#He's a male ingenue! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hansensgirl · 2 years

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💭 — 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧

summary. — for so long, he’s wanted to hold you down and tell you that he loves you.

pairing. — Dark!Stepdad!Andy Barber x innocent!fem!reader.

warnings. — DUBCON, stepcest, large age gap (andy is 51, reader is early 20s), coercion, lying, manipulation, gaslighting, grooming, taking advantage, perversion, possessiveness, obsession, isolation, loner reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking, smut, Daddy kink, fingering, mentions of oral (both receiving), overstimulation, degradation, praise, blowing smoke in face, missionary, cowgirl, mentions of male masturbation, size kink (andy’s cock is huge), pet names (little girl, little one, baby, sweetie, sweet girl), creampie kink, reader is extremely innocent, inaccurate explanations of sex, virginity loss, spanking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. — 9k

author’s note. — here’s the continuation of my step dad!andy concept that i posted in may. this is before, during, and after the concept. i copy and pasted some of the concept and inserted it here! everything is legal. andy married the reader’s mom when the reader was 18, and he formed feelings for the reader then. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! @hansensfics

Andy sighs deeply as he sits in his room, bones aching immensely. He’s been standing by the window, behind the sheer white curtains for far too long. Fifty-one years of turmoil have caught up to him, but thankfully, it doesn’t show as much as it should.

He feels your discomfort as much as he does his stiffness. The awkward angle he’s been stuck in is a reflection of your personality. You never socialise like you should, and when you’re forced to, it’s all wrong.

Andy hates seeing you out of your element. The sight of you sitting on a white lounge chair in a dress you clearly don’t like is painful for him. He knows you prefer his company—that’s why he’s always offering it.

Today, he planned on showing you his notes from court on a case about a man assaulting his neighbour with a wrench.

It’s almost as if said wrench was thrown into his plans, because now he has to watch you try to keep up with the brain-rotting chatter of unruly college girls.

Your mother had organised the day with her fellow neighbours who incessantly brought up how lonely you are at the community barbecues. Andy remembers that day very well—he caught you crying out of frustration when you didn’t want to go.

Endlessly, he’s had to tell your mother to let up and leave you alone. Andy understands how you are all too well. Lonely, but content. You never connected with anyone growing up and stuck to your devices—books that are either overrated classics or underrated masterpieces.

It was no surprise that you were immediately drawn to the twice exiled, unlucky man. Like a moth to the flame, you looked at him with such wonder and stuck yourself to him, yet still remained far.

Your close connection was only formed when he found you in a pile of tissues and drowning in your own tears. Seconds away from hyperventilating, he pulled you back into the ocean everyone calls reality. To this day, however, he still isn’t sure why you were in such a state.

The laughter he hears is either fake or simply aggravating. He can’t find yours in that mess, though, and he tries to come up with a reason to take you away.

Andy is your stepfather—he can say anything he wants. Chores haven’t been done yet, your mom’s calling you, we have somewhere to be—I want you all to myself.

But it feels wrong—feels fake. He strives for authenticity after years of ingenuity. Before, he’d patched the cracks in the facade of his forced suburban life before anyone else could see them. Now, he embraces the breakage. In fact, there is none, because there is no farce.

From the low level of the bed, Andy unfortunately cannot see you. Even though your company is the sun, you remain in a white dress. It’s the face of ingenues all around the world. You shield yourself from the scorching sun, the brightness making your eyes ache.

The idea of making some lemonade (for you and only you) crosses your stepfather’s mind, and he decides to do it.

“Oh my gosh—So, basically, Elijah and I’s anniversary is coming up! Apparently, he wants us to go to Vegas, which I’m so down for. I’m not sure what to get him, though,” a woman in her early twenties, like you, nearly squeals. Her excitement makes you smile. “He’s not a fan of jewellery, so anything like that is out of the question…”

Her name is easy to remember, and very pretty as well. Gianna, and she’s an interior design major.

A snort is heard from the chair over—Kennedy, who finds humour in anything and is the nicest to you. “Sex, sex, sex! Dude, that’s the easiest thing ever. Just indulge in whatever fantasy he’s got. Maid, landlord, plumber—”

“—Ha! Let him do anal, GiGi. Get a sparkly plug, some decent lube, and spread those cheeks,” the other friend, Imogen, giggles. She claps at the end of her sentence, and the three women laugh for a few seconds.

“...We’ve already done anal. For his 25th…” The sheepish admission from Gianna makes her friends hoot and holler. You’re not sure what to say—you don’t understand.

“Is there anything you haven’t done?” Imogen questions in shock. “Listen, y’know that frat guy that keeps hitting on me? Well, I gave him a chance and we were, y’know, getting it on,” she eagerly spills.

“Getting it on? Just say you guys were raw-dogging and spitting in each other's mouths,” Kennedy interrupts, sipping on a fruity drink. Honestly, they’re all sweet. They keep trying to rope you into their conversations, but you’re not sure what to say, so you stick to little hums and gestures.

“Shush!—Anyway, we were fucking, and he started to talk a lot. And it was so hot, like he was saying the hottest shit ever. He checked every single kink-box!” Imogen brags, and the others are proud of her. “Like what?” Kennedy prompts, curious to the point where her eyebrows raise.

“Breeding, degrading, praising—even a Daddy thrown in every now and then,” she whisper-shouts. “And, get this, he made me squirt!”

The women continue trading stories about their debauched experiences, and you feel as if they’re speaking another language. You’re not sure what they mean or why the things happened. Questions fill your brain as you purse your lips, trying to give yourself the answers.

“—Uhm, I can take that in for you. I think I forgot to cancel this appointment and they keep you on hold for a while during the afternoon,” you lie, standing up and grabbing Gianna’s empty cup. “Oh, you’re so sweet. You’ll be back soon, right? We wanna get to know you better,” Kennedy says, and her girlfriends nod their heads.

You join them in their motions, before jogging to the sliding door and slipping past it. You place the cup in the sink, and then make a beeline for your room. It’s the space you spend too much time in, to the point that your stepdad has had to coax you out of it on numerous occasions.

The ceiling is at an angle due to the triangular roof of your home. The decorations might not match but they add a cosy feeling that is reminiscent of autumn. You wish the season could remain all year round.

There is even a window seat. Andy had it built and installed for you last year on Christmas. It was a dream come true—something you’d always wanted.

You plop yourself onto the space and pull your laptop over. You turn off SafeSearch and look up the things the women were talking about. Videos with dirty thumbnails pop up, along with articles and a warning about the setting you turned off. You’re too scared to click on the videos, so you stick to reading the articles.

But the words don’t translate well in your mind. You feel like you’re the last person in line in a long game of broken telephone. You’re left with more questions than answers, and so you snap your laptop shut.

Gnawing your lip, you let your curiosity eat away at you. It nags and it nags until you can’t take it anymore. So you wander down the hallway and stand outside the slightly ajar door to your stepdad’s room.

“D– Daddy? Are you busy?” you shyly question, standing with your hands clasped behind your back. At the sweet sound of your voice, Andy immediately rushes from his place in front of the sink. His hands smell of your lotion—a bottle he stole from you because he couldn't help it. “No, not at all, little one. What’s wrong?”

The older man opens the door even more for you, ushering you inside. You sit on the end of the bed, and he joins you. Your palms grow sweaty as nervousness takes you over. Bite the bullet, it won’t hurt you.

“Uhm…” you start, “I have some, uh, questions.”

“Hit me. I have some answers,” Andy jokes.

“Okay…” you unfold the sticky note of the things you wanted to know more about—the things your friends were talking about. “What’s a– anal? Like, the bad one,” you ask, whispering and worried.

Your innocence is like a drug that Andy has tasted for the first time and it has kicked in quickly. He swallows thickly and he wonders why you’re asking.

“Well… There’s numerous ways to have sex… With penetrative sex, you can penetrate any of your holes. And, you see, you have three holes. Your mouth, a– and your private parts. Anal sex is when someone penetrates your butt, essentially,” he explains, not sure what words to use.

He watches as your face twists in confusion. “What do you mean? They can do that to any of your holes? Like, they put something inside?” you press, voice incredulous and shocked. “Yeah, they put something in, and they move it back and forth. There are things meant to go there, though,” Andy tells you.

Clearly, you still don’t really get it. It’s neither your fault nor Andy’s.

“I– I have more.. S’that okay?” Andy immediately nods his head, looking down to try and look at your list.

“Squirting… Can you explain that one? Please? And why do people like calling other people mean things? And getting called those? I mean, I get why someone likes it when someone else says nice things—but the mean one, I don’t understand. And why do people like using the word Daddy? I thought that’s for certain people…” you ramble, pulling at the yellow paper until it slips.

“Shh… One at a time, baby. Squirting is something that happens during sex. It’s a kind of ejaculate. And with the mean names, it’s just what people like. It makes them all happy, y’know? All tingly on the inside—like when they get praised,” he says, cock fully hard and face flushed.

“Yeah, but, what’s sex? Oh! I get those tingles a lot… But not in my tummy…” you sheepishly admit, and it piques Andy’s interest. But then, he replays what you said. What’s sex? A question that normal people would laugh at—but Andy is anything but that. “...You don’t know what sex is, baby?”

You let out a whimper—something of frustration and fear and insecurity. It makes his cock throb within the confines of his pants. “...Nuh-uh,” you sigh, ready to dart and lock yourself in your room.

“Oh, that’s alright, baby. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Daddy’ll explain it all to you—I’ll be your teacher,” he smiles, but then frowns when you shake your head. “B– But I don't understand any of it! Not when you explain it, and not when I read about it. It’s all so confusing and doesn’t make one bit of sense.”

Annoyance with yourself seeps from your words, and Andy detects the leak. He’s quick to patch it up, though.

“No, baby! Daddy’s gonna teach you it in an easy way! Remember how you didn’t know what acquittal meant? And I told you the definition? Now you tell other people what it means when they don’t know!”

Andy chooses to ignore the fact that it was only your mother who didn’t know what it meant.

“But that’s different! Even if you explain it simply, my brain just won’t grasp the concept,” you try to reason, so desperate to learn about the things that other women your age are so well-versed in. “Can you show me it, Daddy? Please?”

Your stepfather nearly asks you to repeat yourself. Your request is innocent and full of desperation—you want to be in on the joke that everyone seems to know. His cock has chubbed up inside his boxers, begging for a release and even crying tears of pre-cum.

“You want Daddy to show you those dirty little things, hm? C’mere, baby. Daddy’ll tell you all about it,” Andy encourages, motioning with his hands for you to move closer to him. You scoot your body until your right leg touches his left. “You’re gonna be a good girl and do whatever I say, right?”

When you nod your head, the older man wonders if he’s won the jackpot. Luck is on his side, clearly. After years of struggle, he’s finally got a good thing. And he’s going to take full advantage of it—he’s going to cherish the treasure he’s been bestowed with.

“Good girl—” Andy cuts himself off with a groan as you preen under the praise, “—so good for Daddy.”

Your stepdad slowly leans in and presses his mouth against yours. The kiss is searing and passionate, but it soon turns rough and possessive. You try to keep up with Andy as he claims your mouth—biting, licking, and sucking at your supple, wet skin.

He tastes of beer and cigarettes, and the smacking of lips grows wetter and sloppier. You let him take control and try to replicate some of his movements as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Andy holds the sides of your head with two large, strong hands.

But his touch is gentle and encouraging. You let the older man do whatever he wants to do, sure that you can ask him for another tutorial later on. Eventually, he pulls away with swollen, red lips and blown out eyes.

The pale blue (with a tinge of green) has disappeared. Like black paint spilled, darkness is all you can see.

“You’ve got such a cute little mouth, baby. Think I can fit my cock in there, all nice and snug,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. You’re not sure what he means, but you go along with it and nod your head. Your eagerness is almost unreal—maybe because Andy has fantasised about it for so long.

Moments with his hand wrapped around his large, leaking cock after you said or did something his perverted mind twisted and misconstrued. Showers longer than they should be, and boxers gone in the wash sooner than they would.

“But don’t worry your pretty head with that just yet, little one,” Andy tells you, standing up and in front of you. He gently pushes you back on the bed, and you land with a small thump. Be brings your feet to rest against the edge of the mattress, caressing your skin with his rough, warm hands. “So soft…”

The lawyer brings your left leg up, and meets it halfway. He presses open-mouthed kisses on your moisturised skin, taking in your scent. Eventually the romantic feeling turns ticklish, and you giggle and try to writhe out of Andy’s grip.

Though, there’s a warm feeling that blooms in your cunt. You folds ache, but you’re not sure why. It’s like the tingles you seem to get every now and then, especially when you’re around the older man.

“Daddy… I feel funny,” you tell him, and Andy halts his movements.

“What do you mean, little girl? C’mon, tell Daddy,” he urges, genuinely curious. Is it fear? Excitement? Or something more physical?

“Tingly… And warm… And it kinda hurts—but not in a painful way…” you try to explain.

“Where, baby? Show me where,” your stepfather demands. His eyebrows are mildly knitted in a bit of concern—curiosity. “D– Down there,” you whisper, looking away from his intense gaze.

A broad hand that belongs to Andy makes a bold move. It moves to your mound, and pushes at your pussy. “Here, baby?” he nearly growls, feeling your warmth and folds through the two layers of fabric that protect you from this ravenous man.

His fingers dig into your skin and find the bump of your clit, pushing on the nub and watch as you moan softly from the unfamiliar yet pleasurable sensation. “Uh-huh, right there, Daddy,” you mewl, subconsciously bucking your hips upwards.

The feeling is reminiscent of the kind you feel when you press your thighs together—just amped up by a few hundred volts. “Well, Daddy’s gonna make you feel better, okay, little one? This happens sometimes, and from now on, you gotta tell me whenever you feel those tingles. Understood?” Andy orders, and you shyly nod.

“Words. Use your words, little girl. I need to hear it.”

“Y– Yes, Daddy. I– I’ll tell you when I feel tingly—P– Promise.”

“Good girl.” Andy’s hands move to the waistband of your white skirt, and he pulls it down. Your panties go along with it, strings of wetness pulling and breaking when he gets too far. Your pussy glistens in the cracks of sunlight, his white curtains a blessing for once. “Such a gorgeous fuckin’ cunt.”

You bring your hand up to your face and shy away behind it, making Andy coo at you. He throws your bottoms behind him and pulls you a bit closer by your legs. He then looks up at you, pink tongue slowly darting out just a peek.

Three of Andy’s digits move upwards. He gives them one long, slow lick, soaking them in spit. “Gotta open your legs wide, little girl. Can you do that for me, baby?” he requests, and you immediately nod your head.

For your stepdad, you open your legs as wide as they can go without hurting. Anything he asks, you’ll do.

“Good girl,” he hums, and he brings his dominant, wet hand to your sopping cunt. Your stepdad tests the waters for a moment, swirling your slick around and caressing your swollen, achy folds. You gasp at the sensation as his large hand covers practically everything. From your clit down to your creamy fuckhole. “Feels good already, doesn’t it?”

You nod your head, and Andy smiles at you. “It’s gonna feel even better soon, little one. ‘M gonna get my cock in that little honeypot’a yours—fuck it nicely and ruin you for other men.” As he speaks, Andy maintains a trained gaze on you. “But you won’t have other men, will you?”

“You only want your stepdaddy, huh? Daddy’s girl—All mine,” Andy murmurs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, gently biting down. “I gotta stretch you out first,” he tells you.

Andy pushes his pointer finger in first, and groans as your walls welcome it immediately. He lets the digit slip into you entirely, until it’s buried to the hilt. “You’re doin’ so good for me, little girl,” the older man smiles at you.

Slowly, he begins to thrust in and out of your channel. His finger glistens with your creamy slick, and Andy curses. Once he believes you’ve adjusted to the first digit well enough, he pulls it out and prods two.

“How was that, baby?” he questions, but you’re too breathless and at a loss for words to say anything. You give him a simple thumbs up, hoping it’ll suffice. “Use your words, little one,” Andy urges, and you whimper out a simple ‘was g– good’ for him.

“You’re soaking, y’know that? Makin’ a mess all over my hand,” he notes aloud. “So innocent but so needy… You make such a perfect whore for Daddy.”

Andy thrusts two digits into your drooling hole, and he fingers you with that same slow pace. Every now and then, he makes scissoring motions meant to open you up even more. “Daddy… ‘s so much now. Feels even more tingly,” you tell him, looking at your stepdad for reassurance.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he prompts, and you hesitantly nod your head. Andy is right—it feels so good. It’s like the fluttery feeling you tend to get, the one you felt just a few moments before, but it’s not nagging and it’s better in comparison. “Yeah, that’s it. Take Daddy’s fingers, slut.”

Your stepfather knows he shouldn’t be saying these demeaning things to you—shouldn’t be ruining you—but he can’t help it.

It’s almost hypnotising with the way your cunt sucks Andy’s fingers in as he penetrates your tightness again. And the way you cling onto him as he pulls them in and out of you is downright pornographic—just like the sounds you’re making.

“Bet you never even got this far, little one. All you ever did was rub this li’l cunny on whatever you could find, hm?” He wonders out loud. “Poor pussy’s been neglected. S’okay, Daddy’s here, baby,” Andy whispers, and he picks up the pace of his hand.

He finds that rough, spongy spot inside you. It makes you toss your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, limbs trembling. “D– Daddy!” you cry out, confused yet welcoming his touches. “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Andy soothes, stroking your sweet spot with his fingers.

Purposefully, he neglects your clit. He knows it’s pulsating—aching to be touched by your stepfather. Your volume raises just a bit, and his cock throbs with every other noise. Your pretty face has formed a frown of pleasure, and Andy thinks to himself he can really get used to this.

“W– Wait. Feels like I needa go to the bathroom…” you shamefully admit, and this time, Andy really chuckles. “You’re so cute and innocent, little one. Gonna give Daddy a cavity with how sweet you are,” he says, picking up the pace of his fingers. He makes sure to keep stretching you out, though.

“Feels like it’s burning and building, huh? That’s normal, baby. Don’t worry. Just take one more finger for me, okay?” Andy skillfully brings you closer and closer to your release. The wet, lewd sounds of your cunt grow louder. “You’re fucking soaking. S’that all for me?” your stepfather asks.

You don’t really know what he means, but you chose to nod your head. At your answer, Andy decides to push a third digit into your cunt. The fit is strugglesome—tight, warm, and snug. You can barely handle his thick fingers, pussy struggling to adjust to them at first. He can’t wait to get his cock inside you.

“H– Hurts, Daddy,” you whine, the stretch uncomfortable. Andy shushes you gently, whispering praises until the pain dulls away and all you can feel is fullness and pleasure. “You’re drippin’ everywhere, little girl. I can’t wait to get a taste of that sweet pussy,” he murmurs, and he continues to attack your g-spot.

Your cries grow louder and more high-pitched, and Andy knows you’re close. The older man grunts, “That’s it, good girl. C’mon, give Daddy your cream, baby.” Your body goes from thrashing just a tiny bit to seizing when your orgasm hits.

It takes you by storm. Your eyes squeeze shut and you sob, cunt clamping down on his hand. “Atta girl. Goin’ all dumb for Daddy—that’s what I like to see, little one.” Andy fingerfucks you through your climax, admiring the creaminess that coats his skin. He’s sure some has dripped down to your rosebud, and that makes him so hard.

“Oh– Oh my gosh,” you pant, tears stinging your eyes from the stimulation. “See what I just did, baby?” Andy questions.

“Uh-huh.” He looks at you, carefully examining the fucked-out look you have on your pretty face.

“Only Daddy gets to do that to you, little girl. No one else. Understood? You belong to me.”

Obediently, you nod your head. “Uh-huh. All yours, Daddy.”

Your words have his cock twitching underneath the confines of his pants. Andy slowly pulls his fingers out of your wet channel, consoling you when you whine from the sudden emptiness. Your fuckhole gapes just a bit, and it makes your stepdad eager to get his cock out.

“Damn right, little one,” he grunts, unbuckling his belt and pulling his thick cock out. “See this, baby? It’s Daddy’s cock, and it’s the only one you’re ever gonna go near. Y’know, your pussy was made for it,” he hums, stroking himself from the thick base to the leaky, bulbous head.

Your mouth parts in interest. Whatever he says and does soaks right into that empty mind of yours.

Andy pulls you up to the bed with his other hand, strength coming in handy. He puts your head on his pillow and then crawls between your legs, making you part them wide once again. He hovers above you, and you involuntarily clutch the blue fabric of his sweater for comfort.

The older man slaps the fat tip of his engorged dick on your clit, making you flinch from the jolt of pleasure. He then slides the head down to your slightly-stretched hole, and he begins to push in.

When your face contorts in confusion and mild discomfort, Andy is quick to tell you everything is okay. “Shh… It’s alright, baby. You’re fine,” he says, speaking gently and pressing chaste kisses to your face.

He looks down to where his fat cock pushes into your tightness, stretching you wider than ever before and claiming your fuckhole as his. The sight is mesmerising, and Andy can’t help the groan he lets out from it.

“Taking my cock like such a good little fucktoy. Fuck—you okay, little one?” your stepfather questions, and it takes you a few moments to respond to him. Slowly, you nod your head. Though the breach is unfamiliar and a lot to handle, you’re determined to be Andy’s good girl and fight through it.

There’s a pain that burns—and you bite onto his sweater to keep quiet. Andy examines your face as he continues to sheath his length inside you. “That’s my good girl. Feelin’ shy, baby?” he coos. “Aw, how cute.”

Eventually, your stepfather bottoms out with his heavy balls against your ass. He hums your name and the pet names he’s given you, waiting for you to pull your pretty face away from his chest. “Show me those doe-eyes, little one,” Andy requests. Slowly, you peek up at him.

Your eyes are big and they still hold that innocence that Andy knows he can’t rip away from you. “Good girl. How do you feel, baby?” he asks.

“Uhm—weird? Feels different… Deep, too…” you process out loud, and the older man nods with your every word.

“Yeah, I’m so deep inside you, little girl. All the way in your belly.” The thought has him growling, and he begins to shallowly fuck you. You mewl with each of his half-hearted thrusts. The pain is soon replaced with pleasure, one that you immediately grow fond of. “There we go…”

“More tingles,” you note, punctuating your sentence with a gasp as Andy’s movements grow more vigorous. “So many, Daddy.” Your stepdad nods his head and smiles at you sweetly, “That’s right, little girl. That’s what happens when Daddy stuffs his fat cock inside your babycunt.”

When he calls you those two words—little girl—your body reacts. You shy away from him whilst your pussy clenches around his dick, and he bites back a loud groan. The veins at his throat bulge, while his jaw clenches.

“I’m gonna start fucking you now, little one. You just gotta sit there and take whatever I give you,” he forewarns, and you nod your head. “Okay, Daddy.” At your words, Andy begins to pummel in and out of your pussy. Obscene noises come from where you’re connected to him—wet sounds and skin slapping against skin.

Andy looks down and watches as his cock forcefully disappears and reappears, your tightness still not used to such a large intrusion. His heavy balls smack against your ass, where your slick stains. “Drippin’ everywhere, baby. You love this—I fucking knew it,” he grunts, his pounds the perfect speed and intensity.

His cock kisses your cervix each time, making you writhe in pain. But when he rubs against your sweet spot, that discomfort leaves almost immediately. “Look, little one, your cream is all over my cock. You’re leaking down to my balls—fuck,” Andy harshly pushes forward at the realisation.

You wail from the intensity. “Yeah, you like getting fucked by a dirty old man, slut? Hm? Like getting fucked by your stepdaddy?” Andy questions, and you hesitate before nodding your head. He swears once more, and then leans down.

Though he’s repeatedly knocked the breath out of you, he now stops it from moving at all as he kisses you. At first, it’s soft and what teenage dreams are made of. But then, like the way he takes away your virginity, it grows rough and desperate. He takes the lead, shoving his tongue into your mouth and doing all kinds of things you can’t keep up with.

Andy eventually pulls away, noticing that his thrusts have dulled down. He picks his pace back up, his pelvis slamming into yours. Your cream coats his cock, leaving a stain that even reaches his patch of hair. Your lips are raw and glistening from the passionate, bruising kiss he had you locked in.

Your stepfather rams into your fuckhole without relent, forcing more of your wetness out with his shaft. His length strokes your sensitive walls with skill and aggression, abusing your cunt like he’s always wanted to.

Your chest is pressed against Andy’s, and he uses one of the hands that holds him up to pull down the top of your shirt, exposing your hardened nipples. The cold air adds to the ache of them. “Stupid little girl making the biggest fucking mess on her Daddy’s cock. Y’gonna clean it up after, baby? You better—with that cute mouth of yours.”

Nodding your head, you make the older man inhale a sharp, controlled breath. In contrast, you pant like a bitch in heat as your chest rises and falls. There’s a feeling that grows at a fast pace. It’s like when you have to go to the bathroom so badly—except this time, it’s more intoxicating than intolerable.

“D– Daddy! Feels funny—like before, but way m– more?” You’re so unsure of yourself—of your body—that it’s utterly adorable to Andy.

“That’s called an orgasm, little girl. You just sit there and beg Daddy to let you come, okay?” he requests, and you nod your head.

It feels like something that needs to desperately continue and be alleviated—but you know only Andy can do that for you, so you do whatever your stepdad says.

“P– Please let me come, Daddy! Need to come so bad… Please, please please—!” you gasp loudly, Andy’s cock driving deeper and he grinds with each pump of his cock, rubbing against your clit. “Good girl—such a good little slut for Daddy,” Andy hums, sensing you’re even closer to coming.

“Soak Daddy’s fat cock, little girl. C’mon, wanna see you make a stupid mess on this dick,” he commands, landing some slaps on your ass and the side of your left thigh. Your cunt suddenly convulses around him, clit thrumming and back arching as you come around his cock for the very first time. “Atta girl.”

He growls as your eyes roll back into your head, lids squeezing shut as your face pinches. Your mouth drops open in shock from the heat that envelops you. The grip your pussy has on Andy’s dick grows tighter, squeezing him and begging for more.

Your stepfather fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down just a bit when you begin to twitch from the pleasure. Your walls spasm until he manages to get you through the high, and then he resumes fucking you harshly. Your tits bounce with each slam of Andy’s hips, your body pushed upwards before he pulls you back onto his dick. “Ah—ah—ah,” you moan, going dumb on the older man’s cock. A mildly blank look is on your face, and you babble like a baby.

“Dumb little girl—talking about dirty things and behaving like a whore when you haven’t even had big girl sex yet,” Andy sneers, grabbing your jaw and puckering his lips up. He spits in your mouth, before telling you to swallow the wad of saliva. Like a good girl, you do exactly as he says. You even smile at him afterwards, before your face pinches again from the sensations his cock brings. “Greedy girl—that hungry pussy is just swallowin’ up Daddy’s fat cock,” he grunts, forcing his thickness in and out of you.

Your toes curl and feet point as your stepfather pushes your legs against your torso. His strong, well-built arms flex, and so does his muscled-chest. Your hands clench his sweater and subconsciously grope his pecs, and you marvel at his figure.

Because Daddy has to do everything for his helpless baby, he takes your arm and uses it to hold up your left leg, while his left hand pushes on your right. At this new angle, your stepfather’s shaft is far deeper than it was at first.

It’s almost dizzying—the way he’s practically in your tummy. And his thrusts are now stronger, too. Andy’s got you pinned to the bed as he pounds into you, determined to bring you to another orgasm before he blows his load. And even after that, he won’t stop.

“‘S so deep, Daddy! C– Can feel it in my g– guts,” you whine, and your words make Andy’s cock throb within your tight, wet walls. Your cream drips all over his cock, leaving a thick sheen and ring coating his base. Even his balls are soaked. “Uh-huh—you’re just so tiny, baby. Daddy had to force it in—but now you’re takin’ it like a champ.”

You preen under his gaze and his praise, but your tears still leak. “Aw, poor little crybaby. Daddy’s just fuckin’ you too good, huh? S’okay, I got you,” Andy whispers, wet noises filling the air along with the smell of sex. Your sweet tang is amongst the scent, and Andy knows that later on, he’ll rub your cunt raw with his beard.

“My little fuckdoll… This is Daddy’s pussy now—all mine, just like the rest of you,” he grunts, and your second release hits you all of a sudden.

You writhe away from Andy as best as you can, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. Instead, your aching nipples end up rubbing against the stitched threads on your stepfather’s sweater, adding to your pleasure.

Andy’s thick length nearly splits you open, having a bit of a harder time to move with your increased tightness. “Good girl—that’s it, go dumb on Daddy’s cock. My good little slut,” he moans, peppering kisses at your jaw and nipping at the skin every now and then.

Heat spreads inside your body as the mattress gets wetter with each drop of your arousal. “You’re makin’ a mess everywhere, baby. But it’s okay. Daddy knows that little girls like you can’t help it—you need Daddy’s help with everything.”

Mindlessly, you nod your head. You gush around Andy, coating his cock while you have him in a vice-like grip. Your swollen folds get nudged by his dick, and the sight is pornographic—something he can never forget.

“Looks like this cunt is perfect for Daddy to fuck, baby,” your stepdad tells you. “Made for me to use however I want. Gonna turn you into my little whore.”

Andy’s words make your pussy constrict even more around his dick. You practically choke him, begging for his cum without even realising it. “Daddy…” you sob, limbs trembling from the amount of euphoria his actions bring. Your stepfather’s jaw clenches at your use of the title.

“That’s right, little girl. I’m your Daddy,” he grunts, now using your fuckhole like it’s his fist. He fucks into your with vigour, determined to fill you up with his cum before he switches positions. He loves the struggle of getting his dick to fit inside your pussy. “You’re making Daddy feel so good, baby. ‘M gonna give you a nice reward for being so sweet.”

At his statement, you perk up as best as you can. Though it’s difficult to think or say anything. “R– Really, Daddy?” you question, elated at the thought of a reward. “Really, little one. You’re such a good girl for Daddy—all the time, too. Never made me have to spank that ass ‘till you’re crying.”

He mumbles the last part, but you catch a bit of his sentence. You don’t understand him though—crying? No, Daddy would never hurt you. Andy’s said so numerous times—times where you’ve cried in his arms and clung to him like a kitten.

Now, your cunt does the same. It weeps and doesn’t let go of Andy’s dick, and the mounting pleasure inside him is as desperate and needy, too. “Gonna give you a belly full of my cum, baby. I’ll fill you up until you’re leaking with my seed for days,” the older man grunts, before cursing wildly.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck.”

Suddenly, the snapping of his hips stops, and he shoves his cock forward until he can’t move any further. The harshness makes you frown, wincing at the mild pain. Then, warmth fills you up, undoubtedly claiming your walls and coating them with white stickiness.

Andy pants above you, heart clamouring in his chest as he hit his release. He grinds into your pussy to prolong it, only stopping when his hard length grows sensitive. Already, his cum leaks from the sides of his cock.

“There we go—now you’re all mine, little girl. And I know you like being Daddy’s,” he smiles at you, coming down from his high. His face has a blush to it.

Andy takes one of his hands and puts it on your tummy, rubbing your skin slightly to get you to relax. It works—but not in the way he predicted.

“A– Again, Daddy? Please?” you start to beg, taking your stepdad by surprise. “W– What do you mean, baby?” he questions, moving his hand to grip your hip. “Do it again, please. F– Feels so good, made some of the tingles go away…” you explain, tightening your channel at the thought.

“You want Daddy to stretch this pretty pussy out again?” Andy asks. It takes you a few seconds and his index finger pointing to where he is penetrating you for you to answer. “Uh-huh!” you moan out, gyrating your hips to alleviate the newer, fluttery feeling at your core.

“Alright… Wanna play a fun game, little one?”

You nod your head, eager to spend more time with your stepfather.

“Good. It’s called horsey,” Andy says, slowly pulling out of your pussy. You whine loudly at the loss, cum leaking out of you and spilling onto the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it for your little baby brain to understand.”

Your stepdad grabs your and manhandles your body, sitting against the headboard and placing you in his lap.

Your dripping pussy is against his hard cock. “All you have to do is bounce on Daddy’s cock—feel it? Yeah—and make it go really deep inside of you. Think you can do that, little girl`?” he says, rubbing his dick against your swollen, wet petals.

Above him, you shudder. The pleasure is almost too much for your little-self to handle, but you push through its intensity. “O– Of course, Daddy! ‘M your good girl—gonna do anythin’ for you,” you mumble, and Andy’s hands pull at the cloth covering your torso.

It then rips, and he removes the shreds from your body. “That’s right, baby. You’re my good girl,” he coos, reaching down to grab the thick, wet base of his hard cock. He gives himself a few languid strokes, before lifting you up a bit.

The fat, sensitive tip of your stepfather’s cock prods at your hole that’s still mildly stretched-out from his brutal fucking. Andy pushes in, pulling you down a bit so you meet him halfway. He knows it’s going to be deeper than ever—and he can’t wait to see that dumb, empty look on your face when he bottoms out.

But then he looks at your mug, and he finds himself feeling something rotten. Something terrible, sinking in his chest until his lust takes over and turns him selfish once more. No—not selfish… Just complicated.

“Daddy, feels scary,” you admit, trying to fall forward and lay against his chest. Andy tuts, holding you up and giving you one of his charming, sweet smiles. “It’s okay, I got you. Daddy’s here, little one,” he assures you, tone saccharine in a stark contrast to his dirty actions.

As you slide down his length, it becomes more difficult to take him. You try to move away from the older man—run away from his intimidating cock. “Nuh-uh. I thought you wanted to play with Daddy, baby,” Andy pouts, and your heart breaks from his sadness.

“C– Can’t take it, Daddy,” you explain to him, half of his dick inside of you. “Yes, you can, sweetheart. Let Daddy help you, it’s okay.”

Andy’s hands hold your waist, and he looks down to where he’s connected to you, and suddenly thrust upwards. You fall forward with a cry, unprepared for the new angle. He lets you seek comfort in him and his sweater once more, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your back.

“Shhh… you’re okay, it’s okay. You’re lucky Daddy pumped your pussy full of cum, baby. It would’ve hurt way more,” your stepfather tells you, waiting for your whimpers to die down. “Daddy’s dick is so deep inside you, hm?”

You nod your head slowly, gripping his sweater and pushing your face into his chest. “I know, little one. But when you start to play, it’ll be fine. Try bouncing, baby. Just move up and down.”

Once again, you nod and try to sit up. Andy’s hands move down to your waist, and you splay yours on his clothed pecs. “Up and down—c’mon, you can do it. Daddy knows you can,” he urges, and you begin to lift your body up.

You stop when you feel it’s right—when half of Andy’s thickness is left inside you. Then, you slide back down. A growl rumbles in the older man’s chest, his cock throbbing as your walls stroke him. “W– Was that good, Daddy?” you question.

“So good, baby—have you played this game before?” he playfully asks, but then that humour turns to jealousy. The thought of you riding another man’s dick has Andy fuming—possessiveness boiling hot inside him and reaching the temperature of the sun. “Nuh-uh. Only you, Daddy. Nobody else.”

Like salve on a wound, you heal that vulnerability of his with your words. “Atta girl,” he praises. “How about we add a fun little rule, sweetie?” he offers as you continue to glide up and down on his cock. You whimper with each movement, muscles burning from the strain.

“O– Okay, Daddy. W– What’s the rule?” you innocently question, looking at him with your doe eyes. “Everytime Daddy slaps your ass, you have to move quicker, okay?” your stepfather tells you, moving his palms down to the globes of your ass. He caresses the skin gently.

Before you can worry about the pain, Andy lands a sharp smack to your butt, making you yelp. You pick up the pace of your movements, still careful, however. “Such a perfect pussy, little one. So tight and warm and wet… And made for my cock,” he whispers, punctuating his sentences with spanks.

Unfortunately, Andy’s cock doesn’t kiss those spots with expert aim. And you’re too scared to take his entire length. So, your poor legs give up, and you fall forward again. You cry out from the wasted euphoria—gone is the dull fire inside you. But not entirely.

“Aw, you can't do what Daddy does, hm? Poor baby. You need me so bad,” your stepdad coos, but it’s more like he rubs your failure in. “Dumb little girl—acting like a whore even though you can’t ride Daddy’s cock. How silly of you—don’t you feel stupid?”

You let out a whine that turns into a sob, and Andy quickly shushes you. Stupid Andrew, he chides himself, hurting this sweet thing… Don’t you love her? “Baby?” he calls out, trying to coax you out of the shell you’ve crawled back into.

His cock isn’t buried to the hilt like it was before, and the ache between your legs still needs to be taken care of—Andy’ll fix that after. He wedges his hand between your face and his body, pushing you off him roughing and holding your hand in his palm. You frown and cry out from the pain, face twisted in discomfort.

“‘M sorry, little one. Daddy's sorry. Fuck—can’t help it,” he slurs, hating himself for getting so rough with you. But it’s not his fault he’s this way. You just awaken something ferocious in him—something that needs to be held down with chains and locked away in a cage for eternities.

Something so terrible yet so addictive.

“I love playing with you so much—that’s why Daddy hurts you, little one. I love you, I just get excited sometimes,” he explains, cupping your cheek and smiling at you. Eventually, you come around. “S’okay, Daddy,” you whisper, looking downwards.

“It’s my turn to play horsey now, little girl. All you have to do is sit up straight, okay? Try not to lay on Daddy.”

Andy’s heels dig into the mattress and he bends his knees just a bit, still holding onto your hips. He looks down to where he breaches your tightness, and notices the tinge of pink that mixes with his spunk—the same cum that leaves out of your fuckhole.

At that moment, he ignores it. He stores that thought for later—for when he’s lonely and desperate to feel guilt. Andy bottoms out inside you slowly, enjoying the lewd squelching sounds that come with his action. “Oh, gosh,” you murmur, eyes rolling back into your head.

The hairy base of his cock touches your core, and his balls rest against your ass. Andy’s hands move to your butt, and he spreads your cheeks apart. One of his fingers prods at your other hole. The older man has half a mind to defile your little rosebud that’s sticky with wetness and his cum.

You can feel Andy’s cock so deep inside you; it’s dizzying. The breath is nearly knocked out of you, and you feel as though you’ve bared something to your stepfather that has left you utterly vulnerable. The feeling has you distraught, but Andy told you he’d take away all your thoughts, so it’ll be okay. Right?

“You're such a good girl for me. So good. My good girl,” Andy grunts, and he’s lifting you off his cock until just the tip remains inside you. His hips then return to the depths of your wet channel. He starts to fuck up into you, and the familiar sound of skin-on-skin reverberates throughout the room. This time, it’s louder.

Andy stares at your pretty face while he fucks you into oblivion, making sure to study each aspect. From the way your eyes roll into your skull when he shoves his thickness into you to how your jaw falls slack so quickly. It’s all for him.

“Daddy—Daddy—Daddy!” you squeal, toes curling and limbs stiff yet twitching. Is it possible to be hooked on the way someone says something? You’re not a ‘someone’ though—you’re so special and so different. The answer must be yes. It must be normal, too.

Your tits bounce with each of his upward-thrusts. This new angle is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—more profound and accurate. Your stepdad fucks into you with such roughness that it’s hard to keep upright. Especially with the building sensitivity in your lower abdomen.

“Fuck, yeah. Take Daddy’s fat cock in this tiny cunt, little one. Fucking take it, slut,” Andy grunts, getting meaner by the second. It’s a helpless habit, and thank heavens that you don’t understand half of the words he’s saying.

A blank smile spreads itself on your face, but your eyes are full of hope. Hope that you’re doing good for your Daddy.

“You’re my good girl. My good girl—my dumb little girl. No thoughts in that head, hm? You just wanna please your Daddy and get fucked until you can’t think anymore,” he spits, and the word that diminishes your intelligence has your bottom lip wobbling.

You want to please your Daddy, but you must be doing something wrong, no?

“Aw, don’t cry, little one. Daddy’s being nice to you, okay? It’s good like this!” Andy quickly tells you, slowing down his thrusts. He grinds into you in the meantime, and he doesn’t miss the way your cunt is gripping him even tighter. “O– Okay, Daddy. T– Thank you?” you apprehensively say, unsure of so many things.

“Daddy’ll teach you all about it after. Okay? You’re so cute and polite, little one. You’re doing so good for me,” Andy coos, rubbing a thumb on your face. You grin at him before squeezing your eyes shut, feeling that funny sensation inside of you.

It worsens as your stepfather continues to fuck your guts, stroking your walls with his thick member. In the midst of his actions, Andy craves a cigarette. He wonders if you’d let him blow smoke in your face since you said he can do whatever he wants to you. Of course, you would—you’re such a good girl.

“Wanna make Daddy even happier, sweetie?” he wonders, stretching one of his arms to reach the bedside table. He pulls the top drawer open and blindly sifts through it. “O– Of course, daddy. Please? Wanna make you happy,” you plead, absentmindedly gyrating your hips on your stepdad’s cock.

Andy finds the lighter grouped with the pack of Parliament cigarettes. He doesn’t bother closing the drawer, but he does bring you closer and forces you to catch yourself on your hands.

Your stepfather—who had promised your mom that he kicked the habit—plucks a smoke from the box and places it between his pink lips. “Daddy? What are you doing?” you question, halting your movements. Andy smiles at you, the cigarette wobbling a bit.

“Don’t worry your little baby brain about it, sweet girl,” he simply tells you, before lighting the cigarette. He takes a drag from it and puffs the smoke back out, satiating the craving he had a few moments ago. He then places it on the ashtray as you watch the grey smog swirl in the blue of his room.

Andy pulls you towards his chest and holds you, fucking up into your cunt. His cock drives in and out of you, balls slapping against your ass and his thick thighs jiggle each time.

“Uhm… Oh–! Uh, Daddy?” you murmur, finding it harder to breathe. “Shh… Don’t worry, little one. Just soak Daddy’s fat cock,” Andy shushes, and you mewl at his filthy words.

Your cunt aches immensely, but it’s the kind that is more resounding and pleasurable than anything. Andy abuses your cream-filled fuckhole like it’s all he can do—all he knows how to do. Make you feel good—that’s it.

He’s spewing grunts and curses, and each time he utters a filthy word, you take note of how gravelly his voice is, how it rumbles in his chest and you can quite literally feel it. It’s a harsh contrast to your high-pitched wails and choked-out moans.

“Come, little one. C’mon, fuckin’ make a mess for your Daddy,” he demands once more, punctuating his words with hard thrusts.

Your body comprehends his words, and it starts to have that reaction.

The one where your back arches yet your limbs flail and your head tries to pull away from the crook of his neck. It’s almost as if you’re trying to run away from your stepdad. He won’t let you go, though—he never will. Yet it makes him so hard when you try to escape.

Your mind soars high above the cotton candy clouds of your skies. You start convulsing around Andy’s member, creaming and soaking him. Your body freezes and you let out a wail that is music to his ears. He cheers you on with small ‘yeah’s that have you giggling slightly. “Good girl.”

Your tits jiggle, and your body jerks upwards as Andy roughly fucks you through your orgasm. “D– Daddy,” you mewl, and Andy simply begins to fuck you quicker. Eventually, those sparks he brought became too much. You’re not sure what to do, though, so you simply writhe on his lap.

“‘M gonna fill you up again. Gonna pump this cunt full of cum until you’re leaking for days. Turn you into my messy little girl,” your stepfather says through grunts and growls as he sloppily uses your pussy. You nod your head and grin, wincing every now and then.

The older man’s sloppy, selfish pumps grow erratic. Andy then stills deep inside your cunt, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural moan leaves him, one that is louder than intended. He holds your body tightly, not wanting to let go of you.

His white ropes paint your inner walls until the sides of his cock are dripping, and there’s a ring at the base. Spilling inside you, Andy turns you into his cumdump once more. “Fuck,” he groans, your tight pussy tempting him to go again and again.

Maybe he will. His cock remains locked inside you, and both of your chests rise and fall with exhaustion. “Daddy…” you whimper, cunt sensitive and stretched out from his engorged dick.

“Shh… Daddy’ll take care of this greedy pussy again, little girl. Don’t you worry,” Andy tells you.

Your hands are on his body, and you brace yourself up using his waist. It’s hard to stay upright with the weakness of your body and the wobble of your arms.

Andy reaches for the ashtray and plucks the cigarette back up. He dusts the ash off, and puts it back between his lips. He inhales the smog, and then pulls the smoke away to puff out the grey fumes.

“That’s dirty, Daddy. Don’t do it, please,” you bemoan, curling in on yourself at the sight of your stepfather harming his health. “Well, I guess that makes Daddy a dirty old man, no?” he half-quips.

Your stepfather takes another drag, and then he pulls you close to his face. Andy exhales, smoke directed in your face and he catches you at the right time. You take a breath in, unexpectedly drawing in the fumes of his cigarette.

You giggle apprehensively—still worried and it’s written all over your face, even if you don’t mean it to. You’ve got that look you always have when you’re trying to fight back your sweet tears, trying not to burst into sobs. Eventually, the smoke goes away. But the revolting smell of it remains, lingering in his room.

In Andy’s mind, it only makes sense a dirty old man like him would have an equally as nasty habit.

And to balance it out, an innocent little girl like you on his cock.

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53v3nfrn5 · 4 months

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Scheherazade, Georges Barbier, from a series of drawings based on the ballets of Vaslav Nijinsky (1913)

Betrayed by his wife, the king of Persia, Shahriyar, decides to exact vengeance by marrying a different virgin every day and having her put to death after the wedding night. To put an end to the massacre, the daughter of the grand vizier, Scheherazade, offers herself to the sultan. On the evening of the wedding, she begins to tell him a riveting story, but is careful to leave it unfinished. Desperate to learn how it goes on, Shahriyar affords her a stay of execution. Scheherazade continues for one thousand and one nights, at the end of which the sultan abandons his revenge. Captivated by the imagination and the storytelling talents of his new wife, he decides to keep her close by him forever. Intelligent and cultivated, Scheherazade is a positive incarnation of a woman who frees herself from male oppression by her ingenuity and mastery of language.

#my scans #this is interesting #dangerous women #1001 nights #scheherazade #georges barbier #vaslav nijinsky #1913 #1900s #art #sultan #persia #shahriyar #history #art history

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forevermore05 · 5 months

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Zuko and his protectiveness over Katara backfired on the show

I think we're all quite aware of the fact that Zuko is canonically very protective over Katara

Exhibit A

When he saves Katara from falling rubble in the Western air temple.

Exhibit B

When he protects Katara from flames in that same episode when she is about to blood bend that fire nation soldier.

Exhibit C

The famous Agni Kai where he take lightning for Katara

Now why are these so significant? I think these are big gestures are to show Zuko's efforts to make amends after what he did to Katara. It could be argued these are very extreme ways of making it up to her because these came at the cost of his life. But this also goes to show his character development, as he is willing to protect Katara from danger. For me, one of the reasons why I ship them is because of his protectiveness. It's refreshing to see a character that has always been there to help and to be a support system to others be protected by someone else. I think it can be very fulfilling as a viewer. This effort that was made to write their relationship was so genuine, and it felt so heartfelt as the viewer, that it just made their dynamic one of the strongest in the show. Whether that be romantically or just platonically, their dynamic is probably one of the best in my opinion.

Now, with all that his protectiveness towards Katara immediately evaporate after the last Agni Kai which was pretty shocking, as they didn't get time to be able to talk about what happened. I feel like it removes a piece of genuineness from the show that the characters care for each other. And of course I know a reason why this could have happened is because, well, Kataang and Maiko exist. I think what made their dynamics so strong is because of their protectiveness for one another. Especially, Zuko's protectiveness over Katara. When it was removed in the comics, it felt like a bond had been destroyed because a big part of their dynamic was protecting each other and being there for each other, and having that level of communication. They were protecting each other through their communication and through their support for one another.

How I feel like it backfired on the show is that it created a bit of an emptiness in both of the characters. Especially when they interacted, it felt more distant in the comics, and it felt as if they were strangers. Zuko's writing, which leads to him being protective over her, is so poignant in their relationship that once it is removed it creates a hole in a way it makes his character feel more hollow in his relationship with Katara. It feels like an effort to create a divide and an erasure of their past and how significant his taking lightning for her was. A show that is built of meaningful character relationships took a piece of its own heart out and of its own show and stabbed it in front of all of us when it came to the erasure of Zutara. So they could push the canon ships. They were willing to remove that important element of character relationships for 2 poorly written couples.

I think it creates a level of ingenuity in this show. That is not shocking as many of Katara's other love interests met the same fate of ingenuity, whether that be Jet or Haru. Where she's never able to show her feelings about these people. Which I find quite strange seeing how the show aims to create depth and talk about feelings that actually provoke feelings in you. They don't actually go in-depth with what the leading lady's thoughts are about other people. For all the sake of keeping the focus on Kataang it costs the good writing for Katara to be able to feel complex emotions about the other male interests in her life. And it leads to a rough ending for a strong dynamic like Zuko and Katara that shows their desperation for Kataang at the cost of good writing especially for Katara.

#avatar the last airbender #zutara #zuko x katara #katara #zuko #zuko deserved better #katara defense squad #anti kataang #anti aang #anti maiko #anti mai #anti bryke #bryke critical

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tylermileslockett · 4 months

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Theseus #4 (In the Labyrinth)

No sooner had Theseus settled into his princely position, than King Minos of Crete, calls upon Athens for its bloody yearly debt. King Minos son had previously died in the Athenian games, and as an act of revenge, he threatened to invade Athens unless the kingdom sent seven male and seven female youths to Crete to sacrifice for his half-man, half-bull creature within his labyrinth; the Minotaur. Theseus volunteers as one of the youths, determined to stop the beast. King Aegeus tells Theseus if he survives, to switch the ship’s black sail to white upon his return, so his father will know he lives.

Arriving in Crete, King Minos’ daughter, Ariadne, falls for Theseus, and vows to help him if he will marry and bring her to Athens after defeating the beast. Theseus agrees, and Ariadne consults Daedalus, the ingenious inventor of the maze, as to its secrets. She gives Theseus the secrets, and most importantly, a ball of thread, so that he may retrace his steps. That night, Ariadne sneaks Theseus to the entrance, and he enters the dank corridors.

Ariadne is one example of smitten women assisting male Greek heroes on their quests with invaluable clues and tools. The Argonauts, arriving at Colchis to acquire the Golden fleece, were assisted by the princess Medea, who uses magic and ingenuity to help Jason succeed in his labors.

There are many interpretations for the symbolism of Labyrinths in myths. On the surface they show a character on a journey to discover their purpose or destiny through finding the correct path to reach their goal. They’re also symbolic of the stage of the hero’s journey Jospeh Campbell calls the “belly of the whale,” where the hero commits to their metamorphosis, and thus re-emerges from the ordeal, reborn anew. The Labyrinth center could represent a unification with the hero’s inner self, a higher power, or the ultimate challenge, and the tunnel could represent a birth canal.

Like this art? It will be in my illustrated book with over 130 other full page illustrations coming in Aug/Sept to kickstarter. to get unseen free hi-hes art subscribe to my email newsletter

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Thank you for supporting independent artists! 🤘❤️🏛😁

#theseus #labyrinth #minos #athens #greekmythology #greekgods #pjo #mythology #classics #classicscommunity #myths #ancientgreece #pagan #art

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 1 year

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❝ Take my soul (need control) ❞

slashers dating slasher reader | erratic!slasher!male!reader | fluff, smut | graphic description of violence, brief mention of animal cruelty in Brahms H. section, mentions of nsfw things |

as a preface, (Y/N) is implied to be erratic and unhinged as a slasher. their s/o's are the only ones who can calm them.

Amanda Young (Saw) -

You didn't fit in her future.

At least, that's what Amanda's initials thoughts are when you two stared down each other from across the parking lot, panting as you held your weapons.

She's heard of you through the news. The infamous (slasher name), the monster that lurks in the shadows and savagely crushes anyone who had the misfortune of wounding up as their victim.

Your methods were unlike hers. Not calculated, not planned, not meticulous - completely erratic, like a hurricane.

But she needs the man that one of you has knocked out in your scuffle. While you? You just saw him walking past you while he was making his way to his car and decided he'd die tonight. She stiffens and reaches back for the gun she brings for emergencies as you straighten up but finds herself bewildered as you begin laughing maniacally.

"Have 'im, Ms Piggy" She sees your grip loosen on your weapon and her fingers uncurl from the handle of the gun. "Ya' clearly need 'im more than I do" and just like that, you're gone. The only thing she hears is her own breathing and her racing heartbeat.

Amanda is feverish about finding you. She reads everything she can and scours wannabe psychos and sociopaths' blogs dedicated to your crimes. (slasher name) becomes an obsession.

When you meet again, you find 'Miss Piggy' eyeing the interiors of your home. She's unsure of what she feels as she imagines you moving about the space but she smiles when you begin chuckling like a hyena and reach for the knife you had on you.

"I need your help, (Y/N)"

"Will it be fun?"

Amanda's smiling under her mask. She's seen your research of her work. The newspaper clippings, paint (or blood) of your theories on the wall (among other 'deranged' scribbles) you were familiar with her.

"Wouldn't have asked if it wasn't".

Fun was an understatement. You were a wildcard, someone that could cost her this entire game but the carnage you spread was so beautiful...she wasn't sure if any device or game she sets up could compare.

You two end up working with each other more and more. Your unpredictability makes the FBI tear their hairs out - you were, ironically, the balance she needed in her scales.

When you two confess to each other, you're soaked in someone else's blood. She approaches you from behind, watching your shoulders and chest rise and fall.

You lick the blood from your lips, your smile stretching over your cheeks looking almost uncomfortable.

Her eyes flick to your lips then up to your eyes.

"Come 'ere, Miss Piggy" she leans in and you meet her halfway.

Most would argue that you would be the worst guy to be in a relationship with.

They're wrong.

Amanda knows the ins and outs of your twisted heart because you bare it to her as it beats for her in your palm.

She doesn't take advantage of it. Tests it? Sure, just to feel more secure, but never to the point where you doubt her love for her.

Amanda thinks your ingenuity and creative mind is her favourite part of you (among other things).

You've jokingly told her she could split your skull open to get those ideas fresh - she giggles and you gather her in your arms.

Amanda leaves the window of your bathroom unlocked. Just for you. She knows you need to 'hunt' sometimes and doesn't discourage it (though she makes sure you know her targets so you don't end up killing them). When you crawl back home, you make sure to shower first before you shuffle back into bed.

She tends to your wounds, scolding you only if she knows you could've avoided it in the first place. "More fun that way, 'Manda" she huffs "So you'd leave me forever just for more fun?"

She knows you're pretty screwed up in that brain box of yours, she's not above manipulating you to bend to her whims but she only ever does it out of love, (Y/N)!

She's highly protective of you. She'll ensure your identity is safe if there are any loose ends during your 'hunts'.

She can't lose you. You can't lose her. Both of you are monsters. Both of you belong together - can't live without the other.

If a victim manages to get an upper hand on either of you God help them.

The second one of you is in danger, the other only sees red.

You've literally taken several bullets for Amanda.

She was so gentle with you that night. Her kisses silent apologies. Seeing her cry as she looks down at you makes you move to sit - despite the pain and her protests. Her breath hitched as your tongue slithers in, Amanda's lips warmed by yours.

"You're hurt, (Y/N)" "Don't care, need you"

"You're hurt because of me!" her yell makes you tilt your head "I should've been more careful!" she continues.

"I want you, Amanda" you whine, cupping her weeping face in your hands. "I'll want you even if you hurt me, even if it kills me. Don't say no to me, Piggy?"

The nickname wins her over.

By the way, she calls you Froggy or Kermit (Kermy too!). It's cute.

(She buys green and pink items because they remind her of the two of you and you've gifted her two hearts that you'd cut in half, coloured pink and green and sowed together. She placed the gift on the desk she works on, it's displayed in a dome glass case and she fights back a smile every time she lays eyes on it)

The satisfaction she gets when victims scream as they spot you in the same room as them. Just so fucking proud of her killing machine.

When you go overboard, if the emotions get too overwhelming for you and you only think of how to get rid of the pain - Amanda grips the nape of your neck and pushes you onto your knees.

You bow because it's her. You breathe because it's her.

"(slasher name)" Your eye twitches, gaze still floating around the room but she knows she has your attention.

"You all there, Kermy?"

"I'm right here, Piggy".

Brahms Heelshire (The Boy) -

Initially, you'd taken the babysitting job as a cover to lay low. Things were getting heated in (insert wherever you're from) and this secluded manor was perfect.

The sight of the doll didn't make you falter. Hey, you got a few screws loose yourself so you didn't judge the Heelshires for how they cope.

Brahms was intrigued by you from the second he laid his eyes on you. The way you instantly gathered the doll in your arms without an ounce of judgement makes butterflies flutter.

He is elated to know that there's a chance you won't freak out if you see him.

He quickly finds out you're not exactly the Average Joe.

You brought the rat traps inside, he inches closer to the hole in the wall when you suddenly froze. The rat squeaks furiously and your non-dominant hand idly reaches for the drawers. Brahms did not expect you to pull out a meat tenderizer.

There's a mix of emotions in the boy as he skitters to his room. He laid awake that night, a part of him wondering if you were just like him and the other feeling guilt at the excitement.

His parents tried their best to nurture him into a decent man. Even if it didn't work, their voices still linger in his head but when he sees the tender way you cradle the porcelain extension of himself the next morning? Your voice sickly sweet, lips pressing into the cold temple of the doll?

Brahms craves you.

Malcolm, poor, stupid, Malcolm.

Brahms wasn't the only one that wanted him gone. The only reason you reciprocated his advances was to fulfil a different type of lust.

(Malcolm wasn't your type anyways.)

Brahms's nails nearly break as he digs them in the wood of the walls, breath labouring as anger consumes him. Malcolm was on top of you, unworthy hands gripping at you like you were some common whore.

He's moved from behind the walls to the closet when you're on top of him. The grip of the 'missing' meat tenderizer was so tight his hand was trembling.

Malcolm yells in pain and Brahm pauses as he watches you laugh in pure delight as you dig your thumbs inside Malcolm's eye sockets.

You turn to him, smile still etched on your features and Brahms gulps as you bring your thumb to your mouth to suck the blood and gore clean.

"Cute mask"

The kitchen utensil drops with a comical 'THUD!' while you two stare at each other.

Your relationship falls into a steady, domestic, pace much quicker than both of you anticipated. How could they not? The secluded land was beautiful when the weather wasn't so dreary. Even if it was, the grand fireplaces were extremely nice to cosy up next to. It's hard NOT to fall deeper and deeper into each other when everything was so romantic.

Malcolm's death was covered up thanks to the wild animals on the land. Brahms watches from the window as you whistle, beckoning the scavengers as you spread a few of Malcolm's innards around.

You tell him everything about your kills. Effectively burying his parent's voice in his head as you sink him deeper and deeper into your hell.

"You're beautiful just like this, Brahmsy" he pants from beneath the mask and you place a kiss on those cold lips. "They won't understand like I do, we're meant to be like this so we can find each other" his pupils are so blown out as he stares up at you.

"You're my good boy, Brahms, forever and always. Okay?"

"Okay, (Y/N)". Your smile was sculpted by the king of hell himself and Brahm's eyes roll back as you move your hips.

Brahms feels vindicated and free. For once, guilt doesn't whisper accusingly in his shadow. Instead, there's you.

Your routines overlap his. Your hands pull him from the darkness. Your voice haunts him every second of every day.

The bodies pile up in the woods. The rats are scarce with the sudden spike of scavengers drawn to the Heelshire manor.

You love spoiling him with victims, love watching him release his creativity and curiosity. He's so good with his hands and all that raw strength? It's not an odd sight for you to make love in the showers after 'play time' was done.

He loves helping you freak the shit out of your victims, pretending to be the ghost in the walls and making them so paranoid they think they've gone crazy.

When they're dealt with, Brahms often makes snacks for the both of you.

Oh! He makes a mask for you. To show his love and for you to wear when you need it.

He doesn't like that you leave the manor. It causes BIG arguments. Vintage vases flying to the wall kind of arguments. But you were a bloodthirsty hound, you needed to stretch your legs.

He'll be sullen but he gets over it. This routine annoys the shit out of both of you though but over time, he learns you need it just as much as he needs his quiet times.

He welcomes you when you get home, lifting his mask to kiss you and you giggle as your hands slide up his wifebeater.

"Miss me, big boy?"

"Always" he pouts.

Corey Cunningham (Halloween Ends) -

Corey knew before you did.

You were just like him. The darkness spills from your eyes as you tell him how the front of your car got wrecked.

"A deer scared you?" he wipes his hands on the front of his uniform, turning to you as you nod and stroke the large dents and scratches on your hood. "Swerved into the woods, didn't hit a tree head-on - Thank God, right?" Corey nods.

He pretends not to see the splatter of blood and hoses down the hair and chunks of flesh from your tires.

Guessed you missed a spot, hm?

He's good at being undetected. People...people avoid him nowadays.

You don't have to ask around much to learn about the cute, outcasted, mechanic's past. You find it all a bit pathetic. These people were really that terrified of him over what sounded like an honest mistake?

Corey wonders why you've gone to Allen's family's abandoned house during his nightly routine of stalking you.

He watches you from the windows, knife in hand though with no real intent of using it...on you anyways. Blood had already stained the blade.

You pause at the sight of dried blood and gaze up the spiralling staircase. Much to his chagrin, you lay down and place your head right on the bloodstain.

Your laughter makes blood pool under the skin of his cheeks. Your hands splay out to your side and you're laughing so hard your sides hurt, Corey finds himself pressing a hand to the window and wishes he was right beside you.

The next day, Corey's parked right out of the supermarket just as you come out. He grins boyishly and you ask if he needs anything. He holds himself back from saying "you" and instead asks if you're free tonight.

You don't expect him to be so forward but you're intrigued. So you ask if he'll be the one to pick you up (considering your car is still in his garage) and Corey pretends to be interested as you write down your address as he imprints the sight of your semi-focused expression. He already knows where you live but you don't have to worry about that, (Y/N).

The night was perfect from the get-go. Your warmth pressed against his back as he drove the two of you to a bar that was further away than usual but was the only one he could go to without people whispering — you don't mind.

Then drinks got involved and suddenly you're dancing with him, some shitty pop song playing over shitty speakers but neither of you cared.

Then reality came crashing in. Someone had loudly — drunkenly — mentioned Corey's past. Everyone gives him looks and although he could care less he pretends to by pulling you out of the bar.

"Corey, wait" he's too drunk to drive and his hands are itching to feel blood so he pauses as you chuckle the command out. "Stay here, baby" The nickname makes his heart flutter and he nods as he leans against his bike. When you disappear back into the bar — probably left something, he thought — he curses and tries his hardest not to storm in and strangle the life out of that asshole who ruined his date and the closest bar he could go to without reproachful glares.

He contemplates the thought of moving away from Haddonfield with you when his phone rings. It's you. For a second, he thinks you're in trouble but when he answers you're breathless pants of glee tells him otherwise.

"Come to the back, Corey".

The sight that greets him is the asshole with a bleeding mouth and a broken nose. The burst veins in his eyes and the wooden plank that you held loosely in your arm paint a clear picture.

"Night's still young, baby" you muse as you make a faux swing that makes the man whimper from where he was sprawled on the ground. "I know you wanna" Your purr makes Corey shudder.

The Cheshire grin on your face is absolutely maniacal as Corey sheds his jacket and pulls out the pocket knife he kept in his back pocket.

The same one you'd felt against your thighs when you were riding his bike.

Haddonfield was lucky the two of you decided to spread your chaos elsewhere because the two of you were insatiable.

The fact that neither of you stayed in one city for too long also didn't help. You were basically doing an American-wide murder spree.

And Corey would not have it any other way.

You were just like him — wilder, sure, but you understood him in ways no one else had ever done.

"Fuck, baby" Corey has you on the bed of some engineer whose blood was currently being used as lube. The man's body was somewhere in the room but Corey barely gave a shit when you're looking down at him with that toothy grin that makes your eyes twinkle with bloodlust. "Mm, you feel so fuckin' good, Corey".

Somehow you two decide to settle down in a quiet town. Corey going under a different name as he works at a garage. Everybody around you thinks you guys are the sweetest couple — cooing at how young you are and sighing about young love.

They don't know that your weekend trips are spent with blood, guts, and sex. Two maniacs completely enamoured with one another.

"Baby, look" Corey eyes the silver band on your finger. Then the other one is on your palm as you extend it to him. You drop the chopped-off hand of the man the both of you had just killed and inched closer and closer.

"Pretty, hm?" he nods "Till death do us part" At that, he scoffs and pulls you in closer.

"Not even Death can keep us apart, (Y/N) (L/N)" he brushes the tip of your noses together and plants a bloody kiss but your giggle cuts it short.

"Don't you mean, (Y/N) Cunningham-(L/N)?" Corey's grin is nothing short of loving and he claims your lips again.

OG!Michael Myers (Halloween (1978 - 1982)) -

To be completely honest, the way you two met was a blur. Before you met Michael Myers your life had little to no meaning.

When he decided to break into your family home one night, he jump-starts everything. He had you pinned on the dining table, his mask already coated with the blood of your kin. Your feeble attempts at escaping his inhumanely strong grip leave you gasping for breath and you're sure that the building pressure in your head isn't a good sign.

But when you stare into Michael's eyes a sudden force tugs your lips apart into a bloody smile. Your laughter is nothing but strained gasps and squeaks and it makes Michael's grip falter enough for you to finally grasp the make-shift stake beside you (from the chair he'd thrown your way) and drive it into his shoulder.

Michael staggers and without missing a beat, you're lunging at him again. No fear, no hesitation, and frankly, no thoughts behind such a brash action.

The force of your body slamming into him throws his momentum off but he feels something in his chest suddenly beat as your shrill laughter fills his ears.

You, with your wild hair and wilder eyes...

Michael craved you.

He knocks you out.

Then, he watches you. From your recovery in the hospital to the 'safehouse' you were placed in. The detectives thought this could be their chance — to finally catch Michael Myers as he 'finishes you off'.

Michael knows you're done with your kill just from the shift in the air. He enters the safehouse and stares at the splatters of blood and bullet holes in the drywall. He follows the sounds of your laughter and finds you in the dining room in a familiar pose.

You have the detective pinned under you, fingers crushing his larynx as he weakly fights back against you. Michael waits politely, when you're done he moves to the back door and you wordlessly follow.

Eating rats was new but strangely enough the act of catching them was a great bonding activity. Your jokes about meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles — and eating them — fly over Michael's head but his amused silence tells you he doesn't mind your babbles.

He learns fairly quickly that, unlike his silent, effortlessly, intimidating self, you're erratic, loud and pumped with energy when you're hunting.

He doesn't dislike it but it takes some getting used to.

You don't always go on hunts together but when you do he appreciates your gore-y creativity.

The Shape of Haddonfield now has Hellhound by his side — isn't that a cute nickname for yourself, (Y/N)?

While victims shit themselves at the sight of Michael, his stony demeanour is what makes him all the more Boogeyman-worthy. He feels inhuman. That both terrifies and comforts some — but you?

You're entirely too human. Your glee, your rambles as you stab your victims, you're laughter full of excitement.

"Mikey" he glances your way as your fingers stroke up the neck of his mask. Here you were, sprawled all over Michael Myer's lap like a goddamn kitten. You lean up and kiss his rubbery lips, he hums as your tongue licks his mask and pushes you back just enough to lift his mask above his nose.

"Thank you, Mikey" you chuckle, letting him taste the romantic spaghetti dinner you two had helped yourselves to after murdering the old couple.

Their home was isolated enough, that both of you could enjoy living above ground for a few days.

"You taste so good, Mikey" The grip on your waist makes that addictively sweet laughter bubble in your throat.

RZ!Michael Myers (Halloween (2007 - 2009))-

You were the only good thing in his god-forsaken life.

The mental institution had made a big mistake in housing two monsters — especially when those monsters were always so drawn towards each other.

No matter what punishments they inflicted on either of you for sharing glances. It did little to stop this undeniable, instinctual, need to be close to one another.

Initially, the doctors had thought Michael's curiosity was a good sign. A sign that he was showing interest in making friends. Even if you were less than ideal in terms of 'fixing' him considering your own streak of homicide (that landed you in this shithole in the first place) but they were desperate.

So, they allowed controlled meetings. Michael's stare terrified others but you seemed to thrive under his attention.

Guards had reached out to pull you back as you climbed the table and got right up in Michael's face but he is as still as a statue as you carefully brush his long locks of blonde hair back.

"There you are, pretty boy" and with those words and your eyes that reflect back his darkened soul right back at him — Michael is smitten.

When he escapes, he finds you.

When he enacts his revenge, you're the shadow that devours any sacrificial lambs that managed to stray from his grasp.

Oh, he's all yours.

Michael swears that if you're not near him the air feels thinner.

He relishes in the way you mercilessly slaughter anyone in your way — he doesn't ask why you kill but knows that whatever the answer he'll support his batshit insane boyfriend.

"Is this for me?" he nods, showing you the new mask he'd created. You smile warmly, sitting across from him as you carefully place the mask on your face.

"How do I look, pretty boy?"

He places his large hand on your thighs and begins tapping. You encourage him with careful strokes to his bicep.

.--. .-. . - - -.--

Your grin makes his heart flutter. "Thank you, baby" and you reward your darling lover with a kiss which makes him grunt at the mask that blocks him from properly kissing you.

Billy Loomis & Stu Macher (Scream (1996)) -

They had an inkling you were just like them.

Billy says it's the way your eyes become devoid of any light when you're angry. While Stu tells you it's the way you lick the blood from your split lip and smile as you lunge at the opposing team's captain.

(Y/N) (L/N), an athlete of their school.

Meanwhile, to his boyfriends, he's an absolutely merciless murderer.

Everyone sort of avoids you. Even your coach rarely gets in your face to yell at you the way he does at everyone else. It baffles people that Billy and Stu are your lovers.

For them though? It's the perfect match.

You're not Ghostface, however, (slasher name) is always spotted with Ghostface.

A maniac with brute strength that takes hits and stabs and even bullets without going down.

Those who did live to tell the tale of an encounter with (slasher name) and Ghostface mutter that hurting Ghostface? Was a big fucking mistake if (slasher name) is there to witness it.

You're the kind of guy to body slam someone out a second-storey window and just walk it off while the victim who cushioned your fall is wheezing their last breath.

Billy reprimands your unnecessary displays of brutality while Stu simply gushes about how cool it was. They both tend to your wounds, kissing and massaging anything that hurts.

Ghostface is equally as protective of you, make no mistake, even if they're not throwing a chair at a victim they will ensure you don't actually get yourself killed in your bloodlust.

Stu has pulled a gun and shot someone in the face when they threatened to do the same to you.

Billy rushes to the two of you upon hearing gunshots but groans in relief as he sees you making out with Stu mere inches away from the body.

"Hey! Earth to perverts! Time to scram!" Billy is pulled into the make-out session by you and he all but melts under your hold.

"Want you. Now" Stu laughs at your huffy tone but eagerly circles his hands around your waist while you pull Billy closer to your front.

Beauregard 'Bo' Sinclair (House of Wax) -

A new victim of Ambrose? That's what you are, right?

Wrong.

You'd been a solo traveller that coincidentally got grouped up with another group of travellers. You seemed normal enough, Bo thinks as he spots you making your way to his garage.

Cute and handsome, a darn shame you'd have to die but at least Vincent will immortalize your beauty.

He notices that you're not close with the others. When he asks, you explain your vehicles had broken down near each other so Lester rounded up all of you together.

You lean on the hood of the car he was clearly working on, jutting your hips and looking impressed. He shamelessly takes in the curve of your butt before putting on a charming Southern smile when you glance back at him.

"Good with your hands, hm?" Bo feels blood travel south but he just chuckles. The conversation is cut short by the others clearing their throats.

When he kills the group one by one, he immediately notices that you seem excited at the violence he spreads. You don't scream or yelp but you're helping him.

At first, he thinks you're just saving your ass from getting sliced down when you push someone in front of you. But while the others run, you're moaning as he's thrusting the blade repeatedly into the man's body.

He pants as you two make eye contact, gulping he pulls the blade out and offers it to you.

"Fuckin' finally" you coo, pressing a bloody kiss on his cheek before you slip to hunt the others down.

His brothers are definitely confused by his decision to let you stay as a real residence of Ambrose but after another group rolls in you prove your worth to them.

Between heated moments under the sheets and lip-locking with Bo, you confess that the reason you ended up at Ambrose was that the police were hot on your tail.

"It's fate," you say as you trace circles on his chest. "We were meant to meet, to be family" he would usually scoff at such a notion but the way you fit into his deranged life so easily...

"It's something", he gruffs out, watching as you take the lighter from his hand to light the cigarette between his lips. "Whatever it is, it brought you to me so"

"Aww, Bo, you gettin' sappy on me?" your teasing makes him threaten to shove the cigarette in your mouth but you just laugh it off.

"Love ya', Bo" he averts his eyes but mumbles.

"Love you too..."

Vincent Sinclair (House of Wax) -

Instead of catching Bo's eyes, it's Vincent's heart that you grasp.

A solo traveller that somehow got roped in with another group, a victim of circumstance is what Vincent would have called you.

But instead, you've ruthlessly wormed your way inside his heart.

While the others ran like headless chickens when Bo started killing, you were dragged by another girl to hide in the Sinclairs' house. Stupid move on her end really, but you were curious about their headquarters of sorts. So you follow, breathing raggedly to sell this whole 'helpless victim' façade.

You find the basement. Despite the chills that run down your spine from the scent of death (and wax) you convince her it'd be a good place to hide.

Vincent hears her as she shakily steps into his lair. He thinks she's the only one but finds it odd that she looks desperately over his shoulder as he slices her head off with a pair of garden shears.

Until he feels a blade pressed right at the base of his spine.

"You're pretty strong" Your eyes twinkle from the corner of his and he goes rigid as you dig the tip of the blade deeper. You reach to brush locks of his hair behind his ear, a growl raises from his throat but you shush him.

Your lips brush on the shell of his ear.

"I'll bring more of them here, I want to watch while you turn them into pieces of art".

Bo is feeling an inkling of worry at the sudden lack of victims. He rushes to see if they've decided to overwhelm Vincent and finds you swinging your feet while Vincent is organizing the bodies of the group.

Bo is distrustful. He thinks you've seduced his twin and while that is true, you've no bad intentions like he thinks you do.

Vincent is painfully awkward compared to your nonchalant energy. But it works, the two of you just work.

He scolds you when you get new wounds from the victims fighting back but it's a bit hypocritical when he does the same.

Though he prefers wax figures, he did dabble in oil paints again as he attempts to recreate the scene he sees of you demolishing victims.

A watcher, a stalker; an artist.

Vincent usually stays in the basement but ever since you came? When the hunt is on, he's watching you. Imprinting the image of your body shaking with muffled laughter as you pull your jaws away from the bleeding neck of a victim, spitting out their vocal cords with a satisfied hum.

"Vinnie" your coo makes him flinch but he walks out from the shadows as you beckon him with your hand. Your boyfriend stands in front of you, reaching to wipe some blood away from your cheek but really the only thing he does is move it around.

"Was that pretty, Vinnie?" he huffs through his nose and lifts your chin up so you stain his waxy lips with warm blood.

He pulls away to sign, 'Always beautifull'.

Lester Sinclair (House of Wax) -

You rode with him on the way to Ambrose.

He's taken by your looks and feels a sense of pity and regrets that you'd be dead soon. Especially since you were the only one among the others that weren't a complete asshole to him.

"Ambrose, huh" he nods, tapping his steering wheel as his eyes flit between the road and you. "Must be pretty secluded, haven't even heard of it", he laughs and tells you it's because you aren't from around here.

"See ya'" he waves at you but you scan him from head to toe in a way that's not scrutinizing but lustful. He feels his cheeks warm, you nod to him as a goodbye before you turn to walk into the death trap that is Ambrose.

He's surprised to find you covered in blood and right outside his shack later that night. Jonesy growls near his heel but you were just sitting there on his porch, casually testing the weight of the hilt of a hatchet in your hands.

"Your brothers should use you more than a glorified Ferryman" he is confused but tense. His muscles are rigid like a snake coiling to bite.

Blood drips from the ends of your hair and nose, you place the hatchet down and crouch, beckoning Jonesy' with a sweet baby voice that has the poor pup confused between staying by Lester's side or sniffing you.

"I like Ambrose," you tell him, your eyes squished into an adorable crescent shape.

"Can I stay, Lester?"

His brothers aren't aware of you until at least a week. They were extremely distrustful of you, their baby brother was someone that they did not want to be harmed. Hence why he stays out of the nitty-gritty of it all.

When you show that you're just as protective of Lester, they approve of your relationship. Not that you would let their approval get in the way of your love for him anyways.

Your boyfriend has to get used to your sudden disappearances and reappearances.

And he has to learn how to stitch you up as well. He doesn't scold you though reminds you to be more careful but drinks up your stories of the victims being crushed under your foot.

Whoever manages to stray far enough from Ambrose to find Lester's shack will find themselves in an entirely different but just as torturous hell.

Jonesy enjoys the raw feed though.

"I gotta go" Lester laughs as you whine and drag him back to your side. "I gotta check if anyone's 'lost'" he reminds but you stubbornly shake your head.

"Can't leave me, I'm hurt and defenceless"

Yeah, Lester's seen you shove the end of a rake down someone's throat with a broken arm and a concussion all while laughing. You could protect yourself with the scrapes and boo-boos from the night before just fine.

Feeling yourself lose this battle, you press a kiss to the nape of his neck as he sits and it makes his breath hitch.

Your hands circle his waist and his head hangs low as you slip your fingers down the band of his underwear.

"Stay" you plead.

"Jesus H. Christ" he turns and you grin triumphantly as he kisses you.

968 notes · View notes

luna-rainbow · 5 months

Note

Allow me to present the defense case for Peggy Carter.

I don't mean the PC who is in What If BTW. I don't know who she is, but she's not Peggy. I mean the original version from 2011-2014, especially from recently re-watching The First Avenger.

Peggy comes off as being very aloof, detached and rather condascending at times. I argue that's because she had to be. Its very hard for women in the armed forces even today- but back in the 1940s it would have been even more difficult for a woman to hold her own in a male dominated context like the army. She'd have had to worked many times harder to prove herself and to gain the respect which her male counterparts took for granted purely by virtue of their gender and rank. If she showed any kind of emotional vulnerability or it seemed like she didn't know what she was doing, the men would have pounced on it and taken it as "evidence" she was just a weak and feeble woman who didn't belong in "thier" world. Even then... we still see people being insubordinate and talking down to her. When she punched that soldier who was making lewd remarks (can't remember his name) I don't see her being a bully. I see a woman having to deal with the type of casual sexism she probably experienced on a daily basis. When men who were far below her in rank treated her with contempt or just saw her as a sex object. No way that soldier would *ever* have spoken to a senior ranking male like that... She was also dealing with it in a very masculine way. Like another soldier would. In regards to Steve: again I don't think Peggy is ever intentionally mean or cruel to him. Yes, she's sassy and snarky, but I think she had to learn to be like that to hold her own among men. Her interactions with him in the movie are actually quite positive overall: she smiles when he uses his ingenuity and jumps on a dummy grenade, she doesn't talk about how weak he was she views him as a proper soldier when a lot of others don't: including Colonel Phillips. Even after the Serum Philips just sees him as some glorified performer whereas she trusts his judgement: reluctantly at first but willingly afterwards.

For his own part, Steve never talks down to her or views her as inferior. He was probably one of first men who did that only after Howard Stark perhaps.

When she said that Bucky was probably dead: again I don't think she was being uncaring. That line came after just after saying the 107th had been through "more than most" upon seeing an ambulance bringing an injured soldier back from the front. It seems to me she didn't want to see *another* man die in what she had every reason to think was a suicide mission. I mean, its very likely she'd lost friends before, maybe even had family members killed. Besides of which, she ended up helping Steve go on that rescue mission by persauding Howard to drop him near the HYDRA facility on his plane. Then didn't apologize for her actions afterwards even though Colonel Philipps basically threatened to basically demote her.

Finally, that scene where she fires her gun at Steve's shield: again I don't see that as bullying. When he kissed that other woman (*who did it very deliberately in front of Peggy*) it was quite obviously an attempt to make her jealous. (Not on Steve's part, but the other woman). I think in that moment she felt betrayed, because she believed Steve was different to the other men she encountered. Men who just saw her as a conquest or an airhead. She thought he was behaving "just like the other soldiers"- i.e treating women as objects, and she had an emotional reaction. She was actually wrong, but that proves she's flawed. She's human after all!

So yeah, Peggy in The First Avenger is great. She's sassy and snarky but she does seem to genuinely care for Steve as well. I see them as having a lot in common: both people who struggle to be accepted by others but find their place eventually.

Okay, before I start, I want to say that I did like her mannerisms when I first saw CATFA, because I like no-nonsense female characters. However, movies!Peggy was not a fully formed character — just as movies!Bucky wasn’t. One was the token love interest, the other was the token best friend. Hence, there are specific traits embedded in Peggy’s characterisation, or rather her story roles, that are factors of a male author writing a female love interest for a genre about macho superhero men. Which in itself is a product of the misogynistic nature of 2010 MCU.

Firstly, she’s never actually had her rank or her professional role specified. She introduced herself as an “agent supervising all operations of this division”, but all she does is hover around Howard and Philips in their offices. She’s not on the battlefield with Steve (no matter how her own series tried to rewrite it). She’s not in the field acting as a spy/agent. We are told she’s important, because somehow as an agent she’s giving orders to military trainees — a weird role but we can give her that suspension of disbelief — but we are never shown her doing anything important to contribute to war efforts. More than this being Peggy is a useless person, it’s a symptom of the writer not knowing how to handle a female professional in WW2, to the point of calling her an agent but having her both being in the science division and giving military trainee orders but hanging around looking like a secretary. And why exactly could Philips threaten to demote her? Who does she even work for? He could demote her if she’s military but she’s not. So it’s never clear that those soldiers are her subordinates, because they’re not. She’s not in the chain of command! And so why should they respect someone who’s not in their chain of command telling them that she’s going to give orders? She does have to earn it.

You and I remember that kissing scene very differently. Firstly, Lorraine pulled him into a kiss, Steve didn’t kiss her. We need to get the instigator clear here. We can debate how much of a willing participant Steve was, because that scene can be read anywhere from “Steve was unsure at first but then started to enjoy it” to “Steve was in shock the whole time and his hands came up to push her away”. Secondly, there’s no suggestion that either Lorraine or Steve knew Peggy was within watching distance, so I don’t agree with the interpretation that anyone did it to make Peggy jealous. Thirdly, Peggy and Steve were not an item at that stage, so it’s rather presumptuous of her to “feel betrayed”. What did he betray? He said he was waiting for the right partner, he didn’t say the right partner was her. She’s the one who’s taken it upon herself to demand his faithfulness. He never indicated he was happy to enter into that social contract. Fourthly, you’ve acknowledged that her emotional response to another woman kissing Steve was “flawed”, but object to that violent retaliation being called “bullying”. So let’s call it for what it is: unprofessional, unethical, unromantic, and bloody unhinged.

I’m sorry, there is no possible justification for discharging a gun at a man (and specifically in this case a man who is not in a relationship with you) over a kiss in an enclosed space at work where other bystanders could get injured.

But you know what? That scene is another symptom of male writers not knowing how to write a strong female love interest. In 2010 everyone knew it would be bad form if a man hit a woman for being kissed by another man, but violent anger from a woman directed at a man? That was seen as cute and funny and sweet. And that view exists because of the infantilisation of women. Female anger is seen as “not that hurtful” and “not that important”, dismissed as a momentary “emotional outburst” because women are prone to emotional outbursts, it’s a womanly thing to suddenly lose grip on logic over a jilted love. Where in a man that emotional volatility and violence would be a major character flaw that would turn him into a villain, in a woman that’s…cute and harmless.

So you know, Peggy was at the same level of neglect that Bucky-with-two-birthdates was. She was not a character they cared enough about to even give her a proper professional role in the army. She’s there because the movie needed a love interest. She’s there to show how unwanted Steve was before the serum, and how desirable he became after the serum. She appears, every now and then, to remind the audience she exists, but never in a way that directly affects the plot. @amarriageoftrueminds has multiple excellent metas explaining why the story could have proceeded without Peggy being present. She’s a character we are continuously told is important, but the narrative gives her only counselling type dialogues, and while those conversations are placed at narratively important milestones, none of her suggestions make any sway on Steve’s original plans before he started talking to her, making her someone who has minimal impact on Steve’s arc and on the story as a whole.

#anti peggy carter #asks

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hyunjin-amore · 7 months

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Unraveling the Mystery of the Dark Trio's Reign

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🔪Dark Billy x Top male reader x Stu 🔪

Summary: Dark Billy, M/N, and Dark Stu, the enigmatic members of the Dark Trio, set out to frighten their victims and instill fear in the small village of Woodsboro. They push their victims to the brink while confronting their own problems through cryptic messages and a perverse game of survival. But as reality and fantasy blend together, they unleash a dark force that devours them and permanently damages the town. This terrifying story should serve as a reminder of what happens when one goes too far into the dark.

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A mysterious group known as the Dark Trio once resided in the sleepy little village of Woodsboro. They were Dark Stu Macher, a tall, lean young man whose sly smile belied his sinister nature; M/n, a fearless and fiercely intelligent man renowned for his extraordinary deductive abilities; and Dark Billy, a mysterious and brooding figure with penetrating blue eyes.

Billy had a notorious reputation for coercing others into doing his evil actions. Anyone may be drawn into the depths of his deranged psyche by his eerily alluring aura. His charismatic demeanor and charm drew in a lot of women, especially to him. They had no idea how much evil was hiding behind his alluring eyes.

The Dark Trio decided to carry out a scheme that would chill the whole town of Woodsboro on a chilly and rainy night. Fearsome thunder and lightning erupted as Stu Macher and M/N convened at a remote cottage tucked away in the woods. They were aware that by combining their intelligence and Billy's cunning to produce an event, they would terrify their victims and send the entire town into a state of terror.

Their objective was to send fictitious letters purporting to be amicable communications to the most well-respected residents in Woodsboro. The cryptic messages in these letters would alert M/N to an impending peril that they should take care of. The Dark Trio would prey on their victims and drive them insane by taking advantage of the anxiety and confusion these letters would create.

M/N created a perverse game for their victims with a type of imaginative ingenuity. His goal was to test them to the brink and reveal their darkest vulnerabilities and phobias. The three made the decision to hold a gruesome game of survival and imprisoned their victims in a maze-like home outside of town. They would either have to solve puzzles and face scary obstacles, or suffer horrifying outcomes.

The Dark Trio noticed as the game went on that their original thrill was evolving into something far darker. They started to lose themselves in their own psychological suffering as the distinction between reality and fiction started to blur. They faced their own anxieties head-on and realized they had let their own dreams loose on themselves. It was the memories of the women Billy had exploited in the past that tormented him in particular. As their ghosts wandered the mansion's hallways, they mumbled their complaints and plotted retaliation. He began to doubt his sanity, as his charm was ineffective in the face of their rage. As all of this was going on, M/N's ability to conclude from evidence was critically tested as he attempted to piece together the connections between the victims and Woodsboro's mysterious past. His gaze quickly slid into the shadows as the town's dark past came to light, exposing a string of gruesome killings that alluded to something darker.

It was evident that the Dark Trio had unleashed something far more deadly than they had imagined, as the game came to an end that was horrific. Dreams became vivid as the mansion changed into a macabre playground where the lines between life and death were hazy and shadows came to life.When the trio faced the demons they had awoken, it was a final encounter.

They battled for their lives, frantically attempting to outsmart the evil force that had taken possession as the mansion collapsed around them. They had unintentionally let go of something far bigger than they could have ever anticipated in a bizarre chain of circumstances, and the cost was more than they could have ever imagined.

The town of Woodsboro will eternally endure the consequences of their dark trio's heinous crimes. The once-thriving town was broken and forever altered, a daily warning of the dangers of diving too far into the darkness that exists within all of us. And the legends of Billy, M/N, and Stu Macher would live on in the town's collective psyche, reminding everyone of the horrors that can be unleashed with a touch of visionary talent and a twisted mind.

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spiderispunk · 10 months

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Sorry for the long analysis but I gotta get this out:

Snow’s disgust about the mockingjays is so interesting. First that they’re muttations, and secondly that they’re a symbol that the Capitol is not permanent. He thinks the jabberjays are “impressive pieces of engineering” (Collins 445) but “refers to the mockingjays as “genes gone bad” (Collins 504). Jabberjays represent Capitol ingenuity, a lab experiment that was perfect in theory, and perfectly controlled until they went into the wild. Then the rebels found a way to outsmart and snub the Capitol. A slap in the face,m. And then a second one when then the jabberjays mated with wild, district birds. Mockingjays represent corruption. An unforeseen consequence of putting the two species together. Not completely district, but not quite Capitol either. The idea of which is not something that Snow can comprehend because he sees the world in black and white. Order and Chaos. District and Capitol. There is no conceivable middle ground.

The jabberjays were also never meant to be permanent. They’re all male. They would have died out eventually after they served their purpose. But they survived, only by mating with birds outside of the Capitol. Then they’ve mutated into something wholly different and unnatural to Snow. No longer purely Capitol, but not completely district either. In a way they represent what should have been the natural progression of Panem. There’s no way the Capitol could survive forever segregated from the districts— genetically, physically, whatsoever. But Snow and his Capitol counterparts are afraid of that, because what happens to their pure genes, their fictional superiority, if they begin to mix with the districts. The way they treat Sejanus is evidence of that fear, because he challenges their preconceived notions of how district-born people should be. They compare district-born people to beasts and animals, claiming they’d drink blood, or spiral into anarchy without the guiding hand of the Capitol. But Sejanus isn’t like that. Lucy Gray isn’t either. But sympathy for them equals sympathy for everyone in the districts, and that’s a no go. That’s why Snow goes to such lengths to convince himself that Lucy Gray isn’t district— not really, not in the ways that count (literally not having a permanent residence in the districts). But they can’t admit that they need the districts. They can’t survive without the districts, not for long. But they can’t accept that, and their inability to see the districts as people— not second class citizens— and treat them as such, causes the Capitol’s eventual demise.

TLDR: TBOSBAS, and the entire Hunger Game series at large is an allegory for relationships between the colonizer and the colonized, as well as power, control and white supremacy.

#I love Suzanne Collins so much #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #lucy gray baird

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 1 year

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Thank you!!!!! So I was thinking of something like the reader is a childhood friend of Aelin and she meets Fenrys on Rolfe's ship and she realized they are mates but she was to scared to tell him and then Maeve came and she went with Rowan, Lorcan and Elide to rescue Fen and Aelin. More fluff after.

You're amazing!! ❤️ ❤️

This is a mix of these two requests and the some more insanity that I just threw in here. So just enjoy a little enemies to lovers goodness. 🤍✨

Anchor

You know when you meet a person and straight away you just know that it won't work? You can practically feel the aura around you clashing. The tension lingering. The heaviness. The calculated looks. That's how it was with Fenrys. The ongoing battle to not give into the desire to slash his throat when he babbled his cocky nonsense. As a male he wasn't too bad for the eye but boy oh boy when he opened his mouth.

"I still think you two should just...", Aelin stated but you only clanked your cup on the table. "Don't bother finishing that sentence", you pointed a finger her way earning a low growl from Rowan who was set across the room, "Oh don't you start, you territorial hawk". The male narrowed his eyes at you but you thew him just as much of a sharp glare.

"Okay, you two that's enough. I don't need you two fighting", Aelin reached for your hand, squeezing it gently in the hope of getting you to turn your attention back to her. She knew how you viewed all males. Life hasn't been kind in that sense. Same as with Lysandra there were boundaries. A deeply buried fear of being used again. Of being dominated. Repressed. Pushed around and used.

Hence why Aelin was willing to leave you behind if sailing in a closed-off ship with a handful of fea soldiers seemed way too much for you. But of course, you went. You brushed it off as if you weren't phased by it even when your body screamed at you from the moment Rowan had reached out for your hand to help you onto the ship.

"Just... if you worked together", but you shook your head. You knew where this was going and sure you wanted to help but the answer was going to stay the same. What she was asking of you was too much. It required too much. It was too personal. Too intimate. And you hated the male. Even if you agreed it would never work. "I love you and I want to help but if we can't do it without him getting involved, I'm not doing it", your words were cold. Colder than you would have liked but you just weren't ready to step over that line.

Rowan shook his head and Aelin's eyes softened. Without a doubt, they were doing that weird mind-to-mind communication that mates did. You just stood there waiting to be dismissed. Even if you knew that you could have easily walked out yourself. With a sigh, Aelin turned your way, "Alright, get some sleep. We have time to figure this out". You wanted to say that there was nothing to figure out but you kept your mouth closed.

The cold midnight breeze hit your skin as you stepped onto the deck. It wasn't all that surprising that none was out, all cooped up in their little cabins. You braised yourself on the side of the ship, looking ahead of yourself. Letting your mind get as clouded as the sky in front of you.

"Here to poison the ocean with your venom?", the voice startled you, making you grip the wooden brim but you didn't turn around. "Go inside pup, before your fur gets damp and you'll complain about it for the rest of the trip", you snarl back, hoping that the lack of attention would keep him away. Yet instead you bear a light chuckle and the footsteps that get louder and louder.

"Don't worry the undercoat will keep me warm", Fenrys purr as he nudges your shoulder slightly, making you glare at him even more, "Cheer up, we only have another handful of days together". You flash him the most ingenuous smile you could can, "Not unless I jump off the ship and drown myself". Fenrys cackles some more, "I'm sure the fishes would return you in a short while".

The bickering when on and on. Spitting insults where they fit. Having people separating you from one another at times but mostly it was the silent brooding. The death glares and the bitterness that for the most part did more damage than words.

Until this morning. You woke up with a jolt even before the sun had risen. Hand on your chest as you looked around your cabin. It was empty. The door with your makeshift lock was still closed. Yet something felt wrong.

Throwing your legs over the edge you moved to sit up but the pain that pierced through your chest made you frown, a light gasp slipping past your lips. You stilled for a moment, letting your body find itself steady once more. But the nudging didn't ease. It urged you. As if beckoning you to move, to do something.

Some fresh air, you thought to yourself. Some fresh air would help, you were sure. Leaning onto the walls on your way up to the deck you could swear the walk there was never as long. The coldness hit you like a brick, almost making you stagger back, yet you stepped forward. The pain only grew, making you almost want to claw at your chest.

"What's up with you and your night walks? Don't you know some of us want privacy?", you threw your glance to the side where Fenrys was sitting on the upper part of the deck. Somehow seeing him here made you feel slightly better, yet you still muttered, "Get lost", before your eyes darted to the shadows dancing across the ship. Each of them makes you turn around over and over again.

"I don't want what kind of funny stunt you're pulling but you can give up the act", Fenrys grumbled at the sight of you frantically turning around the deck. Only when you started clawing at your skin almost drawing blood did he smell the fear that was practically dripping off you. "Y/N", he called out a lot more softly, rushing down the set of steps.

"I won't do it, leave me alone, I won't do it", you muttered, breathing picking up. Fenrys stepped closer. He knew that approaching someone while they were in fight or flight mode was dangerous. You needed to be extremely particular with your actions. He'd seen many soldiers dying because they had chosen the wrong path of approaching an army friend after a particularly traumatic fight. Many had lost their lives to a fear blackout.

So when Fenrys reached for you, his movements were as slow as they could be. Gently sliding down your forearms, moving down to your palms, before he carefully laced his fingers with yours, making you stop the frantic attempt to look out for whatever you were afraid of. "I'm not insane", you crocked out and Fenrys instantly nodded, "Of course, you're not. I would never think that". Your eyes met his for a brief moment and Fenrys could swear the depth of them could drown him. But then the most painful cry slipped past your lips as you fell to the floor.

The door to the desk opened with a thud and Aelin followed by Rowan and the rest spilled out. Aelin called out your name, stepping forward but hitting a wall that you must have summoned. Her hands braced the surface as she tried to find a crack so she could get in. "Fenrys", Aelin called out in fear, catching the male's glance.

Your cries only grew louder as you fought whatever that was torturing you from within. "You need to help her", she practically cried out at the sight in front of her, Fenrys shook his head in confusion. "She is a psychic, she needs to let the vision flow through her but she hasn't... Fenrys", Aelin crocked out watching as you moved your hands over your temples, scratching the skin. Fenrys quickly pulled at your wrists, pulling your hands away from your skin.

You tried to break out of his grip but Fenrys didn't budge. Pulling your hands closer he moved them towards his lips, kissing both of your palms before, before placing them onto his shoulder. "You're a stubborn, stubborn girl", he muttered, gently cupping your face. Your body twitched, he could see you fighting it. He could tell that you were afraid. He just wasn't aware of what exactly. Of the process of seeing or what that meant for the future.

"Let go", Fenrys muttered softly, making you let out a low growl as you sink your nails into the male's shoulder. "Let go, before it destroys you from within", yet you shook your head, gritting your teeth as hard as you can. Already seeing the flashes of your consciousness slipping. Fenrys mouth thinned into a tight line, "Let go. I promise I'll pull you from down under. I won't let go", his words made your heart skip a beat. The world around you stopped. It felt like you couldn't hear anything. You couldn't make out anything. Yet in that nothingness, you could still feel it. Feel him. Feel Fenrys who stood there right beside you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mind finally slipped. Fenrys was quick to catch you in his arms. Wrapping you up in his strong embrace, while you muttered words under your breath in the language that he couldn't understand. Lowering you carefully, Fenrys nestled you in his arms. Watching every expression on your face. Every frown, every movement of the muscle made him wonder how long he would have to endure this.

A sharp pain pierced his heart right as the stream of blood trickled down your lip. A fear like Fenrys had never felt before. It shifted something within him, as he reached for your face, "Ei, no, no, you don't linger in there. Come back", he called out frantically, tapping your cheek slightly. But it's like you didn't hear him or didn't want to. All of a sudden all Fenrys come to hear and feel was you.

The sound of your painful breath. The way your heartbeat becomes less powerful. The way your smell suddenly started to shift. The wolf with him howled. His blood ran cold and then he felt it. A thread of light that suddenly pulled from within his chest and toward you.

And even if it frightened him, Fenrys clasped onto that thread with all that he had, pulling you towards him. Filling the painful wounds on your side with nothing but love and care. It felt like a cruel joke in the given moment but he couldn't give you up. Every part of his body was screaming at him to keep fighting.

And then it all went static. It all stilled. Fenrys was surrounded by emptiness. For a second it felt as if he had died and then a hash inhale of breath set your heart beating again. Fenrys pressed you even closer to him. Fighting the tears that were burning his eyes.

"I would like some air", you mumbled and Fenrys instantly pulled back, allowing you more breathing room. Your face looked tired, sweat covering your skin. Yet you gave him a weak smile. "I take it back. I don't want to give you to the fishes", he muttered under his breath. You reached for his cheek, brushing some of the damp hair away from his face, "Good because I don't want to jump".

#fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam #tog imagine #tog reader #throne of glass x reader #the throne of glass imagne #rowan whitethorn #lorcan lochan salvatorre #gavriel #aelin ashryver galathynius #the cadre

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