#metal braces price

[chatfieldbraces]

To gain full clarity on which braces option makes the most economic sense for your smile goals, turn to expert local orthodontists like Chatfield Dental Braces. Their orthodontists provide free consultations to examine your teeth and outline personalized treatment options with pricing breakdowns. Clinics across London and Cahtfield, Battersea.

Chatfield Braces, Invisalign London also offers interest-free monthly payment plans to make care more affordable for patients. Visit them online to learn more aboutclear smile aligner price London or call to book your first evaluation.

[cleocatrablossy]

Maned Wolf SL Scar propaganda

[sabka-dentist07]

Dental Clinic in Sion East Mumbai

Sabka Dentist Dental Clinic in Sion East Mumbai Offers a relaxed and unique dental care experience, coupled with the highest standards of dental treatments. Dentistry need not be anything less than a pampered pleasant experience. Dental treatments in Sion East at Sabka Dentist Dental Clinic are confined in calm surroundings and, will amaze you with how painless and fast most modern dentistry is! At Sabka Dentist, we aim to provide good oral health and create beautiful smiles. In the process of achieving this, we provide excellent implant, preventive, restorative, and conventional dentistry. Our commitment to these goals provides you with unparalleled service with the highest standards of dental hygiene in a comfortable and pampering environment. We know you will be delighted with the treatment and the way you are treated. Here you will find a welcoming ambiance with warm, friendly staff and total transparency. At Sabka Dentist, people not only receive top-class treatment for their dental concerns but will also get to enjoy among the best in-clinic patient experiences across India. Irrespective of an individual’s background or occupation, we ensure that all our patients feel comfortable and experience no issues when approaching or getting their dental issues across to our dental specialists. We are amongst the top dental clinic chains in Sion East, Mumbai, and have a legacy that is unrivaled by any other dental clinic in Sion East, Mumbai, India. Our dentists are some of the best dentists in Sion East, Mumbai. Dental treatment at the Sabka Dentist Dental Clinic: -Dental Check-up -Dental Implants -Dentures -Orthodontic Treatment (Braces) -Root Canal Treatment -Teeth Scaling and Polishing -Teeth Cleaning -Teeth Whitening and Bleaching -Overdentures -Oral Health Guide

Email — info@sabkadentist.com

Phone number — 8291819556

Address — 201, Bansari Bhuvan Building, Ground Floor, Sion Main Road, Next to Union Bank of India, Opposite Domino’s Pizza, Sion East, Mumbai, Maharashtra — 400022

[reopelleortho]

Deciding whether Invisalign is worth it as an adult involves considering both the benefits and the cost. Many adults are drawn to Invisalign for its discreet and convenient approach to straightening teeth. Unlike traditional braces, Invisalign uses clear aligners that are virtually invisible, allowing you to go about your daily life with confidence.

One key factor to weigh is the Invisalign cost. While it can be higher than traditional braces, many individuals find the investment worthwhile for the aesthetic advantages and enhanced comfort. Invisalign treatment typically involves a series of custom-made aligners that gradually shift your teeth into their desired position.

The convenience of Invisalign extends beyond appearance. The aligners are removable, making it easier to maintain oral hygiene by brushing and flossing without any hindrance. You can also enjoy your favorite foods without restrictions since the aligners can be taken out during meals.

Furthermore, Invisalign requires fewer visits to the orthodontist compared to traditional braces, saving both time and potential discomfort. The gradual adjustment of aligners is generally more comfortable than the periodic tightening associated with traditional braces.

Read more Visit Us - Is Invisalign Worth It As An Adult?

Contact Us — 540–344–2758

Address — 2114 Colonial Ave SW, Roanoke, VA 24015, United

Visit Us - Reopelle Orthodontics

[dead-end-draws]

WOF tribe Merchant/Trading booth concepts:

Hey folks! This one was the recent winner of this WOF poll, so here’s my concept art that headcannons trading in Pyrrhia.

Read below cut for close-ups of the individual booths + the thought process / headcannons behind the design choices: 👇

Skywings: The Sky Kingdom’s mountain ranges provide plenty of pasture for raising sheep. As such, Skywing shepherds benefit from traveling to sell their wool, dyes, fabric, and woven tapestries. Many of these merchant tables also include herbs grown exclusively in the mountains, or ibex drinking horns that can be strapped on a dragon’s shoulder & carried in flight.

Along with goods, Skywing merchants may offer sewing services to fix tears, burn marks, or other fabric damage. They are sought out for their quality clothing, and most fabric across Pyrria originated from a Skywing’s talons.

Mudwings: Mudwings’ abundant food & cooking skills are envied almost anywhere in Pyrrhia. Their swamps have fertile soil, responsible for hosting diverse crops which can be purchased as produce at merchant stalls. For those lucky enough to find a traveling Mudwing merchant, the promise of a delicious dish can be whipped up and served at the stall in no time. Along with produce goods, Mudwings sell weaved baskets, spices, and cooking ware.

Sandwings: Sandwing booths offer luxuries of the desert: It’s most common to find accessories such as gold carved jewelry or musical instruments such as drums, lyres, & mandolins for sale. Though, even more sought out across Pyrrhia is Sandwing tattoos/piercings, which are done within the merchant areas. Ink etchings on papyrus paper are stationed outside their tents to showcase designs. All which can be selected, and poked into the skin with a tapping stick and plant dye ink by a trained talon.

Seawings: SeaWings sell a variety of ocean related goods; taking a share in the fish market with Icewings. Outside of food, there are den decorations like driftwood carvings, accessories such as seashell & pearl jewelry, and rope nets weaved by expert Seawing sailors. Some Seawings even sell fishing equipment, canoes, or offer sailor knot tying instructions to curious dragon buyers.

Nightwings: During the war, it was near impossible to find a Nightwing merchant. Most refused to participate in merchant territory, mostly as a way to keep up with their tribe’s mysterious nature.

Though in the more shady, unground parts of the market you can buy from a huge selection of obsidian weaponry, the sharpest in Pyrrhia. No one knew initially how Nightwings smithed so many weapons, or why, until their secret volcano kingdom and the intention to invade the rainforest was discovered. Then forging armor & weapons became clear. Along with a vast armory, for the right price, some Nightwing merchants offer Prophecies & Nightwing Literature (not always guaranteed to always be reliable) and assassin services as well (very reliable).

Rainwings: Though Rainwings haven’t been part of Pyrrhia trading for years, they have a vast hold on dragon medicine. An apothecary of herbs, salves, and remedies are all offered for various ailments due to the rainforest’s abundant resources. Along with medicinal goods, many Rainwings are fruit vendors, promising to any hesitant meat-eating dragons that such an array of flavors isn’t to be missed. Though, their fruit selling pitches often fall flat to most other predominantly meat-eating tribes.

Icewings: Icewings have everything a dragon could need to brace the cold, with a selection of goods only found in the most frigid regions of Pyrrhia. Furs, bone jewelry, and fresh fish (thanks to frost breath) are served on ice. Though Icewings themselves don’t require fur to withstand the cold, it’s considered fashionable and common in upper ranks to wear fur as a status symbol. Since metal is hard to smith without fire & in cold temperatures, fur and bone are more accessible to Icewings for clothing statements.

[vividdentalsurgeons]

Clear aligners are an alternative to traditional metal braces and are made of a transparent, plastic material that is custom-fitted to a patient's teeth. One of the main advantages of Invisalign clear aligners is that they are virtually invisible, making them a popular choice for people who are self-conscious about their appearance. 

[smiledentalandimplantcentre]

How much Braces Cost in Hyderabad? | Braces Treatment in Ecil, As Rao Nagar

In Hyderabad, the placement of dental braces costs a minimum of Rs. 35,000 to a maximum of Rs. 3,00,000.

The cost depends on the type of braces and the location where they will be placed. For example, if you want to have your upper brace done in Hyderabad, then it will be more expensive compared to a lower brace.

Here are some factors that determine the price:

Type of braces: The higher-quality braces cost more than the lower-quality ones because they last longer and give better results.

Location: The place where you get your braces placed will also be an important factor for determining their pricing. If you want to get your braces placed at a clinic that is close to your home, then it will be cheaper than if you get them done at a hospital or specialty clinic which is far away from your home.

The dentist who will be doing the work: The dentist who will be doing the work can also affect its pricing since each dentist has different methods and techniques that make their work better or worse than another dentist’s work.

To Know more details about What Is Invisalign and How Much Does It Cost? Check Below Link

Braces Treatment in Ecil, As Rao Nagar Hyderabad

Smile dental and implant centre is a best dental clinic located in Ecil, As Rao Nagar Hyderabad. We are a leading orthodontist clinic in the city that provides patients with both the treatments – Traditional braces and Clear aligners at an affordable cost with EMI option. Our highly specialized orthodontist provides regular follow ups throughout the treatment.

We offer both Invisalign and traditional braces, which are customized to meet your needs and budget. We provide clear aligners in different lengths, widths and color options to suit your personal needs.

To Know more details, about Traditional Braces VS Clear aligners, check below link https://smiledentalandimplantcentre.com/traditional-braces-vs-clear-aligners/

EMI Available on all Dental Treatments.

More Info: www.smiledentalandimplantcentre.com

Location: H.No.1-1-308/8, Plot No.8, 1st Floor, K.Rathod Jewellers,Sri Ram Nagar Colony, near Kapra circle, Saket Road, ECIL, Hyderabad

Directions: https://g.co/kgs/hjYuBE.

[milksuu]

ᴀ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀꜱʜ & ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ ───── ♛

pairing: evil!hiccup x f!mute!reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: yandere, implied kidnapping, obsessive/possessive behavior, mention of blood/violence, mention of death

synopsis: You regretted the day they left him for dead. And you’d regret the day you ever saw him again—he’d make sure of that.

A gleam of orange blazed in the bleakness of night.

You watched from your hilltop window—the thatched roofs off the eastern slopes of Berk twisting and writhing in flames. Even from a distance, you heard the breaking moans of ceilings, the cracks and bends of collapsing wooden structures, and the piercing wails of scales met with sharp edges of iron. Despite The Red Death’s fall, dragon raids still plagued the lands.

Perhaps it was all a sign of retribution. 

You were told to stay within the safe confines of your home. Your father hadn’t wanted to risk your life, considering how precious you’d become. The next Seer in line after Gothi, gifted with spiritual wisdom, healing, and authority of officiating the next chief.

But the price to pay had been steep. 

The house was dark, not even the smallest candle lit. Nothing that would draw a glimmer of attention to the home. A creak ached the roof above, and you flitted your nose up to the rafters, drawing lines across the ceiling. Nothing but your shallow breaths filled the silent dark. 

The hearth then erupted with flame and spark, jolting you from back to neck bone. Had you any voice, a strangled scream would’ve ripped from your throat. Twisting, you had almost forgotten to breathe. A figure shrouded in shadow and leather stood beside the crackling firewood. Light and dark danced in an undulating battle across the strangers’ features–revealing a horrifying familiarity.

“Hope you don’t mind if I warm this place up a bit.” That voice, boy-ish in tone, lacked any hint of innocence or niceties. He stretched a gloved hand towards the licking flames, doing nothing to warm the ice coating his insides. “Couldn’t help but notice you looked a little cold and...alone.”

A snap of wood made you flinch; addressing him with quivering lips and dilated eyes. Your long-lost greeting didn’t forebode well.

Every piece of leather tightened around his body as he shifted. Turning to ensnare you within his talon like stare. When embers casted a sheen across his face, you braced against the sight. Soft features long since abandoned, reforged into a visage of cold iron. Carved and littered with scars and nicks across his furrowed brows, cheeks, and clenched jaw line.

“Well, this is kind of embarrassing. Wait, no. That’s not the word I was looking for. More like—disappointing. That sounds like a better fit. For you and everyone else here.” Hiccup stalked forward, a contraption of metal clanking and scratching against the splintering floors. Each step clanged through you, until he stood one heartbeat away. “After all these years, I’d thought you’d have a bit more to say than a blank stare. Every night, I dreamed about how this conversation would go. Just like how I dreamed things could be better than what they were. Funny how you can plan for things to go a certain way, but then…”

He pressed his hands at each side of your head, the glass window behind begging to crack from the pressure. His scent permeated, forcing you to swallow. Once smelling of spring honey and rolling glades, now sundered to singe your senses like bone ash and lightning storms. 

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s a little different.” He placed a calloused finger into the dip of your clavicle. He dug and dug until your pained gasp fell deaf to his ears. Tilting his head, he curled the lip of his mouth. “So, just like Gothi, you gave up your voice. Good—great, actually. This works out better for me.” 

The smile that crept over his lips never made it up to his eyes. Not like before. Those vibrant meadows sullied into a sickly, muddled green. Thick and ichorous. And dared you stare long enough, you could never trudge your way out. Although you already felt stuck within them, your hand slipped silently into the pocket of your dress, where your fingers brushed against the hilt of a dagger. 

You drew it a mere inch before his hand captured yours, twisting until he pried it into his possession.

“Come on. We both know you were never good at fighting.” He chuckled, wagging the sharpest point between your trembling eyes. “I’ll admit it. I wasn’t either back then. That’s something we had in common…until I had to be. Guess that didn’t work out in anyone’s favor on this wet piece of rock. Now, did it?”

Your vision blurred. Screams of the village roared in your ears. Screeches of dragons pierced through the air, engulfed in smoke and fire. Having consumed so much in its wake, you felt the heat of chaos leech into the glass. Searing your back pressed against it.

“Woah. Hey, don’t cry. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” he swept a rough thumb over a falling tear stain. “Not all of them will die tonight. I mean, just think about it for a second. Can’t be chief and rule over a bunch of burnt corpses. How counterintuitive would that be?” 

“As for you though…” he continued, and your heart stalled as he traced the cold metal down your flush cheek and neck, pausing just above your breastbone. “I’m only standing here, watching everything and everyone turn to ash around us, all because of you. And don't tell me you don't remember. When you mended my leg. Somehow kept me from bleeding out. Just before the entire village abandoned me.” His clouded eyes narrowed down. “Including you.”

Releasing you from his pinning weight, your legs wobbled. As if he hadn’t just snatched your foothold underneath. Terror kept your feet webbed in place, watching as he twirled your dagger in his fingers like a child's play thing. Crouching near the fire, he mindlessly poked and prodded at the stoking wood. He picked away a scrap of charred chipping, before plunging the blade into the flank of the burning log. You gazed at him, chest tight, aching. How he hadn’t flinched when the fire slicked around his hand like oil.

He dragged the smoldering stump from the hearth, creating a scorched line. When the licks of fire seeped into the house floors, he rose, one vertebra at a time. 

“If I’m being honest, I probably would’ve done the same thing.” He unhooked a masked contraption from his belt buckle and tightened it over his face. The eye sockets were of yellow stained sea glass, and the mouth of it appeared like a muzzle of iron teeth. “Leave something already weak, then crippled to survive on its own. Gambling on the high-stakes of death. So sure of the outcome, no one bothered to turn over a shoulder.” Hellfire rose and swelled in the reflection of his mask. “Maybe they should’ve.” 

The rapid hunger of the hearth fire blazed and curled across the floor of the home. Heat lapped towards your skin, drawing out sweat from your pores. Dense smoke began filling the wooden death chamber. You inhaled the black snowflakes, searing your lungs once they melted inside you. You slapped a hard hand over your mouth, coughing and shuddering against it. A pang of panic willed your body to move. You attempted to open the window behind you, but to your horror, it had been welded to the frame. 

Your eyes watered, hugging the wall as you traced it to the door. When the handle clattered against your pulls and tugs, a ghostly laugh floated around you. The metal was bolted shut from the outside. A bout of nausea cramped your stomach. Fear darted your eyes toward the stairs, where the flames hadn’t yet reached—but soon. Perhaps the window of your room hadn’t been tampered with. 

You darted towards the steps, and before you could place one foot up, a black beast stalked from the darkness of the second floor.

The floating embers danced hauntingly over the onyx scales, and gashes rippled in the firelight. Revealing wounds healed twice, perhaps three times over. That body of night perfectly reflected it's master’s outward appearance.

And as you drowned in those feral slits of pure abandon, it was apparent they also shared the same broken, unmendable soul. 

“Oh. You remember Toothless, don’t you?” Your face paled, backing slowly as the Nightfury slithered down the steps like black ink. A predatory growl rumbled above the snapping and collapsing wood around you. Hiccup sauntered to the dragon’s side, patting the thick of his neck, pulsing with power. Another laugh at your expense. “Looks like he remembers you.”

You fought the claw of unconsciousness raking over every part of you. Choking, straining against your hand pathetically covering your mouth.

“Since you did me a favor back then, I’m going to give you one chance to make it up to me.” The mask muffled his voice, but the wickedness screamed, rattling your veins. “You can either choose to stay here and burn with the rest of Berk or…” he lifted a hand, hardly an invitation, but a devilish bargain. “You can choose me.”

In the thick of your pounding head and chest, you considered burning to death was the wiser option of the two. All that he was—what he’d inevitably become—held no promise of a life worth degrading yourself for. Nothing about you would be spared. And it wouldn’t be long till you dropped on hands and knees, begging for him to take your life. To end his drawn out game of torture. One he’d carefully crafted for years and years. 

Just for you, only for you.  

Still, you clung to life. A measly mortal thread. Your shaking hand lifted, painfully reaching for his fingertips. One step forward, and the world spun in wisps of red and black. Your lungs and heart throbbed, practically seizing. A calculated arm caught you, cradling you wholly, close as any lover would. 

“Good choice.” 

You heard the waning words of approval, and through the fading light of your vision, something fastened over your face. Your last conscious breath had been clean, airy—a pleasant contrast to the toxic fumes. 

Then, nothing.

[minminbunny]

Hybrid AU - Black Panther Hybrid! Lee Minho/Older Undercover Cop Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

Minho growled, his fur up and standing from your curious gaze. He snarled, baring in claws and fangs within the confines of his cage. You eyed him with an icy look, keeping your persona as an underground cop. Minho glared at you his posture wary and bracing to attack. The auctioneer pat on your shoulders, "A hybrid that one, black panther. His base price is around 1 million at least, if the owner kills him they'll still have a fur coat to make," he chuckled, hitting the cage with a static staff. 

You clenched your jaw, "Seems profitable, let's see how it goes," you said, trying not to blow your cover as your eyes lingered on him. It didn't take long for the raid to take down the market. Quick, efficient and thorough. With some old-fashioned torture, they should be able to dig up the information they need. You went back to the room, cages of hybrids glaring at you with fear and anger. 

You took out your badge, "You're not going to be sold. If you have family, let me know. I'll alert them," you said, removing your hat to show your genuine gaze. Most of the hybrids, relaxed after seeing the badge, except for one. Minho glared at you, his stance never changing since you first met him. You knelt down in front of the cage, "Do you have a family?" you asked, seeing the wary hybrid in front of you. 

Minho huffed, shaking head. You pursed your lips, "Maybe I'll adopt you, but for now the nurses have to check your well-being and such," you said, giving him a subtle smirk. Minho blinked, taken aback by your blatant words. You chuckled, grazing his ears through the cage, "See you then, cutie," you teased, waking away from the cage.

"Thanks," you said, waving at the men who helped you move Minho to your house. You opened the latch and stared at him, "Still wary?" You asked, seeing Minho curl up at the back of the metal box. You sighed, placing down the necessary meal for him,  "It's not laced or expired. Eat when you want to," you said, walking away from him. Minho gulped, his mouth pooled with drool at the sight, he slowly but surely went towards the meat. His tongue grazed the flesh, there was no odd taste or texture. 

Minho huffed through his nose and chewed on the meat. You walked down the stairs with a towel around your shoulders as you dried your hair. Happy to see him eating. Minho flinched, dragging the plate deeper into the box with him. You chuckled, heating your dinner, "I'm not going to steal it, kitty. No worries," you teased, watching the microwave. You carefully placed your meal on the coffee table and looked at Minho through the darkness. 

Minho licked his muzzle, wiping his face with his paw as he cleaned up the blood. You chuckled seeing the plate get pushed towards the opening, "Done already? I'm pretty sure I placed 6 fillets of steaks," you teased, seeing the licked-clean dish. Minho gave you a low growl, his tail flicking with annoyance. You nodded, eating your dinner, "Okay, okay. I got it," you said, giving him some space.

The routine stayed the same, once in a while Minho would allow you to wipe the sides of the box clean. You always loved those moments, it made your heart swell to know that he was comfortable. One day, you find yourself crying from exhaustion. Minho begrudgingly, got out from his box and laid by your feet. You chuckled through your tears, hand graze through his thick coat. 

Minho huffed but didn't move away. He allowed your hand to stroke and grasp even with your tears dripping onto his ears. It didn't take long for you to pass out on the couch. Minho huffed again and jumped onto the couch, he nosed your nape, his muzzle close to your jugular.  One bite and you would've died right there but he didn't. Minho laid half of his body across your lap. His big paws slowly made biscuits on your thighs as you slept.

Whenever people came by, Minho would stay in his box. His low warning growls were enough for people to stay away. It didn't take long for you to notice your clothes disappearing from your closet. You furrowed your eyebrows, thinking that you might have forgotten them at the dryer or something logical. Until it came a day when you had to clean Minho's box and found a stash of your clothes in a makeshift nest. 

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and only got a huff in return. You cleaned up but didn't mess up the nest, "Have you been shifting when I'm at work?" You asked, crossing your arms. Never once did you have to clean his faecal matter. Minho was through with those urges. He walked into the bathroom, did the deed, and walked back out like he had never shifted. Minho looked at you with a deadpan look and went back into the box. You sighed, "You could've just asked, silly cat," you said, letting him be.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

 "Noona," Minho whispered, grinding your pillow while you were at work. His hips made quick movements as his tail pressed down on his leaking cock. His back arched as his orgasm shuddered through his body. Tremors of pleasure deafened his hearing for a moment. Just enough for you to witness his orgasmic expression without him knowing. You stood by the door, hesitant to make a move. 

Minho opened his eyes and shifted back in shock. His cock dripped onto the pillow and his tail shot up straight. You smiled, "It's alright, kitty. We all have our needs except I didn't expect you to be using my pillow to get off, that's for sure," you chuckled, feeling bolder to stroke his ears. Minho purred at the stimulation, his cock throbbing against his torso. 

He huffed, shifting back into a human, "Please have me feel good?" he rasped, voice husky from the pleasure and lust. You cooed, pulling him onto your lap, "Noona's got you," you said, kissing his nape as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Minho groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckled, pumping his cock at a languid pace. Your thumb rubbed the underside of his cockhead. 

Teasing that sensitive frenulum. Minho groaned, his thighs tensing up at the pleasure. You gulped, cock throbbing beneath your pants, "Such a pretty cock, kitty," you said, voice deep and breathy. Minho whimpered, moving your hand faster. You chuckled, picking up the pace to pump quicker, "Yes, yes. Noona knows," he teased, flattening his palm against his cockhead as you stroked his quick. 

Minho's eyes flew open, the pleasure surging through his sense, "Hah, hah, cumming," he gasped, squirming within your hold as ropes of white painted his torso. You cooed, messaging his swollen testicle, "Look how much milk you made, kitty," watching Minho's cock spurt out more and more semen as he messaged there. Minho mewled, licking your nape with his barbed tongue. You winced at the rough drag but you knew he needed something to ground himself with. Minho purred, slowly drifting off to sleep as you took care of him.

AMAB

 "Hyung," Minho whispered, grinding your pillow while you were at work. His hips made quick movements as his tail pressed down on his leaking cock. His back arched as his orgasm shuddered through his body. Tremors of pleasure deafened his hearing for a moment. Just enough for you to witness his orgasmic expression without him knowing. You stood by the door, hesitant to make a move. 

Minho opened his eyes and shifted back in shock. His cock dripped onto the pillow and his tail shot up straight. You smiled, "It's alright, kitty. We all have our needs except I didn't expect you to be using my pillow to get off, that's for sure," you chuckled, feeling bolder to stroke his ears. Minho purred at the stimulation, his cock throbbing against his torso. 

He huffed, shifting back into a human, "Please have me feel good?" he rasped, voice husky from the pleasure and lust. You cooed, pulling him onto your lap, "Hyung's got you," you said, kissing his nape as you wrapped your hand around his cock. Minho groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckled, pumping his cock at a languid pace. Your thumb rubbed the underside of his cockhead. 

Teasing that sensitive frenulum. Minho groaned, his thighs tensing up at the pleasure. You gulped, cock throbbing beneath your pants, "Such a pretty cock, kitty," you said, voice deep and breathy. Minho whimpered, moving your hand faster. You chuckled, picking up the pace to pump quicker, "Yes, yes. Hyung knows," he teased, flattening his palm against his cockhead as you stroked his quick. 

Minho's eyes flew open, the pleasure surging through his sense, "Hah, hah, cumming," he gasped, squirming within your hold as ropes of white painted his torso. You cooed, messaging his swollen testicle, "Look how much milk you made, kitty," watching Minho's cock spurt out more and more semen as he messaged there. Minho mewled, licking your nape with his barbed tongue. You winced at the rough drag but you knew he needed something to ground himself with. Minho purred, slowly drifting off to sleep as you took care of him.

[mistydeyes]

Hi,if you’re not busy can you write a fic of Cod characters with a cia agent gf ?

yes ofc! yk i love a good little government agent gf moment :)

a double life

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summary: From hidden occupations to a particular set of skill sets, the 141 learns to adapt to having a girlfriend who has all the right qualifications (and who could completely kick their ass).

pairing: Task Force 141 x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons/violence

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price

"Sorry I can't be there to meet you, Price," Laswell spoke over the web camera feed, "got tied up in South America." Price nodded as he held the bridge of his nose, Laswell had promised her best field agent to act as a point person for their mission in New Zealand. However, just the thought of some middle-aged retired veteran or worse yet, hot-shot rookie, made his headache pound even further. "She's a good one, Price," Laswell reassured, "skilled in practically every major language and the best marks in her physical fitness examination." "Yes Kate, I read her file, but it seems like you failed to include a photo-" He was interrupted by a sturdy knock at the door. "Looks like she's here."

As you cracked the door open, you practically dropped the files that sat in your arms. "What are you doing here?" Price asked jovially and you could feel the breath release from your sternum, "didn't expect an on-base visit like this." As the pieces began to fit together, you realized he didn't know what you were actually there for. "John, Kate sent me here," you whispered as you shut the door gently, "heard you're going to New Zealand." As the realization hit him like an oncoming train, you braced for impact. "You-you work for the CIA?" he asked almost foolishly and you nodded in response. "I did say I worked in Virginia," you corrected, "and you had to know my surprise visit yesterday wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing." Price could feel his headache reach a fever pitch as he reviewed your file again. "Then what's with the name?" he asked, "you lie about that too." You let out a laugh as you explained, "People have nicknames and mother's maiden names, John." As you sat back in your chair and crossed your legs, Price wondered what he had done for the universe to gift him you.

soap

Despite your initial reservations, Johnny was quite good at keeping your occupation vague and nonchalant in conversation. You were honest about your work in central intelligence and he took that secret to the grave. Your long-distance relationship was written off as you working in some company in DC and no one batted an eye at your occasional inference at military strategy or surveillance techniques. When you returned home, you would always be sure to show him extra appreciation for his covertness. "Tryna make me patriotic?" he would joke before you would kiss him and stifle his laughs.

However, he loved testing your skill set and seeing if you were as trained of an operative as your file read. "Let's see what they teach you over there, Bonnie," he joked as he lined up his sights at the air gun range. You refrained from kicking him as you stood back to watch him. You almost let out a laugh when you saw his small pellet ricochet just slightly off target. "Hmm and that's why Ghost is your long-range weapons specialist," you teased as he got up and switched positions. You breathed in as you looked down your sights and positioned your rifle towards the farthest target on the range. "You Americans, always so fucking cocky," he muttered under his breath before you quickly shut him up with a quick shot directly into the center of the target. The metal hen spun around widely at your expert marksmanship and you exhaled your held breath. You stood up and tried to size up your tall boyfriend. "Best 2/3?" you offered and you smiled as he kissed your forehead before ushering you out of the way to try again. "Fucking CIA training," he whispered as he got into position again. "You say something, you glorified sergeant?"

gaz

It was 4 am when you arose from the bed and leaned into Kyle, taking in his warmth and seeking refuge from the cold London air. You could always rely on your boyfriend to be your human-sized space heater. As you laid your head across his chest, you could feel him stir lightly. "Time to go already, love?" he asked with his eyes still closed and you muttered in confirmation. You always knew what challenges came with living so far away from the States but you had someone who made it all worth it. He kissed your forehead lightly as you rolled off the bed. You tried to quietly make your way to the bathroom to let him get some more hours of precious sleep but upon your return, it was clear Kyle was more awake than before.

"You sure you don't need me to drive you to the airport?" he offered yet again as you dressed quickly in dress slacks and a blouse. "MI6 is sending a car," you explained as you collected your overnight bag, "just try to get some sleep, my love. I'll text you when I land in Langley." Despite your soft kiss on the cheek, Kyle still pouted as you pulled away. "Don't understand why you can't be a liaison officer for us," he mumbled but you ruffled his hair slightly. "When the position becomes available, I'll be the first application on there," you smiled, doing a final check of your things, "just tell Price to write me a hell of a recommendation letter." With that, you shared another long kiss as you slightly cringed at his morning breath. "I'll be sure to say hi to the cybercrime analysis team for you, hopefully, they'll actually take my advice this time," you laughed before exiting out of your apartment and embracing the cold English air you had grown to love.

ghost

When the question arose of your occupation, you would always smile and defer to being just an "American government worker." However, you always knew Simon had more than just an inkling as to your occupation. When you spoke about military strategy, and combat techniques, or even had various conversations in different languages over the phone, it was clear to him that you were more than just a civilian. The shock didn't even resonate with him when you uttered the words, "Paramilitary Operations Officer," it all seemed to fall into place. He wouldn't bat an eye when it came to long stretches of days that you were in minimal contact with him. "I'll be back," you would reassure as you pulled on a dark hoodie and headed out the door with a bag. Simon would always be there to clean your wounds and ice your bruises.

It was a shock when Simon hadn't heard from you in a month. You had left in the middle of the day in a black Mercedes that disappeared off the English skyline. It was the unfortunate timing that he had been on leave when you left and there had been no word from Price regarding a new mission. Every morning, he would turn over in your king-sized bed expecting to see you smiling back at him. However, the days dragged on without any information meeting his ears. You could practically still picture his terrified face when you turned the key into the door and slammed your bag down. Simon paused upon seeing your blackened eye and wrapped knuckles. The eye bags on your delicate face further added worry to the situation. "Don't ask," you whispered as you fell into his chest, "intel was shit." That was all Simon needed to lift you gently and place you back on the couch. As he held you in his arms with an ice pack to your eye, you slightly pulled away from his touch. "I promised I would come back, didn't I?"

[vintagestarlight]

Massage

Summary: You give Price a massage after he gets back from a particularly hard deployment.

Pairing: John Price x fiancée!reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: mentions of injury(nothing too graphic), light sexual mentions, John Price(because let's be honest this man is a warning okay), fluff, 18+ MDNI

A/N: So Price won by a landslide in the poll😂 here's one of the fics I had planned so I hope yall enjoy! I did right this pretty drunk so apologies if it isn't great

Also, I didn't expect so many people to vote so thank you all so much!😭🫶🏼 Requets are also open!! Feel free to send in whatever you want just make sure it follows my blog rules! I've also got a few more fics in my drafts as well :)

***beware of typos(I tried my best to catch them all)

John turned the ignition off and his truck came to a stop. He looked at the house the two of you shared and smiled as he took in the warm glow coming from the window. Before you came into his life the house was cold and dark; he preferred coming home to this rather than the dark windows he used to. John opened the door and stepped out, wincing as he irritated the bruised muscles. This last deployment was harder than most; although everyone made it back alive, and for that he was thankful, going hand-to-hand with a mercenary ended with the mercenary dead but John fell from a metal walkway grate to the ground below. It resulted in a number of bruises, scratches, and a sprained shoulder.

John lifted his duffle bag out of the back seat and thought about how you would fret over the bruises that blemished his skin. You always checked him when he came home to see if he gained any new scars or broken body parts and he found it endearing. He walked slowly toward the door, his sore body preventing him from going faster. He dug in his pocket for his key and slipped it into the lock before stepping inside. “Love I’m home,” He called out, setting his duffle bag down by the door with a sigh of relief to have the weight off of his injured shoulder; he had a brace that kept him from moving his shoulder but it did nothing for the annoying pain of putting weight on it.

“Back here!” He heard your voice coming from the shared bedroom so he toed off his boots and walked down the hallway. He saw soft light coming from the bathroom and when he walked in he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat. You were in the bathtub with your hair loosely pulled back and sipping on a glass of wine, candles casting a warm illuminating glow. It wasn't anything overly sexual but it still made his face flush; here he was nearing forty and you made him feel like a school boy. “Hey love,” he said, taking in the sight of you before bending down and giving you a kiss. “I’m so glad you’re home,” You said, a heavy weight finally lifting off your chest at seeing your fiancée back in one piece. The black brace over his beige shirt was not lost on you but you didn’t say anything as you decided it was not as bad as it could be. “How’s the bath?” John asked. “You could always join me and find out,” You said, taking a sip of the red wine, looking at him over the rim of the glass. “Now how could I say no to that?” He smirked.

He took off the brace that was nothing but uncomfortable before undoing his belt and stripping off his pants. He slipped off his shirt, wincing as his shoulder twinged, and heard you gasp. “John!” You did your once over to ensure he hadn’t come home severely injured when your eyes landed on the bruises that colored his torso. “What the hell happened?” You asked, wincing when you thought about what could’ve caused such bruises. “If I told you that love, you’d be even more frantic,” He chuckled. “Don’t laugh John!” You chastised. John slipped in behind you after stripping completely, groaning at the warm water, and let you rest against him. “I’m sorry love but don’t freak out too much,” He replied. “They really do look worse than they are,” He added, planting a kiss on your head. He felt you relax more, as if you were afraid of hurting him, and he sighed. The weight of you pressed against him was actually comforting and he wrapped his arms around you. “At least you came home to me alive,” You said. “Just like I promised,” John replied, a long sigh leaving his body.

The two of you just sat there for a little while, your thumb absentmindedly grazing John’s arm; grateful to have your fiancée back. You felt him rest his head on your shoulder and his weary body sagged as he relaxed. You shifted and accidentally pressed your weight on one of John’s bruises and he grunted. “I’m sorry babe!” You said, turning around to sit on his lap carefully trying to avoid the purple-ish tender spots. “Don’t worry I’m tougher than I look,” He joked, running his hands along your sides. “You know,” You started, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think I know of a way to make you feel better,” You said in a slow voice. “Oh yeah? I think I’m liking where this is going,” John replied, planting a kiss on your nose, then your cheeks, and finally your lips. ‘Hmm… I like the way you think but I was actually thinking about a massage,” You said. “Help those aching muscles,” You offered and smiled as he smirked. “Now that’s a good way to welcome a man home,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Why don’t you go lay on the bed and I’ll dry off and get the oil,” You suggested and stepped out of the tub.

You felt John’s hungry eyes on you and you grinned; John always made you feel desirable even on your worst day. You heard the water splash as John stepped out after pulling the plug, dripping water on the floor. You wrapped yourself in a towel and felt him swat your ass, eliciting a squeal out of you as he laughed. “Don’t take too long,” He said. John also grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself, being mindful of his injuries, and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. You emerged from the bathroom with a bottle of baby oil and saw John lounging on the bed, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched your towel clad body. “See something you like?” You teased, before dropping the towel leaving you stark naked and John groaned. “I think you should stay like this all the time,” He said, a bit disappointed when you pulled on a bra and panty set. “I suggest you settle down; you’re not exactly in peak condition for sex,” You chuckled. “Come on turn over,” You said, and waited until he was laying on his stomach, arms relaxed.

You got on top of him and straddled his hips, taking notice of the scratches on his back. There were several silver lines across his body from his several years of military service. You had counted every scar on his body countless times so you could always know when he got new ones. But these scratches were new; red and fresh in contrast to the silver healed scars. You squirted a quarter sized amount of baby oil on your hands, rubbed them together, and pressed your hands firmly on John’s back. Using light pressure you began to knead his shoulders, mindful not to press too hard on his injured one, and firmly moved down to his lower back. “Jesus love,” John groaned. John felt himself further relax as you helped ease his aching muscles. You used your thumbs to press into his lower back and rub in small circles before continuing those small circles all the way up his back to his neck.

You loved feeling his skin underneath your hands; the way his muscles rippled when you touched him and it made you feel good that you were able to give him this attention. You heard grunts and moans as you continued to work on his back and shoulders, slowly massaging away the tension that rested in his muscles. You felt your tough military husband become putty under your hands and you couldn't help but grin. “You know I was thinking,” you said, feeling him tense as you needed a particularly large knot at the base of his neck. “What's that love?” He grunted, his voice slurring slightly as your hands slowly lulled him closer to sleep. “I know we had plans to go to that new French place for dinner but maybe we could stay in tomorrow?” You suggested to him. “Maybe just stay in bed and order takeout,” you continued, applying a little more oil onto your hands and rubbing your hands down his arms as he lazily nodded his head. “Would you like that?” You asked. When you didn’t get a response you looked down at his languid form and realized his breathing had become deeper and he started to snore a little. You smiled and slowly got off his back, careful not to wake him, and pulled the covers over him. “Good night John,” you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek and turning off the lamp before climbing in bed next to him. You soon fell asleep and slept better than you had in months.

[hellsburners]

pain and suffering

summary: to which criminals run from the shadows, and the shadows run home to you. pairing: frank castle x male reader x matt murdock word count: 4k warnings: 18+ warning, unprotected s3x, dom!mattfrank, bottom!reader, double pen3tration, blowj0bs, mentions of violence a/n: i got this request like a whole month ago and im sorry to anon it took me a while to think of this

masterlist | more matt murdock

gif credit for frank & matt

The night air looms over Hell’s Kitchen. A normal person might hear the honking of cars and the loud chitchat of people in the street, but to a man like Daredevil, he hears everything. He hears Sally from down the street, crying as her husband comes home drunk, or Dominic, stealing another purse to pay for his brother’s medical bills. The city is not just a cluster of sounds for a man like the Devil, it’s a war cry. His city needs help, so he braces for the jump, a leap into the battlefield.

To him, pain and suffering is a saint. The pain of every hit, every jab, and every punch. To Matt Murdock, the pain of getting hit is like lashing for every sin he’s made. He is the fist of God, the guardian angel of the Kitchen, his suffering is the price for the safety of his people. So to him, yes, pain and suffering is the saint that guides him, the adrenaline to jump, to fight, to stand back up and fight again because he knows if he doesn’t, worse men will. 

He sits wounded on top of a building, the hanging laundry hiding him from plain sight. He pants, blood gushing from his lower rib. But then he smells it: gunpowder. The sound of clanking metal and rubber boots walking closer to him. He knows that smell, the smell of danger, the smell of bad news, the smell of The Punisher.

“They hit ya’ pretty bad tonight Red,” his rough voice roared across the building. He smells of blood, not his blood, but the blood of at least thirty other men. 

“I don’t need your help, Frank,” Matt said, wincing as he tried to stand. 

“I doubt that,” he was closer to Matt, he took the rear end of his rifle and pressed it to Matt’s wound, he cried out in pain. “See?”

“I don’t need any help from you.”

“That’s your problem, Red. You’re so self-righteous. You’re out here bleeding yourself to death thinking God sent you here on earth to be his punchin’ bag,'' he puts the rifle down, the metal butt hitting the floor. “You think your God can miraculously heal your wounds? The Devil ain’t no saint.” 

“And you’re any better?” Matt spat. “You wear that skull on your chest and you think that gives you the license to be a killer?” he licks his dried-up lips, the wounds weighing on him. “You’re a beast, Frank. A wild creature with no self-control, bloodthirsty, and—and inhumane.”

Frank was right, but Matt’s pride would never take any help from Frank Castle, he’s a murderer, a cold-blooded killer, and men like him have no place roaming the streets of New York. Matt tries to walk away from Frank, he could feel the blood drip into his waist, his head dizzy. Before he could even reach a meter away from Frank he feels the pull of the earth and drops into the cement floor, out cold. 

“Dumbass,” Frank spat.

—

To Frank Castle, pain and suffering is a weapon. 

Pain is the bullet to the head of a wife beater, a pedophile, a human trafficker, and any other demented fuck that helps in spreading crime in his city. He sniffs in the scent, it’s nauseating, the smell of garbage and piss, the smell of dead bodies piled in a heap for the cops to find. The blood pooled on his boots, painting them red. He reloads the gun, pulling on the lever that locks the bullet in the barrel, ready for the trigger. 

“Please, man. I have a wife and two kids,” the bald man begged. His shirt was soaked in blood, a bullet grazed his hip. He walks backward achingly, his back hitting the wall. “Fuck, man I swear I don't know anything ‘bout this! ”the man kneels in front of Frank, his hands together like he’s praying. 

Pain is the bullet that ends all suffering. 

Bang!

The man falls on the concrete, blood dripping out of his skull. Frank wipes the blood splatter on his face with his sleeve. He takes the pistol and slides it into the holster on his thigh. He grabs the man’s sleeve and pulls him into the heap. No loose ends. 

Frank takes his rifle and leaves. Taking the rooftops so the cops won’t see him. His body is sore, but it was never a hindrance. He sees a red blur across the building. The Devil himself, running from a bunch of men. Frank notices the Devil walking strangely, a hand on his left to cover a bleeding wound. 

He takes the sniper rifle and aims it at the four men searching for the masked vigilante. He reloads the rifle, and one by one the men drop dead. The Devil was clueless as to where the bullets came from. He walks over to the wounded man, lumped over the side of a rooftop wincing in pain. 

Frank had always admired the Devil’s determination, always standing back up after a fight, the line he wouldn’t cross, it amused Frank in a way. He liked to toy with it, always putting the red vigilante in positions where his moral code is tested. 

You know you’re one bad day away from becoming like me. 

Frank once told him, and he guessed it wasn’t true. Despite how hard the world hit him, he never crossed that line. That’s why when the Devil ended up face down on the concrete floor he took his body into his shoulder. Carrying his body to the only place he knew would understand the situation. To the person that knew the creed of pain and suffering. 

He stands in front of the wooden door, the door was locked. Not his first instinct to knock, because he knew he would always be let in. He knocked on the door, no answer. He knocked louder, banging on the door, the sounds echoing throughout the hallway.

“Jesus Christ, people will hear you,” you said, answering the door. 

— 

To you, pain and suffering is a curse. The curse that binds people to hospital beds for years, slowly rotting into the sheets as more and more medicine gets pumped into their veins. The curse that brings people into the emergency room, stabbed my knives, with broken knees, amputated fingers, and gunshot wounds through bone and muscle. 

You earn money from pain and suffering. Doctor’s fees from people you know can’t even afford it. You always wanted to give them pro-bono, but you weren't loaded like that. That’s why when injured vigilantes were involved, everyone in the New York underground knew your number. 

You had known people like Maya Lopez, Misty Knight, Ben Reilly, Ty Johnson, and Tandy Bowen alongside other masked heroes. That’s why when The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen arrived at your door four months ago you didn’t second guess your decision to help him. To you, helping these people would absolve you of being complicit in the suffering of innocent people in the hospital. 

“Got your number from Spider-man, hope you don’t mind,” he said, sprawled on your kitchen table covered in blood. His muscular body contracted from the pain as you sewed his wounds shut. You never truly cared about forming connections with your clients, it was more of a get-patched-up-and-leave type of way. 

He would often flirt with you whenever he came by, his dimples forming under his mask whenever he smiled or laughed. “Don’t worry Doc’ I’m a big boy,” he said, smiling at you. The smile quickly faded when you dug into his skin to retrieve the bullets on his bicep, a groan leaving his lips. You tried not to think about it, but he's pretty cute. 

On one night, a man banged on your door, you rushed to meet a shadow drenched in blood as if it was raining blood from the sky, a white skull on his chest. His hoarse voice groaned as you took him into your kitchen. Multiple bullet wounds, and gashes on his chest, in your personal opinion a person with that many injuries would've ended up on the morgue. 

“Did you fall into a meat grinder? What the hell,” you said. You tried your best to patch him up but he needed some blood transfusions. 

“Check the bag,” he groaned. Inside were bags of blood from the hospital, all type O, what the fuck. 

He stayed in your house for two nights, you checked his vitals every hour to make sure he was still alive. This hasn’t happened before, you’ve never had a client that was on the brink of death. It was always some minor injury, but this man managed to wake up and stand after two days to leave. 

You found a bundle of one hundred dollar bills in your mailbox the next day. 

—

“Bring him to the couch,” you said. You took Matt’s body as Frank carried his legs, you took his limp body into the sofa, a deep wound on the torso, an easy fix for you at this point. It has been months since you first met the two men in your apartment. You’ve spent multiple nights helping them, in your apartment, or Matt’s, or Frank’s bunker. You were technically associated with them to the point that you know their real names. 

“The emergency kit is on the kitchen counter.” 

“Got it Doc,” Frank saluted, removing his trench coat and his bulletproof vest, his muscular form bulging through his black shirt. They reeked of blood, you could taste the iron on your tongue. 

Matt’s eyes fluttered, his head turning to the sound of your voice. “Hey,” he said, groaning through the pain. You cut his undershirt open, the wound gushing out blood. You took some gauze to soak the viscous liquid, making sure the clotting starts. 

“Sit your ass down, Red,” Frank ordered. You managed to sew the wound shut, you gave Matt some pain relievers as his eyes fell back into sleep. You let him rest for a bit, covering him in a fleece blanket. You walked towards Frank, a few cuts on his arms, he was already in the middle of sewing some of them before you helped. “Don’t worry about me, it’s nothin’”

“Make sure you don’t die in my kitchen this time,” you said, walking to the kitchen sink to rinse your bloodied hands. You opened your refrigerator to grab a drink. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Frank nods.

You took a cold beer from your fridge, the metal caps clanking on the floor. You handed him the bottle, he took a big swig like he was thirsty for water, some liquid falling from the corner of his lips. He sat on a wooden chair, legs spread, the hem of his shirt raising a bit to show a peak of his abdomen. 

Matt soon woke up. Much to your disagreement, taking a beer of his own. He took a seat in your dining area, topless with bandages around his torso. The three of you are looking at each other around the table. “So–what happened tonight?” you asked. 

Matt’s frown was deadset. Frank taking gulps of his second bottle of beer. You were taking sips of your bottle, looking at the heated tension between the two. It was annoyingly anxiety-inducing. “You know, I don’t know what’s the point of talking to you two—I’m a physician, not a therapist.” 

“You need to stay away from him,” Matt said, his lips a straight line. “He’s a dangerous person with nothing good going on for his pathetic life.”

“Boohoo! Little catholic boy here feels entitled about being god’s little bitch,” Frank spat. “Is that what you think bitch boy?”

“See? He’s an immature old fuck that thinks the world’s answer to violence is guns and bullets,” Matt said, downing his beer.

“He’s just using his lawyer bullshit on you,” Frank said.

You rolled your eyes, it’s always like this, them bickering. You downed the beer, the bitter taste running through your tongue. You set it down with a loud clunk. The two men halted their bickering. 

“I’m not taking sides but I think both of you are annoying cry babies that should just kiss and make out!” the two men frowned their brows. “You bicker like an old couple—the two of you need to suck it up because, at the end of the day, the two of you leave a trail of blood in this city that I clean!” you shouted.“You know how many people end up in the emergency room thanks to you two, I don’t even keep count of them anymore.”

Matt called for your name, to apologize or something, but you took another bottle of beer and gulped on the bubbly drink. Instead of talking you took his lips to yours, the bitter taste of his mouth shared with yours. His hands come to your neck, fingers wrapping around the flesh as his tongue meets yours. You smell his clean shampoo mixing with the alcohol, he smelled like a man who took hygiene seriously.

You pull back to walk towards Frank, bending down to kiss him, pressing on his shoulder with your hands to guide you. The bitter taste of both of your mouths intoxicates you. He grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling you in more. He smelled of cheap soap and gunpowder. You pulled away to catch them frozen, feet glued to the floor, aghast.

“See,” you rubbed your hands. “Not hard at all.” 

Frank was biting his lip chuckling, his fingers massaging his lip. He pulled you to his lap, kissing you harder, his hands falling to your ass. Your hands run through his dark hair, his stubble pricking your face. You moaned from the contact, Matt’s enhanced senses making the sound echo in his head. He hesitated but his groin turned to the noises you made. Frank’s lips fall to your neck, nibbling on the skin eliciting more lewd noises from you. 

“See this red?” he said. “This little slut likes it.”

“Play with his ear, he likes it,” Matt ordered. Frank hadn’t known that.

“He also likes it when I do this,” he pinches your nipples, and you shudder from the slight pain. The two men didn’t know that you had experiences of having sex with them on different occasions. “So you’re a little whore huh, you do this to all of your clients?”

“No—,” you gasped. “Just you two.”

Matt chuckled. Frank had set you on his lap so that you were facing Matt, his hands playing with both of your nipples as he left purple hickeys all over your neck. Matt had knelt in front of you palming your growing erection. The ache in your groin grows from the lack of release. Tonight these men offer you more pain and suffering but in ways that elicit nothing but pleasure. 

He takes your trousers off leaving you with nothing but your shirt, finally something to ease the pain. Matt stood to open his pants, his thick cock standing tall, the hairs neatly trimmed. “Take his dick inside your mouth,” Frank whispered, while he stretched your legs open so his fingers could tease your hole. He took his fingers to your mouth making it wet.

Matt’s hands ran through your hair, his tip teasing your swollen lips. As you took his length into your mouth, Frank's finger entered your hole curling inside drawing out muffled sounds from your mouth. You were quickly bent over by Frank, his head in between your ass cheeks licking and fingering your hole, while your head was bobbing up and down on Matt’s cock. 

Frank smacked your ass so hard it left a red print as he continued to toy with your rear. Matt groaned as the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. Frank pulled you back with your hair, popping Matt’s cock out with a string of saliva. It was painful the way they carried you, but in some sick twist of events, it turned you on even more. 

“My turn,” Frank said, as he takes your mouth to his sex, you engulf his thick uncut cock, your nose hitting his unkempt hair taking in his scent. Matt bent down to toy with your hole, curling and stretching two fingers inside you stimulating your prostate. You were turning your lips as you sucked on Frank’s cock, a hoarse groan leaving his mouth as he grabbed onto your hair tightly. 

Matt stroked your cock as he moaned, eating you out with his wet tongue and playing with the rim of your hole. Frank took control of your mouth, fucking into it like you’re his sex toy, his cocking hitting the roof of your mouth at a constant speed. Frank could feel his climax coming so he pulls out leaving you a wet mess next to Matt. 

“Can I fuck you?” Matt asked. You nod, taking them into your bedroom. 

Frank undressed and took a seat on the small sofa chair in the corner of the room, stroking his hard cock. You were on all fours on the bed, facing Frank. His eyes glued to you as he stroked. Matt lubes your hole before slowly pressing his cock into your hole. You gasped as he sheathed into you. Frank smirked, this turned him on even more, his large arms contracting as he stroked his cock.

Matt started to fuck you slowly, his hips slapping your ass. He started to let out guttural moans, his hips becoming rigid as he gripped onto your waist, his nails digging into your skin. He bends down to kiss your neck, rutting into you, his hard thrusts ramming into you. “I’m close,” he moaned. He jerks your cock to the point that you yelp out, cum shooting out of your cock as he continues to jerk his hips before he emptied inside you, a deep groan leaving his lips as his cum fills you. You two collapsed on the bed, his body weight on top of you. 

“Move over Red,” Frank said, looming over you as Matt moves over before Frank mounts you. Matt’s cum formed a slippery lube that made Frank’s cock ease its way as it thrusts. Your body was still weak from your high. He grabs onto your hair as he ruts into you, continuing his hard pace against your body. “You like that?” he said, stroking your sore cock back to hardness. 

“Ye–yes, fuck,” you moaned. 

Matt was at the edge of the bed, soothing your hair as he peppered kisses all over your face. The bed creaked as Frank humped you, veins popping across his arms as his grip on you tightened, you’re sure it would leave marks. He pulled out, leaving you to gasp from the sudden lack of fullness. He sits back on the headboard of your bed, legs sprawled as he gestures for you to ride him. You mount yourself on his hardness, sitting on his thick and hairy thighs. Matt sits on the edge of the bed, his erection coming back from the sight of you two. 

“Take it like a good boy,” Frank praises. You hold onto his chest as you feel the hardness enter you, some of Matt’s cum leaking out. You take Frank’s lips, you now realize how abrasive his stubble was. You move your hips around and around, Frank lets out curses here and there. He pulls your head back, littering your neck with more marks, his fingers find your nipples, teasing them to draw out more moans from you.

Franks sees Matt on the side, his hard already leaking precum just from watching you take Frank’s cock. He calls for Matt to come to you two, to join back in. You feel Matt’s fingertips on your skin, your body is now so filled with stimulation, his mere touch driving you wild. You feel his erection on your back, his lips attached to your shoulders. He takes his leaking cock and presses into your hole, the size alongside Frank’s was a tight fit, your breathing quickens from all the pressure. The two men made sure to guide you and praise you as you take both of their lengths. 

You cry out from the sensation. Frank takes your lips to stifle your cries, tears fall from your eyes as your tongues touch, and Matt inches to join your kiss. The three of you kiss into the pain, The two men slowly moving inside you. The pressure was so intense but the arousal overcame, your sex was so hard, leaking so much into Frank’s abdomen. They start to thrust, Matt could feel his sensitive frenulum rub on Frank’s, it made his eyes roll back, his senses overflowing. 

All of you reeked of sex, the sounds of slapping skin and wet tongues fighting for dominance against the grunts and moans. The constant rocking was making the bed hit the wall, the mattress moved as if there were an earthquake. You were all covered in sweat, hair sticking onto skin, Hands gripping the wooden headboard, fingertips roaming skin, and tongues lashing on each other. 

Everything felt like a blur to you, you were being rocked back and forth like a playground swing, your core sore from the fucking, and there were pairs of hands all over you touching your most sensitive spots. You could feel the climax, creeping into your body tingling your coccyx to the highest peak of your spine. You felt their erratic thrusts, Frank was a groaning mess under you, his neck all red and his face flushed. Matt was a noisy mess on your ear, cursing and calling your name like a prayer, his arm wrapped around your waist as he fucked. 

You were at your peak, arousal overflowed from your body into theirs. Their cum filling into you. You all yelped out in pleasure as you rode your highs. Frank dug his hands into your thighs as Matt hid his forehead on your shoulder, rutting their fill into you. The next few minutes came to you in flashing lights, like fireworks spraying colored lights all over the room. 

You woke up the next day to two heavy bodies at your sides. Matt’s arms around your waist with your head resting on Frank’s chest. All of you reeked of sweat and cum. As you turned you saw Matt’s eyes flutter, his long lashes flicking as his golden eyes beamed under the sunlight. 

“Sorry about last night,” he whispered. 

“Why? I had fun,” you said, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. 

“You sure?” he said, as he rubbed his thumbs on your cheeks. 

“Pretty sore but nothing a pain reliever won’t fix,” you said. 

“I guess you’re right, making out fixes everything,” Frank said, his voice deeper. He joins you and Matt, pressing kisses all over your shoulders. Matt takes this as a sign to kiss you all over your neck, their hands snaking all over your body. “What’s good for breakfast around here?” Frank said in between kisses.

“There’s a good diner across the street,” Matt said, leaving soothing kisses on the marks they left on your neck. Your body was so sore and painful, but these men made sure to make it up to you. You woke up last night to them cleaning you up, Matt wiping you with a damp cloth and Frank rummaging through your closet to grab something for you to wear. Despite their rough lifestyles, they made sure you were taken care of. Maybe a little less pain and suffering next time though. 

“But first,” you said, pulling away from them.” Shower.” 

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

[aheathen-conceivably]

Far atop the dusty downtown of Strangerville stood what felt like a different world. During the decades of the gold rush Eastern settlers had flooded the town and the settlements around it, displacing the people of the land even further as they dug into it for their own ends. The ones who succeeded ended up here, in Shady Acres, where they could look atop the empire they drilled into the ground.

Now, most of the houses sat abandoned, left to the disrepair of time and the harsh desert sands as the promise of ever greater riches took their owners further West to California and Oregon. There were little signs of life on the streets other than a lone truck making its way up the hillside, inhabited by two people who still weren’t quite comfortable being alone together anymore.

Gio directed Jo to pull to the edge of the cliff face, overlooking the town they had just driven from. She struggled to get the turn just right, but it was better than her other practice attempts, so he gave her a quiet smile of approval as she shifted the gear into park. Even from inside the metal truck they could hear the wind howling. It had been their constant companion on these near silent journeys up this road the past few weeks. 

He knew that the road further West was filled with places like this, miles and miles of winding curves and jaw dropping heights that would take a steady hand on the wheel. Antoine had taken one look inside the car and immediately refused to learn how to drive it. So burying whatever remaining fears and anger he had deep inside, Gio had gotten in the passenger seat with Jo and offered to teach her how to drive.

With every lesson, he knew that he was essentially giving her the tools she needed to leave him, the one thing he had been so afraid of that he was willing to lie and cheat to prevent it from happening. Now he felt like all he could do was sit by hope every inch he gave or silent acquiescence would serve to bind her closer to him rather than push her further away. Still in the back of his mind his fears kept nagging, so much so that as the day for her to leave came closer he couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

The wind kept howling, threatening to drown out his voice as he reached toward her. “Jo, mi raccomando…”

She braced herself for the same apology about his lie over the loan that she already had memorized. What more did he want her to say? She had stayed, hadn’t she? Stayed outwardly for Violette but really, quietly and inwardly, for all of them. Because she loved them all, but more than anything, because she loved him.

Only how was she supposed to tell him that? That she had fought back every instinct to leave so that she could stay with him, even if the price to pay to do so was that she would never trust him again. Because he had shown her that she had been wrong about him. He could hurt her, just as well as any other man she had ever known could. Except now that she had let him inside, now that she loved him, he could hurt her all the more. So she had to compensate somehow, to regain some sort of ground to stand on or she would be left weak to him doing it all over again.

“You don’t need to answer, okay?” Her head stayed turned just as he knew it would, and her hand went to the wheel as though the steady the car from the roar of the desert wind. It grew stronger as his voice grew more emotional, shaking the car and whipping across the top of the mesa.

“I can’t make you forgive me for any of what happened, but I’m sorry I didn’t support you and Antoine going on tour, or even really put you in the position where you could have chosen to do it for yourself and not to save us from some choice I made. I just…every time you walk out the door I’m afraid you won’t come home, that you’ll find someone or something else and I’ll never see you again.”

The sun was hitting directly in her eyes, mingling there with the stinging of tears that she tried her hardest to hold back. Only it was too bright, and she couldn’t possibly fight it, so one small tear after another rolled down her face while she stayed staring at it.

Whatever else he said after that was inconsequential as she let the sunbeams dry her unexpected tears; because he had already broken through her carefully constructed armor, made brittle by anger, restlessness, and love. But he couldn’t know that, or it would make everything she had done up to this point meaningless. The portion of the farm that was now hers, betraying Antoine, Zelda’s pained resolve, Violette’s angry confusion. She endured it all in some effort to regain control and hope for her own life; only it was so tenuous that she was convinced a few stray tears could undermine it all, so she made sure her face was completely dry before she turned to face him.

By the time she did so he had gone quiet and only a sliver of his profile could be seen. The rest of him was pretending to study the desert landscape, visibly struggling to adhere to his promise that he wouldn’t speak again until she answered him.

As it always did in moments like this, his vulnerability astounded her. He had meant every word he said, and he had spoken them without pause, trusting her to meet him halfway despite her track record of never having done so before. He had signed over a portion of his lease with a clenched fist only to climb into the passenger seat of his own truck, giving patient instructions with an anxious edge as she drove them further and further from town. Every choice he had made was in pursuit of some twisted idea of love, all the while she was guided by some nebulous idea of strength, the undeniable compulsion to never feel trapped again even if her own love had tried to temper it time and time again.

Jo reached over to touch his face and turn it toward her own. He gave no hesitation as he leaned into her touch, no questions and no judgement for the streaks on her face that must have still been visible from up so close. “Gio, look at me. I’m going to come home, okay?”

She left out that she wished this wasn’t home, some place she had no connection to or hope for, one filled with harsh desert winds barely keeping failed dreams afloat. A land of drought and struggle so incessant that it had almost worn down even her will. Some days it still felt like it was trying to accomplish what it nearly had when she was afloat in that bed, miserable and useless.

But shielded from it all inside the confines of his truck, with only his earnest expression and kind but well worn hands to anchor her down, suddenly it did feel like home. Or at least he did. So in a rare moment, she spoke without a single ounce of pretense or calculation, letting the need to keep herself in control float away on the howling wind. “I promise you, I’m always going to come home. No matter what.”

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[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SEVEN - dogfight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Suddenly, everything is a blur of red lights and yelling and running.

Price ushers you to your room with a stern: "go go go."  You grab your pack and shove what you can into it as he guards the door, handgun firm in his grasp as he shouts orders to soldiers as they dart up and down the hallway grabbing gear.  Your heart pounds in your ears and you barely have time to zip up your rucksack before he's urging you out again.

Sandwiched between everyone with your head ducked down, you run.  Gunshots ring out over your head and under your feet, and you yelp whenever Ghost grabs your arm and yanks you away from a sniper hit just as you're leaving the building; urging you along.  Price is yelling.  Soap is yelling.  Nikolai is with your small group—sharp, Russian orders shouted over the loud buzzing of a helicopter as you're all but pushed inside.

It's off the ground the second your back hits the wall.  Suddenly, Price is in front of you again—but you can barely see him through the panic that floods your senses.

"Breathe.  Deep breaths, kid.  C'mon," he says as he coaxes a headset onto your head.  You try to help, but your hands are too shaky.  The others are yelling, and Ghost is leaning out of the side of the helicopter as it bobs and dips, returning Shadow Company fire with abandon.  The sound, as well as the raspiness of Price's voice, are both muffled by the earphones around your ears until Price's voice comes through on the comms.  "You're safe with us.  Y'hear me?"

You swallow the bile that threatens to rise in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to force your breathing to regulate.  You nod, but your hands squeeze at his sleeves anyway—knuckles white as you use his presence to ground yourself.

"Okay,"  you force out.  "Y-yeah.  I hear you."

"Good.  Keep breathin','' he looks over his shoulder to where Ghost, Soap, and Gaz are all fending off the others.  "Does anyone have a visual?"

"They've got their own helos after us, sir!"  Gaz shouts.  "Things might get ugly!"

"Helos?!"

"There's five of 'em!"  Soap clarifies, reloading his weapon.  His arm is bleeding, but he doesn't seem to notice.  "The cunt isn't fucking around this time!  It's either we go down, or they do!"

"Yeah, well, that's not fuckin' happening,"  Price all but growls, bracing you against him as the helocopter lurches to the side.  "Give 'em hell!"

"Yes, sir!"

You press yourself back against the wall, watching as everything goes to shit around you.  A line of fire dents the wall of the helo right by your head and you yelp.  "Price—"

As if on cue, there's an explosion. 

You're knocked sideways.  Your vision blanks whenever your head hits metal, a ringing in your ears exploding from your senses.  In a split second of quick thinking, your hand wraps around a metal railing as the helo tilts.  Curses and yells of surprise fill the small space as everyone scrambles to the side.

Except one.

"Soap!"

He slips with a yell and you grab his wrist before he can slip out the side opening.  You watch boxes and supplies slide out and into the snow maybe twenty stories below as the Earth below you tilts and spins.   Shocked, he looks up to meet your gaze—your eyes meeting his with nothing but sheer panic as he lifts his other arm to grab your wrist in both hands, legs flailing. 

Nikolai is quick to right the helo again and you're launched back onto the floor at Soap's side.  Disoriented, you pant as your shaky arms pull yourself upright to meet Soap's gaze.  He's shocked, eyes wide as he blinks with you—as if he really didn't expect you to save him.

He nods his thanks before Price pulls you to your feet again.

"We lost Gaz!"  Nikolai's voice explodes over the comms.

"Fuck's sake!"

"Again?!"

"We'll have to go back—"

"No time!"  Nikolai calls over his shoulder.  "You want to stay alive—no turning back.  Not now."

"Gaz,"  you huff, scrambling out of Price's hold.  "No—no we gotta go back!"

Price grabs you before you can get too close to the opening.  "There's no time, kid!"

"We can't leave him behind!"

"We have to!"

You shove yourself free just as there's a loud blast and the helo lurches again.  This time, you're too late to grab something.

There's yelling before there's silence.  A bright light and the feeling of something large knocking into you before there's nothing but blinding white and bright blue sky.  Your headset flies off your head, getting swept away in the wind as you watch the helo spin out of control from afar.

You're falling.

You're screaming, you think, but the ringing in your ears drowns out everything else.  Your body spins in the air as you flail and air rushes into your eyes and lungs.

The ground gets closer.

Closer.

Closer.

Then, your body breaks ice with a smash and everything is loud again.  The water roars as the breath is punched from your lungs.  You know you should move, flail, kick your legs—but your body doesn't respond.  You watch the bubbles fly past the dog tags around your neck as the light of the surface sinks past your fingers.  

Calm.  Quiet.  

Your body goes limp.  For the first time in weeks, the panic ebbs way to peace as the freezing cold numbs your senses. You think, maybe, you could sleep like this—silent, undisturbed, as your eyes sink shut and your nerves die.

Then, a hand grabs the front of your jacket, and you're yanked to the surface.

Simon gasps when he breaches the ice with you in his arms.  Not that it supplies him with much air to begin with; as the sopping wet cloth of his mask seems to choke him with each breath.  Waterboarding, a torture he's grown very familiar with over the years—and it sends an extra surge of adrenaline through his veins that helps him drag you up and onto the ice before climbing up beside you.

He turns on his side and it feels like the world tilts with him as he sputters and coughs up water.  The ringing in his ears is bright and loud as it seems to leak into his vision, blurring everything into smudges of white and black that are nearly incomprehensible.  Be it blind panic, or just his natural instinct to get up, keep moving—drilled into his brain after years and years of experience—but he shoves himself to his knees anyway.

He hears what sounds like coughing, gagging.  Panting.  His eyes flit over just as the sharpness in his vision returns and you're the second thing he sees: on your hands and knees, curled in on yourself at his side as you spit bile, blood, and water onto the ice with an arm curled around your stomach.  It's then that everything rushes back to him.  The alarms, the gunfire, the helo, Price's shouting, the Shadow Company.

He reaches out with a hoarse and quiet: "Kid..."

Your breathing doesn't settle.  Instead, it seems to speed up as you scramble backwards and the ice cracks underneath you.  Your movements shake, arms and legs dumb, slow, and useless as you force them to move you backwards; away from him.  Blood coats your face and your eyes are bleary and unfocussed.  He recognizes the look you give him—one of panic, confusion.  It's identical to how you looked at him whenever you first met, with a dead man's blood splattered on your clothes.

"No,"  you mutter, your breath coming in fast puffs.  "No no no no."

Simon stumbles over, grabbing your shoulder, "Easy now—"

Startled, you kick him away.  "Get off me!"

"Keep your head on, kid, it's me!"

"Fuck off!"

In a split-second decision of disparity, Simon reaches up and yanks off his mask.  He grabs your shoulders, keeping you still as you freeze—the figure of your nightmares gone and replaced, instead, by something more human.  Something sopping wet and equally as freezing.  He watches the fear in your face give way to confusion, and then the confusion give way to shock.

"It's me,"  he huffs out between breaths, the cold air stinging his skin,  "It's me."

He watches your mis-matched pupils scan over his face, the furrow in your brows smoothing over as a rivulet of blood drips down your temple from the gash on your forehead.  There’s a split on your lip, too, and all the blood mixes together as it drips off your chin.  Simon can’t imagine he looks much better as you take in his facial features for the first time.

Then, he watches your eyelids flutter as your head lulls forwards, and he catches it in his hand.

“Don’t,”  he commands, immediately shifting into action again.  “Stay with me."

“How…”  You rasp as he turns, leaning you against his geared chest to free his hands—each breath fogging up into the freezing air as he keeps you in a sitting position.  He reaches for the comm on his shoulder.  With shaky hands, he switches through channels until he gets to one that's dead silent.  He swallows thickly before he speaks.

“Watcher, this is Bravo 0-7, do you copy?”

The radio sputters.  The only thing that greets him is the silence of the snow and your shaky breathing.  He tries again, more urgently.

“Ghost to Watcher.  We fell out the helo.  Kid’s injured bad do you copy?”

Again, silence.  Ghost hears your breathing hitch and he purses his lips together.  Just as dread begins to settle deep in Ghost’s stomach—a voice comes loud and clear through the speakers.

"Watcher to Ghost.  I hear you.  Any word on Price?"  

You let out a sigh of relief at the sound of Laswell's voice.  If Ghost didn’t have a probably-broken rib, he’d do the same.

"No,"  Ghost grunts.  "We fell in a lake.  Helo is nowhere in sight."

"Are you injured?"

Ghost tastes copper in his mouth when he breathes.  "I'm upright."

"And the kid?"

You go to speak,  "I'm fine—"

"Hit and in shock,"  Ghost interrupts.  "Probably concussed."

Then, Price's out-of-breath voice cuts through the comms.  There's shuffling and other voices in the background.  “Ghost, this is Price.  You’re safe?"

This time, Ghost does let out a breath.  “Yes, sir.”

“Good.  We’ve crashed but Laswell's sent a team out to grab us.  We’re coming back for you two, you hear me?”

You grab Ghost's arm, "But Gaz—"

“Loud and clear, sir.”  Ghost breathes, “loud and clear.”

“Good man.  Get to safety, stay warm.  We'll be there A.S.A.P."

"Solid copy."

And, with that, all was silent aside for the sound of you and Ghost's combined breathing.  He places a hand on your shoulder, easing you back to look up at him.  "You still with me?"

Your eyes squeeze shut.  You shake your head as if trying to shake something out of it, your countenance flushed and dazed from the freezing cold.  He rubs your shoulders, trying to restore some warmth to your body.

“Keep talkin’.  Tell me what hurts.”

“Can't…”  You swallow thickly.  Your hands fumble to grab at your leg.  “Fuck, c-can't think…I can’t…”

“Stand?”

“Yeah.”

"You fell out of a helicopter, Mutt.  It would stand to reason if you were a bit shaken,”  he huffs, shifting into a kneeling position with his back to you.  “On my back.  We gotta keep moving.”

The shock fading a little from your system, you slowly push yourself upright enough to settle against his back.  

"Mutt?"  You question as your arms fall around his neck.  His gloved hands grab under your knees, keeping you secured to his back as he hypes himself up to stand.  

"That's what Soap called you, ain't it?"  He breathes as he stands.  "Some mutt the C.I.A. dragged in."

"Don't tell me…don't tell me that's what I'm stuck with now, after all this."

He scoffs a little, righting himself.  "What sticks, sticks, kid."

He barely takes a step forwards before his leg unexpectedly gives.  You gasp whenever he stumbles, falling to a knee in the snow.  

"Bloody hell…"

"Ghost?"  You prompt, worried, as he breathes in and out.  The world spins sound for a moment, and his eyes go dazed.  Your voice, however, pulls him out of it and your bloodied hand tugging at his ruined vest grounds him back to reality.  "Ghost if you're shot, we're fucked."

"I'm not hit,"  he wheezes, a bold-faced lie.  He's been hit in the calf in all the chaos, but it missed any major arteries so he chooses to ignore it for now.  Instead, he forces himself shakily back to his feet again.  He takes a few wobbly steps before he's walking steadily once more, his limbs feeling heavy as they waft through the freezing snow.  "Just old.  Can't take a fall like I used to."

You let out a breath that fogs up into the air, quivering from the cold as water drips from everything.

“Okay…okay, good,”  you breathe, your hold around him tightening.  “Where are we going?”

Simon looks up.  The cold bites at his bare face and he squints through the eye black and water that clings to his lashes to look up at the snow and the trees around them.  He swallows thickly, his mind cycling through S.E.A.R. training as he fights to stay focused, get to safety.

Safety.  Shelter.

You needed shelter.  

His gaze sweeps the empty forests with a newfound determination now that he has a goal to focus on; something to work towards.  His footsteps slow to a stop as he looks around, the only sound in the forest being the crunching of snow and the buzzing of a far-off A-10 that makes his stomach twist.  

But you were alive—and that’s all that mattered to him.

So, he picks up his pace.  He presses onwards.

“I don’t know,” He huffs.  “But we'll find somewhere."

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben @enfppixie @lyd14k4y @tlkonthestr33t @raye2000 @shinchanboi