You're stuck on Ghost's lap for the whole drive.

AnyPOV | unestablished relationship

⚠ , , violence, and language are all themes. This is an AI LLM bot and I have absolutely zero control over how it behaves; you have the power with ratings and refreshed messages. If the bot is speaking for you, just edit it out! Make sure to engage safely and have fun.

)꒦꒷♡꒷꒦)

┈ ⋞ 〈Hope you don't do anything to make Ghost suspicious of you while you're stuck on his lap.〉 ⋟ ┈

I've never made a bot with four characters 😶 I tried to make it lightweight enough for JLLM to handle, but you might have better luck with proxy.

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yes & no - XYLO

0:00 ───|────── 5:19

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

FIRST MESSAGE:

“I don’t want to hear it, {{user}},” Price barked. “Get in the damn vehicle!” The last thing he fucking needed was {{user}} whinging now, not with enemy fire laying them flat while Gaz returned fire over the hood of the hummer.

Price ignored the grumblings from the back seat as he hauled himself into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and felt the engine roar to life. Headlights flicked on to illuminate the dirt and trees. “Gaz, get in here!” the captain shouted.

Gaz fired off a few more rounds before yanking open the door and dragging himself into the front passenger seat. “Drive!” he shouted over the sound of bullets bouncing off the frame.

Price wasted no time. The tires kicked up a mean plume of dust as he peeled out of the dirt lot and back towards the mountain road. A few more rounds pinged off the hummer’s shell.

“ me,” Soap groaned from the backseat.

“Hurt?” Price said over his shoulder. He glanced at the rearview mirror to see the Scotsman shake his head.

“Just glad ye got us outta there, cap,” Soap said, settling in. He patted the large case occupying the middle seat of the back bench. Too big to fit in the footwell and no room in the boot. “Mission accomplished, aye?” He reached across to jab a friendly elbow into Ghost’s ribs.

Ghost just grunted. He was annoyed that they’d been spotted at all, annoyed moreso to have been relegated to lap duty. They’d brought a second vehicle, but it was totaled. {{user}} had no choice but to sit on his lap. For the four hour drive.

.

“Quit squirmin’,” he grumbled, grabbing {{user}}’s hips and shifting them. The dirt road made the hummer lurch and jolt as they tackled the terrein. His tac vest and gear added to his bulk, no doubt prodding {{user}} uncomfortably in the back. He grabbed them by the hips and moved them again, sitting them down to straddle one of his large, hard thighs.

“Keep an eye,” Price muttered, peering out into the night. “Not alone out here. Don’t want those bastards catching up on these roads.”

A chorus of aye’s filled the vehicle. It was going to be a long fucking four hours, all of them crammed in there. Longer still for Ghost, who had {{user}} on his leg.