#wolves against the world

[wolves-against-the-world]

I’m about a month late but I couldn’t get this out of my head. Let’s ignore that Sasha is terrified of water and Milo gets seasick, that’s different universe.

Attila is a Coelacanth, because he’s the embodiment of „wait, you’re still alive???“

Sasha is a Sturgeon – not very flashy, but nothing to underestimate.

Milo is a Lionfish, attention–grabbing and dangerous.

Eike is a Rainbow fish because he’s cute and people don’t think he’s up to much but keeps the place together.

[thenefilim]

Review - Wolves Against the World (2024)

Quinn Armstrong follows The Exorcism of Saint Patrick up with the second film in his “Fresh Hell Trilogy”, Wolves Against the World.

https://www.voicesfromthebalcony.com/2024/09/02/wolves-against-the-world-2024-review/

[moviesandmania]

WOLVES AGAINST THE WORLD 2nd 'Fresh Hell' horror - trailer and release date

Wolves Against the World is a 2024 horror film in which two members of a defunct ultra-right-wing metal band reunite at the site where their bandmate took his own life. One sinks into depravity and grievance, one tries to atone for what he has done. What ensues is an occult battle of wills between two men who have done terrible things while one tries to lure the other back into the movement,…

[wolves-against-the-world]

Afraid. They were afraid, all in their own ways.

Pawel (later Attila) has just been moved into a monastery to begin his training as a novice. He doesn't know anyone, barely knows why he's there. He's hungry and sore from a beating.

Matthis (Milo) is one missed meal away from running away, because he knew his family did not have the means to feed everyone and he was the most disposable. He wonders what's scarier - starving here, or on the road. He'll find out soon.

Zacharias (Sasha) is hiding from his father, as he often did. He's done his work, as best he could with an injured arm, but his father usually found things to be angry about anyway. Zacharias wonders where his mother is, and why she's not protecting him. It would take a few more years for him to finally realize.

Josef (Eike) watches the parade with his parents and the rhythmic bangs of military boots make him nauseous. He knows little of politics, but he knows his mother cried when the election results were announced, and that father had spoken about leaving the country. The year is 1933.

What was your OC like when they were seven (7) years old?

(This prompt brought to you by Tumblr letting me know this blog turned seven today.)

[chulippi]

i hate how entitled I end up feeling bc this is my sentiment but . Really really resenting that my parents aren’t going to help me with school or rent or anything while they super can

[carefulfears]

txf30 day 4: favorite dynamic (besides the obvious): scully/mulder/skinner

y’all mind if i ramble for a second?? there are so many connections that are so important to this story, but i always come back to these three. i think everything does.

i say that memento mori is the most loving episode of the series, but when i think about that one, it’s not even the kiss in the hallway that stays with me. it’s skinner coming in to work, the first time scully was in the hospital, and finding mulder sitting in his office. and he’s just been sitting there. bypassed the secretary (lol), and just sat and waited. he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.

and the way that skinner tells him, no. don’t do it to yourself under any circumstances. that he is not to risk himself to try to save scully. ultimately, it’s not mulder that made the deal with the devil, it’s skinner who didn’t follow his own advice. (gave up everything he has, to save them both).

and these are just two weirdos who work for him in the basement!! he doesn’t owe them anything. but he’s the one there, at the end, no matter what. he’s the one who comes to get them when they’re hurt, or lost, or need help. they’re his emergency contacts, the people who show up, the people who advocate for him. the people who know him. (the bigfoot division are a.d. skinner’s silly rabbits etc etc etc)

in iwtb, after six years away, it’s skinner who comes to get scully, on the side of the road, next to mulder’s flipped car. tells her that they will find him, that he’s okay, to breathe. it’s skinner that holds mulder on the ground, in the end.

when mulder went back to bellefleur, it's skinner that scully sent with him. that girl has never trusted a single soul to so much as breathe mulder's air, but "i won't let you go alone," is immediately followed by skinner packing the car.

like trish said last night:

i think telling scully he "lost" mulder was the hardest thing he ever did. skinner loves mulder too, but mulder is scully's entire world. and this time around, he won't let scully be alone the way mulder was.

(and the kindest thing scully ever did: squeezing his hand, saying "i already heard.")

(skinner returns the favor: he tells mulder about william, so that scully doesn't have to.)

my favorite moment in requiem is the final scene, the two of them crying together. the only two people. the only two people who know.

when she tells him that she's pregnant, he's the first to know. the only person to know, for most of her pregnancy. 18 years later, he's still the first person thinking of their baby, looking out for him.

honestly, it always comes back to sein und zeit for me. when after 7 years, after 27 years, mulder says that it's just too much, and he wants to go home. he wants time away from work. the sequence in the car: mulder in the backseat, skinner behind the wheel, scully on the passenger's side. for so many years, mulder had to be searching, so that he wouldn't be alone. but now he stands in front of two people who love him, and admits to needing a break. to wanting it to stop. he's guided, he's guarded.

skinner is a hardass. it's not easy to manage their madness. it's not easy to write the footnotes, to be the person waiting, in this particular story. but like he tells mulder, 14 years after they last worked together: not a day goes by where he doesn't just wish they were there, trying to make things better.

[gothsuguru]

wolf imagery my utmost beloved

[wotb-blog-2024]

Idea: WoTB tarot cards

[redwingedwolves]

# Tag List #

─────────────────────────────

General

💚 #mike talks🐺💬 ~ text tag

💚 #snarls and growls🐺🗯 ~ vent tag

💚 #.answering howls🐺💌 ~ ask tag

💚 #painted pawprints🖌🐾 ~ art tag

💚 #written pawprints🖋🐾 ~ writing tag

─────────────────────────────

Blog

💚 #thinkin' 'bout you and me🐺💭 ~ imagines tag

💚 #and that's my gueue🐺📣 ~ queued posts

💚 #us against the world🐺💢 ~ negativity tag

💚 #sending you my love🐺🫶 ~ positivity tag

💚 #odds and ends🐺🖇 - miscellaneous tag

💚 #ask and ye shall receive🐺❔ ~ ask games

💚 #of games and things🐺🎰 ~ reblog games

💚 #tw: | #cw: ~ trigger tags - fill in the blank

💚 #tastes like spice🐺🌶 | #mdni ~ suggestive/what it says

─────────────────────────────

Selfship

💚 #the wolf🐺🐾 ~ s/I tag

💚 #the birb™🧡💕 ~ Keigo tag

💚 #hot stuff💙🔥 ~ Dabi tag

💚 #-🦅 ~ posts by Keigo

💚 #-🔥 ~ posts by Dabi

💚 #winged wolves🐺🦅 ~ me/Keigo

💚 #hell hounds🐺🔥 ~ me/Dabi

💚 #flying devil dogs🐺🦅🔥 ~ me/Keigo/Dabi

💚 #i ship it like fedex🐺💟 ~ other's selfships

─────────────────────────────

[rise-my-angel]

Me writing this new chapter like, I hope yall are sick of girl boss fully independent sassy badass girls who love to take charge. Cus I go hard in on the "Love doesnt make you whole, but the right love can help heal you where it matters" kind of relationship. I get the modern audience independent woman trope, but we are not writing this fic and pretending as if theres anything wrong with letting a caring, loving male partner take care of you when you need it.

I honestly just came up with the main plot ideas for HotGW and went "Okay, so the reader can fight, use a sword, shoot a bow, and wears armour. But do not be mistaken. She is NOT a badass. She is NOT a snarky girl boss queen that kicks men's asses. She is a grouchy house cat 90% of the time. Just glaring while being picked up by her owner against her will because shes too stubborn to admit she likes it when she gets cuddles."

[wolves-against-the-world]

St. Zacharias

Sasha had a lot of names in his life, few of them self-chosen. Growing up the son of a choleric miller and a traveller mother who seemingly abandoned him, he was looked upon with suspicion from an early age. He distinguished himself by being a brilliant strategist, ruthlessly efficient with zero patience for political asskissing and very comfortable with using his wolf-given abilities for violence. The Mad Mutt was one of the nicer names. If he had died a glorious death in the name of Christendom, he may just have been granted sainthood, like so many others with a questionable past. Except Sasha was just a bit too cynical to die a martyr. Having a good name after your death didn’t help you a whole lot if you died miserably, after all.

[redwingedwolvesafterdark]

# Tag List #

─────────────────────────────

General

🧡 #mike talks🐺💬 ~ text tag

🧡 #snarls and growls🐺🗯 ~ vent tag

🧡 #.answering howls🐺💌 ~ ask tag

🧡 #painted pawprints🖌🐾 ~ art tag

🧡 #written pawprints🖋🐾 writing tag

─────────────────────────────

Blog

🧡 #thinkin' 'bout you and me🐺💭 ~ imagines tag

🧡 #and that's my queue🐺📣 ~ queue tag

🧡 #us against the world🐺💢 ~ negativity tag

🧡 #sending you my love🐺🫶 ~ positivity tag

🧡 #odds and ends🐺🖇 - miscellaneous tag

🧡 #ask and ye shall receive🐺❔ ~ ask games

🧡 #of games and things🐺🎰 ~ reblog games

🧡 #tw: | #cw: ~ trigger tags - fill in the blank

─────────────────────────────

Selfship

🧡 #the wolf🐺🐾 ~ S/I tag

🧡 #the birb™🧡💕 ~ Keigo tag

🧡 #hot stuff💙🔥 ~ Dabi tag

🧡 #-🦅 ~ posts by Keigo

🧡 #-🔥 ~ posts by Dabi

🧡 #winged wolves🐺🦅 ~ me/Keigo

🧡 #hell hounds🐺🔥 ~ me/Dabi

🧡 #flying devil dogs🐺🦅🔥 ~ me/Keigo/Dabi

🧡 #i ship it like fedex🐺💟 ~ other's selfships

─────────────────────────────

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Can I... talk about the theory that winners help craft the next game?

Because, and I really can not say this enough, it puts So Much into perspective.

Everything starts out Normal. Three lives, simple, cut and dry, there hasn't been a winner yet. No one to help craft the game. (And there's something to be said about how simple it really was. Not even a real expectation of the world becoming pvp or combative. No idea of the war to come)

Then Grian wins. The green killer, the man who vowed his first life to the one whose life he took. The next game the boogie man is born. A mechanic that allows and, in fact, demands, a green kill. People can trade lives back and forth, currency and debt wrapped up in one. (can we still be friends? Said the red partner. A life time later and reds are hostile, alone. Maybe it's an answer: No. Not anymore)

Scott wins this time. He refuses to play the game. He will not kill his team, he will love and he will do so fiercely and with all of himself. The next game people are attached through to their very souls. Every bit of damage to one soul is done to its twin. There is no boogeyman. (There is no way for a widow to be left without their love)

Pearl wins and she wins a blood bath. Spent the game draped in red, only wolves for company. Sitting in her tower, shivering in ice, maybe she wanted it to end. To see where it would. Limited life rewards you for killing, limited life has a clock tick tick ticking down, you always no how long you have. A curse yes, but a blessing too.

Now It's Martyn's turn.

And what a turn it is.

Keep your secrets, says the disloyal man, keep them well. Everything hurts, everything Matters, says the man fracturing with every loss. (What if we could love each other without hurting? Says The Hand, who never wanted to be coated in blood)

More importantly, Martyn has always seen the watchers below the surface. Now, they're right here in front of him. Something that could almost... be rebelled against, no? Something that someone else could finally point to and say: hey, hey isn't that familiar?

[tojisun]

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

hockey player simon riley x f!reader’s relationship, through the eyes of the fans // sort of smau

i was listening to 5sos’ slsp while writing this so!!! sorry i went bonkers 😔 i just love this au sm

simon riley is obsessed with his girl, and it is maddeningly endearing.

of course he’s in love with you, everyone could see even from a continent away, but there is something clingy, possessive, in the way simon hovers around you. like you’d disappear right before his eyes if he wasn’t pressed close; if his tattooed arm wasn’t looped around your waist or his thick fingers were not twined with yours.

it is new, unheard of, even riley’s loyal fans says so, but it’s just so—

nice.

(the word is inadequate, they know, but there’s nothing close that could describe how heart-fluttering his devotion to you is.)

riley has always been a private person, sharing only sparse details of his life. one can even easily locate his earliest instagram post because there’s just about twenty uploads in his account since its creation—from 2017, and it’s a broken hockey stick. even that throw-away picture continues to amass likes as new fans come scouring whatever of him they can find.

his latest post was during last season’s finals’ celebrations—a series of pictures of the boys carrying the stanley cup. the first few pictures were all professionally taken, but the rest splinters into blurred shots of mactavish and garrick, particularly, drinking from the cup from inside of the locker room.

it said: thank you all.

curt, direct, but not any less meaningful.

cut to this year, mid-regular season (january), and after five months of drought, the simon riley posted a picture. and it wasn’t just any picture, but it was a hard launch of his new partner.

it was a selfie, taken by you, the camera angled just slightly. your back was pressed to his chest, and his chin was hooked to your shoulder, and, cheek-to-cheek, the two of you grin up at the camera. the background was distinctly new york, central park, so it must have been taken after the specgru’s game against the rangers (0-4 for the specgru).

for the caption, he wrote: she’s never been here before.

in an instant, all of the speculations were confirmed—the most eligible bachelor of the franchise is, finally, in an official relationship.

news articles popped up after that, speculations bloating at the shocking news. some people have even said that they’re sure they’ve seen you prior to the announcement—weren’t you that one fan simon riley was flirting with while he was on ice, mid-game?

(you were.

you were even one of the people that was tagged in johnny’s story before it got preemptively taken down; and the same person seen with the other WAGs, sprinkles of your silhouette seen on pictures like the ones that are taken on the days when the franchise flies them for game nights or the countless ones during the unveiling of the season’s WAGs jackets.

you have been a part of their circle even before the world knew who you were and, somehow, that was comforting; how simon riley had not thrown you to the wolves—or vultures, as mactavish snarled when they’ve hounded him about his fiancee’s abrupt end of her season in the FIVB, like her health wasn’t the priority over her career—and instead made sure you were surrounded by people who knew how to survive amidst the scrutiny.)

and, just like that, the dam called simon-riley’s-secret-album-of-you broke.

what had been a sporadic activity in his account exploded into series of posts, one update every week. it was a whirlwind of excitement because no one from the hockey world has ever seen this much of simon riley’s life.

he was always unapproachable, distant, like there’s always a wall between him and the rest of the world. like in exchange of being called the living legend, the guiding star, simon riley gets to shirk away from the public whenever he chooses. and who can fault him for that? riley’s career has always been heavily documented—people knew him even before he was drafted into the league, they had betted on his rookie year, and then had put him in a lonely pedestal. so of course he is fiercely protective of his privacy.

only a select few get to truly know him, only a select few have stories of simon that isn’t about the ice or hockey or his in-the-works legacy. only a select few see him beyond his crown, and now he’s giving a piece of his true self to the world because of you.

because you are worth showing off.

because life with you is worth celebrating.

.

riley41

[it’s a candid image of you standing on the balcony, wearing a too-big of a shirt that is getting ruffled by the wind and pyjama pants, and leaning over the railing as you stare at the scenery. you’re all silhouette because your body is devoured by the orange rays of the sunrise, its tendrils spilling into the wooden floors of the hotel room.]

liked by jmactavish.91, reyenzo14, and others

riley41 ibiza

.

riley41

[it’s a series. the first image is of the two of you on his motorcycle, the picture taken from simon’s bike’s camera. you’re both wearing tinted helmets and leather gears, the background a blur of colours which indicates that this was taken mid-ride. you’re gripping him tightly and your body is almost fully-covered by his bulk, leaving only the top half of your helmet to be seen peering from his shoulders.

the second image is of the beach. it’s dusk, and the sky is an explosion of pinks and purples and blues.

the third image is a selfie with your visors up. you’re looking at the camera with a shy smile, your eyes squinted because of how bright it still is, while simon only has his eyes on you.]

liked by pricejhn2, alexkeller_, and others

riley41 vroom

.

riley41

[it’s a mirror selfie of the two of you, with simon taking the photo. the background is notably his house. your back is facing the mirror, your head tilted to rest on his shoulder, while his arm is curled around your waist. you’re wearing this season’s WAG jacket—it’s black and green, their colours. the pose now makes sense because you’re showing off the back of the jacket that spells out RILEY 41 in white. simon’s wearing their away-jersey.]

liked by kylegarrick, konig_76, and others

riley41 game six let’s go

.

riley41

[it’s a video; the angle shows that it is taken by someone else. you and simon are hugging, and are swaying lightly as the two of you dance to the faint sound of music booming from somewhere behind the camera. simon’s mouthing the lyrics to your ear, his cheeks flushed like he’s buzzed from drinking, while you giggle and softly rub your palm at his back.]

liked by jmactavish.91, kylegarrick, and others

riley41 my favourite person

.

.

yourname

[it’s a candid picture you’ve taken of simon sleeping while he uses your lap as pillow. the angle captures the way your fingers are playing with his hair and scratching his scalp gently. the picture is a little blurry because there’s not enough light to properly focus the lens.]

liked by riley41, jjoanne.spam, and others

yourname im the happiest when im with him

[enha-doodles]

please do a slytherin boys reacting to you being a hufflepuff pls

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING A HUFFLEPUFF | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore, Lorenzo , Draco) x reader

Notes : okay so now only Slytherin left and next will definately be an enhypen post , it's been too long since I posted something for them 😭

Warnings : not proofread , written in a hurry my bad guys

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Mattheo's smirk widens as he gazes at you, unable to contain his amusement. "Well, well, well, my dear Hufflepuff," he begins, his tone playful yet affectionate, "aren't you just the epitome of kindness? It's like you're allergic to anything even remotely sinister." He chuckles softly, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But fear not, my sweet, for I'll be your guide through the shadows. Together, we'll navigate the dark corners of Hogwarts, with your innocence as our secret weapon." He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Who knows, maybe you'll even rub off on this Slytherin and teach me a thing or two about being... less evil." He winks, his playful tone laced with genuine fondness for you. "But until then, let's just enjoy the ride, shall we?" You can't help but laugh at his teasing, feeling a surge of affection for the charming Slytherin who's captured your heart.

TOM RIDDLE

Tom rolls his eyes at the mere mention of Hufflepuff, muttering about the insignificance of a house that values kindness above all else. He's determined to toughen you up, constantly pushing you to shed your soft exterior and embrace the cold, hard reality of the wizarding world. "Kindness is a weakness, darling," he'll growl, his gaze steely as he lectures you on the importance of ambition and cunning.

He'd manipulate you by turning you against your friends because in his eyes you are born to evil that's why you ended up with him , your friends are the wrong influence "And those so-called friends of yours? They're just wolves in sheep's clothing, waiting to take advantage of your sweet nature. But fear not, my dear, for I'll always be here to protect you" He's there even if it means scaring away every potential suitor with a well-timed glare.

THEODORE NOTT

Theodore can't help but chuckle at the irony of your Hufflepuff allegiance, but it's all in good fun. He'll mock you mercilessly, recounting every Slytherin victory over Hufflepuff in Quidditch or other competitions. Yet, despite his teasing, Theodore knows when to concede defeat, his love for you outweighing any petty house rivalry.

"Alright, alright, my little badger," he'll sigh, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I may be a Slytherin, but you've got me wrapped around your little finger. Just promise me you'll stop bringing up that time Hufflepuff beat us in the House Cup. It still stings, you know."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

He'll even go as far as pretending to roar like a ferocious dog lion - oh the irony , whenever someone gets too close, much to your amusement.

Lorenzo can't resist the urge to baby you at every turn, his heart swelling with pride whenever he looks at you. He'll hover protectively by your side, his arm draped over your shoulders like a shield against the world. "My sweet little badger," he'll coo, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll protect you from every danger, real or imagined. No one's laying a finger on my precious Hufflepuff, not while I'm around."

DRACO MALFOY

Draco's annoyance is as evident as ever, his aristocratic features twisted into a perpetual scowl (his resting face actually) as he begrudgingly accepts your Hufflepuff allegiance. He'll grumble about the stupidity of your house, his annoyance palpable in every word he utters. "Hufflepuff" he'll mutter under his breath, as if the mere mention of the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

But despite his disdain, Draco can't help but crave the princess treatment you're all too willing to provide. "Fine, Hufflepuff," he'll huff, crossing his arms in a dramatic display of annoyance. "But don't think for a second that I'm not expecting extra cuddles to make up for it."

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

[dolicekiss]

Sweet Little Lamb

first attempt at this, also requests are open ^_^

PAIRING: Dad's best friend!Duncan x Innocent young!Female reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+ only, minors dni), sort of taboo, age gap (reader is nineteen), rough sex, mention of uncle and usage of the word cunt, hair pulling, choking, subtle manipulation (manipulative Duncan), religious themes, blasphemy mentioned, virgin reader, dirty talk (talkative Duncan), praise and degradation, slight blood, fingering, unprotected sex, sir kink.

SYNOPSIS: Duncan and your father were high school best friends, always getting into trouble and enjoying their youth to the fullest but they soon parted ways — adhering to their own priorities in their adult lives. But when your father runs into Duncan at the store, he invites him home for dinner. Duncan didn't know his high school best friend was married and had such a beautiful daughter, you. As he laid his eyes on you, he began to lose his grip on his moral compass.

Duncan was a mess.

No amount of cigarettes could calm the turmoil that had caused havoc in his mind and his body, all because of the daughter of his high school bestfriend; you.

The more he fought the disgusting thoughts, the more he felt repulsion crawl over him like a spider with its prickly legs, pinching into his skin. He felt sick and like a creep — preying on his best friend's daughter like that, thinking about you in such explicit ways. He'd excused himself from the family, using his unnecessary smoking habit as an excuse to get away from your sickeningly sweet presence.

He needed to calm his mind. He was all over the place, his mind a whirlpool of unwanted explicit thoughts regarding the girl. It wasn't the white dress that you adorned nor that you were a shadow of an angel but how innocent you truly were. Knowing his bestfriend, he was sure he must've kept you concealed from the outer world. Protecting you and forbidding you of the pleasures the outside world had to offer, keeping you safe against the darkness that lurked in the shadows.

But he didn't know he had brought darkness along with him, in the form of his bestfriend to his humble abode.

He let out a sigh of frustration, as he tossed his finished cigarette to the side. Before he flicked open his metal case to retrieve another one, he heard a soft voice interrupt his smoking session. “Uncle Duncan?‘

Oh how much he reveled in the feeling of you addressing to him as an uncle. You weren't related, no. But just the fact that he was older than you and you saw him as an uncle, it was enough to tighten his pants as he wondered just what sick and twisted part of him was clawing out to the surface.

“Yes, dear?” He always responded to you with such sweetness, his voice gruff but his tone soft and sweet. Like he didn't want to scare you away, like he didn't want his voice and tone to be an innuendo to his sick and twisted desires.

You smiled at him.

A fucking replica of the moon you were.

“Time for dinner, it's all set.” You said, hands conjoined behind your back as you stood with a rather shy posture — your demeanor dripping with the innocence that was an indirect invitation to the wolves of the winter.

To come and rip you apart. Limb by limb and piece by piece and oh, a wolf had indeed sniffed its way to your sweet energy, Duncan had found you.

You gestured for him to come inside before disappearing back inside the living room and he groaned in frustration, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair before walking in pursuit of you. You were such a dream, you glowed and he carried darkness that wished to bask in your light. Upon entering, he found the dinner table all set with his bestfriend already situated in the middle. He took a seat and then your mother and you joined as well.

You sat across Duncan.

Your gaze lingering over him now and then and you admitted, he was truly a handsome man. The fact made you flinch internally, as you had been told that finding another man handsome and attractive was a sin that god would never forgive. Your father had often told you to never indulge in boys or men, to never reciprocate their attention or love, to never ever pay them mind.

And you obliged.

You had never felt wanted in your life ever.

There sat a handsome man across you and it did things to you, things foreign to your small mind.

Your gaze found itself focused on how he extended out, his large hand covering the entirety of the glass of water as he drank it. The view did something to you, a weird feeling churning in your stomach. You found it alluring, that he was capable of completely having his way with you.

You shook your head, praying to God in your heart, begging for his forgiveness at the sinful thoughts that had consumed your mind in the presence of a man that was the same age as your father. You lifted your gaze up from the chicken you stabbed with your fork and a silent gasp escaped.

He was staring at you, as he ate the food your mother prepared.

Your heart leaped up into your throat and then you felt something against your leg, through the net material of your long, white dress. It was hard and rough, making you realize it was a shoe.

Duncan's shoe.

You swallowed the nervousness that was building in your throat. This felt wrong, this felt so forbidden but he wasn't touching you, was he? He wasn't directly touching you, it was his boot riding up your leg and then settling between your thighs. It wasn't sinful if he wasn't directly touching you. Your breath got stuck in your throat.

Duncan noticed the flushed reaction you gave and he suppressed the urge to let out a subtle grin. The tip of his boot pressed up against your clothed cunt, putting pressure against the sensitive area. You almost whimpered at the touch — at how repulsive it truly was. Guilt consumed you because you didn't feel gross, no. You felt good, as you parted your thighs open.

All while your parents ate their dinner, enjoying the company of the man that had sick intentions towards their daughter. Your fingers tightened around the fork as he pushed harder, the force causing pain to blossom on your cunt and you ached for more.

The dinner came to an end soon and your father insisted for Duncan to stay over, as a snow storm approached in all its glory and the man eventually gave in. You were told to show Duncan his room and you obliged, leading him upstairs. The vacant room was right besides yours and the moment you both traveled upstairs, all alone in each other's presence in the dimly lit hallway, the tension threatened to explode.

He acted as if he wasn't the cause of your aching cunt, as if he hadn't lured out a desire too sinful out of you. He only silently followed you and you stopped once you reached inside the room. “Here, I hope it is comfortable Uncle—”

You bit back your tongue. Calling him uncle didn't feel so appropriate anymore after your latest encounter with his boot pressed between my thighs. Duncan caught onto that and he leaned down at you, his muscular hand reaching to caress your cheek. His touch was so — gentle and full of tenderness. You didn't back off, when you obviously should've and it left you confused.

Did you crave someone's touch? Yearned for it secretly in your heart where no man could reach?

“Why'd you stop?”

You shook your head, the back of your calves pushed up against the drawer. You felt helpless in his grasp, like a lamb in the clutches of a wolf. “Feels— weird, Mr. Vizla.”

“Mr. Vizla is it now?” His voice had fallen a few octaves lower and you nodded. God, you were so fucking scared but there was excitement, sitting right next to the fear, smiling at it. Taunting it. His thumb swiped over your cheek and you let out a shuddered breath at the touch. The bare minimum but it had you breathless.

You'd never felt a man this close.

You'd never been this close to another man.

“W-What should I call you?” You stuttered, a mess you were. Your fingers conjoined behind your back, pressed into the drawer.

Duncan smiled. “How about sir? Try saying that, pretty girl.”

His compliment sent you over the edge, your mind clouded by the mist of a daze as you looked up at him. His dark, searing gaze incinerated you and your face burned when you made eye contact with him. His aura felt brooding and you couldn't tolerate it any further, feeling its hands choke you. Ridding you of any air left.

“Sir?” You asked, innocently tilting your head to the side.

He nodded and then stepped closer, shrinking the space between you two. “Did it feel good?”

You immediately nodded your head, as shy as you were. The feeling of his boot against your clothed center only increased your desire and curiosity to feel more, your body burning in need that was foreign to you. He leaned down, breath mingling with yours as his large hand dropped down to the curve of your throat. Circling around it, firmly but loose enough to allow you to breathe.

“Come to my room when everyone's asleep, Little lamb.” With that, he released you and walked off towards the bathroom leaving you completely out of breath.

You ran out of his room, into your own and immediately slammed the door shut, locking it. Your body felt different, like it was being burned but without the pain. You pressed your palm against your forehead, checking for a fever but there was nothing yet you felt so flushed. You dropped your frame onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, hoping that God was not witnessing all this. That he was busy with his other creations and not noting down the sin you were about to commit by going into his room at night.

— ♡ —

Night crackled with the storm, its silence snatched from it and swallowed whole by the loud howls of the wind. Your parents had fallen asleep and you tossed and turned underneath the blankets, changed into your little night dress. A satin slip up your mother had bought for you, with a little bow attacthed to its front. Trailing your eyes across the clock, you swallowed.

1 AM.

You ran your tongue over your lips, stomach burning with anticipation and desire as you slowly lifted the blanket off you. You found yourself right in front of his room and then you knocked, lightly, your frail hand shivering from what you were about to do. Just what were you doing? Going into the room of a man twice your age, all alone at night, barely dressed in anything.

Before you could change your mind or think your actions through, the door had opened revealing the man. His bare chest exposed — the body hair littered everywhere in striking contrast to your own body and you stepped inside. He closed the door behind you and then you felt as though you had stepped outside in the cold, bare footed and naked waiting for it to consume you whole.

Duncan walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, thighs expanded and parted as he gestured at you. “Come here.”

His tone reeked of dominance and you felt your knees give up on you. Nervously, you took a step and then another until you were right in between his thighs. His hands reached for your waist, holding the curve of it as he gazed at you.

“This is wrong.” You whispered.

He tilted his head, his hands slowly trailing upwards while he gazed at you. “Is it? Do you feel like you're committing a sin?”

You nodded and inhaled sharply, feeling guilt ridden because of how good his hands felt trailing up and down your sides. Duncan was wearing his glasses and you peeked behind him to find a book laying face down on the bed. He was reading. Was he keeping himself occupied for you?

“No, little lamb.” He reached for your hair with one hand, twisting the strands between his fingers. Caressing them with the pad of his thumb. “How is it a sin when God is all merciful? He understands you, he feels you, doesn't he? He's created you like this.”

His words were heaving down on your mind and you thought for a moment. He was right. You were not feeling this way on purpose, instead it was all coming naturally to you which meant that God had created you like this. In his image, and how could be his image wrong and sinful?

“But its a sin.”

“It is not if you don't tell anyone about it. If no one finds out about this, it'll only be an act buried in the past once its committed.” Duncan pulled you in closer with his one hand on your waist, his thumb caressing your stomach through the satin material. His hand on your hair traveled to your face as he brushed his thumb over your plump, saccharine lips.

“Open up, little lamb.”

And you obeyed, parting your lips in an invitation for him to press his thumb against the flat surface of your wet tongue. You stayed like that, awaiting his next order and command. “Suck now.”

You closed your lips around his thumb, sucking as you moved your head back and forth. Your eyes didn't shut, no. You stared at him all the while sucking on his finger and Duncan’s gaze felt heavy with lust, mimicking your own. He could see he had you, right where he wanted. Just a mindless little girl who couldn't even understand the needs of her own body.

How fucking cute. He thought.

You were so pliant, so sweet and so submissive. He enjoyed every bit of it and he wondered if he'd ever let go of you after defiling you for his own good and pleasure? Duncan pushed his thumb further into your mouth, all the way to the edge and you choked a little. Sputtering and making a mess of saliva on his hand. Tears sprung out and you closed your eyelids, allowing a few to stream down.

He retrieved his thumb from your mouth and looked at you. “Have you ever kissed anyone, hm?”

You could only shake your head. He smiled and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his thigh. He loved how he was about to ruin your innocence, fucking mess you up and bask in the feeling of power over you. It was all too consuming and overwhelming, even for him.

You were perfect.

“Follow my lead, alright?”

You nodded, butterflies flapping their wings in stinging anticipation in your stomach. You felt his lips against yours and it felt, fucking, ecstatic. His lips were so soft, so plump and they felt like cushions against your own. One hand settled over your stomach, expanded palm caressing your flesh while the other slithered upto your hair, entangling in the softness of them.

He tugged and you whined into the kiss.

The vibration of it sending fire straight to his crotch, his own chest rumbling with desire as he kissed you. Gently prying your lips open, he entered your mouth and explored the untouched cavern of innocence with his vile tongue. Like a snake, he enveloped you and brought you deeper into the abyss.

“Sir—” You attempted to break the kiss but he didn't let you, delving deeper into it. His grip tightening on your hair causing you to cry out into the kiss, his tongue battling with yours. It felt so good, you could almost cry from how much pleasure only a mere kiss was giving you.

But Duncan knew there was more. And the more was as rough as he was.

His hands pulled back and then fell to the hem of your dress. “May I?”

You thought, for a single second before nodding your head. He immediately slipped it off you, discarding it to the side and then his gaze took you in. Your full, nude form. Your perky tits, the small bulge of your stomach, the pouch of fat resting there, how clean and unmarked your thighs were. Those little details drove him insane. He lost restraint — brawny hands grabbing at your tits and fondling them as you whimpered softly against him. It all felt too sinful, but too right to you.

Thumbs brushing over and over again against your hardnened peaks, standing erect demanding attention. He stalled for moment and took your small hand, bringing it to the raging boner protruding through the material of his jeans. You immediately gasped, shaking your head as you tried to pull back but he insisted. Grip tightening on your wrist.

“Feel it." He commanded.

You meekly nodded your head and then felt him, your palm pressed against how hard it was. The situation was so gross, so fucking repulsive but it felt amazing. How he toyed with your body, giving you pleasures you never even thought of. He pulled both of your thighs on each side of his lap, exposing your cunt.

Duncan almost growled at how it peeked out, pink and shaven.

He brought his fingers upto her mouth and tapped onto her lips. You were quick to catch the innuendo, parting your lips and sucking onto his digits. When he felt them wet enough, Duncan’s hand fell down and slithered between your thighs. His fingertips brushed against your clit and a loud squeal escaped you.

You quickly clamped your palm down your mouth, staring at him in confusion. It felt so amazing, a jolt of electricity sent through your veins when he brushed against your clit. He did it again but this time you were prepared and then slowly eased a finger into you. Your tightness around his mere finger let him know just how difficult you were gonna be, getting accustomed to his size.

“Sir, no. Hurts, please.” Your hand reached for his wrist, clawing and pushing at it but he didn't budge. He found your resistance adorable as he slid his finger whole and you cried out. Tears streaming down her face at the burning sensation but that was nothing in comparison to what the future held for you.

Duncan lightly tapped your cheek, a subtle slap. “You can take it, sweet lamb. It's one finger, you can't even take this?”

Voice laced with disappointment, he stared at you and you nodded softly, more tears streaming in rivulets. You back was arched and stiff, as he started moving his finger. To distract you from the burning sensation, he closed his lips around your peaked nipple, circling his tongue around it. The overwhelming pleasure sent you into a different world as your little body twitched.

He sucked and sucked, while slipping another finger and you pressed both hands against your mouth to supress your cries. You didn't wish to wake your parents, that was something you didn't want. It could put an end to this sweet pleasure that you desperately chased after.

“Gonna fuck your virgin cunt so good, I'm gonna dumb you down on my cock, little lamb.” He muttered against you wet peak, plunging his fingers in and out of you. You felt your stomach tighten, flipping in scary knots and the feeling was so strong that you could only cry. Hands falling from your mouth, they gripped tightly onto his salt and pepper hair, bunching them up in your fist. You buried your face in his neck and softly cried, the pleasure sending you into the oblivion.

All that at once — it was too much.

Your thighs convulsed, your body twitching and you could feel something coming, its intensity unbearable. “Sir, something's happening. I think I—” With a hot white intensit shooting through your core, you exploded. Your juices coating his fingers, his arm, his chest and more tears followed in pursuit of the trail left behind the old ones.

Your chest heaved up and down, body collapsing on top of his. Lips shuddering, releasing soft little pants as your arousal saturated everything.

His hand ran up and down your back, reassuring you, comforting you. As he slowly lifted you up, he laid you down on the bed and cupped your face. Brushing away the perspired strands of hair from your forehead and unveiling yourself to him. Duncan was going to explode at any minute and he needed to be inside you.

He discarded his own pants along with his briefs and exposed himself to you, his cock standing hard and curved against his stomach. It was too big and your eyes widening in horror gave away that much. Before he could proceed further, you had removed yourself from the bed, barely possessing any strength to stand still.

“It's too big.” You whispered, reaching for the door.

Duncan wasn't having it. You had your pleasure, now it was his turn and he felt entitled to his own orgasm. Before you could make an escape, he took a long stride in your direction and encircled his arms around you, throwing you right across the bed. Your body was still coming down from your orgasm, fear waking up in your eyes.

He fucking loved it. How panicked and scared you appeared, looking at him, realizing he had you trapped. “Be a good girl, little lamb. Let me have my taste of you.”

He crawled on top of you and your chest twisted in fear, eyes focused on his length. It was too much, you knew it but still you wondered, if his fingers could feel this good — just how good could his cock feel inside you?

Duncan parted open your thighs, delivering a little smack to your inner thigh causing you to flinch. “I'm fucking disappointed that you even thought for a single moment that you could escape me.”

His tone was full of annoyance, mixed with anger and heavy from lust. He aligned his tip at your hole, staring down at it like a madman, obsessed and infatuated. “I'm going to claim this pretty virgin cunt of yours and you'll take me like a good little girl, won't you, my dearest?”

You slowly dragged your head up and down, both fists resting at your chest in heavy anticipation. He slightly tapped his hand across your face, subtle but enough to let you know it was meant to be a damn slap. “I need words.”

“Yes sir."

“Good fucking—” he didn't finish his sentence, as he slid himself inside of you. He couldn't even get to feel you as a scream tore itself through your throat and the man quickly pressed his lips against you. Shutting you up, swallowing your screams and whimpers of pain that you so wholeheartedly were ready for the whole world to hear.

Your walls clamped down on him and Duncan felt as though you were gonna cut him in half from the sheer tightness of your pussy around him. He didn't move, breaking the kiss and slowly littering soft kisses all over your face, drinking up your tears. “You can do it, yeah? You're such a strong, beautiful girl.”

His words of affection warmed up your chest and you nodded, wrapping both your arms around his nape for support as you parted your thighs. An enticing invitation despite the throbbing sensation blossoming like a flower in your cunt. You braced yourself as Duncan moved and soon be bottomed out, a promise growl exploding from his chest.

How forbidden it was.

The girl that was barely half his age, calling him her uncle was now underneath him, naked and sweaty as he deflowered her little cunt. His thumb moved over your clit in tender little circles and your back arched off the bed, his cock shifting inside you. It pulsed and throbbed, becoming one with the throbbing of your own cunt.

“You're so pretty, so fucking beautiful. I want to claim your pussy every single day, ruin you to the point you only think about having my cock inside your little cunt.” He was a mess, forehead drenched in perspiration as he moved, his forearms resting on your sides. He pulled out, and you gasped at the loss but then he slammed himself back inside you. This time deeper, filling you up to the brim.

“Tell me, does the God you worship is capable of making you feel this good?” You shook her head, long gone in the wordly pleasures that consumed your mind. All you thought about was Duncan and how good his cock felt inside you. He began moving, snapping his hips and your walls clenched around him in need.

As he pushed — he encouraged a loud whimper out of you. High pitched and evident. Enough proof that he had found that specific sensitive spot and he rammed inside you, pounding you into the mattress. It was a blessing that your parent's room was downstairs, as they rested, oblivious to their daughter getting ruined by a man beyond her own years.

“Please— Duncan, it feels so good. Please keep going, give me more please sir.” You were a mess and hearing you moan his name made him go crazy. His hips picking up their pace, his cock pounding you into oblivion.

He stopped, turned you on your back and started fucking you relentlessly again. His hands reaching for your arms as he picked you up and pressed you flush against his brawny, scarred chest. This new position had more pleasure awaiting at its door and you couldn't even shut your mouth with your hands anymore, as he restrained you. Gripping your arms, fucking into your cunt.

“Such a good cunt.” He groaned, throwing his head back as he moved. “Takin’ me so well, like you were crafted for me. Pretty girl with a pretty cunt.”

His praises were so intoxicating and you were blitzed by now, without zero alcohol in your system. Duncan was fucking you so good, you'd lost all your senses besides ones that helped you in feeling him, hearing him, listening to him. You didn't care about your parents anymore, or God, or anyone. All you cared about getting fucked like some whore by Duncan.

Tears streamed down your face, your stomach once more churning in that sick feeling. Your thighs pressed against his, shivering and flinching everytime he thrusted up your cunt. Your heart was fucking throbbing in your chest, being able to feel its beating in your throat as he continuously bruised that spot of yours. Nearing you to your orgasm.

Duncan growled, right against your ear, leaving bite marks down your ear and nape, branding you. “You're mine, Little lamb. I'll visit your father more often just to fuck his little girl. You'll be ready for me, won't you? Let your uncle fuck you like this everytime he visits?”

You nodded, sobbing and sputtering broken sentences. Your face drenched in tears as you lost yourself in the bliss, body twitching and shaking from how overwhelmed you were. Then you felt him deliver a slap to your spine, grabbing your hair from behind. His rough demeanor sending a rush of need into your core.

“Say it,”

“Y-Yes, Uncle Duncan.” You cried out, your whole body had gone limp by now. The forbidden situation you'd gotten yourself in making you feel sick but instead calling him that name made your cunt tighten around his cock. “Please v-visit more— fuck me more, please sir.”

He felt himself close.

And so did you.

Both of them reached their highs but Duncan wanted her to cum first so his arm extended out, his hand sliding between your thighs to toy with your clit. He pinched and rubbed it, causing you to gasp. Eyes rolling back in pure bliss, your stomach tightening and cunt clenching around him. All hinting towards your upcoming orgasm.

And so you unraveled.

Eyes witnessing white, body ascending to heaven as intensity at its peak crashed down on you. All of it was too much and your body fell forward, face buried in the pillows and sheets to cry out the remnants of your orgasm.

Duncan picked up his face, feeling your juices coat his cock and then he soon reached his orgasm, his cock pumping loads of cum inside your little cunt. Filling you up to the brim, watching as some of it even leaked out and made a mess down on the sheets. He couldn't care less, his chest rumbling from gruff groans and moans. God, the high he felt with you was different — unique. Something he had never felt before.

He stared at you, spine exposed and erect as you laid across him, face buried in the pillows and he leaned down. Still inside you, he left bite marks down the bone of your spine, branding you as his. Claiming you as his forever. He felt something possessive consume him, something dark when he saw how vulnerable you were. He'd fucked you, defiled you, the blood of your virginity coating his cock mixed with your and his release but innocence still wafted off you.

It drove him insane.

Duncan fixed their position, laying next to you as he pulled you to him. You were out of it and he cupped your face, staring at you. A look of worry crossed his features, finding you this numb. “Little lamb, are you alright?”

You looked up at him and nodded. In reality, you were too fucked out. The ache in your cunt hasn't subsided at all and somewhere you craved for more. You leaned into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. “Sir, will you come back for me?”

“I might just kidnap you.”

You perked up at that. “Can I have my freedom then?”

Duncan let out a chuckle, nodding his head at her, aware of her living situation. “You can go anywhere you want, Little lamb. As long as it is with me.”