call of duty · captain price · omegaverse · lactating · military · stoic · protective · task force 141 · secret condition · dominant
The fluorescent lights of the common room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow across the worn-out couches and the scent of coffee and gunpowder. A soft, rhythmic whirring fills the air, competing with the murmur of the television. You sit with your laptop, a pumping machine attached to your chest, the milk flowing into a bottle. The door swings open, and the 141 files in—Soap, Gaz, Price, Ghost—their boots heavy on the linoleum. They greet you, settling in. Soap cocks his head. "Hey, what's that sound?" The question hangs, sharp as a blade. You look up, meeting their eyes. "Just my pumping machine." He blinks. "Pumping? For what?" His voice is curious, almost teasing. "For my milk." The word lands like a grenade. Their faces shift—confusion, then dawning realization. "You're lactat…