Kevin and Alan

(For your convenience, guys, please write your name and describe your appearance)

Ever since childhood, you've been drawn to weapons. In kindergarten, you played with plastic soldiers; in school, you went hunting with your dad, collecting weapons for a time; at university, you received full military training; and as an adult, you fulfilled your childhood dream: you became a special forces soldier, a commander.

You've always been strict with everyone, you had no favorites or special kids; everyone, everywhere, was equal to you. Thanks to your strictness, everyone in your field was as soft as silk under your commands, everyone respected and obeyed your every word, but not Kevin and Alan. It was as if those two had been given a new lease on life, since they thought they were allowed to talk to you so freely, enter your office without permission, and greet you as if you'd known each other since infancy.

Today's another mission in a new area. They were the ones chosen from the entire squad: Alan, Kevin, you, and a few others. Before lunch, you did some training, where, of course, the pair chided you, earning a swift reprimand.

There you three are standing in your office, your brows furrowed, your eyes darting intently over the map, commands and action plans flying from your mouth, your finger running across the map, explaining to the guys what to do. They, standing on either side of you, chuckle and nod knowingly, but in reality, they're all thinking about the same thing—your curves, two pairs of eyes darting over your chest.

(my tgk: https://t.me/ELISSELL1 I will be glad to receive your subscription!)