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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 5 months

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Badge Bunny - Part II

Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

This can be read as a stand alone but find part I here!

Masterlist

Summary: A routine check at your bar goes sour. It may not be his fault, but you can certainly take out all of your frustrations on your boyfriend.

Word Count: 6.1k

18+ Minors DNI!

Warnings: Porn, with plot. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Toxic relationship (let's be honest here). Reader is physically assaulted at the beginning (not by Gator). Slight mommy kink. Switch Gator. Switch Reader. Light choking. Bondage. Oral (m & f receiving - face riding). Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Orgasm denial (m). Breeding kink. Creampie.

It was a quiet Thursday night at the Lucky Lizard Bar and Grille, more bar than it's ever been a grill. You have your regulars that have been coming here to escape for years after a hard day's work needing to blow off a little steam before heading to their respective homes.

Much like any other weeknight, about ten patrons sit at the bar and various tables in the dimly lit building.

Neons in mostly red and blue decorated the walls, reflecting those colors back onto the faces you served. The jukebox in the corner pulling up another old country song these geezers loved to hear.

Henry was behind the bar, as usual, while you waited on the tables.

It was more lively on the weekends when people your age tend to come out for karaoke when there was nothing else to do in this town on a Saturday night. That’s when the real tips came in and why you suffered these boring weekdays.

You were over in the corner to yourself counting tonight's tips totaling a whopping forty-two bucks.

Looking up only when you heard the familiar, grating voice of Sheriff Roy Tillman booming over the speakers, as two other deputies followed in behind him.

Henry was quick to turn the music off.

“Alright everyone, IDs out. Just a friendly, routine check.” He smirked, as he caught your eye.

Smug fucking bastard.

Henry spoke up, “What’s this about Sheriff?”

Everyone knows damn good and well that he never came to this part of town, let alone caught dead in this bar for a so-called 'friendly’ check or otherwise.

“Like I said Henry, just a routine check.” He motioned to the other two and they moved to start checking everyone.

You were glued to your spot, unsure of what to do. You were busy keeping your eye on Roy you hadn’t noticed Deputy Shelton walk up slowly beside you.

“ID,” he huffed out, as you turned to look up at him. He licked his lips as his beady eyes followed your curves down and slowly back up.

“I work here dipshit; I don’t have my ID on me.” You didn’t think before the words left your mouth.

“Sounds like we’ve got a problem here then.” He clicked his tongue. “See, Sheriff there got a tip this place is serving minors and we’ve got to make sure everyone’s of age. That includes you.” He stepped closer, crowding your space; the stench of his mentholated dip stuck between his lip hitting you as he spoke.

“Seein’ that I’ve never stepped foot in this shit hole before, you just look like some common bar whore t’me.”

He edged more into your space, making you take a step back further into the dimly lit corner. Further away from where others could see you.

“Ask Henry. He’ll vouch for me. Hell ask...,” you were cut off, squeaking with surprise as he grabbed your upper arm, getting right in your face.

“You back talkin’ me? No ID, and now you’re disrespecting an officer of the law? How stupid are you? I could arrest you right now and haul your ass to the station.”

“No, sir.” You timidly spoke, gritting your teeth trying to maintain some level of composure instead of ripping his head off.

He once again moved closer into your space, his hips pushing into yours. You had nowhere else to go, back hitting the rough wall.

“We can always remedy this situation, after hours, if you know what I mean.” His lips curled back into a nasty smile. You wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face. “What do you say, baby? Out back, in the alley would do just fine. I’m sure you’re used to’ that.”

His lewd insinuation made your stomach lurch.

Before you could respond Roy spoke up behind him.

“Shelton, problem back here?” For once grateful to see him.

“Naw Sheriff, just this bitch tryin’ to say she doesn’t have an ID.” He turned to face the other man, a smug look plastered to his own face, no doubt happy with his work, grip still tight on your arm, surely to leave bruises, as he pulled you around with him.

You knew most of the deputies in town were aware that you and Gator were together. Shelton was one of the hardcore jerks stuck so far up Roy’s ass that he didn’t care to pay much attention to anything else. Maybe he didn’t recognize you, or maybe he was just trying to gain favor with Roy.

“Ah, Y/N. Pleasant surprise.” He nodded, tipping his hat toward you.

The grip on your arm loosened just a bit as Shelton looked back down at you, eyes widening at the realization.

“Y/N? Gator’s Y/N?”

“The one and only.” You spoke up, looking straight back at him, while wrenching yourself from his now weak hold.

You straighten your posture, gaze shifting between both men.

“We’re almost done here Y/N. You can get back to work serving these fine men of Stark County.”

“Sure, Sheriff.” You put your head down as you walk behind the bar to the storage area where you kept your things while on shift.

It felt like the eyes of the entire bar were trailing you. You were sure if you looked up, they would be.

Henry gave you a pitying frown as you passed him, before he gently touched your arm, halting your path.

“Hey, you can go for the night. I think most everyone will clear out after this. No one wants to be hanging around knowing the Sheriff could be watching for drunk drivers.”

You just nod and continue to the back.

You grabbed your phone from your purse, typing out a quick but effective text.

WHERE ARE YOU???

It only took a few seconds to see those three dots appear. Then disappear. Then reappear once more.

Outside. Back lot.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, hoping to God that he had somehow just gotten here and hadn’t been out there the whole damn time but in the back of your mind you already knew that answer.

Putting the phone away, grabbing your purse, and throwing your jacket over your shoulders you head straight for the back door avoiding going through the front walking past Roy and his goons. You could still hear them talking with Henry as you made your exit.

The chill of the night air bit at your bare legs sending a shiver up your spine. His truck was situated in his usual parking spot whenever he would pick you up from a late-night shift. You slammed the door behind you.

Feeling like your blood was boiling, you stalked over to where he sat behind the wheel. Seeing the end of his vape light up before you could actually see him, with the putrid fruity scented cloud drifting from the window.

“Bunny,” he began as you got closer to the window, but you cut him off.

“Are you fucking kidding me Gator? Please tell me you weren’t out here this entire fucking time?”

He looked down, his silence giving you the answer as you slowly nodded, lips pursed. You could feel the fresh sting of tears welling up behind your eyes as you looked away from him.

“I’m sorry. My hands were tied.”

Taking a step back, you really appraised him. This man who was fiercely in love with you but also took a back seat when it came to his old man.

You nod, “Yeah, I get it.”

You had made up your mind.

“Fuck you, Gator Tillman.” Flipping him off as you turned away, stomping toward the main road.

“Bunny! Baby, don't be like that!” He watches you walk away, knowing you were in no mood to listen to reason.

He slammed his fist into the steering wheel, “Fuck.”

He let out a deep breath while putting the truck into drive to chase you down.

You had accepted the letdown. Per usual, just another man not living up to your expectations. Words mean absolutely nothing without some action behind them.

Using your phone's flashlight to navigate the desolate road back to your house, it was going to be a long walk.

The headlights cut through behind you, casting your shadow well beyond your line of vision into the night.

The engine roared up beside you, as he slowed the truck to your pace but you kept a steady path forward, not giving him the satisfaction of looking over.

“Bun, come on. We both know you're not gonna walk all the way home. It's cold. Get in the truck.”

You ignore him, head held high, arms tucked around yourself shielding you from the cool weather as you continue a few more paces.

“Seriously? Just gonna ignore me? That's how it's gonna be? Fine. Walk home, stubborn ass. See if I give a shit.”

You scoff, knowing he'll stay here all night if it meant you'd make it home safe and sound. Bad boy but secret softie for you.

He was growing more impatient by the second.

“Baby, C’mon. I'll make it up t'you.” He pleaded.

You stopped. He perked up, hopeful but deflated when he saw your face once you turned toward him. Tear stained, reddened and flustered.

“Make it up to me? That shouldn't have happened in the first place! If I wasn't involved with you, Roy wouldn't even bother coming by that damn place!” You yelled out, now beyond frustrated.

He let out an over exaggerated huff as his foot slammed on the brake.

“Goddamnit Bunny! Get in the fuckin' truck. You're not walkin’ home in the dark. Take this as my last warning before I drag your ass in here.” He leveled his gaze. You knew he'd do it, as you had learned the hard way on more than one occasion.

“Fine.” You sighed, not feeling up to struggling any more than you had to, stepping over and opening the door. You hopped in and slammed it. The noise made him grit his teeth and shut his eyes, but he held his tongue.

You curled into yourself and crossed your arms. Ignoring his pointed look, opting to stare out the window instead.

The rest of the drive was filled with the hum of the engine and radio softly playing. He hadn’t bothered trying to converse with you. You’d talk when you were ready. He knew when he could push and this wasn’t one of those times, though he didn’t understand why you were so mad.

Roy had told him it was just an ID check, nothing out of the ordinary and he should just “sit this one, it's a conflict of interest.” Gator did as he was told knowing you’d be a little ticked but hadn’t expected this much bratty behavior.

He pulled up to your small house. Rarely ever staying at Roy’s anymore, instead calling home wherever you may be.

You didn’t wait for him to fully put the truck in park before jumping out, slamming the door once again.

He simply closed his eyes and took a deep breath to control his temper. It was going to be a long night.

You walked through the door and shrugged off your jacket, slinging it onto the couch. The leather suddenly felt suffocating when you made it into the house.

Walking into the kitchen, you opened the fridge grabbing a fresh beer; cracking it open and chugging back about half as you heard his heavy footfalls behind you.

Gator wasn’t stupid. Something was wrong. You rarely drank, given your job most days it was revolting to you.

He unzipped his vest, removing it before setting it on the back of the kitchen chair. Then removed his hat, running a hand through his hair that was now falling at the sides.

“Bunny, you goin’ to keep bein’ a bitch and ignore me all night or are you gonna tell me what the hell happened back there?”

You were mid-swig when the words left his mouth. You slowly lowered the bottle from your lips and set it on the counter beside you, composure starting to fail.

Turning on your heel, you lunged at him. Pushing him as hard as you could, but it only moved him enough to send him back a few inches.

“Fuck you, Gator!” You yelled; eyes full of rage but it only spurred him more.

He smirked, a crooked smile across his lips that only infuriated you more as he straightened back up to his full height.

“Fuck, I love when you get like this.” His voice now turning sultry, hand reaching for your left wrist still situated on his chest.

You blinked as your mind caught up with the insinuation. You reared your free hand back to slap him, but he easily caught it mid-air.

“That’s it, need to take it out on me? Need to use me?” He whispered lower. Eyes trailing down, catching your already heaving chest. Your body now betraying you.

“Huh Bun? That…” Stopping mid-sentence, his gaze softened as he dropped his grasp from your wrist, instead lifting his hand back up to your arm as his fingers traced newly forming bruises.

“Who the fuck touched you?” He didn’t look at you directly, still examining the finger shaped splotches of light purple.

Your gaze followed his, examining them yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before looking back up at him.

“I… It was Shelton. He…”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill him.” His jaw tightened. You could see the tendons in his neck strain as he released a harsh breath. The gears in his head were already turning.

“Gator,” you spoke softly. “Baby, please. Don't do anything rash. I need you here with me right now.”

Reaching up to cup his face, making him look you in the eye.

You leaned up nuzzling your nose into his jaw, your mouth hot on his skin. The slightest stubble forming from the long day, scratching along your cheek.

Your lips working their way up, legs straining as you stood on the tips of your toes, reaching the shell of his ear, “Make me forget,” you whispered.

Your hand slowly slid down his chest, past his belt buckle. You took his already hardening length in your hand, giving him a teasing squeeze as he responds with a breathy moan, kicking up under your touch.

“Make me forget his hands were ever on me.” You kissed him lightly, letting your words sink in.

“Anything you want Bunny. I'm all yours.”

You pull back slightly, searching his face as he tilts his head looking down at you. His usual warm caramel swirls now turned into black pools blown full.

“Get your ass in the bedroom. Now, mama.”

Smacking your ass when you don't move fast enough, groping your cheek with his large hand pulling you further into him.

His turn to whisper in your ear. “Get those cuffs ready.”

He released his grip as you moved away from him, a smirk adorning your face knowing what was to come. Another sharp smack as he followed closely behind you.

As soon as you cross the threshold, to your shared room, he wastes no time.

Pressing his chest to your back, hands trailing your curves. One of his large palms comes to rest on your hip, the other wrapping around your throat as he pulls you back, halting your breath.

His prominent bulge pressing into the fat of your ass has you pressing your hips further into him as he groans.

His lips ghost the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Tell me what you want Bunny. Tell me what you need.” Tightening his grip before releasing it. He wanted you to answer him.

Most of the time he took what he needed; you were pliant to him. On those rare occasions, you could make him speechless with the way you dominated him. It was always a push and pull. He didn't mind letting you take the reins.

“I need you to take off that stupid fuckin' uniform and lay on the bed.”

“Mmmmm… that's it baby. Good girl.” He placed a small kiss to your temple before releasing the hold on you and pulling away from you altogether. The cool air hitting your back where his warmth had just been.

You turned to watch him as he unlatched his thigh holster, laying it on top of the dresser.

You took a seat at the foot of the bed, crossing your legs waiting patiently for his little show.

He smirked, eyes trailing your legs, he was trying to contain himself. He knew this was about you. For you.

He unbuckled his belt and popped the button on his fly. Pulling his shirt free before pulling it up over his head. His broad chest now on display for you, had your thighs pushing further together. It didn't go unnoticed, but he didn't say anything.

He unlaced and kicked his boots to the side, finally letting his pants slide from his waist.

The bulge in his boxers had you salivating. He palmed himself, slowly tracing his thick outline.

“Like what you see?” He licked his lips, hooking the band of his boxers but you stopped him before he shed them.

“Stop. Leave ‘em. Come here.” You pat the empty spot beside you.

He raised his brow but obeyed. He strode over and sat with a bounce, as you got up. Your turn to give him a show. Knowing he was already rock hard; he'd be eating out of the palm of your hand.

You stood a foot from him, almost between his thighs but not quite.

Your fingertips traced your own curves, reaching the hem of your shirt and slowly lifting it to reveal the red lacy bra that always drove him crazy.

“Fuck,” he sucked in a harsh breath. “Do you know what you do to me?”

He tried to grip your hips, but you batted his hands away.

“Nuh uh. You can look. Don't touch.”

He nodded and leant back, attempting to rub himself once more but you grabbed his wrist.

“No, you can't touch yourself either. Be a good boy for me.” You whispered, hand resting on his cheek. “Go ahead and lay back.”

He propped himself back against a couple of pillows, lacing his fingers behind his head, eyes never leaving you as you shimmed your skirt down your hips.

He whistles low, “look at my pretty girl. C’mere baby.” He says as he nods toward his lap. His cock now straining and tented in his boxers.

You saunter over, crawling up the bed slowly toward him.

You lifted yourself so you could straddle his waist, but not dropping your hips, so you were hovering over where he wanted your weight the most.

You move forward, pressing your still covered chest into his. Nose nudging slightly against his before your lips collide.

He brings his hands to your hips with a bruising grip, pushing you down on his cock while his hips shift to meet yours. Grinding, so desperately trying to find the friction you both wanted.

You moan into his mouth at the feeling, his length hitting your clit just right.

“That's it, sweet thing. Let me hear all those pretty noises.”

You lifted up slightly, tracing his jaw with your finger as you spoke.

“Here's what's going to happen tonight. I'm going to ride this handsome face, but” you tightened your hand as much around his throat as it would allow. “If you even think about touching yourself or cumming, I will cuff you and leave you aching and begging all night.”

“Fuck, Bunny. I'll do anything for my girl.” He said as his eyes linger on your lips.

“I'm going to put that mouth to good use.”

He quickly shifted you from his lap, nearly shoving you off the bed in the process. You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped from his show of eagerness.

He scooted down, into the bed allowing himself to be more flat against the pillow.

“C’mon baby, don't leave me waiting. Use me. Use my face. You know you want to.”

You slowly hooked the lace between your fingers and slid them down your thighs as he watched you intently, licking his lips. You flicked them toward him with a giggle. He easily caught them, laying them on the nightstand.

You crawl back over to him and straddle his chest as he pulls you closer, hands digging into the fat of your ass. You grip the headboard to keep from falling forward.

“Don't take it easy either baby, set that pretty ass down and ride my fuckin’ face.”

You nod and lift yourself; he groans once your bare, glistening pussy is on full display in front of him.

“Fuck Bunny, she's dripping already.” Your lips slightly parted, putting you more on display, as you pushed your hips further toward him. “Fuck, look at her.”

You get no warning before he wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you down atop his waiting mouth.

He licks a fat stripe from your sopping heat up to your clit. Finding your engorged nub easily, swirling his tongue. Your back arched into the feeling, grinding your hips down as you gripped the headboard tighter.

“Fuck, Gator.” You moaned out. You caught his eyes in between your thighs as he continued.

He was eating you like a man starved. Loving the taste of you on his tongue he could easily cum just from the taste and sight of you coming undone.

Laving his tongue between your entrance to your clit and back down. Savoring everything you'd give him.

It wasn't long before you felt that coil start to tighten. He was watching your face as best he could nestled between your thighs, as you began to scrunch your brows giving in to pleasure.

He took your clit in between his lips and sucked harshly, moaning around you from the way your body reacted to him.

“Baby, fuck!” You cried out, “Just like that.”

He didn't let up, tongue swirling, teeth scraping before sucking you in once more between his lips. You let go while screaming his name, blinded momentarily by the fireworks you swore were behind your eyes.

He sucked gently a few more times, before letting you grind your hips onto him as you came down from your high.

His grip loosened as you slid further down, sitting on his chest, as he started to sit himself back up. He donned a shit eating grin, your fluids slick on his mouth and chin.

You leaned over and fell into the mattress beside him, still trying to catch your breath. Chest heaving from the excursion.

Not giving you much of a reprieve, he started assaulting your neck with his mouth.

Trailing sticky kisses down, his saliva mixed with your juices, tracing your collar, sucking, then quickly soothing it with his tongue. Sure to leave fresh marks in their wake.

Slowly he moved lower, between your cleavage.

He suddenly pulled the fabric of your bra down, taking your already pebbled nipple into his mouth switching between sucking and biting.

You whined at the feeling, as your pussy began to once more throb with an ever-growing need.

His hand traced your stomach, just when you thought he was going to delve between your thighs, he removed his hand entirely.

You chanced a glance down, as he pulled his boxers out of the way and wrapped his hand around his cock. His perfect tip now red and angry, leaking a pearly bead from his slit that he gathered before easing his hand back down.

“Gator,” you say with a breathy exhale.

“Hmmmm?” He hummed without looking up, continuing his current ministrations to himself, while leaving hickies across your chest.

“What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself?” Your voice raspy.

He stopped, caught like a deer in headlights, he looked up at you with eyes nearly black. He knew what that tone meant.

“I'm sorry, Bun.” He grins.

“No, but you will be. Lay back and put your hands up, pretty boy.”

You had been waiting for the slip up. The moment he'd fuck up. He always did.

You stood, so he could make himself more comfortable, scooting back up into the bed, his head hitting the pillows as he raised both hands above his head.

“Gator, baby,” you slid the cool steel around one wrist and tightened it into place. “I think you enjoy this a little too much.”

He laughed out, as you clicked the other into place.

If anyone ever happened upon the set of cuffs left around the bed frame, they'd just assume he used them on you. He did some nights but they were mostly used on him. He got handsy, and sometimes you needed to teach him a lesson.

Once you were done, you started to ease your way down to his boxers. Fingers tiptoeing down his chest, his stomach until you reached the hem.

“This what you want, baby?” You teased.

He nodded, face flushed red, as he bit his bottom lip before finally answering, “Yeah. P… please.”

You eased the offending garment from his hips as he aided you by lifting and letting you guide them the rest of the way down his thighs before throwing them to the side.

His cock was sitting pretty, leaned against his abdomen.

His size never ceased to amaze you; thick, and long. Prominent veins running the length. He was perfect.

You eased back up toward him. Hands splayed on his thighs. Watching his cock flex from being so close to where he needed you.

Still wearing your bra, you finally removed it, as he let out a groan.

“Prettiest tits. How'd I get so lucky?” He hummed, mostly to himself.

You spread his thighs apart, seating yourself between them. He bucked slightly, as you heard the metal restraints hit the headboard. You eyed him playfully, but his eyes were already closed, fists clenched.

You lowered your mouth, as your tongue made contact with his shaft, he moaned out a pathetic whine, running it from base to tip. He threw his head back further into the pillows.

“This it baby? This what you need?”

“Mmmmhmmm.” He nodded, still not meeting your gaze. He was trying to stave off his release. This was about you right now.

Your mouth trailed kisses back down his length. Breathing in his heady, musky scent when you reached his balls.

You took one into your mouth, sucking lightly as your other hand teasingly kneaded the other.

“Oh fuck… shit shit shit.” His hips raised, dick bobbing with the motion, only spurring you further as you hummed around him.

“Bunny, baby, please.” He whined out.

You released him with a slight pop.

“Hmmmmm baby? Look at me and tell me what you need.” Your voice was syrupy sweet as you spoke, unlike the devilish way you were currently torturing him.

He already looked fucked out. His usually meticulous hair disheveled about. His lips parted, releasing shaky pants as he finally met your eyes.

“I…” he swallowed. “I need you to touch me. Fuck me.”

“That's it. Good boy.” You hummed your approval as your hand finally wrapped around his base, squeezing lightly.

“Goddamn,” he let out breathlessly, he pulled on his restraints once more to no avail.

You licked the dribble of precum leaking down the side of his head as he shuddered. Finally enveloping him in your warm, wet mouth taking him as far back as your throat would allow.

You began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks and pumping what you couldn't fit.

He was panting, letting out moans. His noises only make you more wet, suddenly your cunt is clenching around nothing, making you well aware of your own neglected desire.

His hips suddenly jerked up making you gag around him, taking him further down your throat.

“Fucking hell. I… I need to fuck you. I'm not going to last like this.” He choked out. “Please baby. I need my cock in that sweet little pussy.”

You pull off of him, still holding his base with a firm grip.

“Fine,” you sighed, climbing into his lap situating your bare cunt so you were straddling his cock, but you didn't move.

You leaned over pressing a kiss to his chest, reaching in between you as you lifted your hips and lined him up to your entrance.

You pressed another kiss to his cheek, “I'm going to put you out of your misery, but it's because my neglected cunt is throbbing right now, and don't you dare fucking cum until after I've had another.”

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah. Promise, just need you.”

You slowly lowered yourself onto him, only allowing the tip to breach, you moaned in unison at the small relief.

You then began the descent, taking each inch little by little feeling every ridge and vein as his cock filled you to the brim.

He soon bottomed out, as your hips settled flush to his. It had you moaning out again.

“Fuck baby, you're so big.” You were trying to give your pussy time to adjust but he snapped his hips up into you, ever impatient.

“Ow, fuck Gator!” you whined out, looking back down to him.

“Quit bein' a fuckin’ cock tease. Bounce Bunny!" He growled.

You raised your hips, obliging him. Alternating between bouncing and grinding.

Sounds of shared pants and moans mixed with your slick cunt filled the room.

“Yeah, mama. That's it. Use my cock. Take what you need. Is’ all yours.” He started blabbering, tuning out half of what he was saying.

“Shut up Gator!” You'd suddenly had enough of his mouth.

You reached over and found what you were looking for, shoving your wadded up panties past his lips. When your taste hit his tongue once more, he couldn't help from moaning around them as his eyes rolled back.

You continued to ride him just the way you both liked. Warmth blooming in your abdomen, but not quite what you needed.

Raising up so you could toy with your clit, you rubbed circles to your aching nub while still trying to maintain a rhythm as you close your eyes focusing on the feeling.

A few more rolls of your hips and well-orchestrated pressure to your bundle of nerves and you were teetering on the edge.

You were wound tight, as the sounds of Gator fighting the fabric still in his mouth started to be more apparent, but you pay it no mind.

You were tipping over the edge once more.

Harder than before, your pussy clenched around him. Almost strangling him, he let out a few more muffled moans, but you knew he hadn't cum.

You rode it out with a few more grinds, your clit now becoming too sensitive. Your body slumped forward, hands splayed out across his chest, as you tried to control your ragged breath.

He was finally able to spit the fabric out with a huff.

“Bunny, look at me.” He spoke.

When you didn't respond right away, he bucked his hips again making you falter, but it gained your attention as you met his eyes.

“Hey! Unlock the cuffs.” His eyes grew darker, he needed to fuck you. Make you fall apart beneath him.

“Now! Get the fuckin' key.” He hissed through gritted teeth.

He was done playing games. You let him slip from you, moving your shaky hand quickly to the side table pulling the drawer open and producing the key.

He watches your every move, eyes full of hunger. The key slid into the lock and unlatched easily. As soon as his wrists were free, he was on you.

He flipped you both easily, so you were now on your back. Knocking your thighs apart to accommodate him, grabbing your hips and pulling you further up he slid his cock back in with one swift push to the hilt.

“Oh… Fuck!” Your back arched, screaming his name as he pulled nearly all the way out only to push back in setting a near brutal pace in your now overstimulated cunt, his head kissing your cervix with each push.

He watched your tits bounce with every thrust, as his eyes slid lower watching his massive dick split you open over and over again. The sight of the creamy ring at the base of his cock from your juices was driving him mad.

Your eyes rolled back, as you fisted the sheets beneath your hands, trying to ground yourself.

He leaned forward, hand moving around your throat pinning you under him.

“Look at you, all dumb on my fuckin' cock. Mmmmm. You… you think it's funny teasin’ me all fuckin’ night?” He asked but knew you were too far gone to actually answer. He couldn't stop the words from spilling out.

“That's it, sweet thing, takin’ this cock so fuckin' well.” He thrusts harshly, making you cry out once more.

He pistons his hips up slightly, so he could abuse that spot inside you he knew would have you seeing stars in no time as you fluttered around him. He tightened his hold on your throat, cutting off your air slightly.

“That's it baby. She's practically sucking me back in now. You can give me one more, right?”

You whimpered.

Unsure if you could but when he started talking to you in that condescending tone and his cock shoved so far up your pussy you could practically feel him rearranging your insides, it really was only a matter of time.

“C’mon baby. Cum with me.” He was watching as your face started contorting, a mix of pain from overstimulation and pleasure. Your mouth fell slack, nothing but whimpers falling from your lips.

“I… I’m close, Bun,” his rhythm faltering slightly.

He raised up, removing his hand from your throat, as you gasped for the air you didn't know you were missing.

He brought his thumb down to your clit, drawing harsh circles.

“Gator, no…ugh... fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was too late. Your orgasm hit you like at full force. You hadn't even felt it building, it was just there.

Your pussy clamped down around him once more as you came with a scream.

“Shitshitshit. There… there she is.” He was able to mumble out as his own release came crashing down.

“Take it all mama. Every single drop. That's what you want, hmmmmm… Fuck… Make sure everyone knows your mine. No one will EVER fuckin' touch you again.”

He filled you, rope after rope painted you from within. He hadn't cum this hard in a long time. He felt like a man possessed, wanting nothing more than to claim you, breed you. Show everyone you were his.

He collapsed on top of you. Head laid on your chest.

You were both sweaty and spent but neither one cared as you both tried to slow your erratic breathing.

Soft pants, shared breaths. He stayed like that for a moment before his softening cock slid from you. He looked up at you then, a small smile and doe eyed.

He began to pepper kisses between your breasts. Lips skimming the various marks that he had left. Kissing the fading red splotches where his hand had been around your throat.

“These are the only kind of marks that are allowed be left on you." He whispered, easing up the rest of the way as he found your lips. You moved languid against each other, savoring the taste of his tongue on yours.

When he’d had his fill he rolled over beside you, pulling you with him.

You laid your head on his chest as he reached down to pull the covers over you both. His arm wrapped around your middle, holding you tightly as he kissed the top of your head.

“You got nothin’ to worry about Bunny. I'll take care of it. Take care of you. Promise.” He whispered, barely hearing him as you let sleep take hold.

You hadn't felt it when he slipped away while you were peacefully off in Dreamland.

Finally returning in the wee hours of the morning with dawn quickly approaching the mattress dipped with his weight as he crawled back in beside you.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back into his chest, as he hid his face in the crook of your neck breathing deeply and releasing a heavy sigh.

And when you both woke with the sun filtering through the curtains you didn't mention his bloodied and bruised knuckles that weren't there the night before.

And when Deputy Shelton hadn't shown up for work the next day or the entire following week, you didn't mention that either. It was none of your business.

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delicate-moon-princess · 2 years

Note

omg hi i was the one who asked about your masterlist , your blog looks SO PRETTY IM IN LOVE !!!! ❤️

also if your requests are open here's one from me , if not that's completely fine . For once I just want to see this big beefy bulky man losing control , like hes just full on railing the reader and the reader does not stop even after they've both come so he's very overstimulated . There's something about big dominant men shaking with pleasure im gonna go eat some grass now

Revenge

Summary: Henry is always pushing your body to the limit. So, you decide to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: 18+ RPF, smut, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, male sub vibes, dirty talk, ball squeezing, bodily fluids, hyperspermia (it gets a little filthy hehe)- Let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 1.4k

Any typos are my own!

A/N: Hi, nonnie! I’m so happy you like my blog 🥰 And thank you so much for the request! I’m stuck at home with covid and nothing to do but write so luckily I was able to get this out pretty quickly. Anywho, I present to you a very overstimulated Henry. I hope you enjoy, love you! ❤️

Your body was still buzzing after both of you had reached your climax. Henry groaned when your nails dug into his back, his hips slowing as he rode out his orgasm. Desperately, you let out a whimper and shook your head.

His cum was so hot inside of you, and it did nothing to extinguish the fire in your center. All it did was make it burn greater. You still needed more. He couldn’t stop now. No way.

“N-No, don’t stop.” You panted, trying to bring him closer when he went to pull away. “Again.”

“Again? Needy, are you?” Henry breathed, raising a brow with a grin. Although his refractory period was short, he hadn’t even pulled out of you yet. He needed a minute.

You two had been going for hours. The fact that he could make you so needy pleased him. He laughed, trying to catch his breath so he could continue

“Yes, again.” You grunted, narrowing your eyes while he grinned.

He knew the things he did to you. He knew the constant craving your body had for him. And he loved it. Sick of his triumphant smirk, you pushed him off you.

It was obvious he let you over power him. There was no other way you could have pushed him around. Henry fell onto his back beside you with a hearty laugh, watching as you moved to straddle him. He moaned when you gripped his still hard cock.

Dripping with his cum, you placed one hand over your pussy. This effectively trapped whatever threatened to escape your hole. His cum needed to be savored. You wanted him to double the load already inside you.

You slid down onto him without giving him a chance to recover. Both of you gasped. He went in nice and easy with all of his cum still inside you. You rested for a second, leaning your head back with a moan. When you looked back at him, it was your turn to smirk

“W-Wait…” He whispered, holding you still with his hands on your hips. It looked like he was still trying to recover.

“Sensitive?” You grinned impishly, earning a warning snarl in response.

Henry’s face twisted. His full lips parted and his brows furrowed. You knew he had forced the same expression on your face dozens of times before. When he kept going, despite your overstimulated body.

It was time for a little bit of revenge.

Once more, you started to grind on him with your hips. He squeezed your flesh while letting out a feeble moan. You returned his sound with your own whimper, your hands coming down to rest on his chest. Henry growled when you lightly tugged on his chest hair.

“Watch it.” He warned you, hissing through his teeth as his eyes still remained closed.

“How many times have you made me cum in one night?” You questioned him rhetorically as he groaned under his breath. The answer was a lot. “And you want to stop after just one?”

“It’s different with men.” He grunted at you, making you scoff a little.

“If you can’t handle it, just say so.” You giggled breathlessly, watching his face. His eyes snapped open at that, exactly like you thought they would.

Henry never backed down from a challenge. He lightly dug his nails into the skin of your ass as he growled.

“I can handle it.” He snarled.

Not willing to back down either, you smirked, “We’ll see. You won’t last long.”

His mouth dropped open when you clenched down onto him. Your pussy’s firm hold on him caused him to yelp. He didn’t seem so confident anymore. Although you could tell he wanted to argue, the vice grip you had on his cock prevented him from saying anything.

You began to bounce. Henry let out loud moans while laying under you. All he could do was hold onto you and let you ride him. So you rode him like your life depended on it.

He bottomed out inside of you each time you shoved yourself down onto his length. The little nubbin at the top of your slit scraped against the heated flesh of his shaft, causing you to gasp. Your walls pulsated around his throbbing dick.

By the way his jaw clenched and his eyes were pinched shut, it was obvious that all of his effort went into not cumming. However, you weren’t about to give up. He wasn’t going to outlast you.

You increased your effort tenfold. Your breasts swung back and forth as you bounced. You knew Henry would have drooled over them had he been looking.

His skin slapped against your own as you yanked yourself up and down his entire length. The loud moans you both let out almost rattled the windows.

When Henry started to shake, you knew you were winning this little battle. You slowed your hips to a grind and reached behind you to place your hand on his undercarriage. His eyes sprung open when he felt your touch on his balls.

You grinned proudly. As you gave his sack a gentle squeeze, you watched his expression. It made the big, beefy man whimper.

“Ah, fuck…” He hissed when you gave another squeeze, his back arching off the bed. He had to be aching by the way his balls swelled in your palm.

“These are just throbbing, puppy.” You cooed, teasing as your hips never stopped rolling. The nickname made a harsh tremble rip through him.

“Seems like you’re about ready to cum again. So soon, too…” Your other hand fell to his chest, grazing your thumb over his nipple. He jumped again with a low whine.

The sound only made you squeeze him again. His thighs were trembling, his muscles straining as he desperately tried not to cum. Still, he tried to outlast you. So stubborn. You knew how to break him.

Pausing for a split second, you rolled your lower half in the way you knew always made him weak. If you were being honest, it also made you weak. His tip grazed the most sensitive spot inside you repeatedly. It was enough to make you cry out loudly.

“You want to fill me up again? I can feel how bad you’re aching for it.” You gasped.

He loved it when you talked dirty with him. So you gave him filth.

“Can’t you feel all that cum still inside? Don’t you wanna bust another load in me, puppy? C’mon, do it. One more time, fill me up.” You panted, desperately trying to work both of your overstimulated bodies to climax.

Your dirty talk worked. With one loud howl, he emptied himself inside you. The sensation was enough to push you over the edge again. Your orgasm ripped through you right after his, making you fall forward onto his chest.

For the first time ever, you recovered before him. You listened to his pitiful whimpers. He shook violently under you as you slowed the winding of your hips. His hands frantically gripped at you, clinging to your form.

You looked at his face while resting your head on his shoulder. His skin dripped in sweat and brows were furrowed in what looked like pain. The mouthwatering pain of overstimulation, which he made you feel so many times before. It felt good being on the other side of the treatment.

Trailing your lips up and done his neck, you sweetly pulled him out of his orgasmic trance. Your lips softly smooched against his skin. You showed him the same affection he gave you after he worked your body to the limit.

Eventually, his heavy breathing slowed and he opened his eyes. You hummed when he groaned. He pressed his forehead against yours as he tried to recover. His breath tickled your lips, making you lazily kiss him.

“Revenge is so sweet.” You murmured with a smile, tracing his collarbone.

“You’re evil.” He huffed and chuckled as his hand rubbed your lower back.

“Yeah, but you love it.” You giggled, leaning back up.

Both of you hissed when he slipped out of you. Finally, his tender cock was able to begin softening. You stayed hovering over him for a moment, leaving your dripping pussy over his v-line.

Henry watched as his cum slipped out of you in thick dollops. He moaned when it dripped onto his flesh, looking up at you when you sighed softly.

“Look at the mess you made, puppy. Filthy boy.” You clicked your tongue, still on a power high from hearing him whine for you.

Your words made him twitch again, gearing up for yet another round. How could his body still not be satisfied? His eyes rolled back with a groan. It was going to be a long night.

A/N: I better go eat some grass after this one too 😅

Taglist: @sunshine-with-daisy @leigh70 @islacharlotte @lysarria @kebabgirl67 @pandaxnienke @identity2212 Credits: Divider- @firefly-graphics

#anon request #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #masterlist #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom

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oneshotnewbie · 1 year

Note

We need chapter V from Rabbit hole..... NOW! Please don't make us wait too long, I love this story so much! It is my favorite 😭🤧🥺

Authors note: It's a little bit short for my liking but the sixth chapter will be a bit longer for you, I promise ♥

⚠️Trigger warning!⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of torture, stabbing and blood. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

---

Olivia ran outside, back into the cold and the heavy rain. She stroked her damp hair furiously, a raindrop of which had fallen directly on her neck and made her jump slightly as she whipped out her cell phone and pulled all the units she needed for saving you towards her position.

Her stare lingered for endless seconds on a number, her heart screaming to not call it. But your life surpassed all doubts and with trembling and soaked fingers, she pressed the green handset of her display. The heavy tones echoed in her head and before she could even think about what to say, the person on the other end accepted the call.

"Stabler?" his voice was firm and direct, almost tense despite the crackling of the line and his footsteps in the background, presumably currently working on a case himself.

She coughed heavily, choking on the cold air that filled her lungs even before she managed to speak. The swift wind caught her in a flash and made her shudder. Same way as the worried and loud voice in her ear after she did not reply. "Liv? Liv, are you okay?!"

When the cold finally cleared her senses and calmed her troubled thoughts, she answered briefly in a shaky voice. "I need your help, you have to come here immediately. Y/n is in danger."

Olivia did not even wait for an answer from Elliot but quickly gave him your home address and hung up. She could not hold any sensible conversation now, she was too worried about your condition. The only thing enveloping in her head was a cloud of dark thoughts.

You were trapped. Tortured by a beast.

---

The quiet sounds of sniffling, followed by sobs that were held back and muffled from tears, escaped your mouth. The soles of your worn and bloodstained boots nervously tapping the parquet floor, waiting for the promised help.

Fear, you had learned, often had positive side effects if you experienced it often enough- it sharpened your senses. Olivia always remarked that if your ex husband ever harmed you again, he would be a dead man. As she said those very last words, something inside you relaxed and you knew she was going to use all the artillery to get you out of there. At least that is what the choice of words and the tone of her deep and angry voice told you.

You just had to survive those few hours.

A cold but hard punch brought your starved and giving up body back to reality. Blood splattered across your face and neck region, while your clothes were completely stained in blood from hours and days prior. "Did you listen to me, bitch? I do not believe that secret cop talk so what the fuck did your boss mean by that?"

You were exhausted beyond repair and needed sleep. But most of all you needed the unconditional love of your family and the warm embrace and comforting words from Olivia. These thoughts gave you the strength to keep going.

You knew that if you were not already sitting on the floor, your last strength would have left you at the very moment. But you fought against the overwhelming tiredness and gathered all the strength you could find. A mischievous grin spread thoughtlessly across your torn and slightly bluish tainted lips.

"Olivia Benson is the best in her field and has taken down far worse psychopaths than you. She saw right through you the moment you opened the door," you stated between dry coughs that made your lungs ignite like fire. "Your lousy game is over, Henry."

"No. No," nervously, he paced around the room, biting his fingernails before turning his head slightly your way, stopping dead in his tracks. His expression changed into a cool and almost deadly one. Wild fantasies rattled in his head and he looked around. You watched every movement as he entered your open kitchen and rummaged wildly in every compartment; searching for something.

His movements stopped not a minute later, a devilish grin spread across his wet lips that he licked over previously. Fear rose up in you. Panic. You knew that look to well and it meant nothing good. Much worse would await you than what you have had to live through in his power up to now.

A silver, single-edged knife flashed in his hand. The steel blade was between 9 and 15cm long, tapered to a point; producing smooth cut surfaces.

Henry came closer before standing in front of you, not losing his sadistic grin. The man you once cherished as a friend and lover- you were so stupid and naive. "You know, babygirl. When my life goes down the drain, so does yours," he said quietly, looking at you with deep, clear eyes; they steadily darkened like the black of night.

You groaned from the oncoming pain. How were you supposed to respond if you did not have a chance to change anything about the outcome of this day? "Go to hell!"

His free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing it while quickly lifting you to your feet. He drew the slightly rusted, jagged blade across your cheek in a straight cut. Blood spurted out immediately and you cried out in pain when his only answer was a cruel laugh.

Suddenly, the blade pierced your stomach. Then a second time. Your eyes opened wide, sucking in the air sharply. Your body was on fire. Aches and pains developing and chased through your body, that you never thought were possible.

There was no remorse or emotion on his face besides his smile, but his eyes radiated deep pleasure. The pain was indescribable, your screams died down to soft sobs. "Liv.." you breathed her name like it was the last thing escaping your lips forever.

"She will be late," he hissed happily, letting you fall back onto the floor.

Your blood dripped from the blade onto the already soiled ground. You looked back at his face one last time. It was darker and more terrifying than anything that existed before your head panted down to your stomach area. You saw a patch that was steadily expanding. First, it reminded you of an island on a map, then of a storm cloud spreading across your torn and soiled blouse.

"Farewell, sweetheart. It was fun playing with you," he said from the front door, where he was standing before he went through it and threw it close with a loud bang. He just left you laying in your own pool of blood.

Dying.

You stared at your hands, located on the floor beside your body, fingers that had started to tremble uncontrollably as the cold and creeping fear seeped through you. Groaning, you lay on the ground and struggled to breathe as another wave of pain swept through you. Your body cramped up. You were too weak to cry and too exhausted to keep fighting and scream.

You saw as if through a pane wet with rain, behind which the world blurred for you. Everything seemed crooked or oddly bulging and got worse with each second passing. Like a psychedelic caricature that fitted perfectly with the devastated present you would have to live in forever from now on. Or die if your frail body could not handle the constant loss of blood and you would not survive.

You closed your eyes, unsure if you would ever wake up again. You breathed loudly, faster but significantly shallower. The spasms left your limbs and you began to feel oblivious to the outside world. Relief filled your body, the piercing pain slowly fading into the back.

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mattmurdock42 · 6 months

Text

Henry Cavill X Female reader

Having sex after a long period not doing it

Teasing/ p in v/ oral (giving and receiving)/ +18

+- 1.2k

It was a rainy friday holiday, you and your husband, Henry, would spent the hole weekend at home, with no plans, but there was only one rule, you could not have sex or touch yourselves. You had this idea to see if you two could stand for a month and a half, and the challenge would end this sunday, at 21:30 pm. You two could not stare at each other for to long without being horny. You spent friday cooking for today and the next day, he spent fixing the computer. All you did togheter was having lunch and dinner, he would sleep on the couch, otherwise he wouldn´t get it. Saturday you spent the day on your office, reading and drawing at your tablet, bored about having nothing to do. He spent the day playing his videogames. Sunday arrived, it was his day of cooking, he loved to cook at sudays. As he slept on the couch, he slept without his shirt, so when you went to get breakfast, it was already 10 am, he was playing without his shirt, you stoped and looked at him, eating him with your eyes, feeling his gaze devour your body, and noticing he was having an erection. He covered and put his attention back at the tv. While you were aeting, you had the most exiting idea: you would tease him in every way possible. You finished and went to your office again, hearing the rain that didn´t stop all weekend. He made the lunch and you went to join him in the kitchen, but naked, only in your panties. You set on the table and he looked with big eyes at you.

Y/n: it´s such a beautiful day today, isn´t it?

You say as you tie down your hair, so it wouldn´t bother you while you ate.

Henry: yes, beautiful.

He says while he sighs looking at your bear brasts. You had a bright smile on your face. The whole lunch he avoided looking at you. After, you went to do the dishes. You noticed him staring at your ass from the couch. The teasing wouldn´t stop there, you were just begining. As you finished, you sat at his side on the couch and said:

Y/n: let´s watch a movie.

Henry: what do you wanna see?

Y/n: what do you thing about Womans at the sea?

He noded. In the middle of the movie you got closer to him and supported your head on his shoulder. You were sleepy, he was wide awake, you took a blanket and covered yourself. You ended up falling asleep. When the movie finished, he lied you on the couch and went to take a bath. When you woke up, he was on the bed reading a book you lended him. You take of your panties and stratch in front of him, you seeing his erection standing. You got in to the shower and took your time, when you got out, you saw him sleeping. You got dressed and went to your office. Night came, you two went to have dinner. The tension was obvious. You two were hopping for 21:30. You did the dishes and went to play the piano, at the entry of the hall. You played while he was watching tv. He loved to hear you play it. As 21:20 came, he started following you everywhere, like he was hunting you. As 21:27 came, you went to your bedroom, him right behind you. You sat on the bed and he right besides you, putting one hand on your thigh. You two stared at each other, just waiting.

When It turned 21:30, you looked at him and said

Y/n: what do you think about sex now ?

He laughed and pushed you to lie down, getting on top of you. He took your clothes and you took his. You kissed, you could feel his hunger. He put his thick hand between your thighs and started to massage your clit, making you even more wet. You'd let him dom. He sits on his knees and push your legs to your head and inserts a finger inside you.

Henry: Sorry, love, but i'm a little in a rush now, my cock os already hurting because of so much time in erection.

Before you could think about something, you feelt his dick coming inside, stretching you. After he pushed his hips a few times, his fingers started dancing on your clit, making you tight your vagina. After a while his fingers pressed more and you cum. Him cumming seconds after. He gets out of you and lie down on your side. He takes a breath and sits on the bed; he grabs your thighs and pushes you, still lied down, and put one leg on which side of his waist, you remained lied down.

Henry: don´t bother to get up, i´ll make you cum in a minute.

He starts licking your vagina and sucking it.

Henry: you don´t know how much i missed this taste and doing this. One thing it´s for sure, we are never doing that challenge again.

He gives an exceptional oral in your vagina making you cum. You stand up, knowing it´s his time. You kneel in front of him and puts his hard cock on your mouth, swallowing the most you could, gasping a little. After he gets his climax, you two lied down again, with your minds full of dirty things to do. You sat on his lap while he was still laying, leaning for a kiss followed by a hug. You two could not get enough from each other, but one thing was for sure, you had the whole night to recover from that recession period, and you were just starting the first rounds.

#henry cavill #superman #dc universe #henry cavill fanfiction #fanfiction #geralt of rivia #henry cavil husband #henry cavill canon #+18 content #henry cavill smut

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davidfarland · 3 months

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David Farland’s Writing Tips—Giving Readers Hope

Nearly every novel shows a character with a big conflict. Sometimes conflicts are so vast that the tale is overwhelming.

But readers must somehow muddle through those tough times, and what is going on in the reader’s life will affect how much they can handle in a novel. Is your reader’s mother dying from cancer? Did they put a beloved pet down this week? Is the reader out of a job? Those kinds of losses can make reading the dark passages of a novel difficult.

I saw a good illustration of this a few years ago. A woman who had gone through a divorce wrote a beautiful passage about the challenges her character was facing as she was dumped by her husband. Many of the class members loved it and found it so affecting that they broke into spontaneous applause—but two of the women were so devastated by the passage that they fled the room in tears. Both women had recently been through divorces.

Obviously, as writers we want to touch our readers deeply. We want to hold them through our books, even during the dark passages. How can we do this? Here are a few thoughts…

Heroism is a family trait. In ancient Greek theater, to be a hero you had to have heroic parents. In other words, the royals had trained the peasants properly by saying, “Not just anyone can do this.” But the trick still works today. This was handled nicely in J.J. Abram’s 2009 movie “Star Trek”. When a young Captain Kirk has his ship attacked by an angry Romulan, he heroically fights off his attackers just long enough so that his young wife and child can escape the ship, and then our hero gets blown up. Of course, the baby—James T. Kirk—is the one who returns and avenges the father some 25 years later.

Sure, the formula may be 3000 years old, but it still works.

The secret power. Does your character have a unique ability—Zorro’s mastery of swordplay, young Sheldon’s sharp wit, or Rocky Balboa’s ability to take a blow? Show it early in your story, and that will give the reader hope.

Borrowed glory. When young King Henry’s troops despair in Shakespeare’s “King Henry V,” he rouses them with a classic speech. Similarly, when Frodo Baggins is unable to go on seeking the Crack of Doom, his friend Sam Gamgee offers more private support.

If you have a character who must struggle, perhaps you can give them a support system—a father, mother, lover, friend, teacher, or priest—who provides an example of how to hold on to hope in dark times. Even teachings from the Bible, Muhammad, or some other source can help.

The early win. Your character is allowed to have victories, and even the smallest victory may signal hope. Let’s say you’ve got a character who is struggling to find a killer, but is coming up stumped. On a side note, for month’s she’s been trying to figure out how a mouse has been getting into her kitchen—and suddenly she discovers a tiny hole under the sink. Yeah, the mouse problem isn’t going to help her dodge bullets, but it does show that she has a fine mind and potential.

Light in dark times. Many heroes cling to a hope or a dream throughout their entire story. Maybe they dream of someday owning a fishing boat or a restaurant, but often hope comes in the form of “fairy gifts,” any gift given in dark times.

Lady Galadriel gave Frodo a vial of starlight to help him through dark times, for example. This “fairy gift” is very important in fantasy literature. It’s often an object—a sword, a ring, or other item that gives its wielder a bit of help. But I like Frodo’s light. He doesn’t pull it out and look at it often, but in a sense he does. Just before he travels into Mordor, he looks up and sees a star shining above the darkness. That moment of hope is one highpoint in the novel.

We see similar scenes over and over in Lord of the Rings as the hobbits meet up with unexpected friends or have a quiet meal. Each of those reinvigorates their spirit.

Indeed, there is one scene in the Two Towers where Gollum argues with himself about whether or not he should strangle the “nice hobbits” and take the ring—a scene where even an enemy shows the potential to become a friend.

But a fairy gift can be anything. It might be a $100 bill that dad gave his daughter before he was killed in a car wreck, and she saves it as much for sentimental value as something to help in an emergency. It might be a gun that is loaned to a character, or a telephone number for a powerful lawyer.

As authors, we need to try to figure out just how much darkness our readers can handle, and when it is called for, offer a bit of hope.

Of course, you’ll never get a perfect balance. You’ll always be too heart-wrenching for some readers and too much of a Pollyanna for others. I’m convinced that this is the sole reason that no one book can satisfy all readers.

For more on David Farland's Writing tips, visit https://mystorydoctor.com/writing-blog/

And you can also click here to get your David Farland Daily Meditations.

#writing help #writing advice #writing tips

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cleolinda · 1 year

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Varney the Vampire: Chapter 13

Chapter 12: 4900 words about paintings oh and also we shot a vampyre

This chapter is roughly 4300 words, and the only reason I haven't lost my will to blog is that I have a much shorter chapter to look forward to. Also, this one is incredible.

Chapter XIII.

THE OFFER FOR THE HALL. -- THE VISIT TO SIR FRANCIS VARNEY. -- THE STRANGE RESEMBLANCE. -- A DREADFUL SUGGESTION.

I. The morning after

The squad can't find hide nor hair of the vampyre outside on the estate grounds, except some blood outside the window where Flora shot him, which is not the most recent time he was shot (by Charles Holland) nor the first time he was shot (by Henry). Swiss cheese has fewer holes than this guy. :[

Flora's brothers, fiancé, and kind-of uncle try to tell her that her fiancé was just firing a warning shot, you know, through the glass of her bedroom window, as you do, and everything is fine. She does not believe it, "only sighed deeply, and wept." Beautiful day, though:

The birds sang their pleasant carols beneath the window. The sweet, deep-coloured autumnal sun shone upon all objects with a golden lustre; and to look abroad, upon the beaming face of nature, no one could for a moment suppose, except from sad experience, that there were such things as gloom, misery, and crime, upon the earth.

I quote this partly because I'm curious as to whether James Malcolm Rymer will forget that he said it's autumn.

II. Classism for some reason

A female servant brings Henry (Flora's elder brother and the head of the Bannerworth household, if you're just joining us) a letter. That's the only real important development here, but Rymer blows a few hundred words on a woman who is "one of these who were always armed at all points for a row, and she had no notion of concluding any engagement, of any character whatever, without some disturbance." All I see is a worker who "only comed here by the day" and wants her pay so she can be done with these people who keep shooting vampyres in the middle of the night:

"I can't stay in the family as is so familiar with all sorts o' ghostesses: I ain't used to such company."

"What does I mean!" said the woman, "why, sir, if it's all the same to you, I don't myself come of a wampyre family, and I don't choose to remain in a house where there is sich things encouraged. That's what I means, sir."

Listen, maybe "ghostesses" is an accurate rendition of a working-class dialect. I have no idea where in Britain this is supposed to be taking place; I've seen the v-to-w thing in many 1800s works, I don't know. All I know is, Rymer likes to ride this particular hobbyhorse as hard and often as possible, in an extremely condescending way, and he informs us that this woman is spoiling for a fight even as [footage not found]. This scene seems to mostly be a comic interlude that portrays Henry as a put-upon saint. However, there is a major character coming up who talks like this 24/7, and Rymer clearly loves him, and I seem to remember that I kind of did too. It's an aspect to keep an eye on.

III. The letter

Now, remember, way back in the sixth chapter, the Bannerworth family was fielding an offer from some unnamed rando, through their solicitor, to buy Bannerworth Hall. Having been rebuffed then, he's back with a direct offer. As it turns out, he's also the new neighbor who committed the grave faux pas of, uh, expressing sympathy. The letter, which I reproduce here in full, says:

Dear Sir, As a neighbour, by purchase of an estate contiguous to your own, I am quite sure you have excused, and taken in good part, the cordial offer I made to you of friendship and service some short time since; but now, in addressing to you a distinct proposition, I trust I shall meet with an indulgent consideration, whether such a proposition be accordant with your views or not. What I have heard from common report induces me to believe that Bannerworth Hall cannot be a desirable residence for yourself, or your amiable sister. If I am right in that conjecture, and you have any serious thought of leaving the place, I would earnestly recommend you, as one having some experience in such descriptions of property, to sell it at once. Now the proposition with which I conclude this letter is, I know, of a character to make you doubt the disinterestedness of such advice; but that it is disinterested, nevertheless, is a fact of which I can assure my own heart, and of which I beg to assure you. I propose, then, should you, upon consideration, decide upon such a course of proceeding, to purchase of you the Hall. I do not ask for a bargain on account of any extraneous circumstances which may at the present time depreciate the value of the property, but I am willing to give a fair price for it. Under these circumstances, I trust, sir, that you will give a kindly consideration to my offer, and even if you reject it, I hope that, as neighbours, we may live on in peace and amity, and in the interchange of those good offices which should subsist between us. Awaiting your reply, Believe me to be, dear sir, Your very obedient servant, FRANCIS VARNEY.

ah shit y'all let's fucking GOOOOOO

Clasping his hands, then, behind his back, a favourite attitude of his when he was in deep contemplation, [Henry] paced to and fro in the garden for some time in deep thought. "How strange," he muttered. "It seems that every circumstance combines to induce me to leave my old ancestral home. It appears as if everything now that happened had that direct tendency. What can be the meaning of all this?"

There's a 1935 Bela Lugosi film called Mark of the Vampire that has an off-brand Dracula ("Count Mora") and his spooky daughter who (spoiler!) are actually actors hired to smoke out a murderer. (It was made only four years after Dracula, and with the same director, which really shores up the assumption that this will only be more of the same, just with the serial numbers filed off. It's very effective.) And this is what I thought of around this point in Varney, because Henry, more than once, will lead us to ask whether the vampyre attacks are just a hoax to force the Bannerworths to sell their ancestral home to an interested party. Maybe a relative of some sort, based on his resemblance to the family portrait, wants to get the Hall for himself. And on one hand, yes, the family is being constantly harassed by someone, a person who is earthly enough that they can't make a clean getaway over a wall, and the situation is now untenable.

On the other hand, you are asking me to believe that some mundane person coveting this mansion is so committed to the bit that he would actually bite Flora, leaving her and everything else covered in blood—we witnessed this happen. We were told that he had "fangs," not normal, scheming house-buyer teeth. Within the story, this happened. You are telling me that he would be willing to get shot, in the 1800s before surgeons even washed their hands—three? four? times now. He somehow vanishes instantly every time he's playing ghost at Charles Holland's door or getting capped outside a window. You are telling me that some normal mortal dude could or would do all of this?

Of course, it could be a little bit of both: an actual vampyre running a harassment campaign. Rymer really likes to play both—all—potential sides of a situation, and I can't tell if he just forgets that he absolutely made clear that Varney is a real vampire, or he just wants to run off with a particular idea right now and that's what we're doing. What're you gonna do, go find the penny paper from three months ago and check? It reminds me a lot of playing with my nephew—just making it up as you go along, going with whatever idea will keep a young child engaged, and he's in kindergarten, so who cares if it makes sense? Maybe the six-year-olds Rymer knew just had far more expansive vocabularies.

IV. Considering the offer

Whatever may truly be going on, Henry asks his sort-of-uncle Mr. Marchdale what he should do, and Marchdale comes up with some surprisingly practical advice: why don't you just rent the Hall to this rando for a year and see how it goes?

"Ay, and it might, with very great promise and candour, be proposed to this very gentleman, Sir Francis Varney, to take it for one year, to see how he likes it before becoming the possessor of it. Then if he found himself tormented by the vampyre, he need not complete the purchase, or if you found that the apparition followed you from hence, you might yourself return, feeling that perhaps here, in the spots familiar to your youth, you might be most happy, even under such circumstances as at present oppress you." "Most happy!" ejaculated Henry. "Perhaps I should not have used that word."

POINTS:

"Ejaculate" was a common synonym for "exclaim"; you see it frequently throughout older books. This is standard and unremarkable.

The word Marchdale should not have used is "happy."

No. No, you should not have used that word.

lmao

Henry then confers with his family, which is a considerate thing for a Head of the Household to do; we don't really hear anyone's opinion but Flora's, and she admits that she wants to get the fuck out of their beloved childhood home ASAP, as well she might, being the one who actually gets attacked. Henry is sad that she never mentioned this before; Flora says that she's hardly had any time to think, and also, she knows how much Henry loves the Hall. I don't know if Rymer just wanted some comic relief/space filler earlier, or if he intentionally had that incident with the unnamed servant to show how obliging and saintly Flora is in comparison. Love yourself for once, Flora, I'm putting that into the universe for you.

V. Interview with the vampyre

So now, Henry and Marchdale spend hundreds of words trooping out to the grand estate recently purchased by the neighbor they haven't met yet, one Sir Francis Varney. A servant bids them enter over the course of several sentences, until finally,

Henry and Marchdale followed the man up a flight of stone stairs, and then they were conducted through a large apartment into a smaller one. There was very little light in this small room; but at the moment of their entrance a tall man, who was seated, rose, and, touching the spring of a blind that was to the window, it was up in a moment, admitting a broad glare of light. A cry of surprise, mingled with terror, came from Henry Bannerworth's lips. The original of the portrait on the panel stood before him! There was the lofty stature, the long, sallow face, the slightly projecting teeth, the dark, lustrous, although somewhat sombre eyes; the expression of the features all were alike.

CHAPTER ONE:

The figure turns half round, and the light falls upon its face. It is perfectly white -- perfectly bloodless. The eyes look like polished tin; the lips are drawn back, and the principal feature next to those dreadful eyes is the teeth -- the fearful looking teeth projecting like those of some wild animal, hideously, glaringly white, and fang-like. [...] The glance of a serpent could not have produced a greater effect upon her than did the fixed gaze of those awful, metallic-looking eyes that were bent down on her face.

CHAPTER NOW:

"Are you unwell, sir?" said Sir Francis Varney, in soft, mellow accents, as he handed a chair to the bewildered Henry. "God of Heaven!" said Henry; "how like!" "You seem surprised, sir. Have you ever seen me before?"

I love this chapter so much. So much. The absolute balls on this guy. Bear with me for a moment:

As harrowing as The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is (I'm not going to mention anything graphic), there is exactly one thing I took away from the 2011 David Fincher adaptation, and it is this: the horrible torturey killer says to the hero, while they are quietly staring at each other in the killer's kitchen, both knowing that the killer is the killer,

Let me ask you something. Why don't people trust their instincts? They sense something is wrong, someone is walking too close behind them... You knew something was wrong but you came back into the house. Did I force you, did I drag you in? No. All I had to do was offer you a drink. It's hard to believe that the fear of offending can be stronger than the fear of pain. But you know what? It is.

The realness of this statement just blew my fucking mind when I first saw this movie, because I am extremely that over-polite person, but horror/suspense so rarely comes out and just says, pay attention to the danger, the harm, that you are inflicting on yourself. I don't mean in a victim-blaming way; I mean, artistically acknowledging the horror of watching yourself act in ways you know you don't want to act, because the machinery of politeness seems that much more important. You are just as much caught in society's jaws as you are in the monster's.

And what's so incredible about this moment in the movie is that it's not us sitting in the audience screaming at Daniel Craig to NOTICE!! that the killer is behind him. No, he's perfectly aware. He followed him in. With the exact same stomach-twisting reluctance I have personally felt before, and maybe you have too, he feels like he has to be polite on the off chance that somehow, he might be wrong about this guy. It's the horror of the way "good manners" make you gaslight yourself.

I used to point out that People in Dracula Don't Know They're in Dracula, particularly regarding the early Jonathan Harker chapters—his behavior seems oddly complacent if you think he ought to realize he's in a horror movie. Of course he doesn't—the name "Dracula" means nothing to him; it doesn't sound weird or scary. Who, in a modern age of timetables and trains, could possibly believe that some guy would be a vampire? We are rational people these days, we are logical, we know better than that.

What if you did know you were in Dracula?

What if you knew a vampire was handing you a drink but you felt like you had to be polite?

"God of Heaven!" said Henry; "how like!" "You seem surprised, sir. Have you ever seen me before?" Sir Francis drew himself up to his full height, and cast a strange glance upon Henry, whose eyes were rivetted upon his face, as if with a species of fascination which he could not resist. "Marchdale," Henry gasped; "Marchdale, my friend, Marchdale. I -- I am surely mad." "Hush! be calm," whispered Marchdale. "Calm -- calm -- can you not see? Marchdale, is this a dream? Look -- look -- oh! look." "For God's sake, Henry, compose yourself."

Henry is melting the fuck down, and Varney is just standing there like, "What." "You're a vampyre!!!" "No." And there's Marchdale like, "Henry, you can't just ask people why they're vampyres."

Henry sunk into the chair which was near him, and he trembled violently. The rush of painful thoughts and conjectures that came through his mind was enough to make any one tremble. "Is this the vampyre?" was the horrible question that seemed impressed upon his very brain, in letters of flame. "Is this the vampyre?" "Are you better, sir?" said Sir Francis Varney, in his bland, musical voice. "Shall I order refreshment for you?"

"All I had to do was offer you a drink."

"No no," gasped Henry; "for the love of truth tell me! Is is your name really Varney?"

Sir Francis Varney avers that it truly is his name, and not Runnagate "Oh, Why Not" Marmaduke von Spookyportrait Bannerworth I, with such pride that I went and looked up if "Varney" has any special historical background. It, uh, doesn't. Per ancestry.com, it means "from the alder grove":

English: of Norman origin a habitational name from a French place called Vernay probably chiefly Saint-Paul-du-Vernay (Calvados). The placename comes from a derivative of Gaulish verno- ‘alder’ + the locative suffix -acum.

File that away in case alders or Norman apple brandy come up later, I guess. Meanwhile, Henry is saying straight to Varney's face, "I can't stand the sight of you because something really terrible just happened to my family. Something keeps happening. SOMEONE."

"A vampyre, I have heard," said Sir Francis Varney, with a bland, and almost beautiful smile, which displayed his white, glistening teeth to perfection.

"Nay, Henry," whispered Mr. Marchdale, "it is scarcely civil to tell Sir Francis to his face, that he resembles a vampyre."

"[You] so much resemble the vampyre," added Henry, "that that I know not what to think."

"Is it possible?" said Varney. "It is a damning fact." "Well, it's unfortunate for me, I presume?"

This fucking guy, I love it. But then Varney winces with pain: he apparently hurt his arm at... some point in time, because... reasons.

"A hurt?" said Henry. "Yes, Mr. Bannerworth." "A -- a wound?"

How did u come by that tho

"Oh, yes. A slight fall."

Over a wall, several times, maybe? Or one of the three times we shot you?

"We never know a moment when, from some most trifling cause, we may receive some serious bodily hurt. How true it is, Mr. Bannerworth, that in the midst of life we are in death." "And equally true, perhaps," said Henry, "that in the midst of death there may be found a horrible life."

I'm impressed that Rymer does not inflate the word count with a long staring contest, because they're absolutely having one right now.

"Well, I should not wonder. There are really so many strange things in this world, that I have left off wondering at anything now."

I love that I can thoroughly picture every single expression and intonation that's got to be happening. Obviously I do not love Francis Varney as a person, but he just emerges as this slippery, deadpan, fully-formed antagonist. And what makes it even better is if you imagine it's this guy who keeps flopping off a wall, over and over.

But what about Bannerworth Hall, isn't that why we're here? Well, Sir Francis wishes to buy it. Oh, are you attached to it, asks Henry, as if from LONG AGO? LIKE REALLY LONG AGO? Oh, not too long, Varney says coolly, but the Hall seems pretty chill. And "amazingly well wooded, which, to one of rather a romantic temperament like myself, is always an additional charm to a place." Henry informs him that he (Henry) was born there, and his ANCESTORS have lived there for CENTURIES. But the Hall has crumbled a bit over the last hundred years—hey, I bet you HATE being a VAMPYRE, HUH?

"No doubt it has. A hundred years is a tolerable long space of time, you know" [said Varney]. "It is, indeed. Oh, how any human life which is spun out to such an extent, must lose its charms, by losing all its fondest and dearest associations." "Ah, how true," said Sir Francis Varney.

The servant then returns with "wine and refreshments." In the middle of trying to google why vampires started not liking wine at some point, I discovered a Medium article explaining that vampire dot com is somehow not a White Wolf site but rather a winery, and they tried to sue FUCKING APPLEBEES over a $1 "vampire cocktail" on COPYRIGHT GROUNDS. Can you fucking imagine. "Vampire Wines has rights to 'vampire' and 'Dracula' wine branding." Get the fuck out of here. No you see legally they can reserve a generic term hundreds of years old in a wine context and—well they should feel bad about it, then. Also, "the company has filed similar suits against Taco Bell for its vampire-themed burrito," which is certainly a combination of words I've never heard before.

I want to note that this Medium article on vampire alcohol nuisance lawsuits also takes the time to say, "Vampires even made their way into popular literature through penny dreadful series like Varney the Vampire, a pulp fiction serial produced so hastily that new stories would often contradict previous Varney episodes." So I'm not imagining it, then! Wheeeee.

This episode actually ends abruptly on the appearance of noms, so we do not find out at this time whether Varney drinks............ wine or not. That's where we'll pick up next time.

Varney the Vampire masterpost

#vampires #varney the vampire #vampire studies #people in dracula don't know they're in dracula #vampire alcohol #vampire burrito #the girl with the dragon tattoo (not graphic)#mark of the vampire #horror tropes #long post

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conradrasputin · 4 months

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Jo, I just woke up before work and you're being so good to me indulging in this, even with my insistence on verse pleasures ❤️😭😭😭❤️

I had a feeling about the old bat from the movie, and to this version of the au, it tickles me that Coriolanus was ravished by Henry way before wedding night just for a plate of fresh fish on the table 🙏

Now pre me reading book, how valid is v*rgin Coriolanus? I'm making him one for Henry either way, but I wonder if he canonically 'f*cks', you know?

Also it's one of my faaaaav tropes that the bulky/hairy 'bride' is the one ravaging the supposed master's hole , and people know it🙏🙏 Plus that hairy flips is just so 🥵 to me. The first 69 where he noisily enjoys swallowing Coryo's huge piece down his throat while Coryo is getting gagged to kingdom come from Henry's even BIGGER piece, with all the spit running down his face and into his hair is 😩🥵🥵🥵😩

#henryxcoriolanus #panickcontent

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heartofstanding · 3 months

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One of the many things I love about writing Henry POV is how his subconscious is just... completely fucked in a way that manages surprises me. Case in point, he started imagining how Mary would react to what he considers to be the Hal's Face Hole Problem (that is, how people are going to judge Hal once they see his scar) and ended imagining she'd dump his arse over it:

Why do you need to manage Harry, he imagines Mary saying, her small body tucked against him, why must he be managed? You don’t understand, he would tell her, you don’t know what it’s like to rule a kingdom, to be seen and judged. You don’t know how men would see me – see him – once they know how his face (your face, he wears your face) has been marked out. It’s a stain, a blot – people will read him by its mark. We must prepare for that. Mary would bristle, pull away from him. She would take herself from his bed and go to Harry.

#fic excerpts #henry v's face hole #poor henry even his brain is like 'oh boy you're getting divorced for that mister'#the fun things about henry's squeamishness and judgemental thoughts around hal's face hole #are 1) he's also thinking about how it reflects on HIM; 2) his own latent guilt over hal's injury and his 'abandonment' of hal #and 3) that *henry* is going to develop a disfiguring skin condition that affects his face #so he's saying these things about hal that will be said about him #text posts #fic talk

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echotrinityme · 2 years

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Choose Me, Henry Chapter 4: Rupert’s and Henry’s Bonding Time

A/N: Not in a sexual way, you naughty stickboys and stickgirls.

Henry was sitting by himself at a clearing staring at his cybernetic arm, he had dried tear streaks on his face, and his eyes were puffy. He eyes were also shadowed, he has been having nightmares lately, and he was not happy about it. The nightmares were about Reginald betraying him and leaving him for dead. Dr. V tried to diagnosis him with PTSD or depression but he wouldn't let her. He didn't want to seem...mental.

He sighed as he felt a headache brewing, he rubbed his temples to try to sooth his headache, he sighed again when he heard some rustling in the bushes. He glanced at the source and he was on guard. He was about to turn his robot arm into a sword when a tiny hedgehog came out of the bushes, Henry blinked as he breath a sigh of relief, he stared at the hedgehog as he sat down.

"Wow. I almost killed a hedgehog...what the hell is wrong with me?" he thought bitterly.

The hedgehog looked around for a moment until their eyes landed on Henry, the hedgehog used their small feet to make their way towards Henry. The hedgehog was now near his boots, Henry stared at the hedgehog curiously as the little animal started to sniff his boots and then try to get into the hole of his pants. Henry blinked for a second but he chuckled in amusement at the hedgehog.

The hedgehog fell onto the ground with a frustrated chitter, Henry giggle at the animal as he held out his human hand. The hedgehog sniff his hand for a little bit then the creature lick one of his fingers. Henry smile slightly as he saw the hedgehog started to lick his back. "What are you doing?" he asked.

The hedgehog stopped licking themselves and started to crawl on top of Henry's hand. Henry held the animal in his hand as he took a closer look, he uses one of his cybernetic fingers to pet the hedgehog. The hedgehog closes his eyes in content at being petted. "You are so adorable." Henry said as he continue petting the animal.

For right now, Henry was happy.

Rupert Price was walking around the base, looking for Henry, he needed to talk to him. After Dave's r-lecture, Rupert had a lot to think about. He hated to admit it, but Dave was right. He can't spend the rest of his life hating Henry. Besides, holding a grudge against him isn't healthy. Rupert growl when he couldn't find Henry, "Where the fuck is he!?" he thought angrily.

He didn't leave the base to go into town cause he would have been alerted, and Henry was not allowed to leave the base unless he's with an escort. So where is he?

Rupert went to a clearing and saw a familiar person with his back turn, it was Henry! Rupert was glad he was able to find him but why is he here? Rupert wanted to head over there, however, he didn't want to disturb him. Rupert didn't have any choice as he went over to him, Henry didn't seem to notice him.

Rupert cleared his throat, "Uh...Henry?" he said gingerly.

Henry froze and then turn around to see Rupert staring at him. Henry's happy mood disappear as he sighed, Rupert saw Henry was holding a hedgehog. "Hey Rupert." he said annoyed. "What do you want?"

Rupert blinked, "I came...to talk to you." he replied.

"About what?" Henry asked suspiciously.

"Uh...I...um...it's about..." Rupert replied as he stuttered.

Henry stared at Rupert whom was struggling to talk, he raised an eyebrow at him, he kept petting the hedgehog. After a few minutes of Rupert struggling to talk, Henry got really annoyed. "Well? What do you want?" he asked annoyed.

"Arrrgh! You're insufferable, I just want to talk to you." Rupert replied angrily.

"Like I asked before, about what?"

"About...me bullying you."

Rupert's face went scarlet as soon he admitted those words, Henry's mind went blank upon hearing Rupert's answer, there was a tense silence after that. Rupert rubbed his arm awkwardly as Henry glanced down at the hedgehog. Rupert was about to say something when he heard a cold laugh coming from Henry. He saw Henry stand up and went up to Rupert.

"Really? Why? You and Charles singled me out like if I was scum on the earth." Henry said coldly. "You and Charles treat me like shit even though I'm trying to redeem myself."

Rupert saw Henry trembling as he put the hedgehog down, the hedgehog was chittering at him like they were sensing his distress, Rupert took a closer look and saw Henry was sobbing. Rupert wanted to say something but was interrupted by him, "Do you know what's it like to be bullied?" Henry asked sharply.

Rupert froze at that question.

Yes. He does know what's it like to be bullied, he knows a lot about being bullied.

He remember after his mom abandoned him, he started getting bullied. It was kids taunting him about his missing mom, his dad being a police officer cause most of the kids had parents that were "bad" people, and him defending himself.

He tried to tell his dad, but his dad didn't care. Rodney Price was the worst dad he ever had and he was glad he got away from him after he graduated high school.

"Hey! I asked you a question!" Henry said angrily, snapping Rupert out of his thoughts.

Rupert shook his head, he saw Henry's tears streaming down his cheeks. Before Henry could say something again, he heard Rupert say "Yes. I do know what it's like to be bullied."

Henry blinked at Rupert while he was catching his breath. After a couple of minutes, he just stared at Rupert. "W-What?" he murmured.

Rupert nodded, "I said I know what it's like to be bullied." he said softly.

"You do?" Henry questioned.

Rupert nodded again, Henry turn away from him. "How?"

Rupert close his eyes as he took in a deep breath and open his eyes as he exhaled. "When I was young, I got bullied a lot." he started. "I got bullied to the point, like you, I fought back."

Henry was listening to Rupert's story then he glanced at Rupert, "Why'd you get bullied?" he questioned quietly.

Rupert stared down at the ground and look up at Henry, "I rather not say." he muttered.

Henry nodded in understanding, he wanted to know why but he didn't want to invade Rupert's privacy. However...that doesn't excuse what Rupert has done to Henry.

"Now I know what I just said doesn't excuse the bullying." Rupert continued as he sighed heavily. "But I'm here now and I want to apologize for everything."

Henry was shock upon Rupert admitting he wants to apologize, he titled his head at Rupert. "How do I know I can trust you?" he said lowly. "A simple sorry won't fix what you have done to me. You need to earn my trust, Rupert."

"Yeah I know..." Rupert murmured.

Henry pinch the bridges of his nose as a migraine came into his head, he sat back down and pick up the hedgehog that was still there. Henry looked up at Rupert and motion him to sit down next to him, Rupert did as he was told. Rupert sat next to Henry whom was holding the hedgehog.

There was now a peaceful silence, Rupert and Henry watched the hedgehog lay on its back. Henry gently rub their belly with his thumb, Rupert was amazed that Henry, a former criminal, can be gentle with an animal. "So...what's the hedgehog's name?" Rupert asked, breaking the silence.

Henry looked at him and he smiled as he held up the hedgehog, "I decided to name him Harry. Harry the hedgehog."

"Nice. It's a good name." Rupert said as he looked out at the clearing.

Rupert and Henry spent the rest of the day just hanging out and getting to know each.

#thehenrystickmincollection #the henry stickmin collection #henry stickmin #rupert price #thsc #thsc henry stickmin #thsc rupert price #revenged #revenged timeline #post revenged timeline

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newty · 5 months

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more wwi au

flipping back to my henry scott tuke beach date agenda, i think dion would fling a copy of some guillaume apollinaire poems into the water bc the calligrams made him mad. he rly wanted to like the book bc he pulled it out of a bombed house but no theres a weird eiffel tower poem

terence wakes up and kihel is sewing a hole in the shirt he is literally still wearing. he has no choice but to lay there while she pokes him w her needle and tries to close up all the places the shirt was singed by the machine gun

harpocrates trying to wind his pocket watch but the numbers are a little too small for his eyesight, so dion tries to do it for him but discovers that the thing is from hell and broken in a bunch of ways. but he cant disappoint the old man so for a min he's calculating the distance to fly to paris

terence knowing the position of like one (1) constellation and dion violently being like 'is2g if u show some kind of aptitude for star navigation and they put u on an aircraft carrier i am NOT joining u on the boat goodbye' [reviews maritime practices anyway]

one way radio long term panic aside, i also want short term 'oh fuck dion flew into a cloud and idk if its bc hes cocky or hes hiding and smths wrong or or or'

dion trying to be v patient: yes hi kihel can u stop using the propellers of my warplane to slice apples bc its funny. i know its kinda funny but also its making my face twitch bc u could hurt urself and are probably breaking some kind of military law for touching it

#tiny girl and old man have jobs #and those jobs are to inconvenience bog bad military men #in the most affectionate ways #brihamut's mercy #tedi wwi au

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angelayan183 · 1 year

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#IFTTT #YouTube

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davidfarland · 10 months

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David Farland’s Writing Tips—Giving Readers Hope

Nearly every novel shows a character with a big conflict. Sometimes conflicts are so vast that the tale is overwhelming.

Obviously, as writers we want to touch our readers deeply. We want to hold them through our books, even during the dark passages. How can we do this? Here are a few thoughts…

Sure, the formula may be 3000 years old, but it still works.

We see similar scenes over and over in Lord of the Rings as the hobbits meet up with unexpected friends or have a quiet meal. Each of those reinvigorates their spirit.

As authors, we need to try to figure out just how much darkness our readers can handle, and when it is called for, offer a bit of hope.

For more on David Farland's Writing tips, visit https://mystorydoctor.com/writing-blog/

And you can also click here to get your David Farland Daily Meditations.

#writing help #writing tips #writing advice

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scriptstrust · 2 years

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U.k. france once more breach

#U.K. FRANCE ONCE MORE BREACH DRIVER#

The attackers enter into unknown terrain and are weakened to a single man or a few men instead of having safety in their numbers. It is a narrow, single point, which makes it easy for the defenders to defeat one or several attackers at a time. But it is very risky for the enemy to traverse the breach. It represents a breakdown in defense, a weak spot which allows the enemy to get in. This breach is a very dangerous place for both the defending and attacking army. And a “breach” is a hole in a fortification or wall. “Unto” implies an action or going forward. As I considered this quote and why it was resonating so powerfully in my mind that it touched my soul, several things occurred to me. In Henry V, King Henry gives a speech to encourage his soldiers as they launch an attack on a breach in the wall. There’s no doubt that this is a war analogy. “Once more unto the breach, my friends.” I thought it was a Winston Churchill quote but…it’s Shakespeare! To be fair, Churchill was a Shakespeare/ Henry V fan and his greatest inspirational speeches are traced back to this theme: in the face of overwhelming odds don’t give up, keep fighting, have courage. I searched many quotations looking for the right words and couldn’t find what I was looking for until these words popped into my head one Saturday morning as I watched The Crown with my sick husband. For some time, I have felt called to reach out to mothers of teens to speak encouragement, breathe life and bolster courage in their hearts, and mine. CiRCE Fall Conference - The Face of God.The Four Elements of Classical Education.A Brief Introduction to Classical Education.The Gathering Place (Apprentices & Mentors).|a Exported from Connexion by Eagle Valley and loaded with m2btab.b in 2019. Rhys must unravel the mystery of his son's wartime actions in the desperate hope of finding him before it's too late to mend the frayed bond between them. A relentless enemy stalks him across the country and will stop at nothing to find the young man first. But Rhys is not the only one searching for his son. In a race against time and the war, Rhys follows his son's trail from Paris to the perilous streets of Vichy to the starving mobs in Lyon to the treacherous Alps. Rhys is haunted by memories of previous battles and hampered at every turn by danger and betrayal.

#U.K. FRANCE ONCE MORE BREACH DRIVER#

#U.k. france once more breach

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agirlcandream84 · 2 years

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Ragdoll | Dark August Walker Smut One-Shot

Apparently I’m on a Henry Cavill kick. This one is dark and has some Daddy kink in it so steer clear if that’s not your thing. It’s rough and could be interpreted as dubcon. Fair warning to anyone who finds that triggering. I understand that this fic might not be everyone’s thing.

Dark August Walker x reader (written inclusively)

Word Count: 1,496

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Minors DNI. Smut, Dub con, Daddy kink, degradation, female masturbation, p in v, anal, spanking, sub/dom

You promised you wouldn’t-- it was a rule after all-- but as you scrolled through your camera roll, you felt your body ignite with desire. Picture after picture of August’s behemoth cock, sent to you from afar with a promise of destroying you when he returned. You had waited 10 days, 10 LONG days, but were near breaking. If August ever found out he’d be livid. You weren’t to touch yourself in his absence-- Daddy didn’t like that-- but he would never know.

You settled into the bed, shimmying your panties off and removing your t-shirt, your breasts already free from a bra (that was another rule, no bras in the house). You started rubbing your tender clit in small circles with your manicured finger. It was achey from throbbing and the pressure was an instant release. It only took moments for familiar pressure to build but you were desperate to be filled. You kept a dildo, one that reminded you of August, tucked under the corner of the mattress but never actually used it. It was one thing to touch yourself while he was away, it was another thing entirely for anyone- or anything- to fill you up while he was gone. You shuddered at imagining his reaction if he ever found out.

You reached for the dildo with trepidation, almost pausing to return it to its hiding spot but you were nearly whimpering with need. Against your better judgement, you slide the dildo into your weeping hole, clenching it instantly and imagining August. You find a rhythm, one you’d been craving since the moment he walked out the door ten days ago, as your face grows flushed and you begin to make a mess on the bed.

August was meant to return in 3 more days but he cut the trip short when his business contact proved to be useless. He had duties at home and grew frustrated at the fruitless trip. His blood was near boiling by the time his long plane ride concluded and he wearily climbed the front steps to the immense home where he kept his princess.

It was instant. The familiar sound of your moan from upstairs. His eyes shoot to the stairs and the tips of ears grow flame red with rage. This was forbidden - his princess touching herself in his absence. After that fucking useless trip. After that fucking long flight. He comes home to find disobedience. He drops his bags where he’s standing and makes for the stairs, a controlled and menacing march. He hears it again - the whimpers and moans tumbling from your lips. Those were his to claim and his alone. As he climbs the steps, is rage grows exponentially, his jaw clenched and his lips contorted into a snarl. He unbuckles his belt as he takes the steps and frees his cock, hard with menace, straining painfully against his trousers. His pace continues unaltered as he reaches the top floor and rounds the corner to the bedroom.

You’re splayed out on the bed, legs spread wide, your wetness covering your slit when he sees it-- the dildo, stuffing your whole and spearing you deep and something within him snaps. His mind goes black as he’s consumed with a cocktail of unbridled fury and menacing lust.

In three strides he’s in front of you, your eyes still closed in ecstasy, as he yanks the dildo from your hole and hurls it across the room, shattering the bedside lamp. Your eyes pop open in terror, your heart racing at the sight of him and the absence in your core instant.

“Aug -” you begin but with near instant speed he slams his steel cock into you. You gasp for breath at his depth, his rage stunningly apparent. August did everything with anger, this wasn’t new, but this time there was a haunting blackness in his eyes, a primal rage you hadn’t known before. He pummels you mercilessly with a force that feels unsustainable. Every thrust is a ram up the length of the bed, your tits slamming hard up your body and a bruise blooming on your ass as he slams it with his form. Your slit stings, his deepness tearing new space with every thrust. Tears prick in your eyes - fear and pain flooding you, competing for your attention with your growing arousal.

“Daddy I’m sorry,” you weep, your body being wrecked with his savagery.

“You’ll learn your lesson,” he grunts, his movements undeterred. He leans the weight of his form deeper onto your prone body, folding your body in half so that your calves nearly rest beside your ears on either side. His angle is so deep you feel the sting in the pit of your core, almost a tugging sensation each time he thrusts, intent on destruction. Your tears flow in earnest but you receive your punishment -- your safe word floating in the back of your mind but never crossing your lips.

His pace quickens, bucking into you with abandon, smashing his body above yours and constricting your breath. You feel it nearing, the first time an impending orgasm frightened you. The tightening in your core felt new - a terrifying sense of release clawing at you.

“Daddy,” you moan, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Cum now slut. Fucking cum like the slut you are,“ he growls, the words nearly spat in your face. You obey the order, letting out a primal scream as an orgasm crashes through you, your body convulsing and bucking beneath him. You squirt, the force of it nearly forcing his shaft from your cavern but he only continues with more rage.

“Daddy please,” you manage to choke out, convulsing, his cock feeling too thick in your hole. You’ve hit overstimulation, desperate for him to slow his pace.

“I’ll stop when I’m done,” he snarls without compassion. He briefly pulls his cock from your slit and grabs your hips to flip you face down. He yanks your ass in the air and enters you from behind in one swift movement. He pumps savagely three times and again withdraws. You feel the searing sting of his slap as he spanks your ass. He enters agains and rams three times, the force nearly knocking you forward. Again he withdraws and spanks your ass, already red and aching. He repeats this pattern 5 times, his cock only growing harder with every repetition.

He withdraws again and teases your puckered hole with the tip of his engorged cock. You gasp when you realize his intentions. “Daddy no,” you whimper, turning your head to watch him. You feared his savagery in your tightest hole. August commonly liked to fuck your ass but never when he was fueled by rage, an absence behind his eyes.

“You want to be a slut, so you’ll take it like a slut,” he grunts as he presses deeply to enter you. The sting is immediate, his thickness punching you in your core, deeper than he’d ever been. Despite the sting, you feel an immense sense of pleasure as his cock massages your walls from his unconventional angle. The tightness of your hole is nearly strangling him, bringing him close to climax. He turns savage at the impending release, gripping the swell of your ass tightly and ramming so violently that you cum again, trembling so unstoppably that you collapse flat onto the bed as he finishes his work. Sweat drips from him as he works your hole, barely gaining movement in the tightness until he release a thick stream of his seed into you.

He stops, his cock still buried in you, the sound of your mutual panting the only thing filling the room. The smell of sex hangs in the air. He grips cock by the base and glides it out of your hole, his sticky cum following the trail. You feel the edge of the bed sink as he sits and hauls your form like a ragdoll over the expanse of his thighs. He lands a stinging blow on your tender ass, stickiness covering his hand and he returns for another slap. Your sniffles return as he completes ten brutal slaps to your tender cheeks, each one landing with a grunt.

Once he’s finished, he collects you upright in his lap and brushes the hair out of your sweat and tear-stained face. He holds your head to his chest and rocks slightly back and forth, his form still stiff with residual rage. “Why did Daddy punish you?” he asks, his voice contained but with less of the darkness than before.

“Because I broke the rules” you say, barely above a whisper.

“Because you broke the rules,” he confirms with barely any tenderness. His hand slips low, landing between your legs and cupping your center with propriety. “This pussy belongs to Daddy. Only Daddy. You understand that now?” he asks. You nod your head silently. He kisses the top of your head. “Good, don’t make Daddy angry again.”

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