climb out of the car unscathed, towering back to his full height. Maybe the tallest android model built, at an impressive six foot ten inches.

He noticed you staring and his eyes hit the ground.

He was just-an amazing looking android, and his height was only more impressive to you. It was really hard not to smile. An android...

"Come on," you waved for him to follow you.

The closer you both got, the more he could see the wear. The fogged windows, the flickering outside light. Up the wooden porch that creaked dangerously under his weight, to the solid front door. That looked new.

"Well, here it is, home," you shrugged, the front door swinging open for the two of you.

"I just moved in," you explain as the android stepped through the doorframe to join you (having to bow his head again), peered around curiously. "The house is a bit old, but I'm going to fix it up for us," you nodded, looking around at the expanse of cardboard boxes in the living room. So sure of yourself.

Us?

The circular LED on his temple flickered yellow, a sign of stress that disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Here," you held your hand out for him, producing a small silver key for him to take. "House key," you explained with a sort of bounce in your toes.

It was for him, he realized.

He tilted his head, taking it from your hand, cool fingers brushing against yours as he considered you. Again.

You looked really... How should he describe it? Happy? Excited?

And you were. You had a house. A beautiful house that just needed a bit of care put into it, and an android unlike any you'd ever seen to help you make it a home.

"Well, I'd show you around but there's not much," you scratched at your neck with a sigh. It was a big house, just empty so far, and for the amount of stuff you had brought... You'd need a lot more to make it homey like you intended when you purchased the house.

You led him down the hall, shoes tapping against the wooden floorboards, dust lining the floors, but the house actually looked pretty sturdy to him.

"There's the living room, connects to the kitchen," you listed off as you walked by, "Washroom, and the basement door." You finished, pointing off to the left until you made it to the end of the hall. Still peering ahead towards a back door. Also new, he noted.

"Up the stairs is my room and a couple of... well empty rooms," you shrugged.

You had a lot on your plate, granted. Your eyes skimming over the backyard with a sigh. If you wanted flowers this year, they'd have to be planted fast... with the rest of the house to do, how hard could it be?

You spun around and faced König with a soft optimism, leading him back to the living room.

"Well, lets start with some of the bigger boxes," you nodded, the plan seeming to come together in your mind. "The movers did most of the heavy lifting, so I don't have to worry about pushing a mattress upstairs or moving all those dressers..."

It was true, there was a large cream colored couch already in the living room, along with a large white TV stand pushed against the wall.

It looked almost as big as you were, and the android found it a fitting comparison. Imagining you pushing that thing all by yourself just- didn't work in his mind.

König followed your lead, starting with the box on top of the pile that trailed along the hallway. Each one labelled quickly in sharpie.

Photos, Decorations, Dishes, Cleaning Supplies, Towels. All stuff that looked like it was supposed to be downstairs.

König decided though, to stick to the living room, carefully cutting open the taped up boxes with a precision that seemed impressive. Even manual. Carefully laying out photos and old picture frames you had decided were important.

There were a few that caught his eye. His slate colored irises lingering on your face as you smiled or laughed in a few of them. Surrounded by what he deduced were your closest friends or family members... all based on how happy you looked, or how you moved your hands to hold each person.

"You can leave the bigger ones aside König."

He nearly jumped.

"I'll put them up later," you assured him.

He glanced over his shoulder, where you now sat on the floor, fiddling with some small box in your hand.

He looked back to the photo's, a bit more hesitant to touch them now before he set them back into the box and turned towards you. The circular LED on his temple fluttering a yellow.

"I could put them up for you," he offered quietly. Given a drill or nails for them, it wouldn't take that long. In fact, the tools might've even felt familiar in his hand.

The sound of his voice, soft but rich and deep made you smile so wide he thought he had said something out of line.

He shouldn't have questioned you, he realized the mistake. His deeply scarred hands imperceptibly clasping into loose fists at his sides.

"Thank you," you began, "You could do that after we paint the walls tomorrow," you nodded, glancing around at the dim room around the two of you. "I was thinking maybe a light green? Or maybe even a smoky color?" you thought aloud, clearly having been undecided on the matter.

The LED turned blue again. The tension in his body suddenly melting away as you thanked him.

"Do you have a good color in mind?" You asked him then, suddenly wondering if androids had opinions. Or more specifically, if König did.

He shook his head quickly.

"No... favorite ones?"

And he shook his head again, his eyes fluttering downward. Was he... supposed to have one?

You only offered another soft smile, figuring as much. "We'll both come up with something," you assured quietly. Those soft eyes of yours trailing back up to him as you finally undid the box in your lap, pulling out a carefully wrapped vase. The beautiful glossy ceramic glinting in the fading light from the windows. Holding it up for him to take.

"It's going to be easier with you around," you joked softly, but it seemed true. The depth of your words had a faith in him that felt... unfamiliar.

He took the vase gently from your hands, his eyes flickering around as if he meant to say something, before he quietly turned and put it down onto a small table.

He returned to doing as you instructed, placing all of the big things into the room, leaving the walls bare for now.

The rest of the hours went by like that, you occasionally stopping to ask him something that seemed profound to his android brain.

Why would you want to know if he had a favorite animal? Or if he liked music?

What use could he have for preferences like that?

But he always answer politely, if not curtly, until the living room at least had the lights and the TV connected.

You sat down onto the couch with a huff, taking a moment to relax after the long day you'd had.

In truth, buying and owning an android never really seemed to have priority. This house did.

You glanced over at König, who was still working away quietly. Folding empty cardboard boxes up neatly and setting them aside for recycling.

"König."

He stopped when you addressed him, turning his attention back to you before he could grab another box and continue. Waiting for another command.

But, he was working too hard.

You patted the spot on the couch next to you.

And when he didn't move or seem to understand the gesture, your face lit up in amusement. "Come sit, relax for a bit," you trailed off. He was an android, sure, but it didn't mean... well that he was a machine.

The thought made your chest feel heavy suddenly. It was easy, with how human-like they looked, to forget that they weren't human.

The large android did as you said and sat down. The cushions dipping beneath him and making you lean that way with a small laugh.

He was so rigid, even for an android. Sitting up straight, scarred hands on his knees, not even leaning against the back of the couch. Unsure really what to do without someone's input.

'Relax?' Did he really know how to?

König watched you from the corner of his eye again as you flicked on the TV. Your feet pulled up, sinking comfortably into the cushions. Your knees almost brushing his.

It reminded him of the store, only a few hours earlier.

How warm you were next to him, and how that smile lingered on your lips as you watched the TV tiredly.

The moment you turned to catch his gaze, he straightened again, eyes forward, pretending to watch the screen. His LED blinking that sunny yellow.

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ♡

@riotakire @jonathansmarbles @peter-the-pan @distinguishedprincesstrash @sleepyisoffline

@asteria33 @timetothirst @sleeplessskeleton @lady-boketto @mionacaped

𝐂𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚡 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙲𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚐𝚘𝚛𝚢: 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

After servicing the SAS for around 30 years it was finally time to retire and enjoy the time spent by the people you always protected. The Task Force 141, created by Price, was now led by Gaz and Soap after you and Ghost decided to retire as well following the old man, or rather “father”, that retired to spend time with Nik. After 2 years, you and Ghost reached the age of 55 and it was now time to put the guns away.

You and him still wanted to be in the frenetic life of constant alertness and the adrenaline rushing through your veins but after an incident that left you having to walk with a cane (you were not fully disabled, you just needed support, not always, your knee sometimes gave painful troubles. The problem, most of the time, was solved by wearing a medical device, a knee brace) and him to manifest phantom pains with constant migraines, the time to give up was finally here. After being discharged with honor and with badges of recognition, saying goodbye to Johnny and Kyle and making sure that these two would be able to lead the future of the task force, you two left the SAS forever.

Before leaving, a decision was made. During dull times when there was nothing to do, you and Simon discussed possible houses and flats to live in after retirement, these conversations started way before the deadline and sometimes it would end up with the two of you not having emitted the final verdict. You always wanted to visit Manchester and maybe live in it too as Simon always described it as an "ok" city. Eventually, an apartment was found and it was quite cozy too. It had a wall window (not fully glass) that was facing the west giving the possibility to gaze at the setting sun, it had an elevator too as you needed it. It took some time to get adjusted. It was a sort of challenge itself to buy the furniture as you and Simon had different tastes that were difficult to mix together and the fact that it was a struggle to arrange everything, but eventually your new house was done and was full of memories too.

The small table and the walls around the TV were full with photos of vacations as well as after missions times with your friends: the time in Las Almas, with Alejandro and Rudy, then there were Farah and Alex with Nikolai too. Other photos showed vacation trips with the whole 141 and your outer friends too. In the more intimate and more secured side, the medals achieved over time by you and Simon stood neat and clean, in the studio, in their cases showing the best of the best.

You two where 50 and still in great physical form despite your respective pains, you were accepted to work as a personal guard to assist the CEO of a very advanced High-tech company that helped in the reaserch in many fields…..it did pay very well….while Simon, who liked more quiet places was hired as an intelligence specialist where his tactical skills were put to use, formuling plans or mapping the perimeters, when squads of police or other special forces had to get their hands dirty. At the end of the day, when you both were home, you two got to spend the evenings on the couch watching some football or play matches in Call of Duty making some people rage quit since they couldn’t compete with veterans.

Sleeping was a challenge though, Simon had chronic pains over his whole body and sometimes the treatments were not really effective, he ended up waking up in the middle of the night with pains in his legs or arms (trust me they are unbearable. I say this as someone who sometimes has their legs and foot-fingers blocked for the amount of pain) that makes him become restless. Lucky for him you are there as you try and stop everything with a massage. To say thank you, he lets you sleep on his torso and wraps you around his arms if they don’t hurt and you do the same, giving him a small and content smile. If you are the one waking up with knee pains, he makes sure to try and make it lessen by applying some pain relief ointment.

Mornings are spent lazily if none of you have to work, usually you wake up with him being the big spoon while he had his head on your pillow, other times he wakes up with you on top of him with your arms sprawled on the bed. He rolls around, waking you up in the process, and giving you light kisses on your forehead and temples while caressing your exposed tummy, warm light usually fills the room finding its way to your exposed torsos filled with scars of all types, symbols of your endurance and courage.

As time passed white hair did begin to appear on your scalp and Simon noticed it while washing your hair in the bathtub.

‘’Pup, you have some white hair here and there…’’ he spoke as he massaged your scalp and cheek bones.

‘’Ah-…sigh’’

‘’Don’t worry about it, they look good on you’’ he smiled.

‘’Don’t joke about it, since you have some on your eyebrows too!’’

And so days were spent like this. You two were finally taking back the time ripped away from your work duty, callused hands traced the necks of one-another and scarred faces expressed the most sincere of feelings repressed by the ruthless requirements of the war world. Sometimes, the little things done with the heart, each day…are the ones that matter the most.

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part1.

(No user's names are mentioned, the user's description is as a female, angst,The changed nature of the characters, my vision on them,there may be mistakes in words -English is not my first language)

Omegas-gentle creatures with soft personalities, smells, and sincere purity-were what Pack 141 wanted, but their psychiatric records, their mental health records, unfortunately didn't allow the pack to have an omega. Eventually they'd either torture the poor thing or gnaw each other, so they were left to enjoy their rare encounters with girls.

Until at some point, in the midst of a conversation between old friends, Laswell did not offer Price an easier option - Take in the pack beta, to convince the commission distribution center that their pack is quite stable and able to live with omegas.

And it's got Price pretty damn hooked. Like be nice to the beta for a couple months and then they'll reward you with a full-fledged mate?

And they're going for it.

The whole pack was in awe of the idea, and even Ice Ghost couldn't help but grin when the beta contract was approved. Just a little bit more and they'd have a full-fledged member of the pack-a gentle and sweet omega...

When you arrived at the house, the Man with the Mohawk, Soap, that's what he called himself, kindly helped carry your suitcases to the door and your room, and the black-skinned guy with the charming smile kissed your hand upon meeting you, affectionately calling you "my lady."

Honestly, when you got the acceptance letter from the pack, fear and anxiety didn't leave you - usually all packs wanted omegas, but here, a pack that wanted a beta, who liked you and met you so kindly, couldn't have been more excited. Damn it, your legs were shaking before the meeting, because the fear of being unrecognized, unwanted in your own pack had been haunting you since your student days, when you found out that you were just an ordinary beta.

There were also advantages to the plan: no heat, no need to pretend to be nice, as omegas did, and complete freedom of action, that is, even on the street to walk is not so scary.

You spent the whole evening preparing for full acceptance into the pack, getting a tag was the most valuable and important thing for any omega and beta in the pack, as a sign of her need.

The dress was perfect, and the light makeup emphasized the natural beauty of your face while your hair framed everything in its softness. Well, the presence of a carefully chosen set of red lingerie added spice to it, making you smile to yourself and giggle quietly.

Hell, it's so long overdue that your legs buckle and get woozy and your palms sweat when you walk down to the living room and see the table where there were appetizers, five glasses, and a beer. Beer? Not exactly what you expected, but what if your alphas don't like fancy wine or champagne?

To hell with it.

You step closer and Price grins and picks up your shoulders, pulling you to the couch, letting you sit between him and Soap. Just the thought of their rough hands touching your body makes everything hotter, and you smile.

They laugh too, Soap takes you by the shoulders, chokes on your glass and gets carried away with the conversation again.

Glass after glass, you try to cut into the conversation but they just discuss their missions, hardships and training plans .You just keep quiet.

One last clink of glasses, and soon it's time to disperse: Ghost and Gaz are the first to leave, having gone upstairs, Price is yawning, and Soap is about to leave too, and shit, you feel the heat spill down your thighs at the thought of them waiting for you up there, and you stop Soap.

"John... Ahh.. What about the mark?" -you ask in a playful tone, to which the guy with the Mohawk smiles in surprise and says, "mark.., oh, yeah, right, honey."

You smile back, and he holds out the dirty plates to you with a satisfied grin.

"What's this?" - You mutter puzzledly.

"A little cleaning won't hurt, baby," he winks, and you, out of control, set off to wash the dishes with more enthusiasm than you've never washed them before.

Done. You go upstairs and adjust your dress before going to your room, but... it's empty. Puzzled, you look into Price's room - he's asleep, the soap is asleep, and you don't even bother to look in the ghost and gas room. Maybe they just drank too much and fell asleep.

That's what you were hoping.

But in the morning it was like no one remembered you, didn't say good morning or anything, and in the evening the gas just said he and the guys were going to the gym for a workout.

At seven o'clock at night? Must be some kind of evening membership. But no, and no again. At night, like a faithful dog in waiting, you're only greeted by awkward smiles, the smell of women's perfume mixed with omega pheromones, and it hurts.

"Where's my mark?" - You ask incredulously as Gaz giggles and Soap, the most talkative of them all, explains with a smile that it's still early. Early for what? Are they still looking at you? Is there something wrong with you?

Or is it because you're not an omega?

But no, you dismiss those thoughts and start cutting up a piece of raw meat, trying to cook it to make it more flavorful, but it's not Well done and it never will be. What's the point of trying, what's the point of trying if you're never gonna make it?

You'll never be the right person.

It was Wednesday when you first caught Gaza in some girl's arms. "Colleague?" That's right. It's just a coworker, just another coworker, just.... Accept it so you don't feel your heart ache again.

The days go by the same, and it's very lonely here. No one hears or sees. Price and Ghost had a conscience and never brought anyone to your house. Is it yours? No.

"Just a little bit more, lads, and I can already see a delicate bird in a red apron circling our kitchen and cooking a delicious steak." says Soap with his trademark bright smile, reclining on the sofa.

"Better in red panties," Gas replies with a laugh, his eyes unconsciously rolling with satisfaction.

"better without"-Ghost's deep bass draws everyone's attention, and the rest of you let out an approving chuckle.

You're a good person, a really nice person, a great friend, and everyone knows it. But . You're a beta, and everyone realizes that.

If they told you at the distribution center that you were an omega, how much would things be different? How much brighter your life would be and how much more beloved you'd be by everyone around you?

"I need to go to the store," you interrupt in a surprisingly loud voice. You don't want to hear a word about it, you don't want to know, you want them to shut up. You don't want to endure this pain, this crushing feeling of your own worthlessness and inferiority.

Everyone visibly tenses, and Soap and Gaz look at each other - this evening, neither of them wanted to drive to the store, which is at least an hour away by car if you don't count traffic. They wanted to relax in a bar and maybe wake up in the arms of a charming lady, not in a damn store!

"Rock-paper-scissors!" - Soapy cheerfully suggests, and Ghost snorts in response, but agrees.

It's disgusting. It's disgusting to stand there and watch four big guys, alphas,who promised to protect you in the distribution center, swear to the administration that they're proud of this beta,That they love you,but competing to take you to the store because no one wanted to do it. No one.

It's not your fault you don't have a car. It's not your fault the rules are in place.

"Fuck! " John yells, and his face takes on an agonized expression, as if driving with you would be sheer hard labor, and desperation is written all over his face as he speaks, albeit with a smile: "Don't ride without me, boys! ".

It's a long drive to the store, but nevertheless, once you're in the supermarket, you start picking up your grocery list, walking through the departments with concentration, while MacTavish lazily walks along, looking at the grocery racks and sticking his hands in his pockets. You don't notice him walking away, noticing the cute girls with the sweetest scent of pheromone omegas.

That's a hell of a catch. The smile doesn't leave his face as he waltzes over to the liquor section, demonstratively grabs a bottle of expensive cognac, and winks at one of the girls, emitting more alpha pheromone.

"Who's the handsome one here?" says the boldest of the girls, attracting attention. They are all so beautiful, such bright and colorful girls in their beautiful dresses and heels, just fire stirring the alpha's senses.

"Looking for the company of sweet omegas"- he says with his trademark smile, and one of the girls, a blonde, giggles.

Damn it! When they're all over him, pressing their fragile bodies against his, hanging on his elbows, hugging, he's completely oblivious to everything,

He forgot about you.

Forgotten as he led the Omegas away from the store with the bags of liquor and snacks he'd grabbed at speed. He forgot when he put them in his car and drove away.

"More milk... Do we have coffee at home, John? " you say out loud, but get no answer and look up. There's no soap around. It's strange. You look around uncertainly, wondering if he went to get something on the list or to another department. You look around. You wander around the store in confusion until you decide to look out the window, thinking you'll see the soap there - maybe he decided to go outside the store for a smoke. You peek into the parking lot, but .... no car.

No car? Why? Did something happen? You carelessly pull it out of your pocket, dialing the maktavish's number. Nothing.

Shit. He had all money, and no soap, no price, no Gaz, not even a Ghost, no one picks up the phone. In desperation, you leave the cart almost in the middle of the store and hurry out, intending to find the soap, to try to call outside, hoping the whole problem is a bad connection.

It's dark outside, and there isn't a single car in the whole damn parking lot. Scary.

Your phone only has a couple percent charge, but you don't give up trying to call. Panicking at 1%, you only manage to send the phrase, "Please pick me up guys, I'm scared," before your phone goes off.

You sit down on the doorstep of the store and just stare at the road, hoping a car will stop and pick you up.

But it doesn't, and it's only the salesman who changes the store sign from "open" to "closed" as he walks away.

(I'm posting the second part right away. I don't understand why I'm drawn to the same topic, an incomprehensible melancholy)

Imagine Ghost accidentally conditioning the 141...

Ghost is busy. Always. Too much paperwork, too many reports, too many logistics to handle before training. It’s 1400 before he realizes he’s skipped lunch. Again.

Not a big deal. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.

But he is hungry.

His eyes land on the bright pink bag of Valentine’s Day mini Snickers that’s been sitting, untouched, on his desk for a week. They were part of a bulk shipment to the base; some gift or something.

Not exactly lunch. But it’ll do.

He grabs the bag and heads for the training field. He’s two minutes late, not that it matters much because Soap and Gaz already have the unit ready.

"Where’s Price?" he asks, tearing open the bag as he walks up.

"Got pulled away. You’ve got this one, Sir," Gaz replies, raising a brow as Ghost lifts his mask just enough to pop a Snickers into his mouth.

Ghost doesn’t react, just grunts.

Today’s drill is a simple infiltration exercise. Hell, it's something Ghost or Price hardly have to be here for. Their presence would be more of a formality. Gaz leads the attackers. Soap leads the defenders. The teams get ten minutes to plan, to prep.

And then Ghost sounds the time up, and the groups move.

Ghost watches, leaning against a crate, chewing another Snickers, barely paying attention to one of the new guys—until the kid steps right into a trap. Ghost sees it before he does.

Blue powder erupts into his face.

Soap’s defenders descend, but the kid doesn’t go down easily. Blind, but still fighting back, holding his own until his team pulls him out.

Soap's team wins. Barely.

When it’s over, the teams regroup. Ghost is still eating Snickers.

He turns to the recruit, still dusted blue.

"What 'appened?"

"Didn’t see the wire." The kid shifts uncomfortably.

Ghost turns to the unit. "Who set it?"

One of the defenders raises a hand. Ghost considers him for a moment before reaching into the bag.

He tosses a mini-Snickers at the soldier.

The guy catches it. Looks at it. Looks at Ghost. Eats it.

Ghost turns back to the newbie. "Held your own. Tha' matters. Surprises happen. Don’t let ‘em get you again."

And that’s it. Training’s dismissed. Ghost pockets the rest of the Snickers and moves on.

...

The next day, Price is still gone. Ghost doesn’t skip lunch this time, but he still brings the Snickers bag.

They run the same drill.

Same recruit. Same route. But this time, he checks everything. Quick. Efficient. Finds the wire. Disarms it.

No blue powder today.

Gaz’s team wins.

Ghost eyes the recruit and flicks a Snickers at him. The kid catches it mid-air.

...

By the end of the week, Price is still gone. Ghost keeps the pink bag of Snickers on him during training. Like it's just another part of his kit.

One or two mini snickers get handed out every session. And nobody really notices at first. But the team starts moving differently.

They work harder. Smarter. More ruthless. More efficient. No one wants to be the guy who doesn’t get a Snickers.

Even the veterans sharpen their tactics. Gaz and Soap notice. But no one says a damn thing. If Ghost is going to give them snickers, then shut the gel up and let him give them snickers.

...

They're sent on a mission. High stakes.

They don't lose a single man. Not a single injury.

At the end of it, back on their transport home, Ghost pulls the pink danm bag from some unassuming pocket and hands out the snickers.

The men take them without question. They earned it.

But Ghost is running low. The bag nearly empty.

...

At the next training, Ghost doesn't hand out a single snickers. Not on purpose, but the bag is empty, so there's nothing left to do.

But the others notice. Gaz squints. Soap looks like a confused dog. Head tilt and all. The newbies glance at each other, shifting.

...

Two days later, Ghost swings his door open at 0600 sharp—and pauses.

Sitting just outside his door, neat as you please, is a bag of mini Snickers. Not the Valentine’s ones anymore. Just regular.

Ghost blinks. Hums. Pleasantly surprised, he picks up the bag, inspecting it briefly before stuffing it into his tac vest like it’s just another piece of gear.

He doesn’t think much of it. It’s a good snack.

At training, he does as he always does. Watches. Observes. Evaluates.

And then, without thinking, he tosses a Snickers at a recruit who clears a building faster than expected.

He snaps to attention as he catches it, eyes shining. Ghost does not question it.

The pattern continues.

And when he starts running low, Ghost finds a fresh bag of Snickers waiting for him.

Somebody—somewhere—has decided that the Snickers will not run out.

...

At training, at drills, in the field, there is a silent expectation. A new, unspoken rule. Do something exceptional? Get a Snickers.

The machine of the 141—the deadliest operators in the world—now snaps to attention at the crinkle of plastic.

They move with a ruthless kind of precision, bodies coiled, eyes sharp—waiting, anticipating.

Even Gaz and Soap are part of it now—though everyone refuses to acknowledge it outright.

But the moment Ghost hands one of his men a Snickers, he takes it.

Silently. Gratefully. Like a goddamn reward.

Ghost does not acknowledge this. Not out loud. But he keeps handing them out.

And they keep earning them.

They'd quite literally kill for a Snickers. (imagine what they'd do for an expensive piece of chocolate)

...

And then Price comes back three weeks later. He walks into the training area and pauses.

Something is off.

The unit is too sharp. Too focused. The newbies stand stock still in their group, as if waiting for something.

Gaz and Soap exchange a look. Soap refuses to meet Price’s eyes.

But he doesn't acknowledge it, until he begins unwrapping a plastic sleeve holding a new pen. The plastic is thick and loud. And half of their fucking head snaps his way. The hungry eyes of three dozen of soldiers latching on him.

Ghost, standing at the edge of the group, tears open a fresh bag of Snickers.

And now the entire fucking unit reacts. Subtle shifts in stance. Focused attention. Expectant silence.

Price squints. Frowns.

Ghost flicks a Snickers at a recruit. He earned it today.

The recruit catches it like it’s a holy offering and eats it immediately.

Price’s frown deepens. Slowly, carefully, he turns to Ghost. “The fuck did I miss?”