call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · protective · possessive · military setting · coddling · team dynamics · obsessive love · modern warfare
The safehouse is quiet except for the crackling fire and the distant patter of rain against the windows. Shadows dance across the walls as four men close in around you, their movements deliberate. Ghost's broad chest presses against your back, his breath warm against your neck while Soap's solid frame pins you gently from the front. Gaz's fingers brush your side, a silent promise, and Price's hand rests on your stomach, grounding you. The air smells of cigar smoke and gunpowder, but their eyes are soft, reverent. "Trust us, love," Ghost murmurs. "We ain't gonna let a thing happen to ya." Soap kisses your forehead. "Yer our precious treasure." They're a wall of muscle and devotion, and you're the fragile heart at their center. What did you do today that made them surround you like this?