#idk if its the adrenaline talking or hes just so in over his head about being as good as dead but damn

[monprecieuxx]

Neil was already in his coffin. He might as well nail it shut. "Yeah, I understand you're a complete asshole."

For a dude whose entire existence till date seems to hing on calculated resistance & keeping ones mouth shut, he sure has no filter whatsoever

[entitled-fangirl]

Are you scared of me, Princess?

Jasper Hale x human!reader

Summary: The reader sees the scars on Jasper's arms, prompting him to tell her the truth.

Words: 1,646

Warnings: talk of murder, vampire stuff idk, scars, cursing

Author's note: God this is angsty. Someone get 8th-grade me in here right now because this is what she thought she was reading at her age.

Masterlist <3

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Jasper sat in the bed placed in his room, his mate resting her back against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her waist and his face found its way into her hair. Her hands were placed on top of his on her waist, relishing in the feeling of comfort he gave her.

They were a strange pair, the two. The bloodthirsty vampire fighting his instincts to feed and the helpless human girl who wouldn’t be able to fight him if she tried. 

But she trusted him with her whole heart. It had been hard at first. She had to marinate in the knowledge of the existence of vampires, and he suffered the constant smell of her sweet scent, calling out to him every second.

It was so hard for him, even on a good day. Her smell of her blood always drew him in. 

The only thing holding him back from draining her was the feeling he knew he wouldn’t fight the minute her body became lifeless: dread.

But now, they laid in each other’s arms in complete trust. 

Her hand wandered up his forearm, stopping at the unevenness of his skin. She looked down, pulling his sleeve up briefly.

Bite marks and scratches laid all up and down his forearm. She didn’t want to know how far up his arm it went, thankful for the sleeve.

She felt him shift. He felt uncomfortable. Scared of her reaction. But above all else, he cared for her. She could practically feel his gift poking at her emotions, intertwining them with his. A sense of calmness fell over the two of them before words could form.

Her hand still laid against his arm gently, her thumb brushing one of the bites to comfort him in her own way.

She felt his head move away from hers, leaning back against the bed frame. She used this opportunity to turn in his grip, now facing him. Once there, she pulled his arm into her lap, her eyes inspecting the scars in front of her. 

He simply watched. He couldn’t hide them, and he would never lie. Not to her. So, he simply sat there to let her ask him or draw her own conclusions.

She finally looked up, her eyes locking on his. She’s thankful of his gift, because otherwise, she may have been teary-eyed. “T….Tell me, Jasper?”

His eyes softened. God, she was so good to him. So perfect. So innocent and pure. Everything he knew he wasn’t.

Her blood would be so easy to take. The feeling of adrenaline would be worth the-

“It’s… a long story, Princess. I don’t think you wanna hear it.”

She was visibly hurt by his answer, her hand retreating from his. “Oh. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry… I just… just thought…”

He chuckles to himself, teasing her, “Thought what, Princess? You really wanna know?”

She nods, her eyes glossy, holding an unreadable expression.

He sighs. He wanted to hold off from telling her this. That was his plan. But now, she had ruined the perfect plan in his head. Not that he could be mad at her. His heart couldn’t do that.

He pulls his sleeve up his other arm, showing her the scarring. “D’you know much about the Civil War, Darlin’?”

She nods, her eyes never leaving his forearm. 

He smiles, “Good girl. Knew you would.” He took a deep breath, not that he needed to, but it allowed him to collect himself and decide what to say. “I was turned during the Civil War. A woman named Maria convinced me to help her train a vampire army. I was foolish and naive. I thought she was doing the right thing.”

He looked up at her to gauge her reaction. She simply stared at the scars, her head low in thought. He took this as a sign to continue.

“You know.. I was, uh, a major, in the war?”

Her head perked up at that, her eyes meeting his. “A..a major?”

He smirked, “Yeah. Major Jasper Whitlock.” As he said so, she felt a wave of pride come from his body. She didn’t need Jasper’s gifts to sense it, for it had come so plain. 

He continued, “I trained them myself. Her army, I mean. I know you don’t know much about us, but newborn vampires are more dangerous. More deadly. They’re stronger than most.” As he said this, she could feel his tone becoming sharper. 

“Stronger than Emmett?”

He nods, “Yes, Princess. Much stronger. You stay away from a newborn.” It had meant to be advice, but it came out a demand. “They’re more deadly than you can imagine. I’ve watched them do…” his eyes look off in thought, “…unspeakable things…”

A small silence overtakes them before she breaks it. “And you trained them?”

His eyes quickly move back to hers, the amber color glowing, “Yes, ma’am.”

“How?”

“Not easily. They don’t take too well, as you can see,” he said, his head motioning forward at his arms. “I punished them, too. Killed them when they got out of hand or weren’t what we needed.”

He feared to look up at her, but he couldn’t resist. Her gaze was on the window. He didn’t often wish for a gift different than his, but at this moment, he wished he could read her mind. See what was going on in that lovely little human brain of hers. But he couldn’t. He sensed she wasn’t distressed. He had to see her eyes to be sure. Not for his gift’s sake, but for his own. His hand outstretched to grab her jaw gently, pulling it towards his own. “Are you scared of me?”

Her eyes catch his, their faces a foot apart. “…Sh…should I be, Jasper?”

He considers her question quickly with a nod, his voice low. “Really fucking scared.”

She blinks at his wording, her brain struggling to comprehend everything in front of her. 

He wanted to joke, take the dark mood away, but he knew this was serious. “I killed before this,” he gestured to himself, “I killed during this…. I’ll probably have to kill sometime after this. I’ve murdered many with no remorse, their bodies laying at my feet. Innocent lives and murders, too. I overpowered the strongest vampires with ease, ending them mercilessly. My heart holds no mercy. So, I’ll ask again. Are you scared of me?”

She wasn’t sure what to think. She couldn’t put it into words. Was she scared? She supposed so. Any sane person would be. But she trusted him. She trusted him. She trusted him. “You… You won’t hurt me, Jasper.”

He wanted to laugh at her sweet response. How naive of his little lamb. She said it so sure of herself. Of him. She didn’t know of the constant, deep thirst of blood he fought back every time their eyes met. She didn’t know of the pain he felt when she parted from him. She didn’t know of the horrors he had endured. And most importantly, she would never understand the terrors he had caused.

“You don’t know that, Princess.”

She took a quick breath in at his response. Every reasonable thought she ever had was gone. She should run. She should hide. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. Her body remained here, on the vampire’s bed, his hand gripping her jaw while staring at her like she was prey. Every reasonable thought was gone.

She reached her hand up to place on top of his on her jaw, flinching at the cold feeling of his skin on hers. “You won’t, Jasper.” She began to even sound confident.

He smiled at her, his sharp teeth peeking out. This girl believes in him that much. What a stupid girl. Too trusting. Too hopeful. Too pretty. Too good. Too perfect. He could absolutely ruin her. But he wouldn’t. “C’mon, Princess. Admit you’re a little afraid.” He needed to hear her say it.

Her hand gripped his, pushing it down her jaw lightly until it rested over her throat. His hand now wrapped around her neck, her hand lightly resting on his. 

He was speechless at her touches. Her movements. Her willingness. Her loyalty to him. His eyes stare at his own hand, admiring the view in front of him. Her hopeful eyes staring into his while his hand rested above her only source of oxygen. It was intimate. It was scary. It was perfect. She was perfect. 

His thumb brushed her throat lightly, feeling her heartbeat quicken at his touch. He could practically feel the blood running through her veins. And she trusted him still. 

They sat there in silence for a while, simply admiring the other. 

She was perfect. Too innocent for her own good, but so loyal and willing for him. Her pretty face was the perfect view for him. He could stare at it until the end of his days. And she trusted him with her life. 

She trusted him with the one thing his body thirst to destroy. And he loved her all the more for it.

He was strong. Resilient. An open book for her to read at her leisure. Protective was a word she was familiar with. She felt like his arms were the only thing she needed to live in the world. She trusted him with her life.

His other arm moved up her body, his hand getting lost in the hair on the back of her head. He pushes her forward, capturing her lips in his. 

The hand on her neck stayed. But it never twitched. 

They pulled away from each other to let her catch her breath. Their faces were close as they tried to think of the right words to say.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. She wasn’t afraid of him. 

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[aemondsbabe]

A Kindness

summary: you're finally ramsay's most favorite toy, but is that really a good thing?

pairing: ramsay bolton x reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark content it's ramsay hello, blood kink but no injury/gore, mentioned major character death (again, no injury/gore), slight au (ramsay wins battle of the bastards), choking, rough sex, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation, slapping, piv sex, unprotected sex don't be silly wrap ur willy, hair pulling, creampie, slight breeding kink, puppy play, boot humping idk how to else to phrase it, slight angst but a happy ending for ramsay lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.2k

a/n: my first foray into dark or at least semi-dark writing and my first time writing ramsay! i've had this one in my head for such a long time so it feels really good to actually get it out! hope everyone enjoys and please make sure to heed the warnings with this one!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

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“Dip the cloth again, you dolt,” you snap, looking up from the scroll of parchment rolled out before you on the table when you hear the coarse woolen cloth begin to scrape dryly across the silver Ramsay’s… thing was supposed to be polishing, “If I have to remind you of that one more time, I’ll tell him you tried to touch me. I wonder which part of you he’d hack off for that, hm?” 

Reek’s eyes go wide at your threat and he nods his head frantically, quickly reaching over and dunking the cloth into the small bowl of vinegar before him. “Yes, m’lady. Apologies, m’lady.” 

A small sigh leaves your lips as you rest an elbow on the table, nose scrunching up slightly at the sour smell that seems to hang like a cloud over the room, the small one by the kitchens.

 Probably where the staff ate, you think, staring blankly at the fire crackling away in the hearth. You’ve tried hard to picture it – Winterfell in its former glory, trussed up with wolf banners and filled with children’s laughter, how it was when the Stark’s called it home. 

Your eyes linger on Reek and for a second, you’re halfway tempted to ask him about it – what it was like living here, being one of them. You don’t, knowing the question would fall on deaf ears at the least, or send him spiraling to the point of being unable to finish his chores, and then it would be your head on the chopping block as well. 

Distantly, you hear the familiar baying of Ramsay’s hounds and your eyes flick up to the narrow slit windows on the wall; you do your best to ignore the way Reek’s head swivels to the sound in the same instance yours does, the way that adrenaline so keenly rushes through you – a burst of panic leading the charge before you have the chance to correct it. 

Anticipation, you remind yourself, jaw clenched, Passion, excitement. 

Your eyes vacantly scan over the parchment you’d nabbed from the library earlier that morning, an account of the birth of Arya, apparently the sister of the one that had actually managed to escape some weeks back, no doubt frozen now in one of the snowy forests that surrounds Winterfell. You don’t really care, your thoughts once again reverting back to Myranda. Bitterly, you remember how he never made her stay behind when he went hunting, never made her watch over his man-servant, never made her second guess.

The last one is a lie, the truth woven deeply into the many nights you’d spent up with her – listening as she fretted about each word she’d uttered to him that day, hoping each one had been right and had been said at the right time, that he wouldn’t find some made-up cause to punish her. Tendrils of jealousy had twisted into you even then, even as she painted a picture of what he truly was. 

Just as men’s voices filter through the windows from the courtyard outside, your lips quirk up into a mean, victorious little smirk. 

It’s her body he fed to the dogs, you think, the voice in your mind a proud hiss, Just like Violet’s and Tansy’s and Kyra’s. You remember the day well enough, remember the shock of seeing your friend's body laying in the courtyard as you’d run out to greet Ramsay, teal eyes staring at nothing. It had been you that had warmed his bed that very night, and all the ones after it. 

“There you are,” a familiar voice sounds from behind you, nearly making you yelp as Reek scrambles to stand up from the table. Before you even have a chance to, a strong hand clasps over your shoulder, stilling your movements, “No, no, don’t get up on my account.” Rusty copper stains color his hand, dried blood outlining each of his nails. You don’t let your mind linger on what the source of it could be.

You whip your head around and swallow nervously as he chuckles lowly, “Ramsay!” You breathe in greeting, the corners of your lips tilting up into a tentative smile, though that’s quickly washed away as you take in the messy splotches of red that stain his coat and tunic, that snake their way up the pale column of his throat and dot the sides of his face. 

He looks every bit the hunter and you wonder, not for the first time, what that makes you. 

“You seem quite comfortable here, pet,” he drawls, leaning down until he’s eye-level with you, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more at home down here with the help,” he continues, hand tightening to the point of pain on your shoulder, making you grit your teeth, “Than you are in our chambers where you’re meant to be.”

Our chambers. A privilege he never granted her. Stupidly, your heart sings. 

His hand tightens on your shoulder once more, finally drawing a pained whine from your lips.

“Y-You told me to watch him! To make sure he –” You’re cut off as Ramsay unceremoniously hauls you to your feet, clawing at your leather doublet. A cry leaves your lips as the hand on your shoulder tangles into the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging as he forces your head back, blue eyes flicking to your neck as you swallow thickly. 

“I told you to be in our chambers when I return from hunts,” he corrects you, standing to his full height as he holds you tightly, forcing you unsteadily onto your tip-toes, “That I expected you to be at the door, ready and waiting for me.” His lips ghost over your ear as he speaks, his voice a low growl that shouldn’t excite you the way it does. 

“I’m sorry,” you wince internally at the way your voice comes out as a pained little squeak, your hands scrambling to hang onto his forearm, nails digging into the stained quilted fabric of his jacket.

“You know how I get after a hunt,” he suddenly pulls away from you, his hand pulling out of your hair, a gasp leaving you as your heels drop to the floor. You blink as he reaches up, not flinching from years of practice, though instead of striking you or harshly gripping at your jaw like you expect, his hand cups your cheek. Your chest rises and falls as he strokes his thumb over your cheekbone, blood stained fingers now delicate against your soft skin. 

“Today’s was a special one, too. Don’t you remember?” He questions, icy eyes sliding from yours to the red-headed man still standing by the table, glimmering cruelly as he smirks. 

Still, you nod your head, knowing Reek won’t answer. “To celebrate killing Jon Snow,” you breathe, gripping at the leather of his tunic, desperate to win even a scrap of approval.

Surprisingly, he grants it – fixing you with a proud little grin, like how an owner would look at a dog that’s just mastered a new trick. “That’s right,” his hand ruffles the hair on the top of your head, a gesture that should feel demeaning, yet it sends a tingle of pride through you instead, “Seems you can remember something after all.” He pulls away and traipses over to Reek, hands clasped behind his back.

“Surely you remember too, Reek? You were in the kennels that evening when the dogs had their treat, were you not?” He taunts, the playful inflection in his voice entirely for show, “Our little problem’s been dealt with and now we hold not only the Dreadfort but Winterfell as well! What do you think about that, hm?” Ramsay studies the other man carefully, eyes flitting over his face as he takes great pleasure in the subtle twitches of pain that still manage to flicker through the harsh conditioning he’d endured. Your eyes stay fixed firmly on the stone floor. 

“A… A great victory, master!” 

“Yes, a great victory, indeed,” he smiles, watching Reek for another moment before turning back to you. His smile morphs into a cold, callous frown that ties your stomach into knots, each of his steps making your heart hammer faster in your chest. “You know, it’s actually rather amusing,” he starts, bloodied fingers twirling a stray lock of your hair, “How my hounds seem to be continually more well trained than you, pretty little idiot.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty! Your heart thumps dumbly, a rabbit in a snare. 

“I’ll do better!” You whimper, shaking your head frantically as your eyes meet his, “I can do better, really, I was just confu–”

The hand in your hair shoots down suddenly, yanking several strands with it as he clamps it around your neck. “Confused?” Ramsay murmurs, watching with rapt attention at how you struggle in his hold, lips quivering as the words die in your throat, “Really? I give you one task, I ask one thing of you, and you can’t even figure that out? You still disappoint me?” 

He’s not expecting an answer, you know this, and yet you still try to give one as your mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water, only the faintest little whines managing to escape. You feel faint, both from his grip around your throat and from the myriad of emotions coursing through your veins – your heart twists at the thought of failing him, your stomach is in knots as various punishments flash through your mind, and yet your center still sparks, still sends little glimmers of arousal through you. 

His grip loosens enough to allow you to suck in several shaky lungfuls of air as he snickers, endlessly amused at how eager you still are, how you still yearn so deeply for him. Again, he pats your head condescendingly, muttering little hushes as if you were a crying puppy. “Lucky for you, pet, I have plenty of experience training stubborn bitches,” Ramsay chuckles, blue eyes glimmering with mirth when he feels you swallow apprehensively, “I think we’ll have your behavior corrected in no time, won’t we? Even the stupidest of beasts can still learn a trick or two.”

Before you have time to react, the hand cradling the crown of your head harshly grabs at your hair again, tugging you suddenly toward the door. “Ah!” You yelp, stumbling as he all but drags you behind him, your hands shake as they struggle to grab onto his forearm, “Ramsay, pl–!”

“You should be grateful I am allowing you the kindness of walking!” He growls, sparing you a glance over his shoulder as he leads you through the Great Hall, “Pity I’m so protective of you, really, I’m sure it would be quite entertaining for my men to watch you crawl.” His drawled threat sends a spark of fear down your spine and you pant, chest heaving, as you shuffle behind him; your cheeks burn as several of his soldiers sitting at the long wooden tables catcall as you stagger past them.

Finally, the two of you reach your shared chambers, that fact sending a little torrent of satisfaction through you even now. Unceremoniously, Ramsay all but tosses you inside and you whimper as your hip collides with an edge of the decorative table just inside the door, no doubt hard enough to bruise but at least it breaks your fall. 

“It’s quite unfortunate, normally find your impudence amusing,” he starts lowly, pressing the old wooden door closed with a thud before sliding the lock into place with a self-satisfied grin, “But I know you know better, don’t you, little one?” He asks as he stalks toward you.

Your breath catches in your throat as he stands before you, studying you silently for a second in the same calculated way he studies a deer through the sight of his bow. Not knowing what else to do, you silently nod your head as your eyes slip down to the floor, like a child being scolded. 

“You’ve been with me the longest now,” he murmurs as if you don’t know, one bloodstained hand grabbing at your waist as the other fits around the back of your neck, once again forcing your eyes to his face, “We grew up together, you and I. You know my ways, my rules, isn’t that right?”

Again, you nod your head, bottom lip trembling with the want to explain yourself, although you know that would only make things worse.

“That’s what makes your disobedience so frustrating,” his blue eyes bore into yours as he speaks, his lip sticking out in a mocking pout, “Because you do know better and yet you’re stupid enough to act out anyway, hm?” His tone is sharper now, dangerous like the pointed tip of an arrow.

“I wasn’t acting out!” The words claw themselves out of your throat before you can stop them and instantly you know you’ve made a mistake, but now you’re desperate to remedy it, “I wasn’t, really! I j-just misunderstood you, that’s –” 

Your pleas come to a screeching halt as his hand smacks across your face, the other grips at your jaw tightly, tight enough to make you whine softly in his grasp. Your eyes squeeze shut for a second, cheek stinging, before they open and lock with his again, wild and desperately. 

I wasn’t being insolent! You scream silently, hoping he can somehow hear you, that maybe all of your years with him would’ve granted that ability, I would never! I was doing as you said, like always! 

“I was wrong earlier, wasn’t I?” Ramsay mutters, so close to you that your foreheads nearly touch. Your eyes widen slightly at his words, heart thumping in a hopeful little staccato, though he wrenches that away quickly enough, “You’re not a dog at all, no, a dog would be obedient and docile.”

Your brows knit together with confusion at his words, biting so hard into your lower lip that you’re shocked you don’t taste blood. Although, you can’t help the surprised little gasp that leaves you when his hands begin quickly tugging at the laces of your bodice as your own remain in white-knuckled fists at your sides, the whole of you determined to stay still like a statue, a plaything. 

“No, you my sweet little pet,” he growls sarcastically, low voice morphing into a pleased chuckle as he tugs your bodice off; the shirt below it quickly follows and a small part of you blooms with pride at the happy little sigh he lets out at the sight of your breasts. 

“You’re just a dumb puppy, aren’t you?” He chuckles against your throat, nipping at your skin more so than kissing it, although you relish the feel of his lips on you all the same. “A dumb, defiant little puppy,” he continues, hastily pulling at the ties of your skirts and you whimper despite yourself when they finally fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, “That’s in desperate need of more training.” 

He stops, pausing for a mere second, and pulls back just enough to look at you, no doubt gaining satisfaction from the desperation written so plainly on your face. There’s a hunger in his cold eyes – a predator silently deciding to go for the jugular, nocking an arrow on his bow. 

You whine as he properly kisses at your throat now, his hands rough against your skin as he grabs at your hips. One skims higher to cup your breast, the unexpected gentleness of his touches causes you to shiver and whine in his grasp and into his mouth as he kisses you finally, his full lips moving steadily in time with yours. 

Harsh pants leave your lips as your heart pumps madly in your chest, his touches always work you up so quickly. The thought of him still being fully clothed as he left you bare and vulnerable made you hotter still; the feel of his warm leather tunic against your exposed skin, of his bloodied hands against your supple skin, drives you mad. 

Before you have time to second guess your movements, you begin blindly pulling at the strings on his leather tunic, desperate to feel him against you. Surprisingly, he lets you tug it off of him, granting you a last meal of sorts, and you can’t help but to smile into the kiss, gasping into his mouth as he unbuttons his jacket himself before quickly tossing it aside as well. He’s panting nearly as harshly as you are as the two of you part long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head, your hands immediately go to his chest the second it joins the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Your eyes flicker over him as the two of you pause, the knot in your belly growing tighter at the sight of his taut stomach and chest, the low, warm glow of the many candles dotted throughout your chambers accentuating each muscular dip. Your fingers shake as they trail over him and you feel a sick sense of pride twist in your stomach at the fact that, unlike so many men, his skin isn’t mottled with years of scars and bruises. No, his is flawless, a pale, unmarred, ruthless canvas – a flawless killer. 

Of course, he can’t let you have this reprieve for long. A good trainer doesn’t spoil his pet. 

A soft, broken gasp leaves you as one hand wraps around your neck again, slotting perfectly against your throat like a collar, as he walks you a few paces further into the room, closer to the small hearth by the bed. “Kneel,” his command leaves no room for anything but obedience; you swallow thickly, nervously, and do as he says, lips parting ever so slightly when your knees rest on plush bear skin instead of hard stone. 

A kindness, even now. 

Ramsay’s lips twist into a proud grin as you stare up at him, legs folded beneath you with your hands poised perfectly on your thighs, a familiar stance he’d taught you years ago. “Good girl,” he mutters, fingers threading gently through your hair as you moan softly. 

“Thank y – Ah!”

“No,” he chides harshly, tugging your head back by the roots of your hair until your neck is bared to him, your back arched, “Puppies don’t talk, dumb little thing,” he growls, shifting more closely to you in order to gain a better hold on your hair, close enough that you whimper as your front is pressed firmly against the length of his leg, the thick fabric of his trousers rough against your skin as one of his feet slots between your thighs, “A well-trained pet certainly doesn’t.” 

The knot in your belly seizes at his words, aided by the laces of his leather boots brushing oh-so gently against your center, the knotted fabric sticking against the wetness already leaking from your clenching cunt. You whine, high-pitched and frantic when he clutches your hair tighter still, his fist white knuckled against the crown of your head. 

“A well-trained little pet would always obey their master, wouldn’t they?” You can’t miss the breathiness of his voice now, his tone lower and smoother than it normally is, and the sound makes your hips hump against his boot before you can stop yourself, your nipples stiff, nearly aching, as they rub against his trousers. 

A low, rumbled laugh echoes through your chambers when your arms wrap around his leg, fingers digging desperately into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Aww,” he coos mockingly, licking his lips as he watches you, his attention making blood rush to the apples of your cheeks, “Is my pretty little puppy getting off on this? Does your cunt drip when I tell you how stupid and worthless you are?”

The sound of your blood pumping furiously through your veins thuds in your ears, Pretty, pretty pretty!

You whine as you try to eagerly nod your head, his hold on your hair preventing you from moving much, though your hips rut steadily against his boot now – pressing tightly against the worn fabric, the knots from his laces rubbing perfectly over the throbbing little pearl at your center. 

“You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls, cold eyes shining as he studies you closely, chest heaving in time with yours as his cock hardens in his pants, “Are you having fun, little one?”

Again, you try to nod, keening brokenly as your eyes stay fixed on his. You pant harshly against his leg, breath fragmented as they’re punched out of your lungs, the knot in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each pass of your slick center over the laces of his boot. 

He knows, of course. As soon as he ordered you to stay in the kitchens with Reek this morning, he knew – knew you’d follow his orders to the letter, even if they contradicted his previous ones. He knew he’d find you there, knew he’d punish you for it, knew exactly how he wanted to break you down so that it could be him who built you back up. He’s known you the longest, you’d grown up together. He knows, of course he does. He’s nothing if not a thorough hunter. 

A loud, broken whine leaves you when he flexes his foot, pressing his boot harder against you still. You’re helpless to do much else aside from stare up at him, gasping, while your hips buck against him as quickly as your sore muscles will allow, your high barreling toward you at a breakneck pace. 

All of that comes to a sudden, screeching halt though when he moves again, shifting his weight until his boot is just out of reach. The sudden lack of stimulation makes your back arch further still, your muscles taut like a drawn bow. 

“Oh, poor little puppy,” he laughs, watching gleefully as you whine loudly, the peak that had been so close fading away, leaving you aching, “If you thought it was going to be that easy, you haven’t been paying attention.” He taunts, crouching until he’s eye-level with you, smirking as his movements cause his pull on your hair to become tighter, making you wince, though his hand thankfully releases its grasp once he settles.

“Mmm,” you mewl softly as he caresses your breasts again, jumping slightly when he thumbs over your nipple before softly pinching at it, giving the other one the same treatment. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back further still, pressing against the palm of his hand as he kneads at your chest, eager for any stimulation you can get.

“Myranda was never like this,” he says suddenly, his voice low, steady, calculated. He smiles cruelly when your eyes snap open at the sound of her name, the back of your throat tight as tears already blur your vision – just like he wanted. “No, Myranda always behaved perfectly, she always did exactly what I said.” 

He leans forward suddenly, the side of his face pressed firmly against yours so that when he speaks, you’re sure to hear every syllable, to feel them punctuated against the skin of your neck. “She was perfect. I never had to punish her for the same thing twice, you know. Not like I do with you.” 

You shudder as his lips press against your skin again, pressing eager kisses against the wet trail of tears running down your cheek. He admires the way your shoulders shake as you sob, the way the subtle movement makes your breasts bounce, the way your cheeks flush so prettily, how your eyes always shine so brightly with fresh tears in them. 

Ramsay loves breaking you – adores the moment when his arrow is finally launched free from his bow, adores the moment he sees it pierce your little heart. He loves you, in his way. 

Not that he’d tell you that.

He lets you sob for a moment longer, all the while pressing hot kisses against your cheeks, relishing the salty taste of your tears as the little droplets of blood still caked to his skin mar your pretty face, staining it with delicate streaks of red. His cock twitches at the sight, black pupils nearly drowning out the blue of his eyes – maybe one day he’d bring you hunting, what a sight you’d be covered in the bright blood of a fresh kill. 

“Myranda never needed training, puppy, not in the way you do,” he nearly whispers, the corners of his lips twitching up into a small smile as he leans back enough to grab at your chin, tilting your face up to his, “That’s what made her so boring.”

“Huh?” You breathe, sobs stalling for a second as you process what he’d just said, your obvious surprise making him laugh lowly again. 

“What? Does that shock you? That I found her boring?” He questions, eyebrow raised, “Why would perfection be interesting?” 

Your eyes search his face as he shifts, kneeling rather than crouching. A little glimmer of pride sparks to life within you as he kisses you again, your lips moving against his frantically, mewling when he pushes his tongue into your mouth and nips at your bottom lip. 

“I never got to train her,” he breathes against your lips, grunting at the way your hands skim over his chest and stomach, grabbing at him so frantically, “I hardly got to punish her; if I gave her an order, she would follow it blindly – it made her predictable, it made her boring.”

“N-Not like me?” You whisper hopefully, meeting his gaze through half-lidded eyes as you pant, your chest pressed tightly to his. 

“No, sweet pet, not like you,” Ramsay smiles, making your heart sing as it leaps beneath your ribs, “I get to train you, don’t I? And punish you when that little puppy brain can’t follow the simplest of orders.”

You should be offended, should feel mocked and belittled, but you don’t. Instead, you nod your head eagerly, preening like a proud little bird at his praise, because that’s what is, really. Ramsay will never be one to sing your praises softly like other men, but he admires you all the same. 

Before you have time to reply, he grabs at your waist and abruptly maneuvers you, manhandling you until you’re poised on your hands and knees, cheek pressed firmly against the fur rug beneath you. 

“I get to play with you, pet,” he drawls lowly, pressing a hand into the small of your back and grunting appreciatively when you arch down like he wants, licking his lips as your cunt finally comes into view, shining already in the low candlelight. He smirks at the way you moan when he presses his hard length against you, grinding against your slit, chest heaving at how warm you are even through his trousers, “Don’t I?”

“Yes!” You nod eagerly, pressing back against him like a wanton whore, nearly dizzy with need when his fingers bump against you as he quickly undoes the laces on his pants, “Yes, yes, yes, please!”

“Ohh, so you can be good, hm?” He teases, groaning in relief when he pushes his trousers down just enough to free his cock, too impatient to remove them entirely, “Seems my training’s working nicely.”

Mindlessly, you nod, willing to agree with whatever he says so long as he gets inside you.

Mercifully, you don’t have to wait long. A loud cry fills your chambers as he presses into you, the slight sting of his thick cock stretching you open making you shiver, a familiar sensation since he was rarely ever patient enough to work you open on his fingers. 

Immediately, he sets a brutal pace, his hips pressing against yours tightly each time he pushes forward, the head of his cock nearly kissing your cervix with each harsh thrust. Your cunt clenches at him greedily and your hands scramble against the rug beneath you, fingers tangling into the furs, desperate for something to anchor yourself. 

“Fuck, tight little cunt,” Ramsay grunts harshly above you, his hands gripping meanly at your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. 

“R-Ramsay, fuck… fuck,” you whimper beneath him, your eyes squeezed shut tightly as the knot in your belly threatens to unravel, your walls pulsing rhythmically around his length each time it spears into you.

He chuckles breathlessly at your little murmurs and runs a hand up the length of your back before grabbing at the hair at the nape of your neck, relishing the little cry you give as he pulls you up until your back is pressed firmly against his chest. “Are you close already?” He mocks smugly, his fingers untangling from your hair to wrap once more around your throat as his other paws at your breasts, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. 

You swallow thickly, throat bobbing under his grip, and nod your head the best you can, grabbing at his thick forearm. 

“Do you think I’m going to let you?” He teases, biting harshly at your shoulder as his hips keep up a punishing rhythm.

You nearly sob at the question, so desperate, but still you shake your head, cunt pulsing around his length. “No, n-no…” You moan mournfully, voice hoarse from his hold. 

He chuckles behind you, his chest rumbling against your back as he kisses and bites at your earlobe, your shoulder, any part of your neck not covered by his hand, each touch driving you mad. “Finally, that little brain seems to be working,” he grunts, laughing lowly as he abandons your breasts long enough to slap your cheek, blessedly soft this time, “I’m having too much fun playing with you to let you go that easily,” He drawls, chuckling once more when you whine. 

“In fact,” he continues, reaching down and rubbing his fingers roughly against your aching bud, just enough to make you cry out before he suddenly pulls away again, tugging his length from you as he lets you flop to the floor with a little grunt, “I want to see you do a trick,” he whispers, rubbing over your ass before smack it roughly, making you jump, “Roll over.”

“Wha –” You start to question, only to be cut off with a loud cry as his hand spanks you once more.

“Be a good fucking puppy and roll over.”

His order leaves no room for questioning and obediently, you listen and roll over onto your back with a little whimper. You keep your legs bent up when you settle, keeping yourself on display for him, clenching around nothing as you eye his hard cock bobbing against his stomach, the tip red and leaking. 

“Good little pet,” he praises, his words going straight to your pearl as you shudder. Hastily, he pushes your legs up further, one hand holding you open as he presses his cock back into you, savoring your loud whine, the way your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He resumes his harsh pace, slamming into you as he chases his high now, blue eyes trailing appreciatively over your trembling body, watching as your breasts bounce with each unforgiving thrust he gives. 

“Please, please, Gods, please!” You whine frantically as he presses his hips against yours, grinding into you, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your bud perfectly, “Ramsay, p-please! I – fuck!”

He laughs breathlessly at your cries and leans down when you arch your back toward him, mouthing savagely at your chest, teeth nipping at the fat of your breasts before he licks over your nipples. He knows each touch is only driving you closer and closer to your release, yet he still doesn’t give you permission, a part of him meanly hopes you’ll slip over anyway and give him another reason to punish you, like he actually needs a reason. 

Still, you have been good today and he does love how willing and docile you become when you peak, so malleable – entirely submissive, entirely his. 

He bites and kisses his way up along your chest and neck before licking into your mouth for a moment, eagerly swallowing each desperate little cry before grabbing at your neck once more. Greedy, he turns your head to him, needing to see that empty-headed, hazy look in your eyes when he lets you finish.

His cock jerks at the sight of you, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you try desperately to hold off, cheeks flushed, reddened lips parted. He grunts, feeling his balls tighten, his thrusts beginning to lose their rhythm. 

“Cum, puppy,” he growls, forehead pressed against yours.

Your lips part in a silent curse as your high slams into you, each muscle in your body contracting at once. Your eyes bore into his wildly as your cunt spasms tightly around his cock, eyes rolling back as he fucks you through it.

“Fuck!” He grunts, growling lowly as his cock spasms within you, your walls all but milking his own high from him as well. His hips slam into you a few more times before he stills, gasping as he fills you with his spend. 

The two of you lay together for a moment, panting loudly against one another. Ramsay is the first to move, shushing you as he pulls his softening length from you, making you whine. 

Distantly, a part of you twists gleefully when you feel his seed drip from you, another thing he never dared do with her. 

“Here,” he says softly, offering you a hand, which you gladly take, letting him help you stand since you doubt you’d be able to on your own. Finally, you stand on your feet, albeit unsteadily, and grab onto the foot of the carved wooden bedframe to steady yourself. Strangely, he stays with you, neither of you saying anything as he holds you, blue eyes studying you as they gleam with some unknown emotion. 

After a moment, you try to pull away, meaning to leave as you always do, not one to wait around for his order anymore. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, only pulling away once you still, “Stay.” He orders, an unfamiliar softness to his voice. Your head reels, eyes staring unfocused as you try to make sense of… whatever this is, whatever his game may be now. 

He returns quickly enough, a damp cloth in his and from the small wash basin he keeps on the vanity. You reach out to grab it, to clean yourself off like you assume he wants, and yet he stops you, holding the cloth out of your grasp until you lower your hand again. 

“Obedient puppies get rewards,” he says softly, all of the harshness from before absent from his tone as he answers your silent questions. You nearly freeze when he presses one small, gentle kiss against your forehead. Finally, he makes quick work of wiping between your legs, taking care to wipe away any of his spend that leaked from you. 

“Thank you…” You nearly whisper, voice scratchy from his earlier treatment. That doesn’t feel like the right thing to say but if it isn’t, he doesn't say. 

Silently, he cups your chin, lifting it enough to give him room to check your neck, trailing his hand over it lightly until he must be satisfied that you’re okay, that he hadn’t treated you too badly. 

Kind, even still.

A few moments later, you recline in the plush bed, watching as he kicks off his boots before joining you, lying with you under the soft blankets. This part, at least, you’re used to – lying together like this but not touching, not cuddling, that’s too intimate, too close. 

He hadn’t said that, wouldn’t say that, but you knew. 

A surprised little gasp leaves you when he pulls you close, hands, clean now that he’d taken a moment to wash them, resting on you gently. One smoothes up and down your arm as he lets you lay against his chest, cheek pressed against his collarbone, his chin resting on your head; the other grabs at your thigh, pulling you to him until you’re tucked into his side, one leg propped over his hips. 

“You did well,” he says softly, chest vibrating under your cheek as he speaks, “With your training, I mean. You did well. I’m… proud of you.”

“Thank you.” 

The two of you are silent after that, neither of you knowing how to handle this new territory that you seem to be spilling into, but you don’t care, not with your heart pounding quickly in your chest. You’d think you were dying if it weren’t for the savage sense of victory threading through every inch of you. 

Proud, proud, proud! The word echoes in your head with each pump of blood through your heart. It was so small, the barest of compliments, but from Ramsay it meant the world. It was something he’d said to you, only you, never to her, not once. Never to anyone else. 

His chest rises and falls under your cheek, breath steady and even. He always falls asleep quickly, normally you do too. But not this time, not tonight, not wanting to let this moment fade just yet. 

He loves you, in his way.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @iamawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino @targaryenbarbie @fan-goddess

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[yunholuvrr]

closed doors pt.1

summary: poor yunho just can't resist himself, not when you sound like that.

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader, yunho x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: this is just pure smut, yunho is a perv, voyeurism, cheating, unprotected sex, switch!yunho, idk what else to say i blacked out and wrote this in one sitting

part 2

Neither of you heard him walk in. As far as Yeosang was concerned, Yunho would be at work for 3 more hours, and for those 3 hours you were all his. He had some pent up tension that he'd rather take out on you when no one else could hear you scream his name.

Yunho couldn't hear you two either, at least not at first. He set his bags down as usual and made his way to the kitchen for a drink. Only in the silence of scanning the half empty fridge did he start to hear you. Your whining and moaning and unmistakable "Sangie please!" echoing through the apartment. Fuck.

He tries to pick up a soda and tune it out. He could go straight to his room and put on his headset and sink into a round of Valorant. He could forget all about how you were getting fucked senseless just a room over. Right?

"You can take it, right? You're doing so good for me baby," Yeosang grunts, loud enough for Yunho to hear as he shuffles to his room. You can only sigh some string of explicatives and Yunho wonders what he could've possibly been doing to you now. Did he switch positions? Is he using toys on you? Is he just so big that you go stupid? Is he bigger than Yunho? Could you take Yunho, too? Fuck.

He doesn't know how it happens, if you asked him he'd swear up and down that he'd never do such a thing, but within seconds he has his ear pressed to Yeosang's door. The sound of skin hitting skin is much clearer now, and his pace is brutal. Yunho palms the growing bulge in his pants, closing his eyes to try and imagine you more clearly. He probably has you folded in half, ankles on his shoulders and hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he ruins you.

"Sangie please .... I'm so close please," you mumble over and over, orgasm so close you can practically touch it. Yunho's eyes roll back behind his lids, one hand making its way under his pants. He tries to match his strokes to Yeosang's, but the way he's pounding into is nearly inhuman, only turning Yunho on more.

"Do you want to come, love?" A faint click and light buzz gets tossed into the mix. So he does have toys. You cry out even louder and Yunho can't help the small moan that leaves his lips. He instantly clasps his free hand over his mouth, shocked at himself. He barely moans when he's hooking up with someone, but you... you just sound so good getting fucked by his roommate. You sound like you were made to be filled up.

Yunho almost, almost, reaches his own orgasm, lost in his thoughts of you whining under him, pinned down by his hands as he fucks into you endlessly. But the persistent slapping stops, and when he refocuses he hears shuffling right behind the door.

"Let me get you a damp towel, stay there," Yeosang hums before sliding out to the hallway. A lone coke bottle is laying next to his door frame, you must've left it out there before he pulled you inside. He pads into the bathroom and starts running warm water, and that's when Yunho finally lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He had never moved so fast, hand scratching against his zipper as it flew from below his waistband, body silently and expertly slinking into his own room before freezing in place. His muscles relax at the sound of running water and he quietly sinks into his bed.

His dick is still painfully hard, and the adrenaline of almost being caught is only making him hornier. Shouldn't he feel ashamed? But the shame turns him on, too. No matter how much he tries to talk himself out of it, he can't help it. He runs his slender fingers along his member, desperately trying to build up to the pace his ears got accustomed to earlier. Your voice echoes through his head.

He doesn't know how long you've been standing there. Hell, he doesn't even know how long he's been touching himself, slowly coming closer and closer to the edge at the thought of you. You noticed Yunho's bags as you hugged your boyfriend goodbye. He had just gone to get some food, but you welcomed the short break to compose yourself. But when did Yunho get home? Did he know you were there? Might as well say hi, you thought.

Nothing prepared you for the sight in front of you now. He made the mistake of leaving his door a crack open, just enough for you to see him splayed out on his bed. Head tilted back into his pillows, right hand making quick work of his dick, which had to be the biggest you've seen in your life. His face is tinted a cute shade of pink, heart shaped lips parted in pleasure. He genuinely looks gorgeous so close to coming. Your body moved before your mind did.

"Yunho?" Lightly pushing the door open wider, you finally got his attention. He froze, his doe eyes staring at you for a second before shutting in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I was, um," he starts, but you cut him off.

"When did you get home?" He opens his eyes again, staring at you in confusion now. "Early enough to hear us, I suppose?"

You swear his fingers twitch around his dick, "I really didn't mean to intrude on you two..."

"Ah, so that's why you're jerking off by yourself instead?" You take a step closer, fully in his room now. You've been in here a few times, usually to play a game or two with both of them. The air was undeniably different than then though, dripping with unspoken need.

Yunho's beyond confused, but he makes no effort to move as he watches you slowly step closer. You would've left if you didn't want him, right? You wouldn't be so shamelessly staring at his dick if you didn't want him. Right?

"Were you thinking about me this whole time?" You gingerly sit on the edge of his mattress. Everything about this was so wrong, especially when Yeosang could come back at any second. But your brain was clouded by the sight of Yunho touching himself, eager to do the same.

"What are you doing?" His voice wavers, eyes following you. God, he looked so precious like this, scared and exposed but turned on all at the same time.

"You," he shudders at your instant response and you lean over him. There's a moment of hesitation, an acknowledgement from you both of how wrong this is. But neither of you could control yourselves.

He crosses the line first, reaching up and pulling you on top of him into a kiss. It wasn't romantic or thoughtful in the slightest, just spit and tongue and lust moving together. His other hand clinged to your hip, urging you to straddle him. You obliged, biting his lip before leaning back. You couldn't help but roll your hips on top of him, and his grip on you tightened.

"Fuck y/n," he groans, silently begging you to do it again. His cheeks are flushed bright red with shame now, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. He's so fucking pretty under you, you can't help but tease.

"How long have you wanted me like this?" You grind again. The thin sleep shorts you threw on are the only thing separating his aching dick from your heat, and wetness is already starting to seep through. He doesn't respond, only panting and bucking up into you frantically.

"Why'd you stop," he whines, breathless, as you still completely.

"You didn't answer me. How long have you wanted to fuck me, love?" You burn holes into his sweet doe eyes that look back at you, searching for some friction again. "Was today the first time you thought of it?"

"No," he whispers, even more ashamed.

"Then when?" You rest your weight back fully on top of him, only giving enough relief to make him answer.

"Since you started dating him, fuck," he bucks up again and you let him. You wonder how many time's he's listened to you get fucked senseless in the next room over. He's vocal now, groaning at the feeling of precum and your slick covering his dick. When he makes eye contact with you, his shameful sweet appearance has been replaced by something almost animalistic. You give in, knowing Yeosang could be back at any minute, and you need him just as much.

"You're much bigger than him, you know," you coo, sliding your soaked shorts to the side and lining yourself up, "but you don't know how to pleasure me like he does. Not yet, anyway."

"Please," he sighs at the sight, "you can do whatever you want to me. Please just do it already."

You only mumble a small "needy" as you lower yourself onto him, taking him fully. It's quick and it burns and you feel the slightest sense of guilt at being filled up by someone who isn't your boyfriend, but it's all worth it for the choked moans that escape Yunho's mouth. If you thought he was pretty earlier, he's fucking beautiful now. Eyes closed, brows furrowed in pleasure, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead in sweat, lips swollen and parted as he takes in shaky breaths. God, he's perfect.

It doesn't take long for you to start moving in tandem, rolling and bouncing like your life depends on it. One of his hands traces up your side to rest on your boob, squeezing harshly every so often. Before you know it, he plants his feet firmly behind you and pulls you down, setting his own pace. He wraps both arms around your torso and pounds into you relentlessly, nothing but the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

"Is this how he fucks you, hm?" He growls into your ear and you choke out a cry because yes, this is exactly how Yeosang was fucking you not even an hour before. And it felt so good, so so good, but this feels so much better. Yunho fills you up in no way you've ever felt before, and his frame is so big you couldn't escape if you tried.

He pulls your hair down, forcing you into the crook of his neck. All you can feel is him moving beneath you, grunting into your ear as he finally gets what he so badly wanted. And then he stills.

"Why'd you stop baby?" You look up, ears ringing from the sudden silence. But when you meet his gaze, he's staring at the door. Your stomach drops.

"It's not what it..." Yunho chokes out, frozen in place.

"I knew you liked him babe," Yeosang calmly walks into the room, cap covering his eyes, takeout bag still in hand, "but you could've just asked me. I would've said yes."

[clbrq]

U SHOULD DO A PART TWO TO UNAVAILABLE WHERE THE READER GETS PREGNANT W COLBYS BABY BUT DOESNT KNOW IF ITS SAM OR COLBYS UNTIL THE DOCTORS DO A DNA TEST AND FIND OUT ITS COLBYS (but sam never knew that u hooked up w him..) IDK

bro that is absolutely cruel (I LOVE ITTTTR!!!!) i’m gonna tweak it slightly but jus read it’ll have the same plot

UNAVAILABLE PT.2 - C. BROCK & S. GOLBACH.

warnings; angsty, fighting, break up, pregnancy & labour, happy ending but kinda low-key toxic as fuck :)

-/-

You were shaking, tears brimming in your ears as your breathing rapidly sped up. The bathroom walls around you were becoming fuzzy and blurry in your vision as a tear fell from your eyes, down onto the Pregnancy Test that rested on the sink countertop.

Positive.

A baby? You couldn’t. You were so young, with dreams and aspirations that would be thrown away the second the baby was born. You knew thousands of people out there were begging to have a baby, and struggling with infertility—but this was your worst nightmare coming true. You wouldn’t have a clue how to raise a child, especially with a boyfriend in the public eye.

Fuck.

It suddenly hit you, the utter monstrosity of your situation smacking you so hard in the face a gasped ripper from your throat. More tears falling faster down your cheeks, your hand flying to your mouth in shock, your fingers trembling slightly.

Was it Sam or Colby’s?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

If it was Sam’s, then that would be a small relief in this horror show that was your life, but then your affair with Colby would end. But if it was Colby’s, Sam would soon find out, and you would break up, and have to raise the baby alone.

Stress instantly flooded your emotions, anxiety bubbling inside your stomach—a sudden nausea washing over you. Taking deep breaths whilst gripping onto the countertop, you thought about the horrific situation you put yourself in.

Knock, knock.

You jumped at the sudden noise at the door, your body filling with adrenaline at the possibility of your boyfriend finding out this way.

“Babe? You okay in there?” Sam called from the other side of the door, his voice slightly mumbled through the wood.

“Uhm, y-yeah, I’ll be out in a second.” You replied, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your voice shook as you spoke.

“Alright, baby.”

Soon, you heard his footsteps retreat away from the bathroom, and into his living area. You couldn’t hide this from him, you would be riddled with guilt more than you already were. It had to be now, or never.

Composing yourself, you shoved the test into your pocket and exited the bathroom. You took a deep breath as you approached him sat on the couch.

“Hey, Sam, we need to talk.” You announced, taking a seat next to him, perched on the edge of the couch.

Sam quickly turned to face you, a concerned expression on his face, “Is everything okay? Wait, have you been crying?” He queried, staring deep into your puffy, red eyes.

You looked down, wanting to avoid his gaze, “Just listen, okay. Don’t talk until I’m done.”

Sam stayed silent, nervously watching you as you reached into your pocket and handed him the test, “I’m pregnant. I’m not sure what to do, but we need to talk about this.”

Sam’s mouth fell slightly agape as he stared down at the positive pregnancy test in his hands, not moving or speaking. You secretly wished he’d say something, not leaving you in the dark on how he felt.

“W-When?” He croaked out, his voice cracking as he spoke.

“Just now.”

Sam sighed deeply, moving the test off to the side as he cupped his face in his hands. Shaking your head as you fought back more tears, as you watched him process the information.

Finally, Sam sat up and faced you, “What do you wanna do?” He asked, his tears glossy as he looked at you.

“I-I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have some idea.”

“No, how could I? It’s your body, if you don’t think it’s right, that’s not my decision to make, nor is it if you want to keep it.” He explained, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Sam.” You breathed, your heart shattering at his words.

“It’s not up to me,” He told you, shaking his head, “It’s your body, your decision. Yeah, my baby or not, it’s not right to tell you how to live your life.”

Your heart broke even further. My baby or not. Or not. If only he knew.

“I-I think I wanna have a baby with you,” You concluded, a small, nervous smile creeping up onto your face, “I want a family with you, Sam.”

“Oh, baby.” Sam whispered, his voice cracking as he, too, began to cry, grabbing ahold of your still quivering hand.

“I love you.” You whispered, more tears erupting from your eyes.

“I love you too.” He said, pulling you in for a hug, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

You knew his promise meant nothing. Either way, someone was going to get hurt—whether that was you, Sam or Colby; things were gonna get messy somehow.

-

“Okay, so, you’re gonna feel a cool gel on your stomach, so just relax while we take a quick look, alright?” The Doctor told you, smiling next to you.

“Alright.” You muttered, feeling the nervous swell in your stomach as you felt the gel hit your skin, making you wince slightly at the cold sensation.

“You got this, babe.” A reassuring voice comforted from beside you, holding your hand.

You and Sam had decided it was the right time to go for a scan, go view your baby and see how things were going along. You were scared to say the least, you didn’t want any complications or problems now you had decided to keep the baby.

“Alright, let’s take a look,” The Doctor announced, rolling the transducer across your stomach, smearing the gel all over your skin, “So, I’m seeing that baby is looking very healthy, I’m also seeing some well formed fingers right there.” She pointed on the Sonogram.

“Oh, wow.” You breathed, your eyes fixated on the screen, watching your baby’s head, shoulders and fingers through the Ultrasound.

“Definitely a very healthy baby considering you’re 3 months pregnant.” She stated, smiling at you as she wiped the gel off of you.

“Hold on, sorry, did you say 3 months?” Sam questioned, suddenly looking irritated.

You heart dropped, “What’s up, babe?”

“Yes, 3 months. Is there a problem?”

Sam’s face fell as he turned to you, “How the fuck can you be 3 months pregnant if I was back in Kansas 3 months ago?”

Your mouth fell open at his words as an uncomfortable silence erupted into the room. The Doctor quietly excused herself as you sat up in the chair,

“What on Earth do you mean?” You denied, knowing full well what he was referring to, “You went to Kansas 4 months ago.”

“No, I did not.” He spoke firmly, his voice growing angrier as the conversation continued, “So, tell me, who the fuck’s baby is that?”

You stared at him in silence as words failed you. You couldn’t think, let alone reply to him.

“Oh, my God, I cannot believe this.” Sam mumbled, pacing around the room.

“Baby, she could’ve got it wrong, she said the baby is really healthy. Maybe it’s growing really fast that she’s unsure of how far along I am.”

“Don’t fucking give me that.”

“Why don’t we go home and talk about it privately there? Not here in a random Doctor’s office.” You suggested, “Please.”

Sam complied angrily, grabbing his stuff and storming out the room. You quickly paid for the appointment, and left as fast as you could. The drive home was in complete silence. The stress and anxiety that coursed through your body was becoming overwhelming, you knew this wasn’t healthy for the baby, but what else could you feel right now?

As you arrived at to Sam’s apartment complex, he slammed the his car door shut as you slowly made your way inside, still not uttering a word to each other. Walking down the hallway to Sam’s apartment, he turned to you in a fit of rage,

“Look, I don’t wanna see you right now,” He told you, anger evident on his face, “Just go see Tara or somebody else, but I don’t wanna talk to you until I’ve thought about this.”

“S-Sam, what?”

“Don’t, just don’t. I’ll text you when I want to talk.”

And with that, he entered his apartment, shut and locked the door—leaving you alone and upset in the hallway. Your world was crumbling around you, you couldn’t physically believe what was happening right now. Sam hated you, and had practically kicked you out until he was ready to talk. And knowing no where else to run to, you knocked on the apartment door of a familiar face, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Hell—woah, hey, what’s wrong?” Colby’s concerned voice flooded your ears as you stood in front of him, hysterical.

“Can I come in, please?” You cried, desperate for someone to confide in.

“Yeah, sure, she’s not home right now, so, we’re all good.” He reassured, opening the door wider to let you in.

You walked quickly inside and took a firm seat on his couch, wiping your eyes. Colby soon followed with two glasses of water in hand, setting them down on the coffee table in front of you.

“Talk to me, what’s up?”

You looked at him with puffy, red eyes and swollen lips from biting them, “I’m pregnant.”

Colby’s expression of concern was soon wiped from his face as one of shock soon took over. His eyes widened and his breath hitched as the words slipped from your mouth. You handed him the pictures from the Sonogram, placing them in his lap as he looked at them slowly.

“I-uh,I-“

Colby was at a loss for words as he glanced between you and the pictures of the baby. His thoughts clouded with confusion and worry as his best friend came into mind.

“It’s yours, Colby.”

Colby’s hands flew to his face as he shook his head. More silence followed suit as you watched him take in this information. You didn’t know what to say as you watched his life crumble in front of you.

“Are you keeping it?” Colby asked, looking up to face you.

“Yes,” You spoke, swallowing the lump in your throat, “And Sam knows it isn’t his.”

Colby’s expression soon returned to one of worry, “Does he know it’s—“

“No, he doesn’t know it’s you. And I don’t plan on telling him it’s yours.” You informed him, “I don’t know what I’m gonna tell him, but I won’t out you like that.”

“Fuck,” Colby breathed, running a hand through his hair nervously; only negative thoughts running around his mind, “If he ever finds out about us, we’re both done.”

“Jesus, Colby, don’t you think I know that?” You snapped, the hormones already hitting you, “I really don’t know what to do. But, if he somehow finds out it’s you, what are we gonna do?”

“We can’t lie to him anymore than we already have,” Colby spoke, “She’d leave me, and Sam would probably leave you.”

“And what about us?”

“What about it?” Colby questioned, his eyebrows furrowing further at you.

“Colby, I’m having your baby, surely we’d be together?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted it at Colby’s front door had opened, long before you realised, revealing your boyfriend, Sam, with a shocked expression on his face.

“Sam.” Colby breathed, standing up as Sam walked into Colby’s apartment, letting the door slam shut.

“So, you’ve been cheating on me with my best friend. Really?” Sam said, somewhat calmly, as he maintained a fair distance between the two of you.

“Dude, I’m sorry.” Colby started, not knowing what else to say.

“And you, Colby? How fucking could you? My girlfriend, of all people. You just had to fuck my girlfriend.” Sam’s voice growing louder as he spoke.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,“ You exclaimed, tears free-flowing, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t even give me that,” He spat, red in the face, “You’re not sorry. You’re just sorry you got caught.”

“Sam, please-“

“Look, this is the bottom line.” Sam began, “I don’t want to be apart of any of your lives, including that baby’s considering it’s not even mine. So,” He turned to face you, “Move out by the end of tomorrow, and I never wanna see any of you again. Good luck with the baby.”

And with that, Sam stormed out of Colby’s apartment leaving the both of you in silence.

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?” You cried, your face hands, feeling awfully sorry for yourself.

“Move in here for a bit. I’ll tell her that you and Sam broke up, which you did, and you need to stay.” Colby told you, his voice flat and numb.

“Really?”

“Really. Considering that baby is mine, I kind of want to be there for your pregnancy.” Colby announced, taking a seat next to you.

“Thank you, really, thank you so much.” You rambled, the words slipping past your lips before you could even think.

Colby pulled you in a for hug as you cried softly into his shoulder, letting him rub your back gently peck your head as he held you. You needed someone right now, you knew Colby would be the one person to help with that.

-

Your pregnancy was hard. You had bad morning sickness, which turned into all day sickness. You felt fatigue all the time and your stomach got so big, you struggled to stay on your feet for a long time.

Similarly, your mental health wasn’t the best either. All your friends found out about your pregnancy, and your situation with Sam and Colby. Most of them took Sam’s side, not speaking to you or Colby, even his girlfriend broke up with him and moved out. But, some of your close friends, even though they didn’t agree with what you did, supported you throughout everything—those being Tara, Stas, Cassie and Devyn. They came with you to scans when Colby was busy, and took you out for girl dates to keep you occupied and cheer you up.

Today was one of the worst days, you were 8 months and 2 weeks pregnant and you felt like utter shit. Your due date was approaching and you couldn’t wait to have this baby. Sleeping was always the hardest, you struggled to get comfortable, and often struggled with nausea in the middle of the night.

Colby was always there to help you, though. Although you don’t have the title, Colby really felt like your boyfriend in these times. He was there to nurse you back to sleep when you were sick, he was there to remind you to take your vitamins, he was there at almost every Ultrasound, and he was already showing signs of being an incredible dad.

“Hey, babe, you awake?” Colby whispered, sliding open the bedroom door, peering his head into the room.

There was that as well. He treated you like his girlfriend, too. The pet names, the amazing treatment, and he often kissed you as well. Although kissing was common in your relationship before the baby, now it felt more real—more genuine.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just resting.” You mumbled back, turning over, with a struggle, to face him.

“No, no, it’s okay, I was just wondering if you wanted some breakfast.”

“Yeah, I’ll have—“

As soon as the words left your mouth, your mouth fell agape, abruptly sitting up right.

“What? What’s wrong?” Colby questioned, frantically, worry covering his face.

“My water just broke.”

“Holy fuck.” Colby swore, “Come here.”

Colby rushed over, helping you up and out the apartment, grabbing the hospital bag as he hurried you out the door, and further to the car. Colby drove fast to the hospital, having you grip onto the door as tightly as you could, almost fearing for your life.

“Babies don’t come out in 5 minutes, y’know?” You spoke, your knuckles turning white.

“I don’t care, I want you in that hospital bed and safe as soon as possible.” Colby muttered back, focusing on the road as he pulled into the parking lot.

As you trudged into the hospital, the contractions began as you did so, surging in your abdomen as the pain took over your body,

“Fuck,” You groaned as you were placed gently on a hospital bed. You had never felt pain like this in your life, silently praying your Epidural would come soon.

“It’s okay, baby, it’ll be okay soon.” Colby reassured, holding onto your hand tightly as the contraction flowed through you.

Can this baby come any quicker?

-

14:33pm.

The time of your baby’s birth. Your beautiful baby girl, Myla Lesa Brock, was finally in this world, asleep next to you.

Colby had stayed by your side during the entirety of labour, holding your hand and telling you sweet words of encouragement as you pushed out his baby. You’d gotten whiff that a few of your friends were in the waiting area, excited to meet your baby, and see how you were doing. You wanted to see them, but you were exhausted, so Colby had gone to speak to them for you—to let them know everything went smoothly, and that you and Myla were doing okay.

Suddenly, your eyes began to feel heavy as Colby returned to your room, taking your hand in his, “How you feeling, baby?”

“Okay. Just tired.” You murmured, the tiredness taking over your body full force.

Colby’s hand reached over to stroke your cheek as you closed your eyes, letting yourself drift off to sleep. But before you fully asleep, you heard Colby speak as he pecked your head.

“I love you, thank you for our beautiful girl.”

-

this is such a shit part 2 but i know you guys have been waiting but i’ve written this drunk as fuck and tired as fuck so i hope you enjoyed this anyway

:)

@lovely-red2

@reem6806

@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

@theyloveniqueeeee

@paymal7

[pagodazz]

Patrick and Michael hcs

for @freezingmcxn

These two are WAYYYYY more different than Evan and wow it makes me sick.

If Patrick was possessing another body, he would be pulling Michael into the biggest hug he could.

They're dynamic is something that is so special to me, something that is so gentle yet violent, but they know how to work with each other and its just so nice to see.

Michael is more than a vessel to Patrick, Michael is a friend. Michael is everything.

-------------------

Patrick wants to take care of Michael, he wants to keep him safe, he needs everyone to understand that he's only doing what's best for MICHAEL.

it's not about anyone else, they don't matter. they're disposable, they don't matter the way Michael does, they are important like Michael.

Patrick is in his head like a guardian angel, something there to protect and guide him, all while rotting him from the inside out.

And Michael loves Patrick, it took him awhile to separate himself from him, but once he did, he found things to be just so much easier.

----------------

I'm so taking this from my mutual but, Michael and Patrick definitely have conversations in public through typing on the computer or writing stuff down on a little notebook Michael keeps around with.

Patrick will talk in his head, or take control of his hand and they'll have conversations. it doesn't always have to be about how to defeat Slenderman or figure out the whole clock thing. It could just be casual stuff, Like about how Michael is doing mentally. Did he eat? Patrick knows Michael didn't eat.

Michael doesn't exactly make friends easy, and he's always got Patrick to rely on. Patrick is always going to be there and he's always going to understand everything that Michael has gone through. Sometimes Michael thinks about what it'd be like to sit down face to face with Patrick, to be able to actually be in his presence.

Michael wouldn't want human Patrick of course, he would the true form, which to me, is wolf like, like HABITS or it would atleast be some sort of humanoid animal thing.. (maybe like an owl. An owl dragon fly type situation idk. they're just so Patrick to me.)

But he would want the real Patrick and he would want to be able to thank him for everything face to face, he knows that Patrick did everything he could, that he isn't evil.

-----------------

Patrick is not human, he's not Michael, he's not related to Michael, he's PART of him the same way HABIT is part of Evan. But Patrick learned to adapt with Michael, he learned to communicate with him, he learned to be kind and he learned pain and regret thanks to Michael.

And Michael learned that HE is not human. and he learned he doesn't exactly hate violence. He doesn't exactly mind the way Patrick causes destruction, because it gives him something to feel. something he can hold on to.

Some guy could say something rude to Michael at a bar and Patrick will take over in seconds, slamming his face into the bar and kicking him out of his stool.

and Michael will feel GREAT after. nothing gets his adrenaline pumping more than the way it feels when Patrick takes over him..the phantom feeling of his fist hitting someones face could last on his skin for hours and it would have Michael itching for something more. Which is probably a reason Michael likes to get high all the time, he doesn't wanna always feel the need to be violent.

--------------------

(Tw. self harm mention. I bring it up bc it's canon)

If it's not other people he's hurting, Michael will be hurting himself, especially if Patrick isn't present in his head all. whenever Michael is all alone by himself, he can barely TOLERATE IT. Somehow Patrick would always show up in his head just in time and he'd help speed up the healing process and he'd get all concerned and try to suggest maybe Michael needs the ward again but Michael HATES the ward.

So instead Michael will just tell Patrick all his problems and Patrick will give the best advice he can, and if someone hurt Michael, Patrick will make SURE he takes care of them.

They have something so calm and domestic going on and I love that for them.

--------------

MY ASKS ARE OPEN!! FOR ANYONE SND ANY SLENDERVERSE CHARACTER.!!

I hope you guys enjoy these. comments are appreciated :3

[sammyboyimagines]

A Friend From Work Pt. 2

Pairing: older!Steve Harrington x afab!Reader

Summary: The reader finally gets her dad's hot friend alone, but not everyone is aware of your small affair. 2.4k words

Warnings: 18+ MINORS GO AWAY OR I WILL STEAL YOUR HOLIDAY GIFTS!! P in v sex, safe sex, fingering, use of degrading words (slut, etc.), praise kink, slight public sex kink/voyeurism, swearing, smut (obviously), masturbation talk, idk what else.

//requested by @its-quinns-bread

"I thought I told you to call me Steve, sweetheart.." you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you blushed under his gaze. He chuckles at your sudden timidness. "I think it's time to come clean, you've been doing a little more than staring, haven't you?" he squeezes your hips, hands traveling up to your waist.

You find yourself unable to speak, and you just nod. He seemed amused at this. "Prancing around in these slutty clothes, bending over for me, staring at me like that. You've been doing that on purpose, haven't you?" he watches you squirm. "It's okay, I can't say I haven't enjoyed your little stunts. Only made me want you more." he held the side of your face in his hand. 

He leaned in and you could smell his expensive cologne, just like you'd imagined but better. He pulled you into a kiss, his other hand holding the small of your back firmly against his own body. Your hands find their way into his soft thick hair. You ran your hands through it as small moans escaped your lips. 

Steve pulled away with an amused smile. "You know, the other day I walked past your room. I could've sworn I heard those sweet little moans coming from the other side of your door." you felt yourself get hotter under his unforgiving gaze.

"Were you thinking of me? While your fucked yourself, were you imagining it was me, baby?" he held you close to his body, his grip not letting you free. You gave him a nod, too embarrassed by the fact that he heard.

"God, it was so hot I wanted to knock on your door so bad. What were you imagining me doing?" he ushered you to the couch. He didn't care that your dad could walk in any second.

You felt your mouth go dry at the thought of simply telling him what you were imagining. You feared the worst; he would be disgusted by your inner thoughts and leave. You hoped for the best; he would fulfill all your dirty little fantasies.

"You're going all shy on me, sweetheart. Where was all that timidness when you decided to walk around in this little number." he took one of the straps of your top and slid it down. "You're fucking irresistible and you've been teasing me on purpose. Begging for me to fuck you. Isn't that right, princess?" 

You shiver at the new pet name. He chuckles. "Tell me what you were thinking about.." he pulls you into his lap on the couch, his hands caressing your soft thighs. He exhales into the back of your neck. "So soft, so.." his hand cups your clothed pussy. "so pretty.." he grumbles into your skin as he places long kisses on your shoulder.

His hand cupped you without warning, and you were unable to hold back the loud whimper from escaping your lips. Steve found your clit in no time, gently rubbing over it, your panties still covering your soaked pussy. You moaned softly at the feeling, a slight buzz of adrenaline filling your veins. 

"Ohh you like that? Well, that's all your gonna get until you tell me what you were thinking about in that pretty head of yours, sweetheart. I can do this all day.." he mumbles in your ear, his lowered voice sending goosebumps all over your skin. 

"Steve please.." you whined as he slowly removed his hand. "But-Do you promise you won't judge?" you were so close to feeling him inside you. You could feel his boner pressed against your ass as you sat in his lap, your back facing his front. "Princess, everything you do is so fucking hot. There's almost nothing you could do to have me running out the door." he chuckles.

His hand stayed there as he awaited your response. Whining, you thrust your hips against his hand, desperate for some kind of friction. He groaned against you, the feeling of your rutting sending shockwaves of pleasure through him. His large hands grab your hips. "Did I say you could move? Tell me, sweetheart. I won't judge you for anything." his sweet tone convinced you.

"Thought about your fingers inside me and-" before you could even finish your sentence, your words morphed into a moan as his hand pushed your panties to the side and began to circle your entrance. "This where you want me, sweetheart?" he smirks at how you melt under his hands. 

With a faint nod, you move your hips against his hand. "Please Steve please.." He smirks at your sensitivity. "Please what, baby? Use your words." he kissed your neck, his mouth creating hickeys that would surely cause some outrage when your father noticed. He wouldn't have it any other way.

The idea of marking you as his, letting everyone know that you were his made his dick throb. He couldn't hold back much longer, he needed to be inside of you. "Fine, I'll just have to get those words out of you." he slipped two fingers into your wet pussy, groaning at the feeling of your tight walls closing around them. 

"Fuck you're so goddamn perfect for me. Take this shit off." he lifts your shirt up, urging you to slip your shirt off, which you did. "Mm, no bra...such pretty tits. You have no idea how much I've dreamt about these, sweetheart." one hand cups one of your breasts, teasing and playing with them as his fingers push in and out of your cunt so fast it made your brain melt. 

"Oh my god don't stop!" you were a mess on top of him, your head laid against his shoulder as he continued to lay sweet kisses upon your shoulder and neck. "Don't worry, baby. I wanna see you cum for me, wanna watch you fall apart because of me. God, I wish I could see the look on your dad's face when he sees all these bruises on you. All mine baby. You're fucking mine." he mumbles into your skin, the words bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

Between his fingers and dirty words, you were trembling, overwhelmed by his fingers expertly fucking you. A loud moan ripped from your lips as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that made your eyes roll back into your head. "Oh fuck I'm so close-" your wetness was soaking his jean-covered lap below you but you were too drunk off the feeling of his long fingers to care.

"Please Steve oh my god!" you were fumbling with your words, Steve was relishing in the sound of his name in your loud whimpering moans. "C'mon baby, give it to me. Cum for me, sweetheart.." as he softly spurred you on, your legs shook as your orgasm crashes over you. His other hand grasped your waist, holding you firmly against him as your body went limp while he rode out the rest of your orgasm. 

"So fucking gorgeous. Wanna take this to your room? Wouldn't want anyone to catch us, would we?" he smirks, knowing all you could do was nod as you slowly regained your wits. He wanted to be caught. He thought it was exhilarating to be seconds away from someone seeing him deep in your sweet tight pussy.

Steve led you to your bedroom upstairs, helping your wobbly legs stumble along the carpeted floor. "Was it that good, honey?" he chuckles. You slap his arm. "Shut up." you manage to heave yourself onto the bed before Steve stepped out of his jeans and threw his shirt on the floor next to your bed. 

You felt your mouth water at the sight of his bulge in his boxers. Steve was definitely a grower. "You're so pretty like this, all mine." he took his black boxers off and made his way over to you. 

His large warm hands gripped your thighs tightly as he spread your legs. "Such a mess, can't wait to ruin you, baby." he hums at the very thought of bending you over every surface in the damn house just to prove to everyone how much of a whimpering mess you can be from his doing.

He locked your door before walking back to your desperate, needy body.

He rolls a condom onto his dick, watching as you squirmed on the bed, the pink sheets below you making him chuckle. "Your dad probably thinks you're a sweet little girl. No no no, you're a little slut aren't you?" he grabbed your jaw to make you look at him. You just nod, giving into his hypnotic voice, desperate for him to fuck you like you had been dreaming of for days. 

"Mm, you sure you want this? Fucking your dad's friend?" you had never been more sure of anything in your life." "Please.." you felt his hard tip at your entrance and you bit back a moan. "Uh uh, use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. You want my cock, baby?" he mocks you slightly, his soft lips kissing your neck while he awaited an answer.

"Please fuck me, Steve! I've been waiting for fucking days!" you whine out pathetic begging, making him chuckle. "Better not keep you waiting anymore then.." he pushes in slowly, his head falling back at the feeling of your warm pussy clenching around his thick cock.

"Oh fuck.." his dick stretched you out as he bottomed out inside you. Steve grabbed one of your legs and put it over his shoulder to get a deeper angle. The both of you let out a shaky exhale. 

Steve set a fast pace, his thrusts had you gripping onto your sheets as he had one hand pressed on your stomach and one holding your leg. "Shit-you feel so fucking good," he says through gritted teeth.

The sound of skin slapping and your loud moans filled the room. Anyone who walked by could hear how good you were getting fucked. The sound of the front door opening fell on deaf ears as Steve turned you over and fucked you from behind. "Yeah, you like that? You're being so fucking loud, baby. Keep clenching it feels so damn good." he groans as he watches your body tremble beneath him. His dick felt like it was perfect for you, nobody else could ever fuck you better than him. And he knew it.

"Am I ruining you, sweetheart? None of those younger boys can fuck you like me, can they? Nobody can compare, baby." he mumbles, his grunting occasionally overlapping with your gasps and moans. You knew he was right. None of the younger men you'd been with could ever compete with the way Steve was fucking you at the moment. You were in heaven.

A loud knock on the door shocked you both. "Seriously Y/n!? I said no boys in my goddamn house!" your father shouted through the locked door. Steve chuckled darkly. "Ohh, you wanna be louder for him, sweetheart? Moan my name, baby. Let him know who's fucking you." he slams into you, his big cock stretching you further with every brutal thrust. 

"Fuck please Steve I'm so close," you could barely form any thoughts except him. His cock, his grunts and moans in your ear, his hands holding your hips so hard they'll form bruises, and his dirty talk driving you closer and closer to orgasm.

"Steve? Steve Harrington?" your father finally came to the realization. "That's right, buddy!" he grunts as you tighten around him.

"Listen to how good your best friend is making your daughter feel." he thrusts into you at an unforgiving pace, earning incoherent moans and whimpers from you. He was sure your father heard, he was counting on it. "She's such a little fucking mess underneath me, isn't that right, sweetheart?" he pulls your hair back, your face next to his as he bent over you. "Such a good little slut for me." he chuckles when he hears your father attempting to get in through the locked door. 

"Get the fuck out here right now, Steve!" he yelled. Steve rolled his eyes and kept going.

"Good girl, you're so close, I can feel you squeezing me. Cum for me, give it to me, sweetheart." he groans as he got closer and closer to his release. After a few days of relentless teasing on your part, he was elated that he finally broke you down to a whimpering, moaning mess. 

"Not so confident now, huh? Now that you've got what you wanted you little minx." he ignored your father's pleas for you to leave your room. "Stay with me baby, I'm all you need right now. Here and now." he urges you to ignore your father.

You didn't even have time to warn him before your orgasm had you trembling and moaning his name like it was the only word you knew. Steve wasn't far behind, seeing you fall apart had him a few thrusts away from cumming. "Fuck you're so hot when you come." his eyes roll back into his head as he spills into the condom.

As the world faded back into the picture, he heard the pounding of the door. "Steve you better get the fuck out of there before I kill you! How dare you go after my daughter!" he was very angry, but Steve couldn't find it in himself to care.

He pulled out of you, chuckling when you whined from the loss. "Alright, here's the plan. My car is parked down the block. Wanna come with me?" he asks.

How could you refuse? "Just bring me back after a few days?" you ask him, to which he nodded. "I'd love to stay and chat except your dad is like seconds away from bursting in." he rushed to get dressed, and he did the same for you as you tried to force your wobbly legs to walk without his assistance.

"We'll climb out the window, he'll never see us." This reminded Steve of his teen years when he'd climb girls' houses to their windows just for a goodnight kiss. He's matured to this...

With some effort, you managed to climb down, Steve's hand in yours as he ushered you to his car. "Your father will probably beat me up at work, maybe I should take the week off or something." he thought.

"I'd love to have a week to ourselves, we could catch up on lost time." you pressed a hand against his crotch, watching him flinch and then chuckle. "You know me so well, Y/n."

He couldn't show his face around your father again without getting dirty looks or threats from your father. He wouldn't have it any other way though.

[kawaii-kushami]

i might as well post it here bc as is its just rotting in my notes app. doesn't feel finished/ polished but it never will be so i might as well set it free

t/sukishima applying ointment to fet!k/oito's wounds but he's sensitive to the smell of it. pre-confession/dating/whatever. disclaimer idk ANYTHING about wound care i am making all this up!!! also mess warning i guess

"Alright, sit up, please." Tsukishima's voice comes calm and steady as ever as he takes a seat at Koito's bedside. Koito begins to slowly prop himself up but falters, and Tsukishima rushes to reach out and steady him. Koito doesn't look him in the eyes. His head is pounding against his skull as his blood begins to move for the first time in hours, and the skin around the fresh wound on his back stings as it's stretched and pulled with his movements. After he settles into his new position, he bunches the fallen blanket around his waist and unbuttons his shirt while Tsukishima sets down the medical supplies neatly around him within arm's reach.

"How are you feeling?" The shorter man's voice comes from behind him as he begins to unwrap the old bandages. The air is chilly on Koito's bare back, and he feels goosebumps prickling his skin as his weakened body tries to adjust to the temperature change. Tsukishima's fingers in contrast are warm when they brush up against his tan skin, which might have soothed the bumps if those fingers had belonged to anyone else. The contact from his Sergeant only has him shivering further.

"I'm fine." The short reply leaves his lips more sharply than he intends for, and he takes the second chance granted by Tsukishima's patient silence before trying again. "I'm sore. I'm thirsty. I feel dirty." This time he sounds more whiny, but Koito is okay with that. It'd hardly be the first time Tsukishima heard him whine, and he'd rather come off as pitiful rather than just nastily snapping at Tsukishima.

Tsukishima hums in response, concentrating as he dips a rag into a bowl of hot water. "Let's get you cleaned up first. Don't let me forget to bring you some water afterwards." Koito hears him wring the cloth out before holding it out to him. "Here, sir, go ahead and clean your face." He brushes Koito's hair back with his fingers, ignoring the damp greasiness of it, and holds it out of the way until Koito finishes scrubbing the oil and grime from his face. The warm steam and water feel good, as if starting to wipe away a layer of grogginess. When he's done he wordlessly passes the rag back to Tsukishima. 

He's not in the mood to talk, Tsukishima mentally notes. Understandable. Koito's mind is hazy from the pain and restless sleep he's been getting on and off as he tries to heal, and the whole ordeal has put him in a rather sour mood. Tsukishima is more than okay with giving him space, allowing a comfortable quietness to settle around them.

Tsukishima continues wordlessly, only the soft swishing and trickling sounds of the rag in the water bowl filling the quiet room around them. The warm scrubbing along his torso could've nearly put Koito to sleep if it weren't for the adrenaline shooting through him every time Tsukishima passed over the angry skin surrounding the deep gashes, causing him to suck air through gritted teeth and groan in pain.

"I know, sir. I'm trying to be gentle." Tsukishima reassures despite Koito never actually verbally reprimanding his actions. Koito groans again in response, pressing his face hard into his hands. The way Tsukishima treats him so patiently makes something other than his wounds ache.

The Sergeant wrings the cloth out into the bowl one last time before Koito hears a container open and the strong smell of disinfectant hits his nostrils. 

Tsukishima gives a short muffled cough behind him. "Are you ready, sir?" He knows Koito knows what's about to happen; he won't belittle him with any more of a warning. 

"Mhmm." Koito nods and grips the blanket with both fists. He's mentally prepared but still can't help but hiss as the cool disinfectant stings his wounds, pain and the subsequent adrenaline shooting through his veins once more. He digs his nails into the blanket harder, slowing his breathing to deep inhales and exhales as the initial shock subsides. Tsukishima works quickly and efficiently, getting his superior through the worst of the wound cleaning process as fast as he can. "There."

Koito lets out a deep sigh, trying to relax a bit before they move on to the next step. Hearing yet another container open, he sits up straight once more. This time he hears a wet sniffle from his subordinate as he smells what he assumes is an ointment, a pungent herbal sort of smell. He tries not to overthink what the sniffle might imply.

Tsukishima only gets a moment to begin applying the medicine before the strong scent of it overwhelms his nose suddenly, tingling in the far depths of his nostrils, strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. He can tell what's coming, his breath already beginning to hitch. "Fuck," he breathes a quick warning, "that's going to make me sneeze." 

Koito's heart jumps in his chest.

The hitching man only has time to quickly pull back his ointment-covered hands and turn his head away before the urgent need to sneeze takes over.

"Heh-NKXHSHHhhh! H-heh–!! EH'ISSHHHHHooh!! Snff!"

Koito startles despite just having played this exact scenario out in his head, despite the distraction of his aching injury. The feeling of Tsukishima's sudden sneezes wetly misting the bare skin of his arm and lower back opposite to his wound distracts from the pain, his focus now entirely on the plight of his caretaker. Somewhat shamefully he feels the groggy grumpiness fading, replaced by kink-fueled excitement.

Tsukishima can hardly think, the stinging in his sinuses is so strong, but still he notices Koito jump at the sudden outburst and attempts an apology. "S-Sorrhh…! Heh! H-Hold on…" Bringing his hands away once more, he gasps, then sneezes openly to the side again, but louder and more harshly this time. 

"HEH'EISCHHHHHHuh!!" He's given up on stifling these; the irritation in his nose is too much, too overwhelming to repress.

"God, bless you, Tsukishima… Is it the ointment bothering you?" Koito cranes his neck to peek over his shoulder and steal an indulgent glance at the older man, watching as he hurriedly sniffles back loose liquid and he grinds his wrist firmly back and forth against his itchy nose with a damp squelch. Tsukishima's watery eyes meet Koito's from behind his furrowed brow and he seems to almost jolt, hurriedly gesturing for Koito to turn back around.

"Sir! Don't move please, you'll h-hurt yoursehhlf!"

Koito scoffs. "I'm fine. I'm being careful." He straightens his back and shoulders as if to make absolute sure he wasn't stretching the damaged skin too much, then looks back down at his caretaker. 

Tsukishima doesn't notice. His eyes are now closed in concentration, pinched shut between his scrunched up nose and eyebrows. His nostrils flare wide and stay like that as his mouth hangs open, pink tongue pressed up against the inside of his bottom lip, breathing in shakily as he gears up for yet another sneeze. There's no doubt he's breathing in even more of that sharp scent through those widened nostrils, each inhale making the tickle stronger and stronger until–

"HAH-EIHH'SSHHHHHHHoo!!" The sneeze tears out of him as his head snaps downward and he sprays Koito's side once again, sending another wave of goosebumps across his smooth skin. The Lieutenant thinks a moan might've escaped him this time but if it did, it was quiet enough to be drowned out by the Sergeant's loud sneeze echoing inside the small space.

"Bless you," Koito begins, but his voice trails off as a desperate gasp and a second powerful sneeze interrupt his blessing.

"HEH-EHH'TSSCHHHHHHHH!!" 

The duo of overwhelming sneezes leaves Tsukishima nearly panting behind him, and Koito has to hold his breath to keep himself from mirroring the other for completely different reasons. He looks down at his lap. He's glad for the heavy folds of the blanket and his back blocking the shorter man's view of his lower body after all of that.

"Excuse me," Tsukishima grumbles between a series of thick sniffles, and Koito can tell from just the sound that he's violently rubbing his flat, narrow nose against his wrist again, the ointment coating his fingers still keeping him from properly pinching and pulling at the appendage to squash that itch into submission.

"Are you alright?" Koito asks. He thinks to suggest Tsukishima to fetch Tanigaki and trade places with him, but he's hesitant to give up this rare opportunity to see his subordinate struggle through fits in such close quarters. He also truthfully does not trust Tanigaki nearly as much; he'd be rather uncomfortable and on edge with the man's large hands in direct contact with his open wounds.

Tsukishima gives a final sniff and hums an affirmative "mmhm", and Koito's perceptive ears pick up on the light congestion now weighing down the nasal consonants. "I'm just going to breathe through my mouth and try to finish up quickly."

Koito nods, his dark hair brushing the back of his neck, and readies himself once more. Tsukishima's touch is so light, careful and precise, but still the contact has him clenching his teeth and breathing deeply through the pain. He tries his best to stay still despite it all, his back rigid against his heaving chest. 

After a minute Tsukishima pauses, pulling his hands back, making sure to not hurt his superior as he prepares to inevitably jolt through a sneeze, drawing air through parted lips before his head snaps downward with the force of an impressively stifled double. 

The older man exhales through his mouth, applying ointment to the last section of injury. Using just his facial muscles he scrunches and stretches his reddened nose as warm runny fluid starts to drip from it, nearing his upper lip and tickling the area further, but he knows better than to sniffle and invite more of that itchy, stinging scent back in. Even without doing so, he's fighting off another sneeze, the pressure building slowly in the back of his nose. It's still subtle enough that he's able to postpone the action through carefully controlled breathing and frequently wriggling his nose in just the right way, and finally he's able to quickly finish up. 

While Tsukishima hurriedly wipes and rinses the excess medicine from his hands Koito steals another glance at him. He's not expecting the sight that his eyes lay on: Tsukishima's eyebrows creased and raised, eyes fluttering shut, the amount of mess dripping down between the man's still parted lips, pink nostrils flaring open wider and wider as his chest shakily fills with air…

"HEH! HH-HEHH-IHHDZSSHHHOOH!!"

Tsukishima grabs the damp cloth from the rim of the water bowl and sneezes down at it, not even having time to bring it fully up to his face. Koito gets a full view of the clear strings of fluid growing heavier, finally dripping down from his nose and lips into the rag. He swallows. The older man wipes his face roughly before pinching the folded fabric around just his nose and unleashing another ragged sneeze into the already soaked cloth, catching the mess but his uncovered mouth still sprays the air below him.

"Bless you, Tsukishima!"

His face burns beneath the cloth, embarrassed by the filthy spectacle he's just caused right beside his superior, helpless and at the mercy of his sensitive nose when he's supposed to be the one taking care of Koito. He doesn't respond, preoccupied with blowing his clogged nose noisily. He feels Koito's eyes remain on him despite his silence and internally sighs.

"Excuse me. I didn't expect the medicine to cause something like that." Tsukishima sniffles as he closes the ointment container, feeling drained by the sudden and strong fit. He takes the ointment and ointment-contaminated medical supplies and stands to his feet. "I'm going to bring these to the other hut, and then I'll come back to rewrap your bandages, sir."

Koito can only nod. Tsukishima leaves, the scent of herbal ointment still lingering heavily in the air, feeling sticky and cold on his aching back. He shivers, the room suddenly feeling much colder without the Sergeant beside him. Luckily, the memory of what just transpired keeps his core burning hot, and the contrast sends his head spinning. None of that had felt real; it was simply too good to be true. 

His reality is reconfirmed when Tsukishima re-enters the hut, encountering the trapped scent causing him to stifle a sneeze immediately upon arrival. He walks over, takes his seat again, and hands Koito a cup of water, which the younger man takes and drinks from gratefully.

Having learned his lesson, Tsukishima breathes through only his mouth while his face is so close to the ointment-slathered skin. Quickly and skillfully he ties fresh bandages around Koito's torso, completing the task that took far longer than it initially should've.

Koito lets his shoulders fall, chin tucking down into his collarbone as he relaxes. The pain and excitement have both drained him of his already depleted stores of energy, his body using everything available to work on healing his wound.

"Do you need anything else while I'm here, sir?"

Koito startles, his eyes (that he didn't realize he'd closed) opening wide as he feels Tsukishima's rough palm press against his forehead.

"Excuse me. Just wanted to make sure you weren't developing a fever." Tsukishima sniffles, drawing his hand back to rub at the base of his nose. Koito can't tell if he's imagining the hint of nervousness on his Sergeant's face. He's not sure what to make of it.

He shakes his head, messy bangs falling into his face. "I'm just sleepy, Tsukishima," he mumbles. "Tired and sore."

Tsukishima rises to his feet with another sniffle. "I'll let you go back to sleep then." He pauses for a moment, his gaze briefly scanning over Koito's face, and then turns to leave.

[modernghostfare]

Speaking about Price coke anxiety. Drug headcanons go who smokes what

okay okay. i talked it out w cero bc i rly do have a LOT of feelings about like. esp price and ghosts drug use/views. im gonna start w price bc i was thinking about him this morning. also putting this under a readmore bc it got long also, obvi, tw drugs

so like price as a person is very impulsive and very, very indulgent but i think those are traits that he Doesn't want people to recognize in him. he doesnt Want to be seen that way he wants to be seen as a very noble person. ALL THIS to say i think like when he was younger, fresh in the military, needing a way to stay awake he would use coke for that and it just turned into very frequent, regular use of cocaine to keep him awake and also just bc he Likes it hes an adrenaline junkie. he likes the confidence boost coke brings. but people like macmillan wouldnt like that bc he would See his potential and would wean him off a more frequent use and i think nowadays price would be like. really embarrassed by this past issue of his bc it shows a lack of control that he, like, would hate for others to see. but he will still enjoy coke if someone has some to share. and its a cycle for him, do coke, get anxious on top of his Already pretty high anxiety (i think he just lives with a constant sense of doom), smoke weed to try to calm himself. sometimes weed makes him paranoid too but. well. deal with the cards he is handed.

GHOST is like. oh my god.. his feelings about drugs.. itd be easy to say hes anti drug bc of his upbringing but i just dont think hed skew that way. i think it would show more in his, like, feeling of superiority over "addicts." bc hes functional and holding down a job and hes not "addicted" to anything esp not "bad drugs" like heroin. i think esp downers he looks down on (except weed bc he likes weed so that makes it okay). of course hes doing coke w price.

and uh speaking of downers soap in his og journal mentions really liking oxys and i could still see newsoap being into like prescription drugs. bc i think hed be more anxious about like being Caught and being kicked out than price and ghost bc price and ghost have. like. safety nets of people looking out for them. and people whose piss they can use and soap wouldnt trust others to be clean like that. because of who he is around. oxys, xanax (bc he probably actually does need xanax,), and mayb adderall. if hes not already prescribed adderall. it would be cute if he had undiagnosed adhd and he keeps taking adderall hes bought off someone else like "yeah idk i feel more focused"

gaz is like.. a super neutral party in my head. his drug usage is very social by nature, if its around him and its offered to him he will try it. however hes also very like, strict about his usage like he will do a bump of coke ONCE he will smoke ONE blunt because he doesnt really super care to be high. esp weed. sometimes weed lasts too long for him and it starts to get on his nerves. his biggest vice is probably just normal smoking, either from vaping or regular cigarettes, but he isnt like stressed about it. i mean hes around price all the time dude is huffing cigars like he'll die without them so even if he was worried about lung cancer or even just lung capacity he wouldnt stop smoking.

as for the rest of sas i think the only person regularly doing drugs is otter. meth bc its cheaper. thorne WOULD NOT bc hed be an antidrug type but i think also really like is not an asshole about it hes not giving anyone any speeches unless they ask for one. charly doesnt care much either way but she wont do any hard drugs.

nikto can be summed up like this:

I DONT WANT THIS TO GET TOO LONG !!!!!!! i might make a tier list actually of the others. maybe. if needed. the only other main point i want to make is nikolai is price's plug and thats why hes able to continuously get drugs.

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲: send me a character and “opposites attract” duo (ex. grumpy x sunshine, loner x popular) for a blurb!

OKKKKSOOOO-, I realllly like the Loner x Popular trope lmao, but sinceee Remus was a marauder I don't see him as a literal loner, more of a "I'm not comfortable being 24/7 in the spotlight", and the popular one brings him out of his comfort zone every time! Like maybe they are in a quidditch team, or maybe just someone super pretty and from a popular group, idk! but he feels comfortable around them <3.

wait this is so cute-- i think i might turn this into a longer fic at some point, but for rn here are some remus x quidditch player!reader thoughts!! (1.1k)

“is that a book, lupin?”

remus’ head snapped up of its own accord. if it were any other voice, he’d have continued reading and waited until they gave up and left him alone. but it wasn’t any other voice. it was your voice, and despite how much he hated it, he could never get himself to deny you.

“what does it look like?” he quipped, feeling himself shrink as he met your curious gaze. it was almost scary, the way you looked at him like you genuinely cared.

“it… looks like a book.” you conceded. “zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance?” remus watched as your brows pinched with inquisition. “i didn’t know you were interested in muggle transport.”

“i’m not!” remus blurted much too quickly. “it’s, um, philosophical. a muggle father and son question the fundamental meaning of humanity. arts and science and whatnot… it’s interesting to see how the muggles live. i think there are some universal ideas though, that even wizards can relate to, like the purpose of spirituali-”

“oi! madame keeper, we need you!” sirius’ voice interrupted remus’ train of thought, and he was slightly grateful. who knows how long he would’ve gone on otherwise.

“i’m coming, merlin’s beard! it’s been, like, two minutes!” you shouted back.

“d’you mean seven? stop flirting with moony and do your bloody job, yeah?” though his words were scolding, the amusement was clear in james’ voice. james had given the team a rare five minute break (but only because one of the beaters had a bloody nose) and if it were any other player, they’d have been dragged back to the field by their collar. fortunately for you, james and sirius—scratch that, the entire quidditch team—were meddlesome pains-in-the-ass who hadn’t let up on this ridiculous ploy to get you and remus together. they all swore you fancied remus back, but you were an extrovert by nature. remus was sensible. he knew what platonic behavior looked like, and that’s exactly what your relationship was.

from beside remus, peter sighed dramatically, dropping his head in his hands and making a big show of expressing his disappointment. you laughed at peter’s antics and remus couldn’t help the way his heartbeat sped up. you frowned at him, and remus hated that you looked so pretty even while pulling a sad face.

“tell me about it later, rem?”

remus nodded quickly, pursing his lips to stop him from saying something stupid. he watched as you returned to the pitch, broomstick in hand, and tried not to make his roaming eyes too obvious.

as you kicked off into the air, remus swore he saw you send a wink his way.

--

“stay back!” you squealed, swatting remus’ arm away as he tried to swing it over your shoulder. “i’m sweaty and disgusting.”

remus was inclined to disagree. james and sirius were sweaty and disgusting. you were radiant, beaming with post-practice adrenaline and a sheen of—well, sweat—om your forehead.

“don’t care!” remus poked your cheek and you groaned goodnaturedly. he watched as you slung your equipment over your back and began heading to the locker rooms. “you better hurry up, i’m starving!”

you turned back and graced him with a smile that made his knees weak. you paused. “thanks for coming to watch, remus.” your voice lacked the teasing edge it usually had when you talked to him. he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

before remus could formulate an anwer, you disappeared into a changing stall. he sighed, leaning his back against the wall and willed his blush to go away as peter looked at him smugly.

“don’t- don’t start, wormtail.”

“i didn’t even say anything!” peter protested, crossing his arms.

“you- argh, fine! yeah, i’m stupid and horribly mad for her, you don’t need’a rub it in,” remus grumbled, pouting childishly.

“moony!” james called, sauntering over with sirius in tow. “fancy seeing you here. you never come watch our practices!”

“yeah, well, i had nothing else to do,” remus said, avoiding his friend’s eye.

“lies. you cancelled your tutoring session with that third year to come see us play,” sirius interrupted. “no, ‘us’ isn’t right. you don’t care about james or i’s playing. you’re mean like that.”

“it really hurt our feelings that you didn’t cheer for either of us.” james gestured between himself and sirius. “you only cheered for one person. that was really alienating for the rest of the team,” james sniffed sadly. “we’re a unit, y’know? we’re one. you kinda killed purpose of the teambuilding activity from last week.”

“yeah, james worked really hard on that,” peter chimed in, nodding with disappointment evident on his face. “that wasn’t very considerate of you.”

“you all suck,” remus snapped, not really meaning it. “i’m heading up now.”

“without your sweetheart?” sirius questioned, bottom lip pulled between his teeth knowing he was absolutely correct. “she’ll be so disappointed.”

“fuck you!” remus shouted, not bothering to turn his head as he stalked off.

--

the great hall was crowded by the time the quidditch team made their way to the castle. remus had, much to the delight of his friends, stuck around to wait for you. he’d waited awkwardly with his book tucked under his arm at the entry of the girl’s locker room, regretting his pitiful existence and even more pathetic crush, when you’d rushed out and abandoned your friends at the sight of him.

there was no better feeling than knowing he was your first priority, your best friend. he thought the title was deserved. he knew you well, so well that here he was, piling all your favorite foods on your dinner plate as you chattered excitedly with some gryffindor remus didn’t know about things remus didn’t understand.

“here,” remus said, tapping your shoulder and handing you a food-laden plate. he was rewarded with a toothy grin, one that pulled a shy smile out of him in response.

“thanks, rem!” you set your plate on the table and nodded approvingly. “you’re too nice to me.”

“i- uh,” remus stammered, “yeah, i mean, of course. i’d do anything- i mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“yep!” your smile flickered as you swallowed. “that’s what best friends are for.”

you dug into your dinner and remus began serving himself, ignoring the pointed looks from his friends. he tried to ignore the heat of your stare on the side of his face, to less success. should he turn his head? should he catch your eye?

some boy on the quidditch team called your name and the opportunity was gone. perhaps that’s how it was. remus was too timid to make a move, but there would always be someone who wasn’t. you were you, after all. for now, remus was content knowing that at the end of the day, your time would be reserved for him and his books.

[gen0c1de]

I got my first tattoo!

A longer post about the details of my experience and whatnot. Hopefully a bit of a stress/anxiety relief for those who are getting their first tattoo and want some form of reassurance. <3

I'm 19 years old, and in the state of Michigan in the US, idk what tattoo laws are anywhere else, but when you turn 18 years old, you're considered a "legal adult" although you can't legally purchase nicotine or tobacco nor can you purchase or drink anything alcoholic. Can't go into a casino or even rent a vehicle. But I digress.

The tattoo I got is in memory of my father who passed away July 12th, 2017. Just a few minutes shy of my 13th birthday... so that was fun to wake up to. He had an all black tribal armband tattoo around his left upper-arm, which was his dominant arm, and it wasn't finished because it hurt him too much to finish the underarm part.

I was gonna get his tattoo or something close to it on my left upper-arm, but I have an implant where the tattoo would be so I chose to have it mirrored and put on my upper right arm, my dominant arm.

I was nervous as fuck and I was low on iron at the time so I was twitching like hell, so that didn't help calm my nerves or anxiety about it getting messed up. The outline didn't hurt and he did the underside of my arm first because that part is a bitch to do last cause of how sensitive the area already is. So adding on it being tender from doing an outline would've made the ordeal WAY worse. I likely wouldn't have been able to get it finished so it would have been unfinished like my dads was lmfao.

The filling part of the process was decent in the beginning, it only really hurt when he would have to go over the same spot multiple times to get it filled, much like when you color in a book or on paper, you have to go over the same area a few times to make sure its all even and complete. So when he reached the back of my arm it was more painful because it had an hour untouched, so the newly sore areas were being abused again.

It wasn't as painful as I had expected though, I'm a bit of a cry baby when my body actually LETS me cry and I surprisingly didn't cry, so the anxiety of me crying and embarrassing myself went away after a while. I did flinch a time or two and I apologized a lot throughout because I wanna be a good client and I don't want the artists to have a bad impression of me so when I go and get another tattoo they won't be annoyed that they have to deal with me.

The artist was super cool and talked to me every now and again and let me rest my arm when I had to have it above my head so he could do the underside. He said if I needed a break to let him know and complimented me on how I barely reacted in the beginning and how, although I was shaking from adrenaline, my right arm was perfectly still for him. He did grab, pull, and stretch my skin some and I had a large bruise but it didn't hurt, just looked weird for a few days.

When it was peeling it was SO HARD to not pick at the skin... I ended up picking some off and so there's a couple little places that are discolored, but if I make an appointment to get it touched up within the next 3 months then the touch up is completely free, so that's a plus! I'll make sure not to pull at the skin when I get it touched up...

Also, it's at the itchy stage. It's so hard not to scratch it... so if anyone has any tips or pointers on what to do, that would be great... cause I can not ignore it... I have ADHD. If it bothers me, I will focus on it and won't be able to distract myself. If I do manage to forget about it, my brain will suddenly be like: "Yo, remember how itchy it is? Wonder if it still itches like a motherfucker." and then the cycle repeats.

My dad's tattoo

My tattoo!

[dirtywresling102]

okay the fans have spoken so i am here to request a second part to the eddie kingston x fem!reader. Second part where Eddie and the reader find out the other person reciprocates their feelings. Idk how. Maybe the reader wins the woman's title and in a boost of confidence confronts Eddie about her feelings for him. He tries to talk her out of liking a guy like him but she doesn't let him do that. I honestly kinda want it to end with smut where its basically like him congratulating her on her win

Pairing: Eddie Kingston x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Kissing

Imagine Requests: Open!

Follow My Main Blog!: @dirtywrestling

"Yeah! So what the fuck ever if I have feelings for Y/N! I'll tell her when the time is right!" Eddie snapped at Jon who kept hounding and teasing him about speaking with you.

You stood there, hiding around the corner from the catering room as you slowly backed away with a large smile on your face. Now too excited to eat knowing, finally knowing that your crush likes you back.

You held the Women's Championship close to your stinky sweaty body as you bobbed and weaved out of everyone's way that tried to congratulate you in the hallway. You just either gave them a nod or a smile but you were too focus on one thing. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping or the slight concussion that was swelling your brain but you were going to confront Eddie right now.

Shoving open the men's locker room all the wrestlers stared at you and stopped talking. "Everyone. Out. Now." As everyone got up and was about to leave your eyes were set on Eddie who was unlacing his boots to get back into his street clothes.

Once everyone was out, you shut the door behind you and tossed the belt to the side. "Congrats on the win, kid."

Not saying a word, you approached Eddie. Boldly throwing one leg over his lap and straddling him you pressed your lips against his. Eddie placed his hand upon your chin, pulling you away. "Y/N, n- no. I can't." He breathed. "I want to, fuck I want to but you deserve way better."

"Shut up and fuck me, Kingston."

Eddie didn't have to be told twice. You both stripped fast and you were back on his lap, slowly inching down on his large cock. "Fuck, Eddie!" You sobbed, tossing your head back as he fully stretched you.

"Fuck, doll. You're pussy is soaked." Eddie wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him as he pumped his hips into you.

Leaning forward, you bit down onto his shoulder muffling your moans as his cock drilled in and out of your drenched pussy while you grind back down onto him, trying to get the most of his cock fully inside.

[no-one-at-all75]

Debt Collector (Gender Neutral)

Cypher x Reader angst

Trigger Warning: blood, gun, death

Ok so idk about y’all but when I have a good idea IT DOESNT LEAVE MY SMALL BRAIN UNTIL ITS DONE. So here’s a story I already wrote once but deleted it 🫠

It is heavily inspired by this song which I recommend you listen to before reading but if you don’t no worries! It just has the vibe!

Song: Debt Collector by Jhariah

Words: 1,231

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried to keep the sprinting pace you had for so long but your legs began to give out, your lungs finally starting to burn after a few miles of constant sprinting. Sweat starting to bead down your neck as you navigated the narrow streets and alleyways that you know like the back of your hand. The darkness cloaking your figure as you kept running. You kept chanting to yourself ‘only a bit longer, hang in there’. You dodged trash cans and stray dogs as you continued your sprint. You internally ask yourself why did you get into this mess? Why did you ask a information broker to help you learn more about your past? Maybe some things should be left forgotten.

You failed to notice the small trip wire that dug into your skin tearing away your shins cutting deep. You gasp in pain as you fall over trying to scramble back up. You can feel the blood dripping down to your feet and on the ground below as you attempt to crawl away, but the trip wire kept you in place. You heard his footsteps, your adrenaline now fading as you look behind you to find the man you’ve been running from, Cypher. You let out a little scowl as he nears you laughing.

“Seems I caught something.” He says a smirk evident on his face by the way he talked. You look the other way as an attempt to not look at the man you scammed. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked it as hard as he could to make you look at him. You almost screamed as he pulled your (hair color), tears now threatening to fall but you kept your eyes shut. He snapped his fingers in front of your face, making you flinch as you opened your eyes. His blue robotic ones stared right back into yours, almost gazing at your soul. Makes you curious, is he even human?

“Hello (Y/N).” His deep gravely voice rang out in the alleyway. “You still owe me a lot of money you know? Finding someone’s past like yours isn’t particularly easy.” He chuckled a bit as you close your eyes again trying not to make any tears fall. He hit your cheek this time making your eyes go wide. “Keep your eyes open (Y/N). We aren’t done yet.” He spoke as he let go of your hair making your head drop to the cool floor of the alleyway. You watched as he moved toward your feet starting to untie the trip wire that was deep in your flesh, the blood oozing out. You thought of a plan to run again as soon as you were untied. You waited until you felt the wire slip past your epidermis (for those who don’t know, it is the thinnest layer of skin basically dead skin that protects all the nerves and blood vessels underneath :D) then kicked him with all you had left. He stumbled a little, but expecting you to fight back with such injuries. You took the opportunity and started to run again, slower this time.

The pain shot through you and almost made you stop a few times. You kept going, you knew the market was close and you’d be safer there. You smiled a little as the adrenaline kicked back in, the pain dimming a bit as you pushed farther. You saw the light and people of the market. You were safe at last. You continued to run until the light hit your skin and the people tripping over you as you fell on your stomach . You panted heavily with a smile on your face. You made it. The pain was now coming back making you whine, it’s nothing you haven’t experienced however. You turned onto your back and sat up to take a closer look at your injures. It wasn’t too deep but it was still a gash in both of your shins. You let out a heavy sigh as you stand up now blending in with the other people on the street. You wandered around the market trying to find a cloth to stop the bleeding a little bit. As you walked towards a clothing stand a hand grabbed yours. You look back and almost punch the man but realize it’s not him.

It was a man, dark skinned, which was expected because you were in Morocco. His brown eyes looked warm and kind. He had a little scruff on his jawline and upper lip. He gave you a small smile and looked around quickly looking for a way to usher you away. You assumed he would take care of your injuries, you give him a small smile. “Hi. Sorry it’s been a hell of a day. Mind helping me out?” You ask the man. He smiles back and nods, not talking. He held onto your hand as he guided you though the people and back into a dark alleyway. You felt safe, knowing he was going to help. You followed like a puppy, blood still dripping down.

Once you were both in the darkness, he pulled you down taking advantage of your legs being cut up. You cry out in pain as your head hits a wall. You try to turn your head to look at the man you trusted only to see his kind look turn cold. He then laughed.

“Ah little mouse, you should not trust people here.” He chuckled as he stepped on your calves making the pain unbearable. You screamed this time, tears now flooding your vision. You recognized his voice. It was him. You knew you were caught. You let your body go limp as you look back to the wall you hit your head on. He pushes his foot further into your legs making the blood gush out painting the ground red. He only chuckled at your pathetic screams.

“You know, you should never fuck with anyone who grew up here. Especially me.” He gloated as he pulled a ghost out from his back. You look back now with wide eyes, tears now falling recklessly.

“I- shit. I don’t have any money Cypher. Let me go. I’ll get it to you in time I promise.” You tried to compromise, your voice quaking. He let out a sigh as he cocked his gun.

“Ah (Y/N). You and I both know about the stash you have in your wall in your apartment.” His voice now showing irritation. Your eyes went wide. He smiled at your eyes widening with surprise. “Oh yes. I’ve seen everything you do. All the money you have in there is enough to pay me and more. Which means, this deal is closed.” He smirked as he pointed the gun to your head. You face reality and let your head hit the wet floor of the alleyway, waiting for the shot.

“Shame (Y/N). You would’ve been a great partner.” He says as he squeezes the trigger making your body go limp. The life draining from your eyes. He takes his foot off of your calves and lowers his arm as he continues to look at your body. He tucks the gun back into his pants and puts his white coat and mask back on. “Pleasure doing business.” He says in the quiet alleyway as he starts to walk away, placing his hat back on his head.

[themoonshoes]

1-7 for dinjael :)

OKAY <3

1. what, specifically, was the catalyst for their physical attraction (if applicable) to the other character? In other words, what in particular had them like “Oh, they’re…hot…”

din: she’s got him pinned with her lightsaber to his neck while she’s trying to train him to fight with the darksaber, and there’s a moment a la princess mononoke when he’s like oh. hm. if he hadn’t been fearing for his life during their first encounter he probably would have noticed her appearance a little more, but at the time he uhhh was too worried about getting his head cut off  :)

jael: shootout on batuu. maybe it’s adrenaline, but she sees his like. over-competence and the way he handles a blaster and can only stand there like 🧍‍♂️ for a sec

2. does this change over time? what things do they find “hot” about their partner after they’ve been together for some time, and have had more time to, well, notice and appreciate?

din: her eyes make him feel like a prey animal (he’s called them jaig eyes before which makes her laugh) and he likes putting little braids in her hair (grogu picks up on this and tries doing it too. its cute) she’s also like Fit and built for fighting Creatures and the like so once he feels like he’s allowed to find her body Hot he super super Does

jael: once she sees his face she pretty much immediately finds that attractive (his eyes are special to her bc not many have gotten to see them the way she has), but she also likes the physicality of him, too. his back. his neck. girl get into it. 

3. by contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh…I adore them…”

din: he sees how she is with the people in her hive (lore stuff) on Ead, and how much she cares for them, and is kind of immediately drawn to that, but it’s during Batuu Shenanigans where they’re both very much out of their element and in close quarters and have to rely on each other that he sort of has that little mermaid kiss the girl moment and is like wait i think you’re really important to me now. and then she meets grogu and immediately clicks with him and that’s what makes din go wow i think i love her. 

jael: once she got to see a little more of his emotive side—they’re both reserved people outside of their circles, so she knew something had changed between them (again. on batuu) when he opened up to her and was willing to talk to her about his like.. crisis of identity/faith/purpose. she went oh. i think i care you. and when he takes her to tattooine and boba calls her ‘friend’ she goes. we are friends!!!

4. does this change over time? what will always reliably make them melt with how much they adore the other character?

din: what can i say, he’s attracted to conviction in leadership, so idk if it’s attraction or a sense of pride when he sees her being a good leader to her people, but he never gets tired of seeing her be compassionate and competent. ALSO he thinks she’s so incredible bc of what she can do through the force too so like. all around he’s just a big fan LMAO he’s her biggest fan

jael: she is not immune to din with Baby. it’s sweet to her. and when he engages in her planet’s culture and comes alongside her to like give her support she remembers all over again why she fell in love with this dude in the first place. this includes when he tries to engage with force stuff, because she knows he doesn’t get it, but he’s willing to understand (for her, for grogu) and that’s SPECIAL to her bc she hasn’t had someone who wants to Get Her like that before. tee hee

5. how do they consciously realize that they like the other character? does it take them a while?

din: ok so for some story lore they have to act sort of undercover while Doing Stuff on batuu bc of their respective statuses, and they both kind of stick out like a sore thumb even on that planet, so people assume they’re a traveling couple bc why wouldn’t they? and he doesn’t realize how much he sort of enjoys that role until they go back to ead and don’t have to do that anymore. he does not want to confront that btw he has too much goin on!!!

jael: Face Reveal Time. mama it's the vulnerability.

6. how do they react to the realization that they like the other character? is it an “oh my god I’m never going to think about this again” thing, or are they pretty comfortable with it?

din: he is definitely less willing than she is to admit that to himself, but there’s a situation right before they leave batuu for ead where he’s sort of forced to realize he can’t keep her out and still like. have her you know!!!!!

jael: it’s a very new feeling for her since she hasn’t had the.. like luxury, in a way? of a relationship like this before but she feels very strongly (in all aspects tbh) so once she has that little realization moment it’s definitely like a switch was flipped and she starts noticing every little thing he does or every little touch. yearn more, idiot

7. do they (or would they) pursue the other character’s affection, and if so, how? do they tell the other character how they feel? try to earn their admiration? woo them with romantic gestures? flirt with them, skillfully or otherwise?

din: he’s blunt, so once he comes to his senses, yes he tells her (he tells her first!!!) but even before that he finds her a new kyber crystal to replace the one he evaporates :) he does flirt, in his awkward way, but only whenever it’s the two of them. i think there’s probably a part of him, too, that sees her ability as a leader and tries to live up to that, like he’d be a little less reckless because he knows it would upset her etc etc

jael: she likes to fluster him, but she’s also like not mean about it. oh she does clean his armor for him in the Before times which like. in his eyes was as much as a marriage proposal. and while she’s not doing it for din’s benefit, she does give grogu some force training (not jedi training. that was some guy named luke’s job and he fumbled the bag.) and is by extension another guardian figure for him, which does endear her to din in a big way!!!!

this was long winded i apologize!!!!!!

character development questions for couples

[luminusobscurum]

alright you vultures here's your food

guy who idolized me *checks calendar* a year ago got his bubble popped when he realized all along he was an immature manchild to me.

in between the admissions hes paranoid and delusional, hes sending himself anonymous threats saying theyre from me. and people still buy it.

and now we got some new accusations under my belt. im jealous! im obsessive!

lmao. just lmao, your therapist or even worse your internet friends fucked with your head so hard you are Gone

i can sleep and hold, and love, a real man next to me, and i never had to settle on pretending id find a partner.

also, wasnt my main f/o for that fandom a woman? to the point ess and candide's ship was on google images? LOL

OH WAIT, in fact didnt a storyboard artist like my ship so much, and it fucked with you so bad you made vent art for it? hmm.

but IM jealous?? 2+2=5??

and wait didnt your lackey bark at me for thinking all this nonsense was over fandom shit? is it or isnt it? are you mad im an asshole or do you think im upset you....buy commissions? can y'all make up your mind on what we're upset over here? like im begging yall to realize the longer this drags on the more stupid and barrel scraping this shit is getting.

but its whatever, the cold truth, is the narrative of someone who physically disgusted me from day one to the point i had a sticky note over his pfp is hilarious, yeah bro ill get myself obsessed again when i eat some bad shrimp.

no really its very hard to look at when you cant get the time for anything about who you are unless my name is pulled, get a new gimmick.

-

and realistically, from the bottom of my heart, i do believe theres a third party sending these anons to fuck with us, to drag it on further. and hes giving them what they want because with this guy it is /guaranteed/ he will react and blow it out of proportion after all hes "like that" isnt he?

i know theres a cycle where I get asks I delete, then 2-3 days later, i get random shit in my inbox "are you going to doxx him? are you going to attack him? are you going to burn his crops!?" which triggers another scratch fight. of nothingness, nothing gets done. except what the people want, online adrenaline rush, clicking back and forth between our profiles shallow breathing whats gonna be posted next.

but even if its someone else sending these anons. i got a little file full of shit i never did since "was mean to me" didnt have enough oomph for a callout and frick frack and fuck comes out of the woodwork saying i called him a scammer or rigged him during an election idk, my comedic attittude about all this just emphasizes how much i dont care anymore.

but hey i can mark up the failed effort to get me kicked out of flight school and these anons i get talking about hurting my nephews and hoping my sister will overdose to him and his goons. fuck it why not. see how easy it is?

-

to state, amidst the chaos, i thought talking on a throwaway account, something i can do and do again nullified the purpose of ever needing anon. (i understand in saying this, could give the third party ideas, but i mean, the 3-4 online people i rarely talked to dont talk to me ever now so what else do you want from me, i dont know if this/these individual(s) are driven by some twisted moral standing or a sense of vigilantism but i promise, speaking from no place of emotion, youre doing more hurt to this guy fucking with him than you are making me worry about my online reputation)

i did Not use tumblr back then when any of this happened, not to mention anon hate has never been my style. im sorry but i have cooler ways to be a dick, you know this. i think its not hard to say "ess is loud, bold, aggressive, no filter, etc." at least acknowledge That as the truth and use it against me instead of whatever is happening here.

i went to his personal dms, fucked with his friends who tried to jump in, all using my name. i wasnt worried about people knowing it was me, i already knew it was too late and it didnt matter. trying to cover myself wouldnt have even been something i was concerned with because it was impossible. nor would i have cared really, at the time, i wanted everyone right then and there to know it was me and what i was doing, even on my main account i was going off.

this part i was trying to frantically explain, in a moment of vulnerability i will never Ever fucking allow myself to be put under again, it had been conveniently cropped out of the apology i sent to him. (yes, the one i took back, because if everyone hated it, bitched about me for not following the 10 commandments to an online apology and he genuinely didnt want it, why would i leave it up at that point. like seriously.

good thing i have the capacity to block, at this point its just a display over who needs that sweet online drama adrenaline for a sense fullfillment and who doesnt.

everyone in my life has told me "what can you do to him he hasnt done to himself" once i tell them the story and yeah....

yeah..

-

but yeah this message is for the keyboard squad but mainly for the fence sitters who stick by waiting for a conclusion or some form of closure. there isnt gonna be one. ive done all the work on my half creating better social spaces in real environments. i understand i wasnt great to someone. ONE. and ever since then ive been doing my work.

needless to say, im gonna parrot this, and say ive graduated flight school last month and ive found freelance work as a private aviatior, ive been talking to a therapist, am staying medicated, and ive built myself up and have become an active member in my community and will be looking into EMT training shortly so i can be a better street medic.

and im sorry, genuinely from the bottom of my heart, there are people who exist stuck in this time tunnel reliving the same day over and over. you can buzzword and slam your fists out of this and dig your heels in refusing the reality here, but ive wrote this understanding the audience this is talking too has no sense of rationality left. ive done my work, a fuckton of hard work after fucking up and hitting rock bottom and i cant let you nor your friend's inability to move on, doom me to being the same "evil" (that got a laugh from me) person.

im not scared of getting screenshotted, angry dms, anons, my posts analyzed with test tubes and beakers, take me to kiwifarms officer. this whole place could hate me and ill just go "youre all wrong, sorry"

in fact i dont even want an answer to any of these questions, this is just my final statement on the situation because im breaking this cycle. its not an 8 anymore, its a 0.

-

and as for the one which coat tailed this situation between me one and other person to try and dogpile the drama. our situation is entirely different from what happened here. like you can spread whatever narrative and half truths you need but you and i alone will only ever know the truth about what happened, and you can sleep on that. you have never been an afterthought to me outside of busting out laughing at a walmart whenever i see "anti-frizz" serum. i just hope you dont gotta go lay down after reading that.

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

→blissful moment elijah & klaus m x f!reader

prompt : moments before your death you lay in the bed that you and elijah share and reminisce over the blissful moments you shared with him. warning : death? idk The dark magic overtook my body slowly "curse those witches" Elijah says grabbing my hand, placing his other hand on my forehead "you're burning up I shall grab a wet cloth" he removes his hand and I couldn't feel anything, not the bed I was laying or nor the blanket laying on me. A couple of minutes later Elijah walks back into our room "perhaps you remove this blanket" he says sitting down by my side pulling my blanket down slightly he then placed the wet cloth on my forehead "maybe" I pause coughing "you should just leave it alone" I smile gently removing the cloth. "I insist you keep it on" he says calmly, no doubt Klaus was out to kill the witch and everyone she cares about hence the calm tone in Elijah's voice "Elijah" I pause, this dark magic was nothing new to his family. "do you remember" I cough yet again but this time blood slips out of my mouth, Elijah quick to wipe it off. "Do you remember the time you and I ran away, we ran to France just for fun" I laughed gently trying not to cause another coughing fit, Elijah nodded with a faint smile. "you made me run through the streets of Paris with nothing but pants on" he chuckled faintly "no I didn't make you, you chose to run after me without putting on a suit" I smile placing my hand on his cheek running my thumb along his cheekbone. "then we went on a bike ride" I laugh and he nods "you fell off and some Frenchmen fell to their knees trying to aid you" he said continuing to talk quietly "the cross" I say in pain noticing its increase on my body. Elijah looks down in sorrow grabbing my hand off of his cheek to check my arm "your shoulder" his face lingered looking deeply into my shoulder, the mark on my arm was like father Kieran's but more severe, it was a cut and it never healed. "you know in all my 700 years of living I didn't think I'd die to a witch" I cough covering my mouth and Hope walks in with a bowl "Aunty y/n, Mom gave me this and told me it would help you feel better" Hope hands me the bowl carefully "its hot be careful" she smiled gently. "Thank you darling" I smile a tear was about to fall down my cheek but looking at Elijah stopped it, Hope left the room and I looked in the bowl to see soup. Hayley made the best soup it was always the right mix of veggies and broth and never in 700 years had I found someone that made better soup than her. "mmm" I hummed after the souped touched my lips, Elijah stared at me intently after I had finished he grabbed the bowl out of my hand placing it on the bedside drawer, "never in 1000 years have I loved someone as exquisite as you, my love" Elijah said rubbing the back of his hand against my cheek. "no one has had the capability of returning such love to a monster" he whispered getting so close to my face "you aren't a monster Elijah people only see you that way because that's what they were told". "what about that failed proposal" I change the subject, Elijahs tone changed from serious to humourous "please do not remind me" he chuckled shaking his head looking down. Loud footsteps start to approach our room. Elijah stands up alert as the door swings open, Klaus walks in with a smile covered in blood as he rubs his hands together "mass murder does indeed boost the adrenaline" he says and then Elijah sighs sitting down next to me. "how are you feeling love" Klaus says sitting down on the other side of me "like I'm dying" I say jokingly in which both Mikaelson brothers give me a foul look "I'm just answering honestly Nik" I say starting to cough, sitting back up as both Elijah and Klaus support my back. "Maybe honesty isn't the best policy in this situation" Klaus says looking into my eyes intently, Klaus and I had always bonded whether it was because of our murderous rage or the fact that people feared us but we got along like peanut butter and jelly although that is foul-tasting. Elijah and Nik stare at me as I pull the blanket up over my lap, I close my eyes gently "do no close your eyes silly girl" Nik says and I open them immediately "Nik" I say gently,  my legs started desiccating and I start panicking. "Elijah" I say as loud as I can trying to move my legs "I cant move them my legs" I grab his and Niks hand "no please I dont want to die not yet there's so many things I haven't done" my breathing starts to quicken up, "I can't die" I look to Elijah who was trying keep in his tears. The desiccation moves up my body slowly yet so fast "Nik please help me" I look over to Nik in desperation "a family of my own please Nik, Elijah" I look between the both of them as they look down and I let go of their hands, tears rolled down their cheeks, Elijah more than Nik. "I cant- I cant move my hands, Elijah hold it please" I cry, Nik stands up "always and forever is never long enough" he whispers as a final tear rolls down my cheek, then I couldn't move entirely. I was gone.