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astrocafecoffee · 1 year ago

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Destiny Matrix

(predicting some events of your life and characteristics of your fs)

• For entertainment purposes only, enjoy •

•☞ Masterlist

Guys, destiny matrix chart is So gorgeous 😭 , I fell in love. I am new to this, but it's so fascinating, so I am sharing with you guys. Obviously I learnt a lot from ann_matrix_destiny insta page. I explained some of her work here, rest is mine.

✨What is Destiny matrix chart?

-A spiritual and metaphysical chart that reveals a person's life path, soul purpose, and potential.

✨How is it calculated?

-Based on a person's birth date, using a complex system of numerology and astrological correspondences.

💫 How to see some important events of your life?

see this area(perimeter line)of your chart , this will explain many important events of your life.

💚Age of getting married/ meeting with your significant other/ spouse:

- look at your age in your chart, if you see 3,5,6,19,20 at the top of your age then at that age you will get married/ meet your significant other/ start a family. Like in this chart I have shown above '5' is top of the age of 23.5- 24, so this individual will meet their spouse at that age/ get married.

• Going through Transformation in your life :

- if you see 13 or 16 at the top of your age , then at that age your life will drastically change/ you will go through a huge transformation of your life. You will change your location/ your career/ will shift to another country or city.

⚡Moving abroad/ travelling:

If you see 7,10,21,22 above your age then this is the best age for travelling or going abroad.

if you find 21 in your love line(circled part)then most probably you will marry a foreigner.

And if you find 7, 10 , 21 or 22 in this positions then most probably you will go abroad/ find your partner there .

Now , the future spouse part : -

💖 Hints about your future partner :

Look at the number below the heart symbol to know about your future partner. In this chart it's 21.

So, let's explain each numbers -

•Number 1: The magician

- creative and innovative

- skilled and talented

- confident and charismatic

- however they may also struggled with over - confidence and arrogance.

- gemini / Virgo zodiac sign placements

- profession : musicians, writer, public speaker, coaches and mentors , scientist, entrepreneur, marketing and advertising professionals.

- meeting: conference or seminar, art galleries, meuseum, workshop or studio, networking events or industry conference, class or training session.

• Number 2 : High Priestess

- intuitive and wise

- mysterious and enigmatic

- maybe quiet and reserved.

- soft spoken and considerate.

- cancer zodiac sign placements.

- profession: councillors, therapists, psychologist, Nurse or healthcare professionals, social workers, spiritual leaders, energy workers.

- meeting: secret or private settings, libraries, coaching, weddings , meeting in the context of any spiritual retreats.

• Number 3 : Empress

- Full of life , energy and vitality.

- encouraging others to grow and flourish.

- committed, dedicated and faithful.

- Taurus and Libra zodiac sign placements.

- profession: fashion designer , sculptors, teachers and educators,event planer, environmentalists, musicians, healthcare.

- meeting through : parties, gatherings, festival, fair, creative workshops, artistic projects ,meuseum, concerts.

• Number 4 : Emperor

- Natural born leader, authoritative, commanding.

- makes tough decisions with clarity and conviction.

- commited to family and responsibilities.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession: executive, CEO, leader or manager, military officer, architect, Engineer, government officials, buisness owner.

- meeting : buisness meeting, job interviews, formal events , official ceremonies.

• Number 5 : Hierophant

- values established customs, rituals, and institutions.

- upholds ethical standards and moral principles.

- prioritise stability and security over change and uncertainty.

- Taurus zodiac sign placements

- profession: spiritual leaders and mentors, councellor , advisor or consultants, traditional healers or healthcare professionals.

- meeting: spiritual or religious gatherings, traditional ceremonies or rituals, educational and training sessions , counciling or therapy sessions, church,temples , mosques.

• Number 6 : The lovers

- collaborative, work well others.

- empathetic and aware of others feelings.

- true to themselves and their values.

- zodiac sign: Gemini placements.

- profession: counselors, coaches , writer , journalist, artist, musicians, public speaker, philosophers , scientist, researchers.

- meeting : social getherings or parties , creative or artistic collaboration, Beauty or fashion events , community or networking meeting.

• Number 7 : The chariot

- Determined, self disciplined.

- ability to overcome any obstacles and setbacks

- has clear direction

- zodiac : cancer placements

- profession: nurses , social worker, military, architect, psychologist, chefs , nutritionist, hospitality professionals.

- Meeting: family gatherings, home or domestic settings, caregiving or helping professions.

• Number 8 : strength

- courageous, brave , have inner strength.

- has capacity to forgive and let go.

- has self discipline and self control.

- zodiac sign: leo placements

- profession: artist , designer, performers , public speaker, motivator, executives, philanthropist, teacher, councellor, athletes, trainers.

- meeting: park or garden, fitness or wellness center, creative studio or art space, festivals, social gatherings.

• Number 9 : Hermit

- quiet, reflective, and introspective often preferring to spend time alone

- serves as guide or mentor

- discerning and concious about every step they take.

- zodiac sign: Virgo placements.

- profession: therapist, counselors,teachers , coaches , writers, editors, healthcare industry, social worker.

- meeting: therapists or counselor office, library , spiritual or religious sanctuary, coffee shop , book store.

• Number 10 : wheel of fortune

- flexible, able to adjust to changing circumstances.

- believes in destiny

- have philosophical outlook on life.

- zodiac sign: Taurus, leo, scorpio, Aquarius placements.

- profession: life coach, astrologer, environmentalists, entrepreneur, investors, historians.

- meeting: a farm , airport, bus station, temple, monastery, party,park , near mountain or river.

• Number 11 : Justice

- impartial and balanced

- they make descision based on reason and logics.

- have strong sense of morality and ethics.

- zodiac sign: Libra placements

- profession: lawyer, judge, counselors, social worker, activists, advocate, journalist, analyst , or spiritual leader.

- meeting: courthouse, law office, government building, council chamber, community centre, places of worship, philosophical organization.

• Number 12 : Hanged Man

- they are reflective , look inward for answers.

- they are open to new settings.

- courageous, deep understanding of themselves.

- zodiac sign: Pisces placements

- profession : spiritual leaders, therapist, counselor , artist, writer, healthcare industry, motivator, life coach.

- meeting : temples , church , meditation room , yoga class , hospital, library, therapy office,art studio, gym.

• Number 13 : Death

- they are like phoenix from the ashes.

- they can navigate difficult situations and come out stronger.

- constantly growing and evolving.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession: therapist, estate lawyers, spiritual leaders, scientist, healthcare professionals.

- meeting: counselling centre, place of worship, innovation hub or entrepreneurship centres, hospital, wellness center.

• Number 14 : Temperance

- they strive for equilibrium in all aspects of life .

- they prioritise physical, mental and emotional well-being.

- have creative sides.

- zodiac sign: Sagittarius placements .

- profession: doctor or nurse , therapist or counselor, artist or musicians, spiritual leader, international relation specialist , life coach , designer .

- meeting : art galleries or museums, embassies or international conference centres , community centres, clubs , parks , garden , spiritual center , yoga class.

• Number 15 : The devil

- they thinks outside the box and brings fresh ideas .

- magnetic personality, can attract others.

- unconventional, transformative.

- zodiac sign: Capricorn placements.

- profession: politician, CEO, artist, law enforcement, military, detective , investigators, activists, occultist.

- meeting: historic mansion or estate, a secret rooftop, art galleries, studio , book store, library , cafe.

• Number 16 : Tower

- they seek honesty and transparency even if it's uncomfortable.

- rebellious, resilient, revolutionary.

- they are open to new ideas.

- zodiac sign: Aries placements.

- profession : scientist, inventor, engineer, architect, military officer, crisis manager, technologist.

- meeting: transformation hub, a unique event space or art studio, bookstore, library, co-working space.

• Number 17 : Star

- they have a optimistic outlook of life and believe in a bright future.

- inspiring, peaceful, compassionate.

- creative and imaginative mind.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: creative expression, artist , industry related to healing and wellness, science and technology, humanitarian work, counselors.

- meeting: yoga studio or wellness center, botanical garden or peaceful outdoor setting, co-working space, concerts? , innovation hub.

• Number 18 : The Moon

- they trust their instincts and have a strong connection to their subconscious mind.

- deeply in touch with their emotions.

- unpredictable, may surprise other with their actions.

- zodiac sign : Pisces placements.

- profession : psychic or medium, artist or writer, musician, poet , spiritual teacher, healer, counselors.

- meeting: mystical or esoteric shop, secluded beach, art studio, a spiritual or metaphysical bookstore, coffee shop.

• Number 19 : Sun

- they exude self assurance and positivity.

- optimistic, enthusiastic, charismatic.

- warm hearted , willing to share blessings with others.

- zodiac sign: leo placements.

- profession: actor or performer, artist, CEO , teacher or mentor, event planner, musicians, life coach, designer.

- meeting: cafe / restaurant/ hotel , studio , gathering hall, auditorium, music festival.

• Number 20: Judgement

- they are introspective and willing to confront their past and inner self.

- self aware, have deep understanding of their strengths and weaknesses.

- awakened, courageous, honest.

- zodiac sign: scorpio placements

- profession : spiritual teacher or guide , therapist or counselor, life coach, researcher, artist or creative expression.

- meeting: spiritual center or temple, yoga class, a writer's workshop, park , garden , therapy or councilling office.

• Number 21: The world

- they have achieved their goals and fullfill their potential.

- compassions, wise, confident

- adventurous and global minded.( Most likely a foreigner)

- zodiac sign: Taurus, Capricorn, leo , placements.

- profession : global diplomat, artist ( global or universal theme) , cultural ambassador, world traveler, humanitarian work.

- meeting: while traveling, international conference centres , airport, spiritual retreat, international art or music venues.

• Number 22 : The fool

- they are willing to take risks and embark on new journeys.

- spontaneous, carefree , open minded.

- have faith in themselves and universe.

- zodiac sign: Aquarius placements.

- profession: entrepreneur or startup founder, activist, humanitarian work,coach or consultants, designer, scientist,teacher, journalist.

- meeting: spontaneous meet-up or pop up events, inspirational seminars, creative workshops,cafe or coffee shop, outdoor adventure location.

----------------✨✨----------------

END .....( I am tired af 😭)

☞ Healing through marriage

Thanks for reading 💓

-Piko ✨

#astro community #astro notes #astro observations #astrology #astro placements #composite #composite chart #synastry aspects #synastry #synastry observations #synastry overlays #future spouse #destiny matrix #future husband #birth chart #natal chart

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athenalvss · 2 months ago

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SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE A DREAM ( Dick Grayson! )

request; can I ask for a dick grayson x fem!reader?! Where she is extremely beautiful, like surreal, and when she introduces herself to the people (titans and batfam) everyone is hypnotized and dick's ex-girlfriends get jealous

pairing: dick grayson x fem reader

a/n: I was enjoying so much writing this until I decided to be stupid in some way and delete all my work. sad af.

summary: A new hero has arrived in the city and after a few encounters with Nightwing on patrol, it leads to the beginning of a friendship - according to them - in a new case that involves the great heroes. Dick calls her cause he thinks she could help, but it is not her abilities that perplex his friends and family.

open request - batfam masterlist

The first time you met Dick, it wasn't exactly in a normal way, not even with his real name. The two of you were patrolling the city when you happened upon a bank robbery and arrived just in time before a guy inadvertently knocked him unconscious from behind.

That's when he turned around and saw you. You were somewhat hypnotic, with an ethereal bearing and a magnetic presence. It wasn't just the way your suit looked on your body; there was something about your gaze, it had a depth and power he'd rarely seen.

"Are you okay?" You said as you approached. "It was a hard punch" you said. He seemed a little dizzy, and you were worried he might faint somewhere in the city.

"Yes, yes," he whispered softly, keeping his gaze fixed on yours. He took a microsecond longer to analyze the little skin of your face the mask allowed him to see. He could see soft skin, the curve of your nose that fit the shape of your face perfectly, and lips that could drive anyone crazy. "I'm fine. I just didn't see it coming, thanks..."

From then on, you met every night on the same rooftop on patrol, and later, after a fight on those nights, they ended up revealing their identities to each other. They knew each other well enough to share their biggest secrets.

Your friendship had stopped being just nocturnal and you became part of each other's daily lives, but there was a small detail, no one knew of your existence, or at least no one had seen you, that was until one night you received a call.

── .✦

"Trust me, she'll be a big help with this." Dick came back to the room where all the titans were after making the call.

"She? Are you going to let a stranger into the tower?" Kori looked at Dick with a look of complaint and surprise.

“I trust her.” Dick was blunt, but not harsh. That sentence was enough to make Rachel look up from her book and Gar grimace.

“We didn’t even know he existed until ten seconds ago,” Kori muttered, “unbelievable.”

Before Dick could respond, the security system beeped softly: someone had just arrived at the perimeter. Dick walked over to the console.

"Get ready," he said, still staring at the screen as he excitedly headed for the door. "She's here."

When the elevator doors opened, silence fell like a heavy blanket.

When you joined, you went straight to Dick. The Titans couldn't see everything from where they were, but they clearly saw how one of your arms was around his neck and one of Dick's big hands was placed on your waist. The two of you started walking together toward the living room, him keeping his hand on your waist.

Rachel stopped pretending not to look. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes scanned you with clinical interest.

Gar, his jaw a little slack, turned to Conner. “Is she human?”

Conner just frowned, as if he needed to adjust his vision to confirm you weren't floating a few inches off the ground.

Kori didn't speak. She looked at you as if your every move was a carefully calculated threat. Her posture changed, becoming more rigid. Her arms crossed over her chest and her stoic expression didn't hide the flash of annoyance in her eyes at the sight of Dick's hand on your body.

Your gait was fluid, steady, marking your presence in the room with a naturalness that wasn't affected by the unfamiliar surroundings. Your eyes scanned the room calmly, taking in every detail, trying not to seem so surprised to finally be in the place that had once been Dick's home. But the four Titans standing there were watching you intently; everything about you seemed to belong to another planet: an ethereal, magnetic presence, your figure, everything about you.

You were like a model, definitely Dick's type.

Gar blinked a couple of times. Conner lowered his crossed arms. Rachel simply raised an eyebrow, visibly interested.

Kori, on the other hand, crossed her arms even more tightly, if that was possible.

Dick came closer. "Guys, she's-"

"Wait, no, don't tell me his name." Gar raised a hand. "I'd rather continue believing it's an illusion sent by some higher entity to distract us."

You smiled slightly, as if you were used to such reactions. "What a... warm welcome," you said in a soft but ironic voice, looking at them sweetly.

Conner watched you silently, assessing, as if he were wondering whether you were an ally or a dangerous distraction. Beside him, Kori kept an eye on you. "So what exactly is she supposed to do?" she asked in a cold voice, not bothering to disguise her tone.

"It's the best option we have to resolve this," Dick said firmly, deliberately ignoring the tension that Kori was barely concealing so as not to provoke a fight.

"How did you meet him?" Rachel finally chimed in, curious about the closeness between the two.

Kori watched you closely. "So how long have you been working with Dick?"

"For a few months now," he replied before you could say anything. "We met on patrol."

"Patrolling," Kori repeated slowly, her smile never reaching her eyes. "How... typical of you."

You didn't need to be an empath like Rachel to notice the subtle venom in her words. But instead of responding with hostility, you simply turned your head toward her with a half-smile, the kind that seemed to say, 'I know exactly what you're doing, but I'm not going to fall for your game.'

“Yes, it was a coincidence… a lucky one.” Your tone was calm, almost innocent, but with a subtle edge. “Though I didn’t think someone like Dick had such a predictable routine as to be considered typical.”

Rachel giggled, covering her mouth. Gar raised his eyebrows, as if watching a tennis match between goddesses.

Dick, uncomfortable but fascinated, tried to shift the focus. “She’s good. Seriously. I’ve worked with many, but few have her analytical skills under pressure,” he said, trying to avoid a fight.

Just as the mood seemed to stabilize, Dick's phone vibrated. He checked it with a frown, and his expression immediately changed.

“We have to go,” he said suddenly, his voice deeper. “There was another attack... but this time the pattern was different. They used a security protocol that only Bruce would recognize.”

“Batman?” Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick nodded. “He and the family have been monitoring similar movements for weeks. It seems this isn't just a local case. What we saw here is just a small part. We need his technology to trace the data back to its source.”

Gar let out a low whistle. “Oh, we’re taking the mysterious beauty to the cave. That should be interesting.”

"Actually, I need you to stay here in case something happens," Dick intervenes, announcing his plan.

"Aren't we going to the Batcave? What a betrayal, bro." Gar started acting like Dick had just said something treasonous, sounding hurt by Dick's refusal. "At least we'll be in the pretty girl's good company."

"Umm..., about that" Dick begins to speak but pauses for a few seconds searching for the right words "She's coming with me" he blurted out quickly so no one could refute his decision.

Saying those words, you turned to the princess from another planet, worried that the vein that was popping out on her forehead from anger wouldn't explode, but she turned and walked away without saying a word.

Dick sighed and looked at you. “Ready to meet the family?”

── .✦

The Batcave was a place that used to impress anyone. If you were already impressed by Titans Tower, this was insane. It was cold, sober, a super-efficient place. But when you went down the elevator with Dick, even the shadows seemed to stop and stare at you.

Upon entering, the first thing you could see were all the Bat Family suits inside those transparent tubes on display, the long tables with super-advanced Wayne Industries technology, and the five key men in Dick's life.

Tim was the first to speak, though he didn't really say anything. He just adjusted his glasses and tilted his head slightly, analyzing you as if you were a fascinating new algorithm that refused to be deciphered.

Jason let out a low, unfiltered laugh, trying not to appear mesmerized by your appearance. He smiled crookedly as his eyes scanned your figure without any shame. While keeping his gaze on you, he murmured to himself, "Now I understand how Bruce felt about working with Selina."

"Sorry, what?" You asked him, trying to understand what he said.

"Why you just shut up, Todd? you look better that way" Dick answered him with a serious look.

"Nothing important,babe, sorry" Jason answered you without taking his look on you.

Damian, from the back, murmured something that only Tim could hear, although what mattered was his posture: arms crossed, brow furrowed, sharp gaze. “I don’t trust anyone who seems like an illusion generated by an AI.” A compliment in Damia language

Bruce, in the background, remained silent. His presence filled everything, like a shadow impossible to ignore. He observed every detail: your posture, your body language, the contact you maintained with Dick. His judgment was an invisible sentence in progress, but not immediate. He analyzed. He measured. He weighed, but there also appeared that slight raise of an eyebrow that, coming from him, was practically an exclamation.

You had caught his attention, and that was weird.

The almost imperceptible sound of smooth wheels on the polished floor broke the tense air. From a darker corner of the cave, Barbara's figure appeared, descending the side ramp. She didn't announce her presence, but everyone noticed her.

She radiated control and serenity. Her red hair was perfectly combed, and his gaze was as sharp as an arrow. she stopped at a safe distance, not getting too close.

“You don't usually bring unannounced visitors,” she said finally. Her tone was gentle, but laden with invisible layers: courtesy, analysis… and something harder to define. Jealousy, perhaps, disguised as professionalism.

You could feel her gaze moving from bottom to top, not at all subtle . Your boots, your curves, the contours of your face. Everything. There was no shame or dissimulation in her eyes; only an impassive assessment that bordered on the hostile.

You were simply beautiful, you made everyone who stood next to you look ridiculous, and she definitely wasn't having it.

Dick turned to her with a half smile. “She’s not a visitor. She’s working with us on this.”

Barbara slowly lowered her gaze to where her hand still rested on your hip. Then she studied you from head to toe, unashamed, and her eyes returned to yours.

Barbara held your gaze as firmly as she held her reputation. There was no wavering in her eyes, but no sympathy either. Just silent judgment, as if trying to decide whether you were a threat, a distraction… or both at once.

“I guess that's for Bruce to decide,” she finally said in a not-so-friendly tone, turning her chair slightly toward her, although she didn't take her eyes off you completely.

Bruce finally spoke.

“Good. If you're here, it's because Dick thinks it's necessary. The least you can do is prove it.”

You turned to face him and nodded professionally. “Of course. Where do I start?”

And so, without further validation, you integrated into the cave as if you had always belonged there... even though not everyone was ready to accept it.

And when you headed to your seat, Dick escorted you, placed both hands on your shoulders, and brought his mouth as discreetly as possible close to your ear. "I'm glad I can finally introduce you to everyone" he placed a soft kiss on your head before returning to Bruce.

#imagine dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson smut #dick grayson masterlist #batfam #batfam masterlist #open request #masterlist

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toxicanonymity · 2 years ago

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stuffing.

5.7k words, Joel x f!reader x Tommy | sequel here! Tommy and Joel Masterlist A/N: ONE SHOT. I had to get it out of my system after that Uncle Tommy line I wrote in Left in Lincoln (Narrator: It never got out of her system). Ty to everyone who's been supportive. 🖤 Multiple fic recs at the bottom! WARNINGS: I8+, big girthy age gap, darkish miller bros, dubcon (coaxing/pressure, you aren't sure what Joel allows), use of "daddy," sharing, unsafe p in v (individually and together), oral, jacking off, creampies, cucking, MFM, DP (double vag), light degradation, praise, pet names, foot massage. AU where you don't overthink this fic. You’re happy with Joel, but it’s not a healthy relationship with clear communication and boundaries. Joel carries reader. TW: incidental incest via MFM/DVP - If this isn't for you, please quietly move along.

📢 Orgs to consider donating to for t-giving: alight (refugee support), cultural survival (indigenous rights advocacy)

🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂🍂

Joel squats down with one hand on the back of your chair. He admires your face then cups your cheek. “Gotta do somethin’, baby. Won’t be back tonight.” The casual announcement makes your heart race. He kisses you on the forehead, then stands up.

“What do you mean you won’t be back tonight?”

“It’s okay, baby. Uncle Tommy’s gonna stay with ya.”

Your face gets hot. Tommy tilts his head down and smiles at you from across the breakfast table. He raises his glass of juice in acknowledgement, but you don’t look at him. You look squarely at Joel, caught off guard by his plans.

“Daddy,” you whine. “Just lemme come with you.”

“Ain’t that kinda trip, darlin’.”

“Why can’t he do it?”

Tommy laughs silently and his voice goes up an octave. “What’sa matter, sweetheart? Don’t wanna hang out?” He tilts his head and smiles, then his normal voice returns. “That’s okay.” There's a glimmer in his eye.

Joel grabs his jacket and kisses you goodbye, then says, “Don’t have too much fun without me,” and winks at Tommy. Then Joel's gone, just like that. Your tummy feels nervous as his truck starts, then drives away.

It's Thanksgiving week. You have a lot to be thankful for. Joel loves you and takes good care of you. You have solar power and a nice farm with a secure perimeter. Tommy is visiting for the holiday. You met Tommy long ago, but this week is the first time you've spent much time together.

Joel would kill any other man for touching you, but apparently he's different about Tommy. You're still figuring out how that works. Joel doesn't seem to mind what Tommy sees–or feels–when the three of you are together. But what about when you're alone?

Does Joel know Tommy walked by the bedroom window and saw you undressing? Does he know Tommy came to apologize for that when you were fresh out of the shower, and saw you in a towel? Or that he looked you up and down, asked if Joel was treating you right, then gave a low whistle and adjusted himself before he left? Or that you touched yourself almost as soon as he closed the door?

*******

Last night, Joel put you in Tommy's lap in the armchair to give you a foot massage, and you tried not to react when Tommy got hard. “It's ok,” Tommy whispered with his hands on your hips. He pulled you back against his hard bulge with a soft grunt and it gave you a shock of desire.

“It's ok, darlin,” Joel echoed, kneeling at your feet. Joel placed your heel on his own hardening package as he worked on the ball of your foot.

Tommy's hand cupped your breast and you tensed.

Joel glanced up. “Relax, baby. It's just Uncle Tommy.”

“It's ok,” Tommy whispered again into your hair as his other hand crept up your thigh, higher and higher, until his thumb grazed your panties. Joel continued massaging you, unbothered, then switched to the other foot.

Tommy's thick fingers glided over your panties and you twitched as he felt the dampness. He lifted his hips with a soft grunt, then cleared his throat. “gonna take care of your girl tonight, Joel? She's drippin’ like a faucet.” Your cheeks burned, and Tommy ran his hand down your thigh.

Joel smiled with half his mouth as he glanced up. “makin’ a mess already?” Joel shook his head. “Close your legs, darlin'.”

Your stomach dropped and you stammered, “sorry, uh . . .”

But as soon as you closed your legs, Tommy lifted your dress up, making your whole body tingle with goosebumps. Joel’s face gave away nothing as he looked past you at Tommy. For a moment, you thought Tommy had gone too far. Then Joel hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and Tommy held you back against his chest as Joel slid them off. Joel spread your knees, and Tommy's, and knelt between them, closer.

With his armpits resting over your thighs, Joel looked at your cunt hungrily and spread you open with his thumbs. You tilted your hips for him, feeling yourself gush. “Good girl,” he murmured, then planted his right forearm on your lower belly. With his right fingers pointing down, he ran them through your dripping folds, then drew in a deep breath through his nose before bringing his mouth between your legs.

Joel lapped at your weeping hole and sucked your clit. He fingered you and made out with your cunt like it was just another night, like he was getting ready to fuck you. Meanwhile, Tommy lightly grinded into your ass, breathing warm and wet into your hair and holding you gently in his strong arms as Joel devoured your pussy. Tommy rocked you gently on his lap, rocking you into Joel’s mouth. Joel ate you out at the same rhythm. When you came, Tommy’s arousal pressed harder against you and he grabbed your breast. He cooed, “good girl.”

Joel didn't seem to mind, and it felt really good, but you got self conscious after you finished. Tommy caressed your arm as Joel wiped his mouth off. “I'm sleepy, daddy,” you looked at him with big eyes.

Joel looked at you fondly, squeezed your thigh, and said, “I know, darlin’. Give Uncle Tommy a kiss goodnight.” You turned around and kissed him on the cheek, then mumbled “goodnight” without meeting his eyes.

—

Joel scooped you up in his arms. You went to bed with Joel and only Joel. As soon as he laid you down, you asked, “you're not mad about Tommy touching me?”

“Felt good, didn't it?”

You gave a small nod.

“Nice havin’ four hands.” Joel raised his eyebrows and left it at that.

You eyed the protrusion in his jeans. “I'm comin’, baby,” he reassured you as he unzipped them. He pulled his jeans and boxers down together and his massive erection sprang free. He prowled across the bed, settled between your legs, and you raised your knees, tilting your hips for him. “Good girl,” he whispered as he got himself into place.

“God damn, even wetter now,” he muttered as he gathered your slick on his fingers and wiped it on his stiff cock. His tip prodded your dripping hole, then he pushed inside with a sigh, making you moan as he split you open. Joel bottomed out, and the sound that came out of his chest was somewhere between a grunt and a groan, “Uungghh.” You whimpered in pleasure. Then, through the thin wall, you heard Tommy cum with a deep moan. Joel chuckled, then bowed his head and kissed you, pausing all the way inside.

Joel kissed you softly as he buried his length in you, and your lips broke away only to whimper, “Daddy.”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he whispered into the pillow, right by your ear. “Daddy’s here.” You wrapped your legs around him as he fucked you deep and slow. You imagined Tommy lying behind you, grinding against you, whispering “good girl,” copping a feel as Joel fucked you. You moaned and whimpered under Joel as he brought you to the brink again. Then, as your wet little pussy fluttered around his cock, he groaned and bottomed out to fill you with his seed.

**********

Now it’s morning, Joel's gone, and you're left alone with his brother. His brother with the sweet smile, soft voice, and big dick that felt so hard against you. Don't have too much fun without me, Joel said. . . With a wink. Unsure what to do with that, you avoid Tommy for most of the day, and he doesn't make you hang out with him. He works in the yard and you catch a few glimpses. He gets hot and takes off his flannel, exposing his wifebeater and oversized belt buckle. As he dabs his forehead with his shirt, his bicep swells and the veins on his hand bulge.

Tommy comes in and takes a shower in the other bathroom. There’s a knock on your bedroom door, then it opens. You’re not sure why you didn’t lock it. Tommy’s wearing jeans, boxers, and nothing else. Your eyes linger on his strong chest. He leans with his hand against the door frame. “Think Joel would let me borrow a shirt? Wasn’t plannin’ to work up a sweat,” he chuckles.

Tommy crosses his muscular arms over his thick, bare chest as you get a white t-shirt out of Joel's dresser and toss it to him. Tommy’s jeans ride down as he lifts his arms and puts the shirt on in front of you. He catches you looking as his head comes through the hole, then he rakes his fingers through his curls. A subtle smile forms, his eyes twinkle, and he gives you a little nod before he walks away.

—

Later, you're taking a bath. You sigh as you sink into the water. Then there's a click as the doorknob lock is effortlessly picked. The door opens and Tommy smiles at you with his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He closes the door behind him. The tub squeaks as you quickly pull up your knees to cover your breasts.

“Musta been touchin’ yourself, huh?” he chuckles as he approaches the tub. “Don't stop on my account.” He winks and his eyes fall on your legs. You scooch them closer together in case he can see through the bathwater.

Your chest feels warm. You look down and away.

Tommy takes a seat on the tiled floor in front of the garden tub. “C’mon sweetheart, don't be shy.” his arm moves out of view, unbuttoning his jeans. Your nipples harden. He tilts his head to peek from the side and smiles.

“What do you want?” you ask softly and a low squeak echoes as you shift in the tub.

“Wanna see ya do it. Go on, finish what ya started.”

“I wasn't.”

“There's no shame in it, sweetheart”

You swallow and look down.

He studies your face and repeats, “Nothin' to be ‘shamed of. You know that. Right?”

“Tell your brother that,” you whisper and instantly regret it. You pinch your eyes shut and add, “No, don't. . .Please.”

“Oh shit,” Tommy whispers. “Ya can’t, can ya?”

You barely shake your head, eyes still closed.

Tommy chuckles. “Controlling fucker, ain't he?”

You look at Tommy and your eyes widen with some defiant glimmer of hope. “God damn,” he whispers. “keepin’ his girl from touchin’ herself.” He looks down and shakes his head in disapproval.

He smiles apologetically. “Guess Daddy knows best, huh?” He tugs his jeans off, and you watch unabashed. As his pants come off, his boxers ride down, exposing his short, dark pubic hair. You can’t help but admire the way his thigh muscles swell out from his boxers.

He palms himself over the fabric and raises his eyebrows. “Wanna see it, don’t ya?” He smiles knowingly at you.

You don’t answer. He shows you anyway, pulling the waistband down under his balls. He's neatly trimmed and his balls are big. He's engorged but not fully hard.

“Do me a favor and spit in my hand, sweetheart.” He holds it out in front of you. You look back and forth between his eyes, then his freckles. He's a handsome man. His hand stays there, waiting patiently. You gather saliva in your mouth, tilt your head forward, and let it drop into his palm.

“Good girl,” he murmurs.

He wraps his hand around his cock and You look into the bath water as his eyes devour your body. In the corner of your eye, you can see him at full mast. He breathes heavier, then moves positions. He sits with his right side against the tub, facing you. He strokes himself with his left hand and dips his right hand into the water. You flinch away then try to relax. The backs of Tommy’s fingers graze your calf under the water. You squeeze your thighs together.

“Don't get shy on me now, cupcake.” He reaches behind your calf and touches the back of your leg, near your ass. Your legs involuntarily part. He wouldn't do anything Joel wouldn't like. Would he? Somehow the tension of the situation is only making you want it more. His fingers creep between your legs and caress your inner thigh crease. He sucks in a chest full of air, then gets on his knees. He brings his left hand to your mouth again for lube.

“Good girl.” The squelch of his hand around his cock echoes with the new moisture. He searches your face as half his mouth breaks into a smile. He holds your inner thigh as he jacks off. Then he straightens your leg so he can see your body better. “God damn,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice is sharpened by the tile. He rubs your thigh, spits into his other hand, keeps tugging at his cock, then when he's close, he gets up and sits on the edge of the tub. It’s impossible not to look at his stiff, angry cock, glistening with your combined saliva. You still have one knee bent above the water–the knee furthest from him.

He pumps himself and stands up to face you. “You wanna know how I taste?” He asks.

You hesitantly shake your head no, unsure if it would be crossing a line. “Okay, sweetheart. Don't have to.” He aims his cock at the water over your lap, then closes his eyes and groans. “Ohh, God. ohhhh,” it lands sharply in your ears as he erupts. Silky ropes of cum dance in the water, some of it wrapping around your thigh. When he's finished, he pulls his boxers back up, then his jeans, but doesn't zip them up. He sits on the edge of the tub again, leans over it, and kisses you on the forehead. Then he whispers in your ear, “I'll make dinner.”

—-

You eat together at the kitchen table. There's a cornucopia centerpiece. The scant conversation is about winter and gardening, until he reaches under the table and squeezes your thigh. You want him so bad, you blurt out, “what’s happening?”

He replies, “Huh?” with his hand still on your thigh.

You search Tommy’s face. “You said it yourself, he’s controlling.” You shift in your chair and he takes his hand back. You continue, “Why doesn’t he care if you. . .”

“Ah,” Tommy smiles down at his plate. “Well. . .” He turns his chair to face you instead of the table. He sits back and manspreads, and his hands rest on his thighs. “I’m just another body to love ya with, sugar.” His eyes drift to the cornucopia. “And I sure am thankful for it.”

His eyes return to you, and your heart flutters.

“He can love on ya when he ain’t here, even.” One of his hands slides up his own thigh to rest closer to his groin. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and nods, admiring you as he slowly exhales. His eyes are darker.

A desperate want is stirring in your belly. It seems too good to be true. You abruptly announce, “I’m tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“Okay, cupcake. C’mere,” Tommy opens his arms.

You stand between his legs, bend forward, put your arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. As you pull your head back, his hands on your hips pull you into sitting on his thigh. He brings a hand to your cheek, and it melts you. “I wouldn’t do nothin’ he wouldn’t want,” he reassures you.

You nod.

“End up on the wrong side of the dirt,” he chuckles. When you don’t laugh, he clarifies, “Me, not you. He’d never hurt ya, cupcake.”

Then he cradles your head with both hands, studying your eyes and lips. He wets his lips, and your lips part, watching him. Half his mouth twitches. You’re warm all over. He leans in and looks at your mouth again, getting closer. When you can practically feel the heat of his lips on yours, you close the gap and feel a rush of need when your mouths come together. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender. You pull away after two seconds.

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

—---

You lie in bed missing Joel, wishing he would come home. You feel more at ease with the two of them. Your mind drifts to Tommy. At this rate, you wish he would stay. You’re almost asleep when the bedroom door creaks open.

“Daddy?” When you turn over, the moonlit silhouette is Tommy's. He's only wearing boxers and there's already a tent in them. He lifts the covers, and the mattress dips under his weight.

You ask, “What are you doing?”

“'S’okay, cupcake, I told ya. Promise he won’t be mad.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Your daddy and I been sharin’ our toys for fifty years.”

Your stomach turns, but Tommy adds, “You're the most special of all, ya know.” He scoots closer. “Never seen him in love before.”

You feel your body warming and opening up for him.

“He wants ya to get what ya need, baby,” Tommy whispers.

Your heart pounds.

“Even told me your secret word,” Tommy adds.

“He did?”

“If ya really want me to stop, all ya gotta say is Appleseed.” How would he know that unless Joel told him?

You turn away from Tommy and he doesn't waste any time before spooning you. His strong arm rests over you and his hand cups a breast. He kisses your neck, soft and wet. The thick, warm rod in his boxers grazes your lower back as he tongues your delicate skin. He kisses your neck with increasing passion, and he kneads your breast. Then his arousal fully presses against you through his boxers and your nightgown.

He curves his body around you and pulls you back into him. He sighs and his engorged cock twitches against your crack, giving you a surge of desire. He slides his hand into your nightgown from the top to palm your naked breast and sighs as he grinds against you.

“God damn, sweetheart,” he whispers as your nipple hardens against his palm. He takes his hand out of your nightgown and cups your breast on top of it again, then his hand slowly slides down your sleepwear, feeling every inch of your torso before arriving at your bare thigh. He nudges his fingers under the hem of your nightgown and slides his hand up your thigh. When his hand reaches your pussy, your top leg lifts ever so slightly, spreading your thighs to make room for him. You're not wearing underwear.

“Good girl,” he whispers. You’re aching to have him inside you. “Drippin’ for me ain't ya, baby?”

He circles your clit, and you moan softly. There's a wet spot on his boxers pressing into you. “Fuck” he mutters and backs up his hips. “Damnit, I’m drippin’, too,” he chuckles. “Takin’ these off.”

After taking his boxers off, Tommy hovers over you and you’re still on your side. Tommy's hand comes back to your breast, and you turn your face toward his. Your lips meet, and after two seconds, you don’t pull away. His lips push yours open and you accept his tongue. You breathe through your nose as he licks into your mouth.

Tommy pulls back and reads your face, then gives you another soft kiss before settling in behind you, against you, curled around you again. His naked cock is smooth and warm against your ass. He grinds against you for a minute as he massages your breast and moans into your hair. Then his hand drifts down between your legs and he groans at how wet you are.

“I gotta be in ya, sugar.” Tommy backs up and wedges his rigid cock between your thighs, and it glides smoothly through your mess of arousal. His tip reaches your clit. You’re throbbing needily. Your hips tilt on their own, offering him your hole.

“Fuck,” Tommy says as his tip finds your entrance. “Fuck. That’s right, baby.” he pushes his tip into you. You're dying for it, but you're still a little tense and it's making you even tighter.

“God damn, you feel good. Can't imagine when he first–.” He pushes into you, trying to let your body relax and accommodate his girth. “Oh shit, mmm–that musta been–Fuck.” He pushes a little further. “Relax for me, baby.” He withdraws some then thrusts further into you. “Relax, sugar,” he whispers. “Just breathe.” You take a deep breath and relax. The last of him slides in and he bottoms out. “Ohh, good girl. There we go.” He palms your breast and you melt into him. “We’re right here, baby.”

He’s got you speared on his cock, spread apart by his girth. “God damn. What a good girl.”

With his cock fully sheathed, his thick fingers rub circles on your nipple. You moan, twitching around the new cock buried in the hot center of your body. “Mmm,” he growls into your hair, still not moving. You need friction. He breathes deeply. “breathe with me, baby.” You breathe with him and feel yourself relax more.

“Please,” you whine, beginning to move your hips.

His voice is husky. “God damn. Look at ya, sugar. Fuckin’ yourself on Uncle Tommy’s cock?”

“Please,” you whimper again.

“What's your daddy gonna think?”

Your walls twitch and your heart skips a beat. “You said–”

“Yeah. . .He'll be fine, sweetheart..” Tommy begins to move his hips. “He’d be proud’a ya, takin’ this cock like such a good girl.”

He begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm, breathing heavily and cursing softly. You begin to relax with his hand mapping the front of your body, and his stiff cock thrusting into you. He palms your tit again and your head tilts back against him. He kisses your neck, and your body opens for him even more. Your cunt swallows him up with every thrust.

“Ohh, Joel's a lucky man,” he pants with his dick easily sliding into you, making you whole. “Shit, I'm lucky, too–uggh.” You push back on him as he fills you with his stiff cock.

He asks, “Little harder?”

“Mm,” you nod.

He slams into you and you moan.

“Yeah, that's our girl.”

Soon, you’re lost in the pleasure of Tommy’s thick cock pounding you.

The front door unlocks and you freeze. You’re both facing away from the bedroom door. “‘S’okay,” Tommy reminds you. He slows his hips, then bottoms out and pauses. “C’mere,” he wraps his arms around you and with his cock still inside, he rolls over on his back, then sets you down on your other side, arms still wrapped around you, his cock only sliding out half way in the process.

As soon as you’re settled, he bottoms out again with a soft moan. You and Tommy are both facing the bedroom door now. The covers are down around your waist. The handle moves, then the door opens. The silhouette is Joel with his sleeves rolled up.

—---

As Joel approaches the bed, the moonlight hits him and his face is dark.

“She’s so good, Joel,” Tommy pants, with you still full of his cock.

Joel comes to the bed and crouches down. “God damn.” Joel gently takes your jaw in his hand and tilts his head. He studies your face, then his eyes land on yours affectionately. “Couldn't go one day, could ya?” He smiles with his eyes and relief washes over you.

“M’sorry daddy,” you sigh. “Are you mad?”

“No, baby.” Tommy is fucking you slowly. “I ain't mad.” Joel slowly stands up and palms himself over his jeans as he watches your body move to the slow rhythm of Tommy’s thrusts.

“Really?”

“Baby, I keep ya stuffed so full’a cock. . . can't blame ya for needin’ it.”

“Yeah,” you whimper.

“That's what Uncle Tommy's here for,” Tommy whispers.

“Now I get to see ya,” Joel says “All of ya,” Joel gently pulls the covers all the way off. Then Joel tugs up at the hem of your nightgown and kneels down to take it off you.

You try to move forward, reaching for Joel, but Joel puts his hand on your bare chest and Tommy pulls you back, bottoming out again with a moan.

“Want yours,” you whimper.

“Shhh. You're gonna get it.”

You watch Joel take off all his clothes, and as he does it, he watches you moving at a slow rhythm. When Joel’s naked, he spits in his hand. He stands by the bed watching you get fucked by his brother, taking in the view as he squeezes his cock.

“Daddy, please,” you whine.

Joel sits down on the bed. Tommy scooches back to make more room and brings you back with him, still impaled on his cock. Joel lies down and faces you. He gets right up against you, and the first thing he does is kiss you. His hard cock lays against your clit and mound, throbbing for you. You moan into his mouth as Tommy’s cock drags slowly inside you from behind.

Joel’s arm wedges between your back and Tommy’s chest, grabbing hold of you. Joel nudges you upward. Tommy takes the hint and pulls out. You wrap your leg over Joel’s hip. His eyes scan your face, marveling at your feral want. Joel’s hand, still on your back, slides down your ass and hooks under it, between your legs, feeling your sopping wet cunt from the back. “God damn, baby. This all you or did Uncle Tommy cum already?”

“Not yet,” Tommy answers.

Joel’s tip slides through your folds, then he pulls back and notches himself at your entrance. He moves his hand to your hip, and pushes into you with a sigh. You're so wet and aroused, he sinks all the way into you. “Fuck,” Joel breathes. “oh, yeah—ugghh–swallowed me right up, baby.” He marvels at how relaxed you are. With Joel’s arm out of the way, Tommy’s tummy returns flush against your back, with his hard, wet cock pressing against your ass cheek. He grabs your tit.

Joel buries his cock in you. “Oh baby, you love this, don’t ya?”

You nod. “Love your cock, daddy.”

“You’re takin’ it so good, baby. Think you’re wet enough for—ohh, darlin’.” He grinds against you, deep inside you. “You wanna ride this cock, baby?”

You nod. Joel slides out of you and you whimper at the loss as he rolls onto his back. Joel lies face up and holds his cock for you. He whispers, “C’mere baby,” but you're already on your way.

You straddle him and sink right down on him with a whimpered, “daddy,” then bend forward, putting your tits against Joel’s chest. Tommy’s slowly stroking himself and watching.

“C’mere,” Joel whispers and reaches for your head. He pulls your face into his for a passionate kiss as you grind into him with his cock buried in you. It only takes a few seconds of grinding into Joel for your walls to spasm.

“Oh god,” he mutters as you contract around him. “oh—oh, God, baby.”

As you finish coming on Joel's cock, your whole body relaxes. You’re even wetter and more open than you were before. “Now you’re–oh yeah, you’re good,” Joel whispers to himself with his hands on the backs of your thighs. You both breathe for a moment and you begin to slowly move again.

Joel licks his finger then reaches over your ass, his hand approaching your hole from behind. You stop moving as he gently wedges the thick digit into your cunt from the top so his fingernail is against his cock. “Yeah,” he whispers, moving the finger around, checking how much you'll stretch. “Yeah,” he says as his head turns and he glances at Tommy.

Joel cups your cheek and reads your face. “Can I fuck ya with two cocks, baby?”

You spasm with an aftershock. “It won't fit,” you protest, but the thought of it turns you on. Your hips begin to move again. You're taking his cock and his finger.

“Can we find out, baby doll?” Joel asks.

You slowly move on his cock and finger, with your face close to his. Your clit is throbbing. “You aren't worried to stretch me?”

“You'll snap right back, baby,” Joel pants as he wedges another finger in with his cock.

“I dunno if I can,” you whine.

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let's find out.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Tommy gets up on his knees and gets close to Joel's shoulder, near your head.

“Get it nice and wet,” Joel tells you.

Without getting off Joel's cock, you turn your head enough to accept Tommy's cock into your mouth. You let saliva pool under your tongue, then swirl it all over his shaft until he's dripping. “alright” Tommy whispers, then you deposit the rest of the saliva from under your tongue. “Alright, don't make me cum, sweetheart.”

Tommy straddles Joel’s legs behind you while Joel hugs you close.

Tommy nudges your occupied hole. Joel slowly removes his fingers and Tommy’s tip finds its place between the first cock and the back wall of your cunt. Once Tommy's tip is nestled there, Joel’s fingers leave you and both his hands hold your sides.

“Deep breath,” Tommy whispers. You draw in a chest full of air, and when you begin to exhale, he begins to push in.

It burns for a moment as Tommy’s cockhead breaches your dripping hole, but his smooth, wet cock feels better than the fingers. “Fuck,” Tommy mutters as he pushes further.

“Daddy,” you whimper. “It's a lot.”

“I know it is, darlin’, you're doin’ so good.”

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. You take deep breaths and try to relax. The burn fades as your body catches up. The stretch is only a little uncomfortable around their shafts at the very edge of you. Deeper inside, you feel a fullness you couldn't have imagined.

“Good,” Joel says. “doin’ real good, baby. You wanna keep goin’?”

You nod. You take deep breaths and bow your head as Tommy sinks in a little more.

“God damn, baby. Packed full of it, ain’t ya?”Joel marvels. The look on his face makes you twitch.

You lock eyes with Joel, bite your lip, and nod. Joel tilts his hips down toward the bed and you groan into Joel’s chest as Tommy pushes into you as much as he can. The burn is fading, and the sense of fullness overwhelms you in the best way. It's not just physical. You close your eyes and savor it. Joel’s hips begin to move. He slides against your front wall, nudging just the right place, making you whimper.

Tommy slides in rhythm, and his breathing is labored. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Shit-–ugggh.” He warns Joel, “I'm pretty close, brother.”

Joel looks like he's making a calculation behind his eyes. Then he reads your face. “You want double the cum, baby?”

You nod.

“That's my girl,” Joel whispers. “That’s my perfect lil girl.” His hips wiggle under you.

“Ohh-fff-uuggh” Tommy pants and pulls back.

Joel moves his hips and slides within your stuffed hole. Tommy stays still while Joel thrusts a few small strokes and you groan. Tommy pushes forward and you sigh. Joel kisses you. You push back and Tommy slides forward. Joel does another slow thrust upward, then Tommy says “fuck,” pushes another inch, then begins to cum. “Oh god,” Tommy groans. His dick pulses and pulses in your packed cunt as his warm release coats your walls and Joel's cock.

“Jesus,” Tommy sighs, then begins to pull out of you. The burn returns as the crown of his tip crests your entrance on its way out. Then you whimper in relief. There's a sense of loss as your body slowly draws itself back in, but it's a major comfort still being wrapped around Joel's cock. Tommy lies down on his back to recover.

“You did so good baby,” Joel brushes your cheek and his hips lift as your body adjusts itself back to his girth. “Ya like havin’ two cocks?” It’s the first time you haven’t felt packed full from Joel’s cock alone, and your temples feel weak.

You nod hesitantly. “Do I still feel good?”

“Oh darlin’, you feel so good,” he breathes and the tension melts away from your face.

“Yeah, I liked it,” you whisper. “But I only need one.”

He cradles your head and it feels like it's just the two of you. “Love you so much,” he whispers, and brings your face to his again, rolling his hips under you. He kisses you deeply and grinds up into you with his cock all the way inside. Your mouth breaks away with a moan, and your hips begin to move, bringing an obscene squelching sound with them.

“Oh darlin’,” Joel whispers, and he pulls you back into a kiss. He grunts into your mouth with a sharp thrust upward, and the tension boils over. You begin to clench around him. Joel breaks the kiss with a shudder, then he moans your name as you flutter around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips and he pulls you flush, then pulses with a groan. “Ohhhh, fuck—ohhh,” he sighs as he releases a massive load, more than doubling the cum inside you. The rhythm of Joel’s cock soothes you as his load combines with Tommy's.

—--

You stay on Joel’s cock for a few minutes, and he strokes your back, praising you quietly. Tommy falls asleep. Eventually you sigh and whine, "I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Ok, baby,” Joel whispers and begins to help you off his cock.

When you come back, Joel helps you into bed between them. You face Joel and he kisses you good night. You feel thankful for him as you drift off to sleep.

—-

sequel here

Thank you for reading 🖤 I know people want updates on certain Joels but I haven't been having the easiest time and sometimes writing something new is lower-pressure.

Uncle Tommy is a brain worm I've had for a couple months ever since I blurted it out in another series.

I have another recent Joel x reader ft. Tommy with a different set miller bros: leopard print

And a darker Tommy x reader here: birds of prey

-----

FIC RECS

If you like brotherly sharing, a couple of my personal favorites are

I can be your pretty girl part 4, and part 5 by (RIP) walkintotheriveranddisappear who sadly inactivated

Liquid Gold and its prequel Two Hands to Hold by @gasolinerainbowpuddles,

If you like the idea of daddy/uncle, @bonezone44 has Joel, tommy, and Ezra.

More brotherly sharing - Smack My Bitch Up, a raider AU by @milla-frenchy.

If you wanna suck Tommy's big balls, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin has you covered.

More fic recs (and more to come) on my rec blog @toxicrecs.

Alright I tried to bring my tag list back and something went wrong so I might have to remove them from the post sorry 🥲

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader x tommy miller #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #uncle!tommy #uncle!tommy miller #daddy!joel miller #uncle tommy #uncle tommy miller

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alexandriasarchives · 3 months ago

Text

Finally

Rick Grimes x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Soft core smut

Summary: There had been a connection between you and Rick that seemed obvious to everyone. You notice he never lets himself act on it and start to wonder if it's the age gap that is keeping him from letting go with you. One night on a supply run that all changes.

There had been something going on between you and Rick for a while now. Touches to tender to be friendly. The tension behind the eye contact you two shared was something even the group couldn't miss. You had been told countless times that he was obsessed with you, yet you couldn't bring yourself to make the first move. You cared about Rick and that's only grown into something more real over the years.

He decided to take you on a run alone with him like he often had. You two had been on the road from Alexandria for hours now. You knew that if you were tired being a passenger he had to be exhausted being a driver.

“We should find somewhere to spend the night?”

He looked over briefly and contemplatively before turning his eyes back on the road and nodding hesitantly in agreement. “Yeah, we should…”. While you both scouted through the dusty car windows for an abode to spend the night your mind wandered. Maybe it was the age gap that kept Rick holding back with you. He was significantly older with you being only in your twenties. Was there a chance that he thought of you as too young or immature? The car slowing and pulling onto a gravel driveway towards a cute and slightly modern cabin lodged between the trees along the road broke you from your thoughts. The roof was dark and slanted in comparison to the horizontal warm wood logs along the walls of the cabin, there are large windows wrapping around the front partially hidden by the large posted wrap-around porch. Dust has collected on a lot of it but you can tell at one time this had to be a loved vacation home.

You both simultaneously push open the car doors and step out and take a second to look over the cabin and property. Rick rests his elbow on top of the car and looks over to you. The air and tension is thick. It always is between the two of you.

“Give me a second to secure it.” He says, eyes raking over your face and chest before refocusing on the structure before him. He draws his gun from the holster on his hip and proceeds to walk around the perimeter of the cabin looking in every available window. Then slowly and quietly makes his way onto the creaky front porch. He bangs on the door frame a few times and then after hearing nothing he cautiously enters the cabin. The thought of him, gun drawn, checking each room, arms taut and bulging. Face full of focus and determination was enough to make your thighs squeeze together as you waited by the car for him.

“It's clear” Rick shouts from the front porch, breaking you from your thoughts.

You start grabbing the gear from the trunk when you feel his presence behind you. You could always feel him before you see him. Right now it felt like his eyes were burning into your backside. You turn and lift everything out when he instinctively breaks from whatever trance he seemingly was in to grab the bags from your hands. His hands brush yours for a second and the eye contact doesn't break as the bags transfer from your hands to his. The tension is palpable as you both silently enter the cabin. You take it upon yourself to rifle through some drawers and end up finding some candles and start giving some light to the place as Rick thoroughly scavenges through everything. Besides the typical world ending clutter it was pretty clean and the candles were making it quite cozy.

You pass a shelf full of books and grab one and dramatically plop down onto the couch in the open concept living room letting out a heavy breath and look at Rick, who is already looking at you. A common occurrence that you've started to grow used to.

“I'll take the couch” You say, noting the obvious lack of a second bedroom.

“No.” He says flatly, eyes scanning over your frame as he broods on over to stand at the foot of the couch where you had swung your feet up to rest. You're shocked at his tone but mostly over him treating you like you were a child. You lift your upper body to look at him and start to say

“I said I’ll-”

“And I said no…” He interjects and continues “You're not sleeping on a different level, alone” He looks at you flatly, giving you his best “Im serious” look. You narrow your eyes in response, and lay back down and roll over to sleep in defiance. You know it's childish but it's apparent that's what he thinks of you anyway so you don't care at this point.

You nestle in and close your eyes waiting to hear his footsteps go up the stairs to the loft bedroom, but instead they sound like he's rounding the couch until he's standing directly above you. That's when you feel him lean down and plant his hands on either side of you. You keep your eyes closed as he leans in even further until his lips hover at your ear. You can feel his breath fanning over the side of your face when he says.

“I said you’re not sleeping alone down here, and i fucking meant it.”

And with that he moves one arm to cradle your legs and the other your torso and he lifts you up effortlessly and starts walking you princess style up the stairs to the bedroom. Your eyes are now very much open and as wide as saucers as you stare at the side of his face with that determined look plastered all over it, and if you didn't know better a bit of smugness. Heat instantly pools in your stomach as you reach the top of the stairs.

He lays you on the bed and reluctantly lets go to return to standing upright. He looks absolutely lost in you and you’re loving every second. You can't help but notice that the only thing to be heard is you both practically panting. He shifts on his feet and you relish in being able to make “the Rick Grimes” a tad uncomfortable. He looks absolutely soft and slightly forlorn right now you can see the mental battle he's having with himself right now. You decide to test the waters

“Are you sleeping in the bed too?” Unable to take your eyes off his and seemingly him not being able to do the same he hesitates looking for the right answer in your eyes when suddenly he finds it.

He speechlessly nods his head, slowly but surely, “yes”.

You shyly smile and softly pat the space beside you on the king sized bed, only breaking his gaze for a moment.

His eyes quickly rake up and down your body and he softly smirks, and starts undoing his holster and belt now seemingly unable to look you in the eyes. However you are unable to look away, from the way his hands expertly undo his belt and his forearms flex while doing so is enough for you to push your thighs together. You watch him walk around to the empty side of the bed and hesitantly prop himself on the bed. With a deep sigh he tips his head back against the headboard and looks up at the ceiling.

The room feels like the air is being sucked out of it. Rick keeps his head tipped back and eyes fixated on the ceiling. He's breathing deeply and you cannot bring yourself to look away. The candlelight flickers across his sharp features making him look even more rugged and untouchable than usual. Yet here he is, sitting mere inches away from you in the same bed.

This is torture.

Laying with the man you want, but can’t have.

“Can you tell me what it is?” you say barely above a whisper. Risking every brick of friendship you've built over the years. Not being able to take the longing and feeling utterly desperate.

His eyes flutter closed and he takes a deep breath.

“What?” he replies gravelly and softly, eyes still closed and face towards the ceiling. He rubs a hand over his mouth and stubble almost like he’s holding the words in his mouth.

“You know… what it is about me that isn't …appealing…it's probably not appealing to anyone else either and I'm tired of being alone. i don't want other guys to-”

His hand rips away from his mouth like a bandage. His head and attention snap over to you and is now laser focused. He reaches his hands over and rips you from your side of the bed bringing you to him. You're face to face now and you can feel your breaths mixing with each exhale. Your body is on fire as his hands rest on the curve of your hips. He's looking at you so hard you're worried he might see right through you. His blue eyes are pleading the question before his lips can ask

“What other guys?”

You're too stunned to speak.

“You don't need other guys…” he continues, tone low, gruff, and twangy as lips ghost just under your ear and he gives what feels like a promise. His hands travel slowly over your clothed sides and lower back.

In all the time you’ve known Rick the two of you had never been this close. It was intoxicating.

You’re both staring deeply in eachothers eyes. Not sure of where to take this next, or how deep this should go. You decide to ask what’s nagging at you,

“What does that mean?…” his hand grips tighter on your lower back and you can feel his chest deeply rising and falling against yours. You continue still in shock of the moment and the feeling of him “What does this mean?”

“it means…” he starts, you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “that i can’t stay away from you any longer and i don’t want to anymore…”

Your heart is racing and a part of you wonders if he can feel it.

“I was worried you were to young… that you wouldn’t want anything to do with me anyway, or that i'd be taking something away from you by being with you but…selfishly, I don't care anymore...i want whatever you are willing to give me. i want you.”

You stare at him eyes wide in disbelief. You can think of only one thing. What you’ve dreamt of doing for years.

You tip your chin up and slowly bring your lips into his. Giving him every chance to back out.

But he doesn’t.

He cradles the back of your head and furiously seals the gap between you.

It's passionate and it's like you need each other to breathe. Words that have never been able to come out flow beautifully from his lips to yours.

Your hands are fisting his shirt while his fingers thread through your hair. Your legs are now intertwined with his and this is the first time anything has felt right in years. It’s overwhelmingly perfect.

And when you pull away from his lips for some desperately needed air, the look in his blue eyes, and the way his lips curl into soft smile gives you the impression that he is in fact thinking the same thing.

#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes smut #twd fanfiction #twd #twd rick #rick #rick grimes x fem!reader #one bed trope #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction

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woso-dreamzzz · 11 months ago

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Ma'am IV

Aitana Bonmatí x Royal!Reader

Summary: There's a lot of security

"Is it just me or was it so difficult to find a parking spot today?" Marta asked as she and Caro came into the locker room," There's a bunch of black SUVs everywhere plus some flashy red sports car."

"There's a bunch of guys in suits checking out the place," Irene said, hanging up her jacket and changing into the training shirt," I saw them earlier."

"Maybe they're like undercover police officers?" Keira offered up," Maybe they busted some drug ring?"

"At our club?" Patri dismissed, one brow lifted in judgement," We're not the mob, Keira."

"I don't know," Pina teased," It would be one way to sort out our money situation."

"It's not police and we're not the mob," Alexia said in greeting, straight from a meeting. She returned to her cubby, switching out her shirt for her training jersey and scraping her hair back into a ponytail.

"Do you know something about this?"

"Yes. I do."

Silence for a moment.

"Do you want to share it?"

Alexia shrugged, head jerking across the room. "Why don't you ask Aitana?"

In sync, everyone turned to look at Aitana, who shrunk a little under the weight of all the stares.

"Aitana?" Keira asked," What's going on?"

"Well...I...I may have gotten married?"

"To the princess?!"

"Yes..."

"You got married? To the princess?"

"Keira, I just said that."

Keira slumped into her cubby, mouth hanging open. "Sorry, I just can't believe it. I mean...Wait, does this mean you're a princess now too?"

That was what set everyone else off, all the way from the changing onto the pitch.

The suited men were practically everywhere, stern looking, muscular men with earpieces in and eyes that pierced the soul.

"Are they going to be here the entire time?" Keira asked, head swivelling to count all of them.

"Not everyone," Aitana replied," Apparently they'll all be here for the first week, setting up perimeters and checking security and then it should go down."

"Should being the key word," You voice behind everyone caused a few people to shriek in shock, another two people jumping out of their skin.

For someone that travelled with so much security, you tended to appear out of nowhere.

"But these guys can be a little overkill sometimes. You should have seen them checking out our new place. They kept us in the car for nearly three hours. I nearly got heatstroke."

"We wouldn't have let that happen, Ma'am," The tallest, most muscular looking of the assembled security said.

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, sure."

Aitana let out a huff of amusement. "I thought you were in meetings today."

"They ended. I wanted to see you."

"You saw me a few hours ago."

You pouted. "What? I can't miss my wife now?"

"You're very clingy," Aitana said even as she moved into your arms, pulling your arms over her shoulders and resting her head on your chest.

"Yes, I know. It's my most appealing attribute."

"She's the clingy one?" Keira muttered as Aitana adjusted your arms so they drew her closer.

"They're just as bad as each other," Pina said back," How long until this marriage thing blows up? I thought royal weddings were meant to be massive."

"It was an elopement," You said, mouth curving into a grin when Pina and Keira realised you could hear their mutterings," But I'm sure there'll be an official announcement. I think my father is thinking 'small and intimate' for it. Something like 'done with close friends and family'." You shrugged. "You know, something official sounding rather than..."

"Rather than random beach in Greece."

"Greece?" Pina asked," Sounds romantic."

"So romantic," You told her earnestly," Especially when Aitana did this thing with her-"

Your wife's hand clamped over your mouth and you fell silent.

"Random beach in Greece?" Keira said, looking straight at Aitana with a raised brow.

Aitana's face turned red. "It was very romantic."

#woso x reader #aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmati #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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wokealqaeda · 1 month ago

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Ronald Merle McNutt (May 23, 1987 – August 31, 2020) was a 33-year-old American US Army Reserve veteran from New Albany, Mississippi, who died from suicide by shooting himself under his chin during a livestream on Facebook. Recordings of the livestream went viral on various social media platforms due to its shock value.

The case became notable for the callous attitude expressed toward McNutt's death by some Internet users, as well as Facebook's slow response to the video, which had been shared to numerous other social media platforms and amassed a large view-count before finally being taken down. As of 2025, the video continues to circulate online, with digitally altered versions appearing on social media.

Born on May 23, 1987, McNutt was a resident of New Albany, Mississippi, and had served in the United States Army Reserve, including in Iraq. He worked at a Toyota plant. He had a variety of mental health problems, such as depression as well as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), the latter of which was a direct consequence of his time served in the Iraq War in 2007 and 2008. Some reports also said that he lost his job during the COVID-19 pandemic, though Rolling Stone disputed this. McNutt was a Christian who regularly attended church.

On August 31, 2020, McNutt began a livestream on Facebook Live. His best friend, Joshua Steen, noticed the stream. He told Rolling Stone that McNutt "often used a livestreaming platform as his form of therapy", regularly conversing with viewers on various topics, but he noticed almost immediately that this particular livestream was "different" from the others, as McNutt "appeared to be heavily-inebriated and despondent", and appeared to fire a rifle into the air at one point.

Steen claimed that he attempted to intervene numerous times, particularly. when McNutt misfired the rifle hoping that Facebook would cut off the stream and end the video-feed, preventing people from seeing into McNutt's home while Steen sought police intervention. Facebook refused to cut the stream, claiming that the stream was not in any violation of its platform's guidelines, as McNutt had not yet attempted suicide.

As the stream went on, McNutt's cell-phone rang frequently. The last call he received was from his ex-girlfriend, which he answered, leading to a brief argument between the two. After she ended the call, McNutt took hold of the gun and addressed the audience for the final time, saying his last words, "Hey guys, I guess that's it". He then aimed the rifle under his chin and fatally shot himself.

About a second before his suicide, the phone he had left on his desk began to ring. The stream was captured by multiple viewers.

The New Albany Police Department had been called to the scene during the livestream, but did not enter McNutt's apartment until after they heard the fatal gunshot; his phone was still ringing as officers searched the scene. Police Chief Chris Robertson reported that his officers had secured the perimeter and evacuated nearby residents before attempting to communicate with McNutt via speakerphone, to no avail. Robertson concluded that McNutt was "in such a mental state nobody could've gotten through to him".

McNutt made a final post to Facebook shortly before starting the livestream. It read, "Someone in your life needs to hear that they matter. That they are loved. That they have a future. Be the one to tell them".

Two days after his suicide, McNutt was buried in Snowdown Church of Christ Cemetery in Prentiss County, Mississippi.

#tccblr #tcc tumblr #ronnie mcnutt

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lay-z · 5 months ago

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🎀 Day 16 – Driving home for Christmas

A continuation of 🍷 Day 8 – Dinner time, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: When Christmas comes around again, it’s Kyle this time around who asks his Captain if he can come over for dinner.

Pairing: husband!John Price x wife!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Kyle's POV; curvy!pregnant!Reader (some physical descriptions); dom!Price; hurt/comfort; breeding kink; pregnant sex/pregnancy kink; objectification; threesome; unprotected sex; choking; fluff/aftercare

Word count: 3.2k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Kyle feels like he’s having a very vivid déjà-vu.

When he raises his fist and knocks on the heavy cedar wood door, flashbacks of last year’s Christmas Eve are triggered and playing in front of his inner eye as he glances up at the Christmas lights and decorations adorning Price's large house.

Flashbacks and memories that leave his face burning despite the biting cold nipping at his skin and, admittedly, his cock stirring hotly in his chic beige pants.

He hasn’t seen you since the summer, roughly five months ago, when Price had invited the team and Laswell for a barbecue in his backyard. The moment you'd stolen him away for a quick make out session in the laundry room after the Captain, standing by the grill, had given his blessing with a curt nod, was the last time someone else had touched him intimately.

And now, Kyle still catches himself having a desperate wank to the phantom feeling of your delicate hand wrapped around his throbbing prick and your wonderful lips against  his sensitive neck, whispering sweet praises into his ear like you did way back in the laundry room in your perfect house all while your husband (and his boss) knew what was happening. And every time, Kyle spills his load all over his own calloused knuckles with a pathetic whine, wishing they were yours instead.

Oh, bloody fucking hell, he’s such a goner for you.

His jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth, swallowing thickly; dark eyes zeroed in on the front door while his other fist tightens around the expensive bottle of red wine he brought for you.

Kyle checks the time on his Rolex. 17:56 p.m., punctual as always.

He tugs on his winter coat before adjusting the front of his pants once more; uncomfortable to stand in front of the threshold of another man’s house, obviously bricked up for said man’s wife before he even gets the chance to say his greetings.

When the door opens eventually, Kyle’s heart is already thudding harshly against his ribcage with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, though it stutters briefly when he is greeted by Captain Price’s mug instead of yours.

“Garrick,” the older man greets curtly, steel blue eyes flickering to glance past the Sergeant briefly.

And Kyle knows that look too well, knows his Captain is being extra vigilant for some reason, sweeping the perimeter, even though it’s his own estate and if someone else were to be around, his security system would surely pick up on it. Still, due to their jobs and shared experiences, both men know to never get too comfortable.

Eventually, Price opens the front door wider and steps aside in a non-verbal invitation, “Good to see you, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise,” Kyle replies, straightening his shoulders as he walks into the entry hallway past his Captain, who immediately closes and locks the front door behind them once more.

The house smells heavenly, like freshly baked cookies, spices and some kind of roasted meat, mixed with the natural smells of your home. It's a concoction of scents that nearly leaves Kyle feeling both nostalgic and yearning.

“Bird’s in the living room, lad,” Price says with his usual gruffness yet underlying care as Kyle hangs up his coat on the vintage rack. “I know she’s been looking forward to seeing you again.”

And Kyle has been looking forward to see you, too. More than he’s comfortable to admit.

“Here,” Kyle says, offering the bottle of red wine for the other man to take with his chest puffed out proudly, because he remembered that like a good, obedient soldier would. “You told me she prefers red.”

He watches in confusion as his Captain’s eyes crinkle in the corners, crow’s feet appearing as he looks at the bottle in the Sergeant's hands in what can only be described as amusement before accepting it eventually with a gruff chuckle and a firm clap on the younger man's shoulder.

“Aye, lad, that’s very thoughtful of ya.”

Kyle does find you in the living room, wearing a tight black knitted dress, curled up in the loveseat in the corner next to the old bookshelf that looks quite Cold War-esque and the large, classically decorated Christmas tree, with a pale blue hardcover book in your lap and a steaming cuppa on the small side table next to the sofa.

Even without the fairy lights illuminating you from behind, you look radiant, like you’re glowing from the inside out, and something in his heart aches, deep behind his chest – something dangerous and exhilarating that takes his breath away momentarily.

Once you notice the familiar, young man standing frozen in place in the open doorway to the living room, your eyes light up, a breath-taking smile spreading on your lips. “Hello, soldier,” you chirp and bookmark the page you’re on before closing the book.

“Hello, princess.” He replies softly, cheeks heating up even more at the sound of your voice greeting him so happily.

And while Kyle tries and fails to catch the cover and title of the book as you put it aside, he does notice the way you untuck your tight-clad legs from under yourself with a soft groan before heaving yourself up and out of the loveseat with a sudden struggle which he doesn’t quite understand.

His brows furrow in concern, attentive eyes scanning your body as you adjust your dress around your shoulders. “How have you been?” He asks, taking a few measured steps towards you.

“Oh,” you giggle softly, eyes twinkling with mirth and that familiar gentleness as you watch Kyle approach, “I’ve been… well.”

Then, you make a tiny gesture that makes everything click into place for the Sergeant at once. You caress the top of your belly lovingly while supporting it with the other, and suddenly, Kyle notices the prominent bump that was initially concealed by the black fabric of your dress and the veil of his metaphorical rose-coloured glasses.

His heart nearly stops in his chest, auburn eyes widening comically and he stops dead in his tracks while something strange starts happening in his brain, like its most primal and savage parts are being stimulated for the first time in his life.

“Congratulations,” Kyle manages to say, cracking a smile, though his voice is too rough, too breathless for his own liking. “You look lovely, sweetheart.” Breathtakingly beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. He could go on, but chooses not to.

You’re pregnant. Pregnant. Very, very pregnant, and fertile.

And it is all Kyle can focus on for the rest of the evening. He’s embarrassingly hard during dinner, while he watches his rough and tough, stoic Captain dote on you like the loving husband he is. Everything makes so much sense now, too; why Price had taken more leave in the past couple of months than he ever has in his whole bloody career, giving up more responsibilities to Ghost, his second-in-command, and being even more secretive and guarded about his personal life.

The longer he stays and is forced to watch the happy couple, the more envious he becomes.

It’s a mean feeling that takes root in his heart, poisoning it slowly like the black plague; squeezing and mocking all while he can simply blame himself, because he was the one who’d asked to come over this time.

He wasn’t invited which makes him he’s an intruder, and it’s starting to show in the way Price keeps whispering sweet nothing’s into your ear while he sits next to you on the loveseat in the living room, after moving back there once dinner was finished and the table was cleared. Now, Kyle can only watch how his Captain coddles his gorgeous wife; kissing your temple and rubbing his big hand over the swell of your pregnant belly possessively, as if his Sergeant isn’t currently sitting in the armchair right across from you.

Kyle realizes begrudgingly and with a stabbing ache in his heart that the times, when his Captain would let him have a small taste of heaven, of you, are over. It’s too sudden, too soul-crushing, like a band aid ripped away too swiftly and taking bits of hair and scabs with it, though it should have been foreseeable from the beginning.

It wasn’t supposed to last, anyway.

His heart clenches painfully as he makes the rash decision to simply slip away, leave you two be while he will go on his merry way to drown his sorrows and loneliness in some cheap liquor. And when Kyle catches the sound of your soft giggles once more, elicited by Price who nuzzles into your neck affectionately in a way that has Kyle’s cock chuffing even worse, his legs start developing a mind of their own and he stands up from his seat at once.

Of course, it only catches their attention and an awkward silence ensues.

The Sergeant clears his dry throat, shifting on his feet uncharacteristically insecure. “I should head out,” he announces, glancing down at his expensive watch. It’s barely past 8 p.m. “–while I can still drive.” He adds with a forced chuckle. Kyle made the conscious decision not to drink as much as last year in case you–No, no he really shouldn’t go there.

However, before Kyle can say his thanks and bid his goodbyes, you and Price share a look that the younger man has seen before, and then the Captain gets out of the loveseat with an old-manly grunt.

“Nonsense, Garrick,” he objects gruffly, making a dismissive hand gesture as he walks past Kyle over to his vintage liquor cabinet. “We’re having another drink.”

Then, there is the distinct sound of clinking glasses, the unscrewing of a bottle and the gluck gluck gluck of liquid as said glasses are filled while Kyle furrows his brows, glancing over his shoulder at his Captain’s broad back before his eyes shift back over to you, sitting oh so prettily as you blink up at him with your beautifully bright doe-eyes and another tooth-achingly sweet smile before you shift and go on to push yourself up from your seat.

And right when Kyle wants to rush to your aid, Price stops him by clasping a hand over his broad shoulder, offering a glass full of strong, amber liquor as he leans in to murmur into Kyle’s ear in a way that makes his skin pebble with goose bumps: “Isn’t she gorgeous, lad?”

Yes, yes, you’re gorgeous. Bloody perfect.

Especially now, sprawled out on your marital bed in the master bedroom while Kyle watches you get eaten out by your husband as if the latter is feasting on his last meal.

Your radiant body arches and stretches on the mattress; all soft lines and feminine curves while your round baby bump keeps drawing his gaze in like the most beautiful sight Kyle has ever been allowed to see. Your breasts are larger; your nipples and areolas a shade darker in contrasts to your glowing skin, and he can’t wait to trail his fingertips along the faint stretch marks along your hips and up your belly. It’s mesmerising. You are mesmerising, absolutely breath-taking.

The whole situation feels much more intimate than the first time last year, too, when the Captain had talked you into fucking the stress and sadness out of his Sergeant’s system, and then the stolen moments of sweet passion that had followed in between whenever he was lucky enough to see you. Always just you and Kyle while Price had given his blessings upfront. Now, though, now the latter is actively participating, and Kyle is trying to figure out his role in this. Less an intruder, but still not wholly part of it all, he figures.

The cries of pleasure which your husband is eliciting from you, eventually pull Kyle out of his stupor and he watches as you shudder and tremble with another intense climax before you mewl and paw at Price’s shoulders with panting breaths, trying to either nudge him away or get him even closer, and the latter pushes himself up on his elbows before sitting back on his haunches, still fully clothed while Kyle was ordered to strip down to his underwear.

“Please–” You whimper and hiccup breathlessly in a way that makes Kyle wince when his cock throbs and twitches painfully in his boxer briefs.

Price chuckles as he licks your arousal from his lips before bringing his hand up to wipe at his mouth. “Use your words, m’love. We’ve already been through this so many times, no?”

You nod eagerly as you swallow thickly, and Kyle can see the gloss of tears in your eyes. He wants to kiss them away, needs to keep overstimulating you all the same to coax more of those saccharine sounds from you, determined to make more memories he can feed on to get him through another year, most likely longer (perhaps forever), of withdrawal from you.

“Garrick,” Price barks and makes a sharp gesture with his hand before scooting away from between your legs, creating more space. “You’re going to fuck my pregnant wife now.”

Kyle’s stomach drops into an open pit for a split second, though the clear order given by his superior does make his heart rate exhilarate and his cock leak even worse in his underwear. His eyes flicker nervously between Price and you, until you reach your hand out to him with half-lidded eyes, a sweet smile and small nod.

And it’s all the encouragement Kyle needs, before he answers with a curt, determined: “Yes, sir.”

However, when Kyle reaches for the condom he’d placed on the nightstand buoyantly, Price clicks his tongue in disdain. “No need for that, lad,” he assures him, “not this time.”

Then, you chime in so sweetly, telling him that it’s okay, that you want to feel him without any barrier, and Kyle’s brain blanks as he positions himself on his knees between your legs; caressing and groping your supple thighs, a full-body shudder wrecking through him at the first touch of your skin after months of being deprived of it.

He grasps his cock at the base, drags his weeping cockhead through your pretty, glistening folds, coating his length in your syrupy slick while gripping your hip with his other hand before guiding his thick tip to your entrance and pushing in slowly, feeling your velvety walls clench and squeeze around him while he sinks his cock deeper, and then, all the air rushes from his lungs with a drawn-out, breathless groan as Kyle finally comes home again.

“That’s it.” Price’s voice coos gruffly, and Kyle can feel the mattress shift behind him before warm, calloused palms trail along his toned sides and settling on his waist with a tight hold, and his dark eyes widen in surprise as he stares down at you, gorgeously spread open and taking his cock like you were made for him, too.

This definitely never happened before, Price joining in like this, but when you continue to mewl for more while nudging the heel of your bare foot into Kyle’s backside urgently, he’s too far gone to think properly; all reason and restraint melting away like candle wax, leaving nothing but pleasure rather than the pain he’d endured for the past year.

“She feels incredible, doesn’t she, Sergeant?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because Kyle is already gritting his teeth, muscles coiling, trying not to cum already as he bottoms out inside your gummy channel. You do feel different. Hotter, slicker, sweeter, utterly intoxicating, and Kyle doesn’t know if it’s the fact he’s not wearing protection or if it’s your pregnancy making your pussy even more addictive.

He nods anyway, holding eye-contact with you. “Yes, s-sir. Fuck–!”

And then, Price pushes Kyle’s hips forward at once, thrusting the younger man’s cock deeper into your fluttering cunt, making you and the Sergeant moan and yelp obscenely in unison while your plump tits jiggle tantalisingly. “Then fuck her properly, Sergeant. She needs it… and so do you.” He growls into Kyle’s ear; rough beard scratching over heated, sensitive skin.

Price tells Kyle to fuck you, but it’s obviously the Captain who’s setting the pace here; guiding and pushing his Sergeant’s hips as the latter fucks you desperately yet carefully while his own clothed and throbbing cock ruts against the younger man’s bare, plump ass.

Kyle can barely hold himself together after months of loneliness and touch-starvation, and the absolute overwhelming feeling of being buried inside you now, hearing you moan and cry out his name while the full weight of his Captain’s powerful body is pressed flush against him; he’s heating up, front to back, sweat trickling down his neck as one of Price’s mammoth hands snakes up his chest, squeezing his pec harshly before curling around Kyle’s throat, putting pressure on his Adam’s apple.

“Oh, fuck, – Cap–” Kyle gasps and pants, and his head lolls back against Price’s broad shoulder, short-circuiting with new sensations while his dark lashes flutter; hips still grinding deeply and fast-paced into your dripping cunt until your gummy walls convulse and squeeze him rhythmically as your climax seizes you, making you cry out in ecstasy in a way Kyle hasn’t witnessed before while his own pleasure boils over, and he grips you feverishly with both hands, long fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while Price’s hot breath ghosts over his sweat-slicked skin.

“That’s it, Gaz,” he murmurs, squeezing Kyle’s throat tighter and cutting off more of his airflow, “–fill her up, lad. Breed her good.”

And Kyle does as he’s ordered; eyes rolling back into his skull, crying out despite the pressure around his neck as his cock pulses and shoots several thick ropes of cum into your eager cunt; vision blurring as he comes harder than he has in what feels like forever.

Much to his surprise, once his mind has come off its post-orgasmic high, the aftermath isn’t as strange as Kyle anticipated as soon as Price had gotten involved.

His eyes are closed, his cheek resting above your naked chest, mindful to not put any unnecessary pressure on your sore breasts, while he listens to your steady heartbeat, his warm palm resting on your baby bump, stroking his thumb over your skin absentmindedly.

“Did it kick yet?” Kyle asks curiously, his voice slurred with exhaustion. “The uh… baby, I mean.”

“Yes,” you answer, laughing softly as you continue to scratch your fingernails along the curve of Kyle’s shoulder blades, feeling his skin pebble with gooseflesh. “I think he’s sleeping now after all the commotion,” you giggle, “– just like his daddy.”

As if on cue, Price’s snore cuts through the tranquillity, curled around you on your other side protectively. Kyle snorts softly before letting out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

He's always dreamed of having a boy.

#call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #gazprice x reader #price x reader x gaz #cod #cod smut #cod advent calendar 2024 #reader insert #tw: pregnancy #pregnant!reader

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rileyslibrary · 2 years ago

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Ghost shares his New Year’s resolution with you.

A/N: This is an automated message. I’m still on a break. Also, a warning for you: this story does not follow canon. It’s fluff, though.

———————————————————————

You look around as you move through the groups of people, making your way toward the buffet. These New Year’s Eve parties at the military base are something else. It’s not the celebration that fascinates you; it’s the way people, just for the night, ditch their ranks and show another part of them that duty tends to conceal.

Seniors and subordinates talk like equals, and the rigid structure fades into the background, much like the slow jazz music playing from the speakers. Annoying ads occasionally interrupt the rhythm, and you make a mental note to locate the source and plug in your Spotify.

And yes, you’ve seen different aspects of their personality while on missions or in more casual settings. However, when you add alcohol into the mix, pair it with the excitement of the upcoming new year, and factor in the human need for closeness when away from family, everything feels different.

For example, you’d never have thought that Gaz gets an itch that lasts for days whenever he has to wear a Gillie suit or that Price can distinguish between different brands of cigars just by smelling them. ‘They need to have the right humidity level,’ you hear him say as you walk past the group and stand in front of the buffet. You scan the pastry platter, trying to find one that’s intact so you can pop it directly in your mouth since no plates are left. That or you haven’t spotted them yet. You look around, searching for a pile of clean ones, but pause as your eyes land on the training ground perimeter outside.

Approximately six feet-something, broad, a glass in his right hand, balaclava slightly raised, leaning against the fence, gazing up at the sky.

Your appetite for pastries is gone.

Leaving the buffet, you walk towards the door leading outside, but as you slide it open, a teammate grabs your shoulder. She urges you to share with the rest of her group about your time in Norway when you mistook a group of migrating salmon travelling upstream for a raid. You smile in response and promise her you’ll join them shortly, motioning towards the training grounds. She follows your gaze, and once she understands what you’re on about, she releases your shoulder and nods understandingly.

You slide open the door; Ghost looks over his shoulder but not directly at you. He’s not alarmed.

“The salmon story is not that funny,” he remarks in a low voice, wiggling his glass. “You should tell them about that time in Mexico.”

“You mean when I complained to the bartender that there was a worm in the tequila bottle?”

He nods, taking a sip. “Like finding a fly in your soup,” he murmurs, lowering his glass.

“I’m surprised you heard the conversation,” you state. “It’s chaos inside.”

Ghost shrugs and lowers his head. He’s not much of a talker lately—not like he’s a social butterfly on other days—but he’s not very keen on the chaos inside. Not only that, but the recent events have shaken him quite a lot, even though he conceals it well.

You rest your arms on the fence beside him, dangling your wine glass on the edge and look at the stars. He follows your lead and does the same. You lean in closer, and your shoulder touches his. He doesn’t move away—instead, he steadies himself further to support you. When you feel ready and secure, you shift your weight onto him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I won’t ask you if you’re ok.” You whisper.

“That counts like asking.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “but I didn’t.”

“Good.” He says and takes a sip from his glass.

“Should I change the subject?”

“Should you keep on talking?” He asks back.

“Yes,” you murmur. “Yes, I absolutely should.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Go on then.”

“So,” you begin, “any New Year resolution for you, Lt.?”

You feel him nod, and you stand upright in shock.

“Why look at you, Lt!” You shout wide-eyed, “I didn’t peg you as the resolution type.”

“What can I say,” he mumbles. “I’m a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a fucking enigma.”

“Churchill said something like that.” You state proudly.

“Indeed.” He replies. “Minus the ‘fucking’ part.”

“So?” You ask, “What is it?”

He looks at his glass, searching for the right words. “No more casualties.” He finally states.

“Don’t you think that’s a little far-fetched?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. “Considering the nature of our job and such?”

“So was your ‘no more chocolate’ resolution last year.” He replies.

“Hey!” You shout, “At least I tried!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ll try to keep everyone safe.”

“That’s more like it,” You nod, lifting your glass. “Here’s to trying our best to keep everyone safe.”

He turns to face you. There’s a solemn expression behind those eyes of his. As if he’s determined to make this his life’s goal. He brings his glass closer to yours, and they clink together.

And as you’re about to drink from your shared toast, the door slides open, and a face pops in between.

“Here’s Johnny!” Soap shouts. Although he sports that annoying smug look, the top of his head is wrapped in a fresh white bandage, courtesy of the bullet that grazed him last month.

“I see you’re feeling better, Soap.” You say with a smile. “Would you like to join us?”

“Nah,” he replies. “Captain told me to tell you to come inside; cake’s about to be served.”

You thank him, and he shuts the door behind him. You turn to look at the lieutenant, who is slowly shaking his head.

“Scratch my New Year’s resolution,” Ghost murmurs, looking at the remains of his drink. “For this year, I plan on moving bases so I’d be away from him once and for all.” He states and downs the rest of it.

“You don’t mean that.” You chuckle and slap his arm.

“I don’t,” he admits, “but he made us all lose ten fucking years of our lives.”

“Everything turned alright, Lieutenant.” You say and wrap an arm around his waist. “Now, pull down your balaclava and come inside before you catch a cold.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder and plants three little kisses at the top of your head before covering the rest of his face with his mask, leading you inside to celebrate the new year.

———————————————————————

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #simon riley fluff #simon riley x female reader #ghost call of duty #ghost modern warfare #cod mwiii spoilers

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kaayyyys · 1 month ago

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How the walking dead men act when drunk

(rick grimes , daryl dixon , negan smith)

Here’s what you can expect when Rick Grimes is drunk and hopelessly in love with you:

Forget the stoic, reserved leader. Drunk Rick is a fountain of heartfelt admiration. He’ll tell you how strong you are, how much he admires your courage, and how your kindness keeps him going.

Expect specific details. He won't just say you're beautiful; he'll tell you how the way you smile at Judith makes his heart ache with happiness, or how your practical solutions always save the day.

He might stumble over his words, but the sincerity will be undeniable. His eyes, usually guarded, will be soft and filled with an overwhelming affection. Prepare for your cheeks to hurt from smiling.

Rick isn't usually one for grand gestures. Survival takes precedence. But drunk Rick? He's all about physical closeness.

He'll want to hold your hand, not just casually, but tightly, as if afraid you'll disappear. He'll pull you close, burying his face in your hair and inhaling deeply, murmuring about how good you smell.

Kisses will be frequent and lingering. They won't be passionate or demanding, but soft, tender pecks on your forehead, your cheek, the curve of your neck. Each one a silent promise of protection and devotion.

Be prepared for spontaneous hugs, long and enveloping, where he simply holds you, needing the reassurance of your presence.

Rick carries so much inside, the weight of leadership, the loss of Lori, the constant threat of death. Drunk, those walls crumble.

He might talk about his fears, the things that keep him up at night. The safety of the group, the future of Judith, his own failings.

He'll likely apologize for the burdens he carries, for the darkness he sometimes brings into your life, for the things he can't give you.

This is a chance to reassure him, to remind him of his strengths, of the good he does, and of your unwavering support. Just listen, hold him close, and let him know you understand.

Prepare for a nostalgic trip down memory lane. Rick will reminisce about your early days together, the tough times you overcame, the moments that solidified your bond.

He'll recount specific instances, things you might have forgotten, highlighting your strength, wit, or compassion in each story.

He’ll marvel at how far you’ve both come, acknowledging the scars you both carry, but emphasizing the unwavering connection that has kept you together.

These shared memories will serve as a powerful reminder of the depth of your love and the unbreakable foundation you've built.

Rick is ALWAYS protective, it's in his nature, but when drunk, this protective instinct goes into overdrive.

He'll make sure you're warm enough, comfortable enough, safe enough. He'll check the perimeter repeatedly, even if it's already been secured.

He might insist on walking you to your sleeping quarters, even if it's just a few steps away.

This isn't controlling, but a deeply ingrained need to ensure your well-being, a manifestation of his love and his fear of losing you.

As the alcohol wears off, a wave of self-consciousness might wash over him. He might become quiet, withdrawn, worried about what he said or did.

Reassure him that you cherish his vulnerability, that you appreciate his honesty, and that you love him, flaws and all.

The next morning, he might be embarrassed, apologetic, or simply try to pretend it didn't happen.

Don't let him. Gently remind him of the beautiful things he said, the tenderness he showed, and the depth of your connection.

Normally, Daryl communicates in grunts and glances, but with a bit of alcohol, he starts talking. Not rambling, but offering snippets of thoughts he usually keeps locked away. He might tell you a story about Merle, a softer edge to his voice that you rarely hear. Or he might comment on the way the moonlight catches your hair, his gruffness laced with a surprising tenderness.

Daryl isn't one for grand gestures of public displays of affection. But drunk? Suddenly, his hand finds its way to the small of your back more often, lingers a bit too long when he pulls you close, and he leans into you just a little harder when you're standing side-by-side. He’s a heat-seeking missile, drawn to your warmth and presence.

His signature scowl might soften just a hair. A small, almost imperceptible smile might play on his lips as he watches you interact with others, a silent acknowledgment of the joy you bring to his life. It’s fleeting, but you catch it, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

This is where the real magic happens. With his inhibitions lowered, Daryl might confide in you about his fears. Not the surface-level fears of walkers or losing a fight, but the deeper stuff – the fear of not being good enough, the fear of losing you, the fear of failing the people he cares about. These moments are precious, raw, and build an even stronger foundation of trust between you.

Underneath that tough exterior lies a man who craves acceptance and love. Drunk Daryl might become unusually clingy, needing your constant presence and reassurance. He might ask you, a little slurred, if you're happy, if you're okay. Responding with gentle words and a loving touch is all it takes to soothe his anxieties.

Even drunk, Daryl is protective. If he sees someone paying you a little too much attention, a flicker of possessiveness might cross his face. He might pull you closer, wrap an arm around your waist, or simply give the interloper a subtle, but unmistakable, glare. It’s not aggressive, but it’s a clear message: you belong to him.

Don't expect sonnets or serenades. Daryl's romance is practical and heartfelt. He might stumble back from the food table with your favorite piece of pie, even though he doesn’t like pie himself. He might offer you his jacket when the night gets cold, even though he's clearly freezing. These small acts of service speak volumes about his love for you.

Picture this: Daryl, slightly swaying, trying to dance with you. It’s awkward, endearing, and utterly hilarious. He’s probably got two left feet, but he’s trying, and that's what matters. Laugh with him, not at him, and savor the moment.

As the night winds down, Daryl might lead you away from the noise and the crowd, finding a quiet spot to sit under the stars. He might point out constellations, telling you stories his mother used to tell him. He might whisper promises for the future, promises of safety, security, and a life built together. These are the moments you’ll cherish forever.

The next morning, Daryl will likely be nursing a headache and a touch of embarrassment. He might be gruff and avoid eye contact, but beneath the surface, he'll be grateful for your patience and understanding.

The vulnerability displayed during his drunken state will have forged an even deeper connection between you. You’ve seen a side of him that few others have, and he trusts you with his deepest fears and insecurities.

Don't expect a grand apology. Daryl's way of showing gratitude is subtle. He might bring you coffee in the morning, fix something that's been broken around the house, or simply hold you a little tighter than usual. These small gestures are his way of saying, "Thank you for loving me, even when I'm a mess."

Even sober, Negan has a way with words. But a few drinks in, it's like a dam bursts. The compliments flow, unfiltered and genuine.

He’d tell you how beautiful you are, not in a superficial way, but describing the curve of your smile, the way the firelight catches in your hair, the strength he sees in your eyes.

He'd compare you to everything he loves – the warmth of the sun after a long winter, the first bloom of spring, the comforting crackle of a fire on a cold night. He's not just saying you're pretty; he's saying you're essential to his world.

He’d slur out things like, "God, you're just...good, (Name). Real damn good." And he'd mean it with every fiber of his being. The kind of good that makes him want to be a better man, if only for you.

Negan is a man of action, and that extends to his affections. Drunk, he becomes even more tactile, seeking your warmth and reassurance.

He'd pull you close, not in a possessive way, but seeking comfort. His large frame would become a haven, a place where you can feel safe and protected.

He’d run his fingers through your hair, tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. The calloused hands that swing Lucille with deadly accuracy would become instruments of tender affection.

He might even rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and just breathing you in. In that moment, the weight of the world, the responsibility of leadership, seems to melt away, leaving only the simple pleasure of being near you.

Negan keeps his cards close to his chest, but alcohol loosens his tongue and softens his heart.

He might start rambling about his past, not the Negan everyone knows, but the man he was before, the man he lost. He’d talk about his regrets, his fears, his hopes for a future he never thought he'd see.

He'd admit how scared he is of losing you, of failing you. "You're the best thing in my life, (Name)," he'd confess, his voice thick with emotion. "Don't ever leave me."

He might even talk about Lucille, not in a loving way, but with a deep sense of grief and remorse. He'd acknowledge the darkness within him and how you, somehow, manage to keep it at bay.

Beneath the gruff exterior, Negan has a playful side. A few drinks bring it to the surface.

He might try to dance with you, clumsy and off-beat, but with a genuine smile on his face. He wouldn't care if he looks ridiculous; he just wants to hold you close and sway to a nonexistent melody.

He might try to serenade you, his singing voice terrible but filled with heartfelt emotion. He'd butcher a classic love song, but you'd be touched by the effort and the love behind it.

He might even try to cook for you, a disastrous attempt that ends with burnt food and flour everywhere. But he'd laugh it off, pull you into a hug, and declare that takeout is a much better option anyway.

As the night wears on, and the alcohol settles, Negan becomes reflective. He wants to connect with you on a deeper level.

He'd sit you down, take your hands in his, and look you in the eyes. He’d tell you how much you mean to him, how you've changed his life for the better.

He'd thank you for seeing the good in him, for believing in him even when he doesn't believe in himself. He'd thank you for your strength, your compassion, your unwavering love.

He'd make promises, not grandiose ones, but small, meaningful promises. He promise to always protect you, to always be honest with you, to always try to be the man you deserve.

He’d end the night by simply holding you, letting the silence speak volumes. He’d drift off to sleep with you in his arms, feeling a sense of peace he hasn't known in years.

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lactoseintolerentswag · 10 months ago

Text

Donnie Tech Part 1/?

After many moons here are the promised observations of the cartoon shtick logic of Donnie's weapons for season one!! Will link a season two and movie version Eventually, but keep in mind I can't explain in depth how each bit of tech works, rather that I can pinpoint the functions for the visual bit. Keep in mind that Donnie's tech can pretty much do any ridiculous thing you can put your mind to, and that it can also backfire in any ridiculous way you can put your mind to.

Tech Bo:

Collapsible, can become a shorter version of itself easily stored

Shoot a grappling hook AND function as a zip line

Can form a rocket from either end (usually at the same time, resulting in the bo spinning)

Is equipped to be a fire extinguisher

Can shoot out lasers

Has a button that activates the "Shopping Cart Protocol" to lock the Turtle Tank if it goes outside a set perimeter

Top can turn into a rocket powered fist

Turn into a giant drill

Turn into a saw

Turn into a tranquilizer

Turn into a tennis ball shooter

Turn into a selfie stick

Top can turn into a disco ball of "multidimensional reflective orb neutralizer"

Battle Shell:

Has rotary engines (think jet turbine or computer fan) that help him fly around. He calls them "rotors" for short

Can transform into a seat so April can sit on his back

Can split up into a DJ set up in "music mode"

Jet Pack Shell:

His fastest mode of transportation

Not much is shown, but April had a significant difficulty controlling it

Spider Shell:

Has four arms with three fingers

Arms can turn into saws

Has a seemingly endless toolkit inside that includes basic things like hammers and wrenches, but also blowtorches

Goggles:

Has night vision

Can function as binoculars

Is able to summon is tech ("communicates with microwave transceiver with class c encryption protocols")

Read mystic energy signatures after adding the crystal they found in Draxum's lab

Gauntlet:

Has an app that can tap into every security camera in NY

Bug Slapper:

Has a green Mad Dogs sticker on the side

Compacts itself into a metal suitcase and then expand back into a vehicle

So far only uses Big Mama's webbing material as projectiles

Shelldon:

Began as an automated smart lair designed with the intent as a cleaning assistant

Has a "disposal unit" which unlocks several of Donnie's weapons such as: guns, pinchers, drills, and flamethrowers

Can carry at least two turtles (Mikey and Donnie)

Is nicknamed "Cyber Bishop" by Donnie

Uses surfer dude slang: “dude”, “gnarly”, “buzzkill”, “okey dokey”, “dawg”, “you beefed it”, “brohounds"

As a smart lair has clear favoritism towards Donnie until tampered with. As a drone they share more of a familial or pet like relationship, and Shelldon has room to sometimes poke at Donnie's faults as well

In conclusion there's not much to worry about breaking canon, the physics of our reality, or understanding complicated tech and science to write about Donnie's tech. He can do whatever he wants as long as it's silly, overly dramatic, and includes an unnecessary amount of purple guns. His tech bo is especially flexible with breaking the rules even before we get to his ninpo powers.

I'm keeping the Turtle Tank separate, because it also deserves its own post. Happy writing!

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #save rise of the tmnt #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #analysis #critter talks

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fanaticsnail · 30 days ago

Note

Jinbei for Kissing Booth please? If you're not comfortable with him, I would also enjoy Pedro or Zeff instead

The Kissing Booth - Jinbei for jinbeioyabun

Word count: 1,300+

Notes: Thank you so much for your ask, my wonderful friend. I had to get this one out for your birthday today because I love and appreciate you so much. Happy birthday, El. I hope you have a wonderful day.

The music lingered on in its large swell within the shrouded scenery. Laugher of children continued to melodically entwined with shrieks from a variety of rollercoasters bordering the perimeter of the large fete. Coastal waves rolled in with the tide, dancing within your vicinity with the scent of popcorn and candyfloss.

Tapping your thighs to the tune of the music, you began to hum its melody while awaiting for your approaching next guest: all remaining shrouded by the bandeau covering your vision, as per the rules of the 'kissing booth'. You halted your tapping as the familiar crunch of footsteps gathered at your booth. The paper scrunch of Beri pressed into your jar caused you to smile and ready yourself in your seat for a kiss gifted to you from your visitor.

As they sat down on the stool, you could almost feel an aura of calm cloak you both in its shadow. The air felt soothing, gentle, and more full than you had been breathing within for the few minutes prior. Curiosity nipped at your heels as you awaited a sound, a hint of a whisper, or a conversation to rise organically between you.

“Uh… Forgive me, I…” the rumble of a gentle baritone coaxed its way from their lips, “...I am unfamiliar with this practice. Would you mind explaining it to me?” A larger smile grew on your lips at his soft question.

“It is fairly simple, but I am more than happy to talk you through it,” you nod along while you felt a warmth bloom in your cheeks beneath the blindfold, “You place your Beri in the jar, honors system,” you clarified with a swipe of your hand in the air between you, “And you and I share a kiss.”

“A kiss,” the voice re-clarified, “A small amount of Beri for a kiss.”

“It is for charity,” you utter softly, careful of your words the longer you feel weighed down by them, “And it is my first time offering myself up at the hands of strangers. I am filling in for a friend.”

“Would you prefer I wait for your friend?” they asked as you felt a much larger hand place itself over your smaller one, “The last thing I desire is to make you feel uncomfortable. I cannot imagine the toll of anxiety placed on you to be beneath that shroud and at the mercy of others.”

You were taken aback by their comment, furrowing your brows in concern while truly thinking about it deeper. It was true, you were blind to the person sitting across from you, but the trust you had in your friends and the security staff to come to your aid outweighed any inhibitions you had far prior to their question. Gently giving their hand a squeeze, your smile returned to your lips.

“While I am thankful for your challenging my wisdom, and comforted by you suggesting to wait for my friend, I don’t think that would be fair or necessary,” you nodded sincerely, raising your other hand to cup over their knuckles, “Just you suggesting that has put me more at ease with you, uh…”

“...Am I to give you my name?” they ask softly, feeling ever nearer to your face by the soft warmth of their breath, “Or would that defeat the purpose of the shroud?” At the feeling of their lips’ approach, you felt hypnotised by their safe aura and tilted your head to welcome them in.

“It would defeat the purpose, yes,” you admitted, almost pressing your lips on theirs yet lingering in their nearness for a moment longer, “I am at your mercy, and you have me at a complete disadvantage.”

“A disadvantage?” they hummed as their smile was tangibly felt in their voice, “Would you please elaborate on that for me?” Their remaining hand moved to cup your cheek, informing you more on their size by the fact their palm and fingers almost engulfed your head within its gentleness. They controlled your every motion in this soft grip, yet neither led you in, nor held you back, only adding more to the depths of their respect for you.

“You have seen my smile,” you whispered against their lips, demonstrating your grin as you leaned in further, “Yet, I can tell yours is far more brilliant than mine would ever be.” They chuckled at your commentary, the warm velvet of their voice all but consuming your soul with its presence.

“You are quite the flatterer,” their charm only exceeded to woo you further. Their hand gently guided your lips to theirs, halting to add simply, “The best I can offer you at this stage, is to feel my smile meet with your own. There, you can best judge its ‘brilliance’, or so you so eloquently put it.”

The moment your lips met theirs, you felt the music slow, the laughter fade to a dull pulse, the shrieking subside from rollercoasters, and the scent of treats diminish from your nose. You were completely overtaken by your heart leaping into your throat from the gentlest pressure forged softly against your lips. Their lips were larger than yours, they, obviously, much taller than you from the feeling of their lips and hands alone. They completely outweighed your body in every way, and had absolute control over their actions, yet they allowed you to take the lead with this kiss.

Parting your lips, your tongue gently caressed their skin, earning a gasped moan from them at your boldness. From there, you felt the sharpened edges of triangular teeth expanding from their gums, akin to rows of knives or the tips of a razor’s edge.

This was a fishman.

A large fishman.

The moment you realised this, you felt two, large tusks frame your lips with their kiss. They could feel your hesitation at your realisation and began to pull away from the kiss, only to be dragged back in by your hands finding the material of their collar. A yukata, kimono, or jinbei of some kind was on their chest, only serving as an anchor for you to rein in the return of their gentle kiss.

The deep intensity of this kiss remained only for a moment longer before you almost had to tear yourself away from it. There was something so magnetic, so safe, so secure about their presence, you wanted to drown in it forever. Lingering with their forehead on yours for a moment longer, the atmosphere once again found your ears like a returning pulse after a moment of rapture.

“You are a fishfolk?” you asked with a small smile, already feeling the kiss-bruised skin of your lips begin to rise. They took a small breath in at your question, gently moving their hand from cupping your face to softly pinch your chin in their grip.

“Should I have informed you beforehand?” they asked you with sincerity expelling from every syllable, “Would it had made a difference in how I was to be received by you?”

“Not in the slightest,” you smile at them, gently leaning your head down to press a soft kiss to their thumb, “It is all part of the fun, and besides, I was right.” They retracted their hands from within the one on your lap and your chin, just as you released their collar from your grip. “You do have a brilliant smile.”

“And you,” they gasped out softly as you heard the rustle of readjusting their collar and attire, “Are still quite the flatterer. Thank you for the kiss, the company, and the trust you have given me in these small moments together. I will cherish the memory fondly.”

“As will I,” you nod in return, almost mourning each step they took to leave your booth.

Throughout the remainder of the venture with his crew, Jinbei couldn’t pull the smile from his face even if he wanted to. All that he felt was your lips on his, your smile in his minds eye, and the complete wonder in your company. He was hoping to catch your eyes after your shift ended, pleading that you felt the pull of magnetism as strongly as he did. Should you meet his eyes, he would be all the more grateful for your mirroring of his expression, as you matched his brilliant smile untainted by woven cloth.

#one piece #x reader #ask snail #snail answers #the kissing booth #follower milestone event #kissing booth event #jinbei #jinbei x reader #jinbei one piece #x gn!reader #one piece kisses #one piece fluff #happy birthday my wonderful friend

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eyesthatroll · 2 years ago

Text

NOBODY PUTS BABY IN A CORNER!

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

request: could u pls write something with jack teaching the reader how to skate? maybe she’s just awful but he finds it so cute and he’s so proud when she manages to something he taught her 😭

warning(s): kissing, fluff, established relationship, barely edited (only skimmed i think twice?), ending is kind of random as i wasn’t sure how i wanted to end it !

word count: 1.6k

author’s note: to whomever requested this, i hope it is to your liking!! i think i may have changed your request a bit, but i still hope you enjoy it <33 feel free to send any requests you have, i’m finally going through them :) —mari

"Are we the only ones here?" Your voice echoes faintly in the empty expanse of the skating rink, as you and Jack stroll into the serene emptiness. One of his hands is warmly ensconced in yours, while the other deftly balances both pairs of skates, as well as a helmet wedged underneath his arm. You make an impish attempt to reach over and grab your skates, but he swiftly moves them just out of your reach.

"Wait," he warns, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he teases you, playful anticipation radiating his aura.

Jack leads you to a seat on one of the weathered wooden benches that encircles the perimeter of the ice rink. With a graceful flourish, he drops to one knee before you, his skilled fingers deftly undoing the laces of your shoes. As he slips your skates onto your feet, his strong hands envelop your ankles, firmly but not uncomfortably, ensuring they are snugly secured. He ties your laces with ease, occasionally glancing up at you to gauge your reaction and make sure everything felt just right.

You can't contain your excitement, practically beaming with elation as you lean affectionately into Jack's shoulder, when he settles next to you to begin lacing up his own skates.

Today marked your inaugural foray into the world of ice skating. You had plenty of experience with rollerblading, and although ice skating presented a distinct challenge, being on ice rather than pavement, you held a strong confidence that not only would you adapt quickly, but you would excel at it.

Jack shifts his body to face you, his attention drawn to the hockey helmet resting on his left side. He reaches for it, intending to place it securely on your head, but your hand swiftly intercepts his, smacking it away with an assertive motion. You shake your head in disagreement, a hint of stubbornness in your expression.

"I don't need that!" You whine, and your lower lip pokes out in a pouty display of defiance.

Jack's laughter escapes in a throaty chuckle at your protests, but he ignores your whims by gently positioning the helmet on your head. With practiced ease, he tightens the bottom latch to ensure a snug and secure fit. "Better safe than sorry," he remarks with a playful grin, his actions reflecting a caring concern for your well-being.

Something about witnessing you in his element, swathed in his oversized sweater and donning his helmet adorned with the number 86 on the front, ignited a fresh wave of desire within Jack. It was as if this very moment was tailor-made to rekindle his love for you, to remind him of the innate perfection of your relationship. The idea of teaching you to skate at a local rink in Michigan, so close to your shared hometowns, felt like a picture-perfect scenario, filled with nostalgia and an honest promise of new memories.

Rising to his feet, Jack extends his arm toward you, and you eagerly seize his hand. As you arrive at your feet, the transition happens a bit too quickly, causing your legs to wobble within the confines of the skates. This sudden imbalance leads you to stumble, and you instinctively brace yourself against the reassuring solidity of the wooden bench. Jack can’t help but burst into laughter at your momentary mishap, his head shaking in amusement at your initial stumble, marking it as the first of many moments to come on this eventful day.

Approaching you with an amused smile, Jack uses both of his hands to assist you back onto your feet. Once you are standing again, he casually drapes an arm over your shoulder, drawing you closer. Together, the two of you take tentative steps onto the ice's smooth expanse. "C'mon, sweet girl," he encourages, "we've only got an hour."

As you cautiously glide along the ice in your skates, it becomes abundantly clear within moments that this endeavor was going to be exponentially more challenging than roller skating had ever been. The initial confidence you had regarding ice skating had quickly dissipated, replaced by a sense of unease and uncertainty.

"Don't let go." You caution, still taking a provisionary moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar terrain beneath your skates.

Jack flashes a reassuring smile, his grip on your hands unwavering as he essentially guides you around the rink. "It's just like riding a bike."

You cast him an incredulous glance, and his expression turns momentarily blank. "You do know how to ride a bike, right?" he asks.

Smacking him on the shoulder, you shake your head, a slight grin breaking across your lips. "Of course I know how to ride a bike, Jack. It's just a bad analogy," you quip, punctuating your words with a playful eye roll.

It's a few more minutes of the two of you gliding around the ice, Jack remaining vigilant, ensuring you don't lose your balance, before a progressive, newfound sense of confidence wells up within you, allowing you to feel secure enough to venture out of his protective embrace. "I'm ready to go solo now," you declare.

Jack slows to a halt, his hands gently releasing yours. Hesitantly, your legs propel you forward, gliding across the ice with increasing assurance. Your hands extend out in front of you as you gradually pick up speed, and with infectious enthusiasm, you call out to your boyfriend, "Jack, look! Look at me!"

He breaks into laughter, a heartfelt and infectious sound that reverberates from deep within his belly. "That's my girl!" he cheers, his eyes filled with pride and adoration as he watches you on the ice.

"This is so ea—" You start to twist around to glance back at him, your excitement almost tangible, but as you make an attempt to turn, your skates get tangled, and you comedically tumble onto the ice with a resounding thud.

Jack gasps, his face a mask of shock that valiantly tries to suppress another bout of laughter. Quickly, he glides over to you, bending down to offer his hand to help you up. "Are you okay?"

You don't intend to turn this humorous moment into something more profound, but as you stand in Jack's warm embrace, gazing up at the joyful grin on his face and the rosy flush in his cheeks from the chilly air, you can't help but feel a rush of emotion. "I'm really happy to be here with you," you admit, sincerely.

After your slight mishap, you and Jack continue to glide across the ice, enjoying the remainder of your time together. Laughter fills the air as you goof off, and you manage to keep your balance, thankfully avoiding any more falls. However, as the clock ticks down to the last ten minutes, you skate over to Jack with a hopeful expression. "Can we please try the jump from Dirty Dancing?"

It's Jack's turn to shoot you an incredulous look. "That seems dangerous."

"You don't feel comfortable lifting me on the ice?" An exaggerated frown graces your lips.

"I do, but I'm not entirely sure you'll be able to skate over to me and jump." He's teasing now, subtly mentioning your last fall without mentioning it.

You gracefully fold your arms like a ballerina twirling in her ballet shoes, effortlessly gliding in a small circle. "See? I've improved. Can we please give it a try?"

Jack stares at your pleading expression, shaking his head in surrender.

"Okay fine, but if this goes south, and you injure me, then the entire state of New Jersey will have your head."

You skate to the opposite end of the rink as him. "What about me, huh? What if I get injured?"

"This was your idea!" You can't help but laugh at his statement, unable to control your amusement.

"Okay, on three," you initiate a countdown, your voice laced with anticipation. As each number passes, your excitement builds, and when you reach one, you explode into a spirited sprint toward the opposite end of the ice rink. Jack stands there, prepared and determined, waiting for your arrival.

You launch yourself into a full-fledged jump, the cold air whipping past you as your body takes flight. Jack effortlessly catches you, his strong hands securely gripping your waist as he attempts to lift you over his head. However, a sudden wave of nervousness washes over you, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as best you can with your skates on, drawing yourself closer to him.

Jack's lips curl into a smile as he playfully questions, "What was that?"

You confess with a hint of embarrassment, "I got scared." And despite your initial hesitation, being in Jack's arms makes you feel safe and exhilarated all at once.

Jack's lips find yours almost instantly, and as they meld together, it feels as if your mouths were designed to fit together seamlessly. Your fingers delicately tug at his hair, provoking a soft gasp that grants your tongue access to his mouth. Your tongues engage in a sensuous dance, their movements intricate and synchronized, creating a passionate connection that's almost like a meticulously woven tapestry of desire and longing.

Jack withdraws from your lips, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you both gasp for breath. "I'm so obsessed with you," he confesses, his words laden with desire.

Arching an eyebrow, you tease, "I'm telling the boys you said that so they can make fun of you."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, a deep groan escaping his lips. "Please don't."

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fanfiction

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gor3-hound · 1 year ago

Text

addicted to hurting

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hate sex, one bed trope(love it idc), p in v, mean leon, huddle for warmth n that, fingering, p in v, creampie, degradation ig, one use of good girl

a/n: request for @princesspalac :) sorry it took so long, um... my brain didn't want to work for this. guys don't question the title i hate naming fics... this one especially but it's from drugs by eden

word count: 1.6k words

It was an undisputed fact that you and Leon did not get on well. Everyone knew it - the both of you made it very clear with your constant bickering.

But you were also both very competent agents, and that often meant you got assigned to missions together. It was usually fine, you both had enough professionalism to suck it up and get on with it, but he really seemed to want to wear your patience thin this time around.

It had been snowing heavily, and the chopper wouldn't be able to get to the extraction point. You'd been told that you should try and find shelter for the night, and when the snowstorm cleared up tomorrow, you'd both get evacuated. You had secured all the mission objectives and found an abandoned cabin to hole up in for the night, but the cold air nipped at your skin and made it impossible for you to relax.

You complain a little about having to stay here, shivering slightly as you settle on a worn down chair, the wood looking like it's halfway to rotting. You're surprised it hasn't given up under your weight at this point.

Eventually, Leon snaps.

“Jesus Christ. Do you ever shut the hell up?” He grumbles, running a hand through his hair, his brows pulled together in frustration. You scoff at him, your arms wrapped around your waist to keep you warm.

“It's fucking cold, and your attitude has been pissing me off all day. Apologies if I'm not a ray of sunshine.” You bite back, trying to ignore the chill settling deep in your bones.

He just glares at you before moving away, checking the perimeter and securing any entrances to the cabin. You take the opportunity to explore the other rooms, your heart sinking when you realise one very important detail.

There's only one bed.

Great. Fucking amazing. As if this day couldn't get any worse. You hear footsteps approaching, and you can sense the moment Leon realises the same thing by his sharp intake of breath.

“No. Absolutely not.” He says quickly, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway of the bedroom.

You dislike this just as much as he does, but it's probably a blessing in disguise. The both of you were too proud to admit it, but you'd likely freeze to death if you didn't huddle for warmth. The sun had only just set, and it was already this cold. You didn't want to imagine what it'd be like later.

“We're going to need to share it.” You say simply, approaching the bed and lying down facing away from Leon, staring at the wall as you wait for him to do the same.

“Well?” You say after a moment, noticing he hadn't come any closer. He hadn't moved from his spot, just staring distasteful at the empty spot in the bed. “Are you going to join me? Or did you drag your ass through herds of infected just to freeze to death?”

That gets a scowl from him. He kicks off his boots before approaching, settling on the edge of the bed and doing his best to keep his distance from you.

“You're going to need to come closer, or we're both going to be out of commission.” You say through gritted teeth, already frustrated with his attitude.

He lets out a soft grunt, but he shifts closer. He's practically spooning you, now, but you can feel the cold radiating from him. Neither of you had the chance to warm up yet, and you can't help but shift slightly in the bed, trying to get your blood circulating so you can warm up.

“Can you stop your squirming?” He hisses, his hand clamping down on your hip to still your movements. He seems so much closer now, his warm breath brushing the skin on the back of your neck and giving you goosebumps.

“I was just trying to get warm.”

“Then come here.” With that, he tugs you into his body, wrapping his arms tight around you. His nose presses against the crook of your neck, and you feel your heart racing. You feel warmer, sure, but you can't ignore the feeling of his muscles tensing as he holds you.

You don't mean to keep moving, but there's something uncomfortable about Leon of all people holding you so close. You try to put some distance between the two of you while staying close enough to feel his body heat.

“For fuck-” He lets out a deep breath from his nose, and then he's gripping you tighter, pulling you back against him. “Didn't I tell you to stop moving?”

You open your mouth to speak, but it's quickly stopped by a palm pressing firmly against the lower half of your face. “No. I'm so sick of your shit. All you've done is bitch the entire mission about being cold, and now I'm trying to help, you're being a fucking brat about it.”

His fingers push past your lips. He frowns slightly as you keep your jaw clenched, so he reaches his other hand around to squeeze the sides of your cheeks, prying your teeth apart so he can shove his fingers into your mouth.

“Ah, that's better. Get them nice ‘n wet for me. You gonna let me fuck that attitude out of you, huh?” You whine around his fingers, but you're already soaking your panties, nodding before you even realise what you're agreeing to.

He reaches down to free you from your pants, tugging them as far down as he can be bothered before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and shoving two of them inside of you without any warning. He likes the way your face twists up at the burn, a grin spreading across his face.

The way he fingers you is almost clinical. He's not doing this for your pleasure - he just lazily scissors his fingers open until he deems that you're stretched enough for his cock. He doesn't bother undressing, just pulls his dick out after he unzips his cargos, pulling your hips up so you're face down, ass up.

“Fuck… surprised you're this tight… thought everyone in the office would've stuck their dicks in you by now.” He grunts as he bottoms out, immediately setting a brutal pace, his hips smacking your ass with every thrust.

“Fuck you, Kennedy.” You hiss, glaring at him over your shoulder. That look is hardly intimidating when he's pounding you into the mattress, and his hips stutter slightly as he barks out a laugh.

“I think you're mistaken, princess. See, I'm fucking you.” With that, he grabs the back of your head, pressing your face into the pillow to shut you up.

“God, that's better. Just take it, that's it. Good fucking slut.” He groans, his balls smacking your clit as he fucks into you with more vigour, low moans spilling from his lips as he uses you to chase his own pleasure.

He growls as he feels your pussy flutter around his cock, pulling out suddenly before yanking your head up by your hair. Your eyes water as your scalp stings, making you whimper softly.

“Ah-ah.” He tuts softly, his cock kicking against his stomach. He hates to admit it, but your cunt is one of the best he's had, and he's already close to cumming. “Not so fast. You gonna say please? I'll let you cum if you ask nicely.”

“You're such an… an asshole.” You say through gritted teeth, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as you press your palms on the mattress, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on your scalp from him tugging at your hair.

“That's not very nice, is it? Wanna try that again?” He asks you, his tone mockingly sweet. Makes you want to smack that stupid grin of his face. You don't get the chance, ‘cause he pulls even harder on your hair, your neck craning back painfully.

“Fuck… fuck, okay. Please, let me cum.” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut. He presses your face back into the pillow, pushing down on it as he lines himself back up with your drippy hole, resuming his rough pace from before.

“Good girl. Look at you, capable of following orders. All it took was a little dick.” He coos, angling his hips so he's bumping against your sweet spot every time he pushes his hips forward, groaning at the way it makes you tighten around him.

You cum around his cock, your moans muffled as he keeps fucking into you. He clenches his jaw as your walls spasm with your orgasm, drawing his own out of him seconds later. He buries himself as deep as he can get, his tip knocking your cervix and he cums, heat filling you up and coating your insides.

He pulls out once his dick stops twitching, tucking himself back in his pants and zipping them up. He can hear the rustling of sheets as you pull your pants up, but he's staring at the ceiling. He's sweating, hair sticking to his forehead. At least it helped warm him up.

He can feel your gaze on him, and he frowns, tilting his head to the side to look at you. He raises a brow, his gaze flicking over your face. You really are too hot to be as annoying as you are.

“What? I'm not gonna cuddle you. It's warm now. Go to bed.” He glances at you one last time before turning his back to you, lying on his side and closing his eyes.

He's out like a light in a minute flat.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Dove (part seven)

Leon Kennedy x female reader (bodyguard trope and the slowest, slow burn I swear)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven.

---

A tense knot has formed right between Leon’s shoulder blades – can feel it pull when he tilts his head side to side, but it doesn’t seem to be loosening. Can’t even blame it on sleeping on the sofa cos he hasn’t laid down to sleep since the call with Hunnigan, stays sat up right. He’s athletic, he can jump up to his feet from horizontal but it’ll add a second or so to his reaction time and he’s not taking the risk.

He's on edge and he doesn’t like it. The ball of anxiety in his gut has saved his life more times than he can count, but it shouldn’t be necessary in this situation, should it? He’s set up in a safe house, literally off some beaten track in the middle of nowhere – location chosen and distributed by encrypted software so, technically, no-one in the DSO knows where he is either. It’s rigged up to the heavens with security measures - cameras, alarm systems, motion detector - explosion-proof windows, reinforced doors, all topped off with his favourite array of weapons in the duffel bag, currently resting by his still booted feet.

The objective of his mission hasn’t changed after the intel he’s received, that some foreign agency has had access to the CCTV feed for who knows how many hours before they were cut off. He should feel reassured that the quality of the footage was awful – it was only by how many times he’s encountered Lickers that he could even tell that’s what the creatures were when he’d be presented with the grainy images. He didn’t see the footage of you being rescued, but it would be a cruel kick in the gut to find that feed had been HD.

He lifts an arm – his left, keeping his right arm free, his accuracy is better by millimetres with his right – and rubs the knot, hoping to relieve the tension. It's not 100% confirmed they are looking or will be looking for you either, but why would anyone link up to the CCTV circuit if not to check on the outcome of their operation?

His immediate thought had been to up the frequency of his perimeter checks, one every two hours. He could do that at night, sure – military training taught him the correct and most efficient techniques to power nap – but in the day it would be harder without worrying you about what’s changed.

You wanted updates. Hell, you were entitled to updates. But he wants to give you good news, doesn’t wanna add to the weight on your shoulders with what could be nothing. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid, but in these sweet domestic moments the two of you have been sharing, he’s been pretending it’s something else – friends watching television, cooking a meal together – the sweet smiles the two of you exchange, but it’s all ripped apart the moment he has to do his checks. He can see the worry settle on your face then, a reminder of where you are with the flick of the safety off his gun and the twist of the lock as he goes outside to conduct surveillance.

Speaking of, his phone beeps for his next circuit on the building and he’s up on his feet in the blink of an eye. He pats his cargo pocket out of habit for the keys on the walk over to the garage door, but finds himself pausing outside your bedroom, his eyes focusing on the handle. You should still be pretty under with those sleeping pills – note to self, he’ll need to start weening you off them from now on, far too easy to get addicted. It wouldn’t hurt to just… check you were okay, would it?

No – that’s what you’re here, why he’s here – to protect you.

It would just be doing his job.

He presses down on the handle and slowly opens the door, breath caught in his throat. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark, the lamp in the living room not quite reaching as far as your bed, but eventually he can make out your face – as peaceful as he’s ever seen it.

You’re on your side. The position doesn’t look like it would be comfortable with your arm still strapped up in the sling, but it’s testimony to how well the sleeping pills are working. Your other arm is up by your face, hand clenched in a tight fist around something. He steps forward without thinking, curious what it could be.

Your fingers are gripped tightly around his watch.

And there’s a pain in his chest that feels like they’re gripped around his heart as well.

That settles it - he’s not gonna tell you about the hacked CCTV feed. He will tell you that Hunnigan hasn’t searched your place yet, that they’ve restarted the surveillance department – she’d asked him to ask you if you knew anything about the servers since they were appeared to be working from square one – but that was it.

Leon steps back with unnecessary caution, leaving the bedroom as silently as he entered and shuts the door with a soft click. He takes a deep breath, pats down his pockets again and heads out to circle the perimeter.

And, just like after you kissed his cheek, he does it twice.

You wake up after another peaceful and dreamless sleep, though it still takes a moment to remember where you are as you stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling. You wonder if tomorrow you’ll not experience that flicker of panic, just get up and accept that you’ll be picking today’s outfit out of a selection of clothes that you’re not sure if anyone’s worn before you.

You feel sore, as seems to be becoming the norm, but with unusually stiff fingers on your good hand. It seems you’ve clutched Leon’s watch all night. You’d fallen asleep quite quickly – all thanks to those sleeping pills – but you remember looking at it when you’d first got in the bed, the seconds ticking by lulling you to sleep. The fact that you’ve held it for so long reminds you of when you were a kid and snuggled up with a stuffed toy for comfort, except instead of something soft and cuddly, it’s what appears to be a top of line timepiece. There’s a lot of information contained on the face of the dial but there’s the time is the only one you really care about – 0906.

You get to your feet, raising your good arm to a grunt of protest as you try and run your fingers through your hair in lieu of a mirror. Huh, that pain’s new. Your hair is definitely due a wash now, but that’s an issue for later. You pull on a pair of sweatpants one-handed – you’ll be a pro soon, you’re sure of it – and put Leon’s watch in the pocket for safekeeping. It’d be difficult to try and navigate the door handle with it still gripped in your good hand and you’d hate to scratch it up.

You open the door cautiously – you hadn’t seen Leon asleep yet, but he must do at some point. Maybe you should offer to alternate the sofa and the bed? Though you have a feeling that he’s far too much of a gentleman to accept.

Or there’ll be something in the rules that prohibits that.

There’s no danger of waking him though - the agent in question is performing sit-ups in the middle of the living room floor, facing the other way. Muscular arms behind his head as he lets out little puffs of exertion at the exercise, alternating sides as he twists.

Wary that you don’t want to be caught staring, you shut the door with more force than necessary behind you and greet him with a smile when he looks over his shoulder.

“Morning, Leon.”

“Dove!” He doesn’t even sound out of breath. “Morning. Sleep okay?” He jumps up to his feet before taking a couple of steps over in your direction. There’s a grin on his face at the sight of you – makes you feel giddy.

“Yeah, thanks. How about you?”

“That’s good. Yeah, I slept fine.” He nods. It’s not a lie – he did sleep fine for the position he forced himself to maintain all night, despite the slight crick in his neck.

“Is that how you usually start your mornings?”

One of the arms you’d been admiring goes up to rub the back of his head again. “Kinda. I usually go for a run, but…”

“But you can’t leave me on my own.” You finish, smile dropping a little. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be - I’m not.” He drops his arm back down, casting an eye over a watch that’s not there. “Hey, you hungry? I can get breakfast started. Oatmeal again?”

“Sure.” You nod, fishing his watch out of your pocket and holding it out to him. “Thanks again for this. It was nice to wake up and know the time this morning.”

“Don’t mention it. You can, er, you know, keep it. If you like.” He can’t get the image of you fast asleep last night, clutching it close to your face. He knows it was most likely the sleeping pills meaning you’d just passed out with it in your hand more than anything deeper, but, hey, a guy can pretend.

“I’ll be okay, I can get the time off the TV during the day.” You hold it out again with insistence. “But maybe… maybe I could have it for the night again?”

“Deal.” Leon hastily agrees, his fingers brushing yours as he takes back the watch before fastening it around his wrist. “Breakfast coming right up.”

You take the opportunity to duck into the bathroom as he heads towards the kitchen – your heart warmed once more by the sight of the blob of toothpaste sat ready and waiting on your toothbrush.

“And, finally, oatmeal.” He places it down on the coffee table, alongside your coffee, a glass of water and your morning dose of painkillers.

“Thank you.” You lean forward to pick up the spoon, smiling back at the face that Leon’s drizzled in honey atop your breakfast again.

“Nah, pleasure’s all mine.” He calls over his shoulder as he picks up his own bowl from the kitchen. He hesitates for a second, before choosing to sit the other end of the sofa to you, rather than the opposite one.

“You know, I don’t get to do this very often. It’s nice.”

“Mm,” you swallow a spoonful of oatmeal. “Thought you said you’d been in lots of safe houses.”

“A fair amount. But, no, not that part. I mean, eating breakfast with someone.” “So…” You stir the spoon around the bowl, hoping it might prove a perfect segway into something you’d been wondering. “..there’s no-one at home for you?”

“Me?” He seems to scoff at the idea. “Nope.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He replies casually, before his blue eyes widen in alarm at how it might come across. “

“I mean, just by the fact that you hadn’t mentioned anyone at your apartment that morning and you hadn’t asked any of those sorta questions, you know, if they’d been told about what happened, where you are...”

He’s flustered, feels like he’s really putting his foot in his mouth this morning. He can take the lead in the interrogation of some of the world’s most despicable humans, for goodness’ sake, he should be able to talk to a pretty girl.

“Yeah, I figured.” You tease back and he swears he feels the weight lift off his shoulders.

The two of you eat in silence for a moment when curiosity gets the better of you. “So, you didn’t eat breakfast with the… others?”

“Nope.” His tone is firm as he recalls some of his previous charges. “Certainly didn’t make them it either. Trust me – they were nowhere near as nice or as deserving of my protection as you are, Dove.” The comment makes your head tingle.

“It’s all been people ‘realising’ how deep they’d sank but only grew a conscience to save their own skin. Hell, you might have even performed surveillance on some of them. A lot of criminals finally show backbone when they realise their time is running out.”

“Well, I’m glad to make a change – both for sharing breakfast and …safe house occupancy with.”

“A nice change,” he mumbles, but you still hear.

After breakfast, you go to shower and Leon sets himself to task with the dishes once again, says he did his last perimeter check before nine. Removing the sling proves trickier than yesterday – when you go to tug off the Velcro your opposite shoulder smarts with a similar pain of that morning, causing you to hiss through your teeth, something which the painkillers from breakfast don’t seem to have alleviated.

You step into the cubicle after undressing – the hot water immediately somewhat soothing on your bruised shoulders but you still struggle to get what you now deem as your good arm high enough to even entertain the possibility of washing your hair.

You try and avoid your reflection in the mirror when you dress, though you know you’ll have to confront your hair at some point. Unfortunately, you catch a glimpse – a greasy mop sat upon your head that makes your heart sink.

There must be a trick to it – other people must wash their hair one-handed all the time, but maybe they can lift an arm above their head. If you were home, you’d go to a salon, you think – an expensive you would deem necessary for your sanity.

A thought flashes across your mind – a ridiculous one. Leon is already doing so much for you, surely this would be completely over the line.

But you could… ask, couldn’t you? The worst he could do was say no, it would be awkward, and maybe there’s a hat in the duffel bag you’ve yet to discover.

You open the bathroom door, but don’t make to step over the threshold. Leon looks over from the sofa – dishes now drying in the rack besides the sink - and clocks your hesitation.

“Need a hand with the sling?”

Are you really going to ask him this?

You’ll break at some point - you know you will, so why not get it over with now? You’re a regimented two-day wash kinda girl and it’s day three. Not to be completely vain, but you’re covered with bruises and cuts, dressed in less than flattering clothes that aren’t yours and it would be nice to feel somewhat decent about something in your appearance.

Especially with the handsome company you’re keeping. Hell, Leon could be a model, a hair model too. There’d been shampoo and conditioner in the shower and you certainly hadn’t used it.

“Dove?” You’ve taken too long to reply again, getting stuck in your spiralling thoughts.

“I know this isn’t what you’re here for.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think further.

“Okay…” Leon's eyebrow is raised, a curious smile now fixed on his lips as he gets to his feet.

“And say no, obviously. Please. Just… I’d like to wash my hair.” You drop your eyes then – maybe it’ll be easier if you talk to your feet rather staring into his kind eyes?

"Right."

“And I’d… You know, I’d go to a salon and get it done there if we weren’t… here.”

“You’d like me to help you wash your hair?” There’s a tone of amusement or maybe disbelief in his tone.

Hearing him say it aloud makes you doubt the entire exercise, your heart begin to pound at your stupidity. “Sorry. No, I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid to ask-“

“Hey, no, it makes sense.” He soothes, immediately wanting to ease your frustrations. “You can’t lift your arm above your head, right? My fault for not thinking about that.”

You look up then, seeing the sincerity on his face – like it truly was his fault that you couldn’t wash your own damn hair.

“I can do that, Dove. I don’t see why not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hm. As you said, if you were anywhere else right now, you could go to a salon and whilst I can’t promise their quality, I seem to do all right with my own.” He shrugs. “You thinking over the sink?”

He doesn’t know why he asks – it’s hardly like you’re going to ask him to get in the shower with you.

Is it?

“I think so.” You look around the living area, though you’re well acquainted with what feels like every square inch of it now. “Though it might be a little awkward since we don’t have any chairs.”

He snaps his fingers. “Nah, there might be one in the garage, actually. Lemme check.”

He barely makes it into the garage when his cell vibrates in his pocket – one new message from Hunnigan.

Any server information for me?

Leon finds the folding chair nestled at the side of the washer and dryer and hesitates over the text back.

He’ll wash your hair – seeing how torn up you’d been about even asking him had made him feel awful - then he’ll give you the updates and ask about the servers.

He picks up the chair and tucks it under one arm, swiftly typing out a message on his cell and clicks send.

Not yet – Dove’s still asleep.

---

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

Part eight.

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

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paige1722 · 7 months ago

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So Much For a Safe House pt.2

Summary: You go on a mission with 141 and end up taking shelter in an abandoned building. The place is haunted, and you are all trapped inside; creepy things are happening. (Ghost of War-inspired)

Warnings: scares(?) violences, weapons

Chapter One: Shelter | Masterlist

Thank you all so much for the likes and the reblogs on part one!!

Chapter 2: Hunter's Moon

The only source of light is the dim moonlight peering into the room from the windows, casting an eerie shadow over you all. You hear a flick of a lighter; looking over, you see Price holding up the small flickering flame, causing Gaz to follow his lead, getting out his own lighter.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Exclaimed Gaz, his face illuminated with an eerie glow. A look of surprise matched on your face as he frantically glanced at everyone wide-eyed, waiting for someone to give a rational answer.

“Calm down, we are in an old house that is actively falling apart as we speak. Not to mention a snowstorm happening outside. Spooky sounds and big gusts of wind are perfectly normal.” explained Price as he walked back over to the fireplace, trying to get the fire going again. Watching him light another scrap of fabric and place it in the heart of the previously burning wood, you moved over to where Soap was standing, trying to seek some comfort, breaking the silence, “Yeah, okay, I could buy that explanation if it wasn’t for the radio! We all heard that voice, right? Saying ‘it is here now,’ what is it, and how do we make sure it does not get us?!?” You could feel your eyes becoming glossy with tears from the panic and fear of the stressful situation you now find yourself in.

Soap puts a comforting hand on your shoulder as the room was now bathed in the soft, reassuring glow of light. Price has successfully got the fire going once again, groaning as he places his hand on his knees; he stands back up to his full height, turning to face everyone.

“Everything is going to be okay, no need to panic, Spark. It is probably just a prank, someone with a radio is on the same wavelength as us and decided it would be funny to mess around. However, in order to make us all feel better and more secure in our surroundings, we should make sure whoever it is that is messing with us isn’t an enemy..” Price grabs his gun, gear, and flashlight, “Let's split up and survey the area. I will do a perimeter check outside. Ghost-you handle things in here until I get back.” Price secures his dark green toboggan on his head and pulls up the cold weather mask from around his neck to now cover the lower half of his face, protecting him from the cold; grabbing his gloves and securing the flashlight to the end of his weapon, he makes his way to the main foyer to head out into the freezing night.

Once you all hear the front door open and close, indicating that Price has left the house, Ghost moves toward the gear he had previously situated in a neat pile between the fireplace and the corner of the room. He grabbed the four remaining tactical flashlights, passing them out to the remaining members still in the house, as he began giving orders:

“Alright, Soap and I will check out this floor and see if we can secure all forms of entry within this house and look for anything suspicious we might have previously missed. Gaz, you and Spark, check the upstairs, see what the hell made that noise, and make sure to watch your step.”

“Right,” Gaz attaches his flashlight to the end of his gun and motions for you to follow him, both of you make your way to the main foyer with your weapons in hand. Stopping at the bottom of the deteriorating stairs, you share a look with your assigned teammate, take a deep breath, and begin to carefully ascend the stairs behind him.

Watching your step, you began to think about the loud, terrifying noise you heard resonate from upstairs just seconds before the fire went out, coming to the conclusion that you really did not want to go anywhere alone in this house, you confessed, “Gaz, you know I think we would be much more thorough and effective if we stayed together, not that I’m scared or anything just want to make sure we check everything out while managing to stay alive.”

Nodding along, “I agree. To be honest, the floor is falling apart up here, it is probably safer to stay together. Earlier, when I checked up here, there really wasn’t anything interesting, just a few empty rooms and mice,” he stated as he reached the top step, quickly checking the corners and not seeing anything of note,

Finally, getting a better look around at the second floor, you immediately notice the condition of the house up here, which makes the first floor look like a five-star resort. Broken glass, splintered wood, snow, and dried leaves cover what is left of the dry-rotted wood flooring. Gaz jerks his head forward as an indicator to follow him. Nodding in return, you both make your way to the first room straight across from the stairs, listening to the creaking of the floor. The crunch and groans of the glass and wood, along with the distant footsteps and voices of Ghost and Soap, are all that can be heard.

The first room has a single rotting mattress with broken springs protruding was propped in the corner near the entrance. A large broken mirror that looked as if it had once been hanging on the wall is now lying face down on the floor, surrounded by tiny shards of glass; unsightly wallpaper was peeling from the walls, adding to the gnawing feeling of unease growing in your stomach. You walk over to the mattress, and using your foot, you manage to flip it away from the wall. There, you find what looks to be a long-since dried puddle of a mysterious substance that you are praying isn’t blood, and in the center is an old iron key with the same symbol from the notebook engraved at the top. You hear Gaz walk up behind you as you pick up the key with your glove-covered hand; looking over your shoulder, you raise up the key to show him what you found.

“What do you suppose that goes to, Spark?”

“Hopefully, a liquor cabinet.”

Gaz gives a small chuckle in return as you pocket the key alongside the small red notebook. “I think if there were one here, one of us would have found it by now, but I like the way you think. So far so good though, let’s keep going, yeah,” he states moving towards the door, turning his head from the left to the right.

“Which way, next, you pick since it is oyur first time up here, left or right?”

“How kind of you.”

Following Gaz to the door, you stick your head out, looking left and right. The hall to the right had only one more room and a window at the end of the hallway that was surprisingly still intact. The hall to the left had two closed doors facing each other, where the huge hole in the roof you saw from the outside overhead of one of the doors caused some snow and ice to form a pile blocking it shut. Something about this hall to your left made you feel nauseous, like there was something over there you weren’t meant to see almost like you knew nothing good would happen in those rooms.

After a brief moment of considering your options, you declare, “To the right, the snow over there on the left makes me nervous. I don’t want to go over there just yet.”

Humming in agreement, Gaz follows you down the hallway on your right, taking great care to step over the molded water-damaged spots on the floor that remind you of a trail that leads to the window. When you both reach the single room at the end, shine your flashlight on the door that has long since fallen off its hinges and is now resting in the middle of the doorway on the ground. Stepping over the fallen door, you notice suspicious marks underneath, almost as if something was trying to claw its way out.

Gaz stands at the doorway, looking out of the window at the end of the hall as you make your way farther inside. The state of this room is similar to the previous one down to the same peeling wallpaper, though nothing was in this room except for a small family of mice huddled in their nest, watching you carefully with little beady eyes that seemed to glow. Not seeing anything of importance, you turn around, making your way to where Gaz stands, staring into the distance before you can report back about your findings about the cute little mouse family. Gaz gasped, “Look!” as he sprinted to the window, putting his hands against the window frame looking around outside frantically, his gun swinging back and forth from where it now hangs by his side due to the strap around his shoulders.

His breath fogs up the glass as he speaks, “There was something out there!! I saw it then it started running back out into the trees.”

Moving quickly, you join him at the window, your eyes scanning around in the moonlight woods. In the snow on the ground, you can barely distinguish what looks like a path from someone or something that was walking in the snow. It travels from below the window to the treeline in the distance.

“Maybe it was a wild animal, a coyote or something?” you suggest, looking at Gaz, shaking his head with a face full of desperation.

He grabs your arm, shaking it slightly. “No! It was huge and looked like a person, but not at the same time. It was all bony and deformed. It was right there lurking in the snow, and… it was almost as if it heard me because that’s when it ran into the trees.” He was breathing heavily, and you could feel his breath on your face.

Gently patting his hand that was still clutched around your arm, in a fearful voice, you reply, “It could have been a trick of the moonlight and all the snow. I mean it is kind of hard to see out there with the weather like this. And…and we haven’t gotten much sleep lately, so maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you.” swallowing nervously, you add, “Plus, if there is something out there, you said it ran back into the trees, so it is gone now, right?”

You stare at each other for a few seconds, searching for reassurance. He takes a deep breath, letting his eyes close and relaxing his shoulders. Gaz opens his eyes. Before he could reply to your wishful thinking, a loud crash came from the room down the left hallway that was not currently blocked by the pile of snow. Jumping back from the sudden noise, you quickly raise your gun in the direction of the noise.

Whispering to your teammate in a shaky voice, “Hey, um, which room would be the one that is above the living room, you know where we heard that loud noise that started all this?”

He breathed out in reply, “It would be that one over there, you ready?”

You nod in reply, as he picks up his gun as well from where it was hanging; all the years of missions and training kick in as you and Gaz slowly begin inching towards the left hallway to the room that was the source of all the terror. Making your way past the stairs that lead back to the first floor, you realize you can no longer hear Soap and Ghost distance footsteps or murmuring, though it was impossible to hear anything except for the pounding of your heart in your chest. In the back of your mind, you hoped everyone was safe; as you kept creeping towards the door both flashlights were focused on.

Finally reaching the door, both of you are standing on opposite sides of the door frame. Gaz lowers his gun so he will be able to open the door, while you check the corners as per usual on ops. Signaling to Gaz that you are ready with a nod of your head, he swings the door open as you enter a few steps inside, quickly surveying the area for any threats. Gaz is now standing at your back in the doorway. Shining the flashlight around the room, you see the same frantic scribbling etched into the walls, similar to what was in the notebook you found downstairs. It seems to be the same phrase over and over again all throughout the room, ‘it is here now.’

Your blood runs cold. You step forward, moving to make your way to the center of the room a hand wraps around your wrist stops you, pulling you against Gaz's chest, “Don’t, we need to leave this room immediately. Something isn’t right here. None of this makes sense. These writings were not here earlier when I checked this floor.” He whispers in your ear like he was scared to speak any louder for fear of someone or something might hear him.

Letting yourself be pulled out of the room, making sure to grab the door and close it. When the door is fully closed, you hear the front door slam open, “Come back to the fireplace! We need to discuss our next movements!” Price yells throughout the house. Running down the hallway and the stairs, you run into Soap and Ghost, who were coming from the kitchen both covered in a thin layer of dust. Walking into the living room with everyone, you see Price crouched down, holding his hands in front of the fire, trying to warm himself from the freezing cold temperature outside.

Hearing you all enter the room, Price stands up, putting his back to the fire. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a cigar and lighter. Putting the cigar in his mouth, bringing the small Zippo lighter up, he lights it while taking a deep breath.

“When I was securing the perimeter out there, I kept finding these strange tracks. I was trying to follow them to figure out if it was an enemy soldier..”

You turn to look at Gaz as Price is talking, and you find he is already looking at you. Fear is evident across his face.

“The tracks show a scouting pattern. Looks like they were trying to figure out the best way to attack. I think for right now, our best course of action is to barricade ourselves in this house to limit attacks and keep us safe.” Price takes a deep breath, looking at where you all stand in front of him, “Did anyone find anything of importance in here?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you prepare to tell the Captain about the creature from the window and the mysterious appearing writing on the walls, when Gaz clears his throat, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “No, sir. All the rooms upstairs are empty.” Furrowing your brows in confusion, you just nod along, not understanding why he wouldn’t tell the rest of your team about all the creepy events that occurred upstairs.

Ghost angles his body toward the kitchen, shining his flashlight into the room. " We found some weird cellar door hidden underneath what was left of a cabinet. Soap tried opening it, but it is locked with some bloody ancient lock.”

Your eyes widening, you let out a gasp as you quickly pull out the key you found upstairs from your pocket, “Oh, I almost forgot, in one of the rooms, upstairs, we found this!”

Holding up the key for everyone to see, you ask, “Does this look like it would open it?”

Soap takes the key from your hands and exclaims, “Aye, this looks like it will do the trick.” As he walks back into the kitchen, the rest of the task force follows suit.

When you all walk into the kitchen, you realize why your two teammates were covered in a layer of dust. They had left no stone unturned in their inspection of the first floor. The remaining cabinets and drawers were ripped open laying on the floor, the appliances were pulled out from the wall, and some were now resting on their sides. Soap gestures for Ghost to shine the flashlight on the cellar door, illuminating the lock. Now you see what they were talking about- on the kitchen floor is an indent of metal door that looked small but just wide enough for the members of the team to squeeze through, if they needed to, but small enough to where some of their gear would have to be left behind.

Sliding the key into the lock, Soap turns the key, causing a small clicking sound to be heard. With a grunt, he grabs the handle to the door and prying it open, letting it hit the wall behind it, creating a sizeable dent. Flashlights are aimed into the darkness below, but all that can be seen is a rusty metal ladder leading down. The air coming from the hole smelled stale and metallic, goosebumps rose on your skin as you peered down.

“Well, what do you say, Cap, should some of us take a look?” asked Soap, pointing down into the darkness, sounding intrigued at the idea of venturing down into the seemingly bottomless pit.

Rolling forward on his feet, placing one of his hands around the straps of his vest while the other held his lit cigar near his mouth, Price took a long drag before blowing out the smoke up into the air, contemplating what to do, groaning Soap added, “five minutes just to see if there is anything useful down there, and then we come right back up and close it.”

Price used the hand holding his cigar to rub his temple. “Fine, Soap. You and Gaz go down there and see if there is anything. Be careful, and come back up in five minutes. I understand.”

“Yes, sir,” they both replied in unison.

Soap looked at the small opening of the cellar and preceded to take off his thick, bulletproof vest and laid his weapons down; remembering to take the tactical flashlight attached to his gun, he placed them in a neat pile near the entrance save for his handgun and knife strapped to his thigh. Following his example, Gaz did the same. Soap moved down to stand on the rusty ladder that groaned at the extra added weight, “Alright, see ya in five minutes,” as he descended the hole with the smaller flashlight from his gun stuck in his mouth. You gave a comforting pat on the back to Gaz, telling him a soft “good luck” as he, too entered the cellar.

Sitting down against the wall near the cellar door, you lean your head back, closing your eyes, trying to imagine yourself back at base in the safety of your small but cozy room, snuggled up in your warm blanket. Then you feel someone sit next to you, peeking one eye open. You turn your head to see Ghost in a similar position; breaking the silence, you hear his gruff voice, “The weather should break in the morning, and then we can all leave this place behind us.”

Letting out a breathless laugh, you add, “Yeah I just hope we can make it til then.”

Now, looking at his masked face, you can see him narrow his eyes at you in question, the room barely illuminated from the moonlight, peering in through the busted-out windows in the house and flashlight present in both you and Ghost's hands. “What is that supposed to mean?” before you could answer, Price plops down in front of where you two were sitting, “Nothing is going to happen, Spark; you are just all spooked by your own shadows right now, morning will come soon enough, and everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Glancing from Price’s reassuring face to Ghost’s, you let out an exasperated sigh, “I guess you are right, sir,” you spoke, leaning your head back against the wall.

From the darkness of the cellar, a blood-curdling scream from your two teammates echoed throughout the house.

Chapter 3: From the Pinnacle to the Pit

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