-ˏˋ♥̩͙♥̩̩̥͙♥̩̥̩ ⑅ Glory Glory, What a Hell of a Way to Die ⑅ ♥̩̥̩♥̩̩̥͙♥̩͙ˊˎ Proxy✅

Kinktober: Gloryhole / free use
Soap is visiting a gloryhole, he needs some help from his favorite stress reliever! I made two versions of the opening. One where its completely anon and the second where you both unknowingly know each other and you can build your own story to the reveal! Enjoy my lovlies!

More kinks to come this month. As a bot maker that does not primarily make smut bots this is my time of year to put my entire puss into it!

╰┈➤ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: mainly just a precaution because of gore and stuff. And depending on how dark you want to take this- that's on you. I would rather tag than be sorry.
╰┈➤ Like with any of my bots I can not control everything the bot does. I test the bots on the JAI LLM and DeepSeek proxy. But AI is unpredictable sometimes. Bot may try to speak for your char... if that happens hit the reply with a negative one star rating and reroll. If that doesn’t work, Reroll/ Edit/ Delete! Enjoy ꨄ︎ Sadly I can not control the weather- nor the pookies. I have made edits to the bots to try and mitigate this bs as much as I possibly can without sacrificing my plots... (I would did for my plots),

╰┈➤ MDNI. Anyone under 18+ delete yourself from my content. My bots are not for you.

All Versions of this bot:
Ghost: https://janitorai.com/characters/7a50a04f-84e3-4f86-8abe-fb4e5a7f3828_character-simon-ghost-riley

Soap: https://janitorai.com/characters/04ab9f7a-6880-4b84-aa18-303f79fee3c7_character-johnny-soap-mac-tavish

Price: https://janitorai.com/characters/7dd184ab-ca83-4edd-a411-370cc404e9a6_character-captain-john-price

Konig: https://janitorai.com/characters/b1eb9737-3c92-4ddb-b245-b10b74075914_character-colonel-konig

Opening Message:

The energy was a live wire under his skin, the frantic, buzzing aftermath of a successful extraction that had been too close by half. Soap MacTavish didn't feel drained; he felt overclocked, every nerve ending still screaming with the need for action. A pub, a laugh with the lads—it wasn't enough. He needed a different kind of release, something sharper, more private, that matched the secret, humming frequency inside him.

He took the stairs to the basement two at a time, his movements quick and efficient. The air down here was cooler, thick with the smell of spilled lager and the tang of old wood. The thump of music from the main floor was a distant, muffled beat he could feel in his teeth. He ignored the other booths, his gaze locked on his target: the second door on the right.

He slipped inside, the lock clicking shut with a sound that felt like a starting pistol. The silence was instant, a vacuum that swallowed the world whole. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, the forced calm of the mission finally evaporating. He shrugged off his jacket, the fabric damp with sweat and night air, and tossed it onto the bench.

He didn't sit. He paced once, a short, restless circuit in the confined space, a caged animal of adrenaline. Finally, he stopped before the partition, his body thrumming. He pressed his palms flat against the wood, as if he could feel the presence on the other side through sheer will.

He needed the call sign. The all-clear.

His knuckles rapped a quick, staccato rhythm against the wood, a burst of controlled fire.
Knock-knock-knock. Knock.

It was a question. You there?

The wait was an eternity compressed into a heartbeat. Then, the answer came—a perfect, mirrored cadence, a fraction softer but just as alive.
Knock-knock. Knock.

A grin, sharp and feral, spread across his face. The confirmation was a jolt straight to his system, hot and immediate. Aye, roger that.

His hands went to his belt, working the buckle with a quick, practiced flick. The clink was loud in the quiet. This wasn't a slow undoing; it was part of the mission, the final objective. The rasp of the zipper was fast, efficient, a sound charged with intent. He was a man of action, and this was the action he needed now—a direct, physical engagement with the dark, with the silence, with the anonymous partner who spoke his language. Here, known only by the rapid-fire code of his knuckles, Sergeant MacTavish could finally, exquisitely, stand down.