#foul🖤blood

[rei-dragoness]

🌼 anon here, and because of the Kal'tst post, I have some weird ideas-

Warning: monster fucking, drugs/pills using, sex toys, double penetrate

Like she is a doctor right? So she probably has... some pills that definitely won't make you unable to cum unless she is satisfied.

" What's wrong, Dokutah? I was just playing with you for one hour only, cumming? Maybe three more hours, maybe "

She definitely said that while you continue to double penetrate your pussy and ass with Monst3r, Did I mention that she would put a strap inside your mouth while she did this act? Well, she owns plenty of it in plenty of sizes. If she were in a good mood, maybe she would even let you sucking Monst3r dick. After rough sex, she would continue to act like nothing happened. You may think that you are dreaming if not for the hickeys all over your body and scratches on your hip area.

[FYI for if anyone wants to follow me after seeing this post, im no longer in the ark fandom]

Hnnnnff Kal'tsit is so mean I just love it, she would probably make you beg and cry for her to let you cum, edging or overstimulating you until you almost pass out, and as a doctor, she probably has so many drugs and aphrodisiacs she can inject you with

The sheer cruelty of being led on by her, being used by her only to never be loved, just used for your body drives me INSANE, even if i dont play Ark anymore, i still adore her.

[venus-haze]

Damned If You Do (Bo Sinclair x Reader)

Summary: You're almost certain Bo's getting tired of you. You're not so sure how much longer you can prevent the inevitable, but a slip of the tongue in a moment of desperation proves to be your salvation.

Note: Female reader but no other descriptors are used. I missed writing for Bo! I might be kinda rusty, but I hope y’all like it🖤 Please read the warnings before reading. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Canon typical violence. Prolonged captivity and isolation. Stockholm syndrome (some basement wife elements). Mentions of past torture. Extremely dubious consent. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal fingering, sadism, degradation, choking, knife play.

You were sure Ambrose was gonna kill you if he didn’t first. The damp, dead air permeated the basement walls, filtered in thick through the vent in the ceiling and filled your lungs with each breath. It would choke you once summer settled in, foul and unforgiving. Almost as unforgiving as him, whose presence inspired fear and loathing in you. Lately, however, the lack of it brought a foreboding sense of dread over you as your isolated mind raced to its logical conclusion.

Bo was getting tired of you.

One cursory glance at the state of your body made you panic—bruises fading, cuts and cigarette burns scarring over without fresh marks to replace them. For the first week or so you were there, every part of your body pulsed with pain. He found your limits with the efficacy of a bloodhound and brutally forced you past each one. 

All you felt then was dull aching, kinda hungry, too. Didn’t bode well for your long-term survival.

You shifted on the old, lumpy mattress on the floor, stained with blood, sweat, and cum that reeked with the breakdown of others’ bodily fluids. Probably the girls in the Polaroids all over the walls. He’d taken a few of you since you’d been down there. Hadn’t done that recently, either. Mostly came down there to feed you, take you upstairs to use the gas station bathroom, bring you back downstairs to throw you around a little and fuck you, and then leave. Shit. You were becoming a chore.

Bo had plenty of chores around Ambrose already. Would grumble about them to you, the closest he ever got to pillowtalk. The movie theater, the church, even the houses were his responsibility. You weren’t quite sure why, less able to clearly picture the town you’d driven into the longer you spent as Bo’s captive. There weren’t any immediate red flags that popped out at you. After all, you’d driven straight to the gas station on your blown out tire. Didn’t take the time to do any sight-seeing. He made sure of that. From what you’d gathered from Bo, the only living souls in town were he and Vincent, with the recent and temporary addition of yourself.

The floor creaked above you, and you pulled your knees to your chest, anticipating his arrival downstairs. It was almost impossible to tell what mood he’d be in whenever he’d pay you a visit. Tried listening for the sound of his footsteps, the way his boots pounded against the linoleum above to the cement stairs to where you waited for him, as if you could do much else. There was the TV, but the glimpse into the outside world left you feeling especially helpless when your own face flashed across the screen on the 6 o’clock news not long after you became captive in Ambrose. Then after a week or so, all mention of you stopped. Seven days for you to be rotated out of the news cycle. They’d gotten tired of you long before Bo did.

You screwed your eyes shut, as he ambled down the stairs, racking your brain for what to do. Opened them just as quickly to give him your undivided attention, just how he liked. Panicked and hopeless, you blurted out upon seeing his face, “You’re gonna kill me soon, aren’t you?”

He set the bottle of soda he’d undoubtedly brought down for you and smiled. Charming, disarming, like the one he first gave you when you naively drove into town on the roadkill guy’s advice—Lester. His name was Lester. Could he have known? Was he in on the whole thing? You hadn’t seen anyone but Bo for weeks, and he only made mention of Vincent, his brother, who you were certain had no interest in rescuing you from your plight.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

‘Tire blew out,’ you had told Bo, feeling silly and self-conscious when he laughed. ‘I can see that.’ Threw a wink your way and assured you he’d have you back on the road before it got dark. You trusted him because he was handsome and laid on the compliments thick. Made you think maybe driving over that broken bottle in the road wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Within an hour he had you in that fucking basement.

“You—you’re bored of me,” you said. “You don’t come down here as often as you used to.”

“Aw, you miss me? Is that it?” he mocked.

Maybe. Maybe it was the security of knowing you were wanted, that the longer you kept his interest, the longer you’d be alive. Maybe even earn his trust enough to get a chance to escape back into the world that’d forgotten about you. But Bo wouldn’t forget. He’d keep you immortalized on those cinder block walls with all the others. Disgustingly sentimental. Part of you preferred being part of his shrine to his own depravity than a black and white photo people carelessly flipped past in the local paper.

“How are you gonna do it? Tell me,” you begged.

He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at you as a grin spread across his face. “Well, I like to get that shit over with quick, but you might be worth slowing things down for.”

“Like—like how?”

As soon as he made his way toward you, regret filled your gut. You crawled backward on your hands, trying to put some distance between you until your back hit the wall. His hands were around your neck, his hungry eyes drinking in your distress.

“If you were most girls, I would just keep squeezing until you stop breathing,” he said, squeezing harder. “Pretty clean.” Black spots filled your vision as you fruitlessly tried clawing at his hands. “Makes it easier for Vincent to get to work on you that way.” He released your throat, and you fought through the coughing fit that burned in your chest as you gasped for air. Tears streamed down your face, and you wanted to smack the smug expression off of his.

“But that ain’t always fun,” he said.

Bo stood up and kicked your legs apart with his boots. Grabbed something from the nearby tool cart. The fucking knife. You swore he kept the blade dull on purpose just so it’d hurt more, leave nastier scars behind in its wake whenever he dug it into your skin, dragging it through your flesh with horrifying precision that only came from experience, because you never needed stitches.

“For you, I think I’d be a little more personal.”

He straddled you, sitting on your legs so you couldn’t possibly move them in an attempt to escape or defend yourself. You could feel his hard-on straining against his jeans, pressing into your bare pussy as he leaned over you, knife shining menacingly in the buzzing fluorescent light overhead. He made rags of your clothes not long after you became his and never offered any replacement.

The blade pressed against the middle of your chest, right between your breasts, making you shudder. He licked his lips. “I could shove this knife on in there, open you up all the way down to your cunt.” His fingers brushed your clit. “‘Beauty’s only skin deep’, that’s what my mama used to say. But sluts like you all look the same on the inside. Crack open your ribcage, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you from all the rest.”

You whimpered as he dragged the blade down your abdomen with a deceptive gentleness, his fingers still working your clit, making it hard for you not to jerk your hips, risking a slip of the knife directly into your belly. 

When he lifted the knife, you couldn’t even let yourself feel relief as your eyes followed it to one of your wrists. 

“Could take it nice and slow. Let you bleed out,” he pressed it against your skin, dangerously close to a vein. “It’d take hours for you to die, then. Messy as hell, too, but we could get up to some fun, you and me. A good fuck for ol’ times’ sake, then I can sit back with some popcorn while I watch the lights go out in those pretty eyes of yours.”

You let out a shaky breath, fear and arousal mixing with your lingering lack of oxygen so you could only half-grasp what exactly he was saying, just that he had a knife to your wrist, and he was enough of a homicidal monster to kill you that way. He slid his fingers inside you, and you could feel your orgasm creeping up on you, your head heavy and fuzzy as he kept going. 

“But if we’re talking easy and personal, then I’d just—” He brought the blade up to your throat until you could feel your rapid pulse beating against it. 

Bo curled his fingers, pleasure tearing through you as you jolted in place, feeling the cool metal superficially pierce your skin. 

Your voice came out as a strangled sob. “Please, Bo. Please don’t—” 

He kissed you, an undertone of fondness in the gesture that filled you with relief and terror. “You won’t have to worry about any of that for a long while,” he said, his voice low, reverberating through your aching bones. “I’m not finished with you yet. Not even close.”

[noxturnalnymph]

Devotion 🖤 II. Predator or Prey? (Ch 8)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

PREVIOUS

II. Predator or Prey?

CH 8 (6.6k) | The Night You Left |

Joel barely sleeps, tossing and turning in his bed with his clothes on, knuckles bloody and burning, throat raw from screaming. He wakes up to hushed whispers outside his door and he throws it open, inexplicably hoping to see you out there. Instead he sees a sea of terrified faces, Sasha tucking Beth behind her, Tess peering out from the bathroom with Rosie holding a cold cloth over her swollen face. Kerri is further down the hall, sweeping up chunks of drywall and dust on the floor from the holes he’d punched into the wall hours earlier. 

He looks back towards Tess. Fuck. She looks awful, already two swollen black eyes and a split lip. What kind of a monster does that to someone? 

“Tess, I–”

“I’ll be alright Joel,” she reassures. “Why don’t you head over to the baths and get cleaned up?”

She knows he can’t be seen in the state he’s in. What would people think? They’d think he’d fuckin’ lost it is what they’d think. And they’d be right.

Joel heads to the old plaza, a ten minute walk down the street and around the corner, to the old salon now serving as the town bath house. This early in the morning he knows no one is going to be here so he lets himself in through the back door. He checks the tank of the town’s only working hot water heater and begins to fill one of the stock tank tubs, shucking his clothes off and climbing in. The water stings his raw knuckles as he scrubs at his body, washing away bits of dusty drywall and blood – his or Tess’, he can’t tell.

Fuck, he fucked up. He shouldn’t have reacted like that. He shouldn’t have done that to Tess. This is what you fucking do to him, this is the effect you have on him. You bring out the worst in him. All you ever did was distract him, tempt him, tease him, and reject him. He saved your life, fed you, clothed you, protected you, and put a roof over your head. And how did you repay him?

Resentment. Neglect. Defiance. Abandonment.

What did he even see in you? He thought you were brave, but you were so soft on the inside. He thought you were smart, but he watched you act like such a fucking fool. He thought you were beautiful, but you wouldn’t even let him say it. He thought you were wild, but he tamed you so easily. He was wrong about you. He tells himself that he’s glad you’re gone and that he’s better off without you around anyway.

—

The first Thursday without you, Joel takes Beth to the meeting, despite complaining that he’d rather go alone. Beth had already gotten to work making clothes and this would be a good opportunity for her to give some out to the families that lived further out of town, at least that’s what Tess had said. He’d never admit it, but he held his breath when a group of people led by the tall and imposing Hank walked in the room, someone else trailing just behind. Several people shifted and Joel saw it was just Hank’s little girl, blushing bright red when she caught him looking at her. 

Shit. He’s not sure why he let himself think it might be you. Hank hadn’t brought you to the church meeting on Sunday so why did he let that tightness grow in his stomach thinking he’d bring you to the Thursday meetings the way he used to bring Beth? Whatever. He doesn’t even want to see you. He continues to be in a foul mood all week and despite pleading with Tess for forgiveness – which she gives him – all the women in the house seem to avoid him.

The second Thursday he notices Hank’s young daughter, who’d introduced herself several times as Amber, following his every move, watching him, sitting next to him, hanging on his every word with rapt attention. The little girl must have a crush. How inconvenient. But wait, he might be able to use this to his advantage. He’d noticed you ducking behind Hank’s oversized frame at church the past Sunday, avoiding him like the plague, and decided he was going to give you a taste of your own medicine. 

Fuck you, you little ingrate, he’s gonna ignore the shit out of you right back.

He purposely avoided looking in your direction during his speech and sat with his back to you during dinner. He made sure to act like the perfect leader, loving and gentle, graciously accepting people’s well wishes for Tess’ illness – the cover-up for why she’d been in the house for over a week while her face healed up. Within earshot of you he gives attention to every other female Valley member, even going so far as to bring people into his embrace, hugging them tight. 

He’s like an oily politician – kissing babies and shaking hands – but he hopes you see it all. He hopes you feel sick over it, feel jealous, feel regret. He hopes you feel the loneliness rotting in your gut like he does. But how will he know? How will he know if he can’t see you, can’t talk to you? He needs access to you, someone for you to confide in, someone on the inside. Little Amber will do nicely. 

He strikes up a conversation with her, bumping up the charm to an eleven. He opens with some mildly flirtatious banter, asks some questions about her – women love that shit – before getting to the point.

“Hear you got a new roommate over there,” he postures casually.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Amber beams.

“She is?”

“Oh– ummm,” her brow furrows. “Isn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckles, “You tell me.”

“She’s alright, yeah… I mean, she– she’s fine.”

“Well you should let me know if she does anything to bother you.” His voice is smooth and buttery.

“I should?”

“Well yeah,” Joel touches his hand briefly to her chin, “I gotta make sure you’re happy, don’t I?” 

“Oh,” she giggles, face flushing immediately.

“So make sure you tell me what’s goin’ on, okay?”

“Yeah I will,” she tries to suppress her smile. “I– I definitely will.”

“Anything at all, even if you think it might not be important.” He makes sure she’s looking at him and drops his voice an octave. “Anything at all, okay, sweetheart?” He winks to seal the deal.

It was almost too easy, turning little Amber into his own private mole. Every Thursday he gave her a couple minutes of attention and she folded, playing right into his hand and spilling everything you two had talked about over the past week. She told him where you went, what you did, who you talked to, and even what anyone else in the house said about you. Apparently Hank’s wife was missing Beth and Joel briefly thinks of telling Tess to make a switch back, but then gets angry at you again and changes his mind.

You don’t deserve his forgiveness, you’re not missing him enough, not even close to being as miserable as you could be. Amber had told him that you’d cried yourself to sleep almost every night the first week but then the other day after the church meeting he’d watched you hunch down behind little Amber – barely five feet tall – trying to hide from him. Your stubborn pride is gonna make it even more satisfying when you come crawling back to him, begging him to let you come back home.

Amber tells him when you’ve stopped crying at night but says you still spend a lot of time on your own, wandering the edges of the property. She catches you up in the hayloft all the time, or napping with the baby goats. She says you don’t spend any time with Danny or Diego, the ranch hands, so he resists his urges to take them by the collar and threaten to bury them alive if they so much as look at you.

—

Joel woke up in the mornings feeling empty, like his chest had been broken open and hollowed out, all of his internal organs scooped onto the ground. The only thing that remained inside him was a deep-seated ache. He tried to soothe it with conversation but Tess didn’t want to hear it, kept telling him it’s better this way and to move on. He tried to temper his loneliness with touch, but when he reached for Sasha’s hand after dinner one night she ripped it out of his grip. One evening, in a particularly weak moment, he nuzzled into Kerri’s neck while she was washing dishes, her hands occupied and covered in suds. 

“Oh,” she squeaked, startled by his touch.

“Hey,” he said, muffled against her skin, twitching under the brush of his beard.

“I’m not really–” she started.

He didn’t let her finish. He was out of the room before she could even finish her sentence. How fucking pathetic was he? He didn’t even want her – not really – and she couldn’t even stand to be touched by him. This is what you’ve done to him, this is what you’ve made him. He’s been ruined by you.

When it's been just over a month since you left, things at the house finally get back to a sense of normalcy again. For a while, Tess was the only one speaking to him, and besides the Thursday meetings Beth was assigned to accompany him to, she avoided him like the plague. Kerri wouldn’t meet his eyes, Rosie shuffled away from him whenever he entered a room, and Sasha gave him dirty looks every time she passed him in the halls. But with time, things were improving. There was a low hum of conversations around the dinner table now – none of them involving him – but at least everyone else was happy.

The following Sunday Amber traps him in a corner and starts saying shit about coming to live with him. He has no idea where she got this idea in her head but she keeps trying to touch the buttons on his shirt and he’s doing everything in his power not to swat her little fucking hands away. He sees Tess giving him a look and he knows. He knows he needs to get away from her, that people can see him, that people will talk. What if you see him? You’re never gonna come back home if you think he’s messing around with this annoying child. He has to stop using her for information, he has to cut her off.

The following Thursday marks the end of February and Amber’s reports have gotten brief and repetitive. Walks alone along the pastures, always has her nose in a book at bedtime, late to every meal (much to her mother’s chagrin). She tells him that you only leave the farm on Sundays for church and on Wednesdays for your bath, having to settle for a weekly wash at the Covered Bridge Inn another mile down the road with some of the other farming families. He bets you’re missing your three soaks a week since you left town.

Joel decides to cut Amber off then and there, she’s not giving him anything he doesn’t already know and he needs more, he wants more. He needs to fill that emptiness inside him and you’re the only thing that can make him feel whole again. He’s barely looked at you in weeks, always avoiding watching you directly, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of thinking he gives a fuck. He doesn’t, not really. He just wants to soothe the hole you left. He convinces himself he just needs a taste, just needs a peek. He just needs to see if you’re missing him, to make sure you’re suffering the way he is, the way you should be. He wants to see it for himself. Then he can get over you – move on – like Tess says he should.

He waits until the following Wednesday and makes a trip out to the Mansfield’s farm when he knows you’ll be gone for your bath. Only Hank remains on the farm to greet him but is honored and excited by Joel’s presence. Joel makes up something about wanting to visit Hank because of how much he respects all of his hard work, but asks Hank to not spread the word lest the other farmers be jealous. Hank nods in agreement as he shows Joel around the property and then welcomes him into his humble home.

When Joel excuses himself to use the bathroom he takes a walk around the upstairs, checking each bedroom to find yours, recognizing it when he sees one of your old shirts on the bed. He lifts your pillow to his face, huffing in your familiar scent. Under your pillow is a book, paperback cover worn and tattered, Of Mice and Men by John Steinback. Joel stuffs it in his waistband and pulls his shirt back down, heading back downstairs to tell Hank he should get going.

There’s no mention of his visit by his little spy the next night so, he assumes Hank kept it a secret and you were none the wiser. He wants to go to the farm again, he wants to have another piece of you. Just one more taste, just one more. He waits until late in the day on the following Wednesday and, avoiding traps he and his patrols helped set, he rides out and sneaks onto the property from the neighboring fields. Hank is working out in the far pasture and doesn’t even notice Joel’s surreptitious arrival.

The house is unlocked and he goes straight to your room, this time laying down in your bed, letting himself soak in the scent of you wafting off the sheets. He thinks of you crawling in the bed every night at the end of a long day working your ass off on this farm, a big change from the cushy life you had back home. He knows you only get a bath once a week here, and he can smell your scent on the sheets strongly. He smells sweat, dirt, farm animals, and a trace of tangy milk. You must change the sheets when you get back from your bath. This must be the most pungent they smell all week.

He grabs his dick overtop his pants, he can feel it already hard and aching at the thought of you. He wishes he had more time to lie here, to really be able to enjoy himself, but he made up an excuse to Tess and she’ll be suspicious if he’s gone too long. He takes his hand away from the front of his pants and instead grabs your pillow, throwing it over his face to breathe it in a final time. He gets up, adjusting himself, and takes a step towards the door before he doubles back and snatches your pillowcase off the pillow, stuffing it down the front of his shirt.

—

He’s panting slightly as he makes his way in the back door of his house, having had to jog from the stables, cutting through the town park so he’d be back before Tess started wondering where he was. Kerri gives him a sideways glance and an empty smile, quickly turning her head back to her meal preparation. Tess and Sasha come up from the basement holding jars of preserved vegetables. 

“Where you been?” Tess asks.

“I told you,” he tries to stifle his heavy breathing. “I had to help Peter out with his solar panel issue.”

“But Peter’s wife Georgia just came by here not even ten minutes ago and asked how you were doin’,” she says, looking confused.

“Yeah well it wasn’t at his house,” Joel thinks quickly. “He’s been tryin’ to get it fixed up for little old Miss Betty, out– umm… over there by the woods.” He picked the most remote, home-bound person he could think of, hoping it would cover his ass.

“Oh, she needs power? For what?” she asks, setting down the jars on the counter with Sasha, not giving Joel her full attention anymore. He uses the opportunity to move out of the kitchen towards his office.

“I dunno, just helpin’ out Peter,” he says and then ducks out of the room before she can question him further. 

Once he closes his office door he pulls out your pillowcase from under his shirt and balls it up to his face, sniffing it more. He sticks it in the bottom desk drawer under the maps, where he keeps your lost pair of underwear, your rejected christmas gift, and the book he took from under your pillow on his previous visit. Something scratches at him from deep inside, something that might resemble guilt. He shakes it off. He has nothing to feel guilty for. If you want underwear, books, or your pillowcase so bad you can come back home and have them. 

—

He can’t even wait until next Wednesday to go over to the farm. Sunday morning rolls around – he’s spent all weekend planning this moment – and he gives a well-rehearsed speech to Tess about being sick. He doubles over in his bed and clutches his middle, groaning until her face softens and she puts the back of her hand to his forehead the way his mom used to. She brings him some water and rice and tells him to get some rest before heading to the services with everyone else in the house.

Once he’s left alone he jumps out of bed, throwing the covers off like a child on Christmas morning. He knew that if he went to church he’d be able to see you, maybe fill a little bit of his craving. But since he doesn’t really look at you, how much of you can he actually see? Knowing that Hank would bring your entire household to the service meant the farmhouse would be empty. He can sneak over there while everyone is preoccupied and have his fill of your scent, of the ghost of your presence. He needs this, he tells himself, he needs a little bit more before he stops, before he gets over you.

He doesn’t want to take a horse this time, wants to leave no trace of where he’s going or risk anyone seeing him riding out. Most of the town is at the church service but he wants to be extra cautious. He heads out the back door and ducks into the trees beyond the yard, making the long way around the populated square to hit the fence-line. He finds a well-worn path through two fence sections and, avoiding the traps he knows are there, darts south towards the farm. 

Joel’s knees are aching by the time he hits Hank’s property, heart pounding and feet throbbing, having set a brutal pace to make the trip in just about thirty minutes. His chest is heaving to catch his breath as he crosses over the creek and walks up the small hill to the old farmhouse standing like a silent monument above the pastures.

He takes his time on this visit, going through your side of the dresser, recognizing the clothes you had before, touching the fabric with his fingers that he would feel beneath his touch whenever he held you in the mornings. He looks in the closet – mostly Amber’s clothes – but sees a nice dress in there he assumes Hank intended for you to wear to church. Joel’s never seen you in a dress, maybe no one here has either, since you’ve certainly never worn this one. 

He takes off his clothes and climbs in your bed, lying face flat on your pillow, and smells you. Not your soap or shampoo, but you, the real you. The you he used to smell when you were at home, when you were in his arms, when you were his. Before you left him, before you broke him, before he was empty. He slowly humps against the bed – his cock rubbing the worn, softened sheets – and thinks of you. 

He imagines you coming back and catching him, throwing your arms and legs around him, crying how much you miss him and kissing him until he agrees to take you home. His come spills on your sheets and he throws the blanket back over top, leaving the mess for you to find. Part of him hopes you know it was him. He puts half his clothes on and then begins to get sleepy, having stayed up half the night going over and over in his head his plans for today. He lies down on top of the bed just to rest his eyes for a moment.

He doesn’t hear the horses pull up with the wagon outside, or the door opening and people entering the house downstairs. He doesn’t hear anything until there’s footsteps on the stairs coming towards where he’s still half naked and just awake. Shit. He jumps up and grabs the rest of his clothes off the floor, kicking his boots under your bed and jumping in the closet just as Amber bursts in the room, humming a hymn and babbling about how she wants to make soup to send to him. You hum in assent but otherwise say nothing.

He wishes he could see you, but he’s pushed himself into the closet and to the side as much as possible. He is half-covered by a mothball-smelling crocheted cardigan and a mildew-smelling old raincoat. He hears the soft sounds of fabric and the wooden creak of dresser drawers, then you both silently shuffle out of the room and down the stairs. He waits a long time until he's sure the coast is clear and manages to get himself dressed, pull on his shoes, and make it downstairs. 

He hides in a closet for several hours, hearing Amber and her mother all around the first floor, cleaning and cooking and gossipping to each other. Where are you? Are you in the hayloft like Amber said you like to be? Are you feeding goats or milking cows? He wants to see you but he knows he has to go, knows he’s stayed too long. Everyone has been back at his house for hours and Tess will most definitely be wondering where the fuck he went to. 

It’s mid-afternoon by now and he knows he can’t waste anymore time. He ducks out of the closet and runs for the closest patch of trees as quickly as he can. As soon as he’s in the cover of the woods he starts thinking of the shit show he’s gonna walk into. Tess is gonna give him the third degree. He left no note, no indication of where he would be. What excuse is he even gonna give? He played sick so convincingly and now what is he gonna do? What can he tell her that will be believable? 

His mind is racing with a hundred different thoughts and he’s trying to ignore the sting of the cold air in his lungs and the burning of his thighs as he presses forward up another hill. He’s sure that’s why he misses the trap. Because he knows where they all are, he helped set almost every single one. He has a map in his office with all of them marked off, directs the patrols to check and maintain them. He knows better. But he’s distracted. You’ve distracted him. This is all your fault. That’s all he can think as he feels the trap clamping over his ankle and the biting pain shooting up his leg. This is all your fuckin’ fault.

Joel loses his balance quickly as the counterweight trips and yanks his leg out from under him. He sees the whole world flip and feels the fire of tearing flesh licking up his leg. He comes to rest with his shoulders on the ground, his head brushing against the fallen leaves, but the lower half of his body lifted up in the air, strung up in the tree by his ankle. Shit, this is a good trap, he was so proud when he thought of it and now he can confirm that it’s quite debilitating and extremely painful. 

—

The sun has started setting when Joel hears a single step behind him and he whips his head around, facing a lone figure, light hair braided over her shoulder, pack on her back stuffed full. Sasha.

“Hey honey… I didn’t hear ya coming,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah, Joel,” she looks him over quickly, “That’s kinda the point.”

She opens her mouth to ask a question – probably something akin to what the fuck are you doing out here – but then she looks southward, towards the still-visible fields of the dairy farm, and back at him. She closes her mouth, deciding not to ask something she already knows the answer to. Instead she looks him up and down, taking in the scene in the fading light.

“You uhh… you want me to get you down from there?”

“Well what’s the alternative, honey?” He motions around. “You gonna leave me here?”

“I could…” her face remains impassive, considering her options, “But Tess would probably miss you.”

Joel lets out a huff and gives her a partial smile, it’s as much as he can manage having been stuck like this for far too long. Sasha throws her pack down and fishes some bolt cutters out of the back, reaching them above Joel’s ankle and cutting a chain link rather easily. Joel's body unceremoniously slams down to the forest floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she mutters, kneeling down to check him over. “What’d you think was gonna happen when I cut it?”

“I dunno honey but I’m not a fuckin’ gymnast. I’ve been hangin’ upside-down for hours, so I’m kinda at the whim of gravity right now.

“Well twinkle toes, good thing you’re not training for the olympics, because your leg looks absolutely fucked. We need to get you to the clinic ASAP.”

Yeah yeah yeah Joel grumbles, grunting and groaning as Sasha helps him to his feet, leaning into his side so she can support his weight on his bad side.

“Is your horse nearby?”

“Didn’t bring a horse,” he sighs.

“Joel, we’re still over a mile away from home and your leg–”

“Well we better get going then, huh?”

“But, Joel–”

“Time’s a wastin’ honey, let’s go.”

—

By the time the doctor finishes wrapping Joel’s ankle, he can already see the blood seeping through the bottom layers of the bandages. She’s given him some expired meds for the pain that are managing to take the edge off, but he’s still extremely uncomfortable. He’s not gonna tell her that though.

“I’m gonna need to see you tomorrow to clean and redress this wound.”

“I can come by after–”

“No,” she interrupts. “No, Joel, I’ll make a house call, you shouldn’t be walking on this at all. This needs to be elevated so the swelling can go down.” She wraps the second layer tighter and Joel bites back a noise. She notices. “That’s why it’s leaking like this, you didn’t elevate it,” she scolds, and then murmurs under her breath, “And you walked a mile on it.”

“Well I knew you made house calls but I didn’t think you’d make middle-of-the-forest calls.”

She makes a noise that sounds like hmmm, and grabs another roll of gauze to keep wrapping around. He’s not sure if she bought his story, that he and Sasha were scavenging together and he wasn’t looking where he was going, but she removed the trap from his ankle and gave him a tetanus shot and some antibiotics. He didn’t even realize she had all of that here but she opened a locked cabinet and there was a secret stash of medicines, just waiting for him.

Since he was hanging upside-down he didn’t lose much blood and the doctor told him she doubts there’s a broken bone, given that the trap clamped down above the ankle bones and more into the meat of his leg. She is worried about infection, of course, and said that the way it pulled on his leg could take a while for the muscles to heal. How long did Sasha leave you hanging there she kept asking and he kept explaining that they’d split up to cover more ground, and she’d found him when he missed their meet-up time.

“I think that’s enough, Doc, quit fussin’ over me,” he tells her as he shifts on the bed to get up. “Get Sasha for me and I’ll head home, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it elevated.”

“Sasha left after she dropped you off Joel,” she leans back and points to the doorway, where one of the clinic staff has rolled in a rusted wheelchair. “We’re gonna take you.”

“I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Oh cut it out, you already got your tetanus shot.”

—

He gets out of the chair and stumbles up the front steps, forbidding them from helping him through the door and promising to elevate his leg and keep it that way, trying to keep his voice in a whisper and not disturb the house. He hops inside and his fears are immediately realized when he sees Tess waiting for him at the dining room table. Their eyes meet and they stare at each other in silence for a long while before she rises out of her chair and points to an empty one.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says, walking into the kitchen.

Joel sits in the chair and Tess comes back in, motioning for him to put his leg up on the bench next to him, setting a cloth ice pack gently on his injured leg. She slowly sits down and resumes looking at him. A long silence passes between them.

“You gonna make me ask?”

“Ask what?” he says casually, then she pins him with a look and he drops all pretense, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sure Sasha already told you.”

“She didn’t tell me why.”

“Why? You already know that too.”

“I know you were out there at the farm, Joel, sneakin’ around, messin’ with her stuff, fuckin’ with her head, I don’t know what all you get up to. But why, Joel? Why?”

“What do you care, anyway?”

“Why can’t you leave her alone?” she hisses

“Why is that any of your fuckin’ business?”

Tess slams her hand down on the table and hisses, “You made it my business when you brought her into my house.”

“Your house, is it?”

“You’re goddamn right it’s my house, and I take care of everyone in it. I sent her to the farm to get some relief from you and your behavior, and you can’t show one ounce of self control? Who the fuck are you?”

“I don’t think–”

“No, you’re not thinkin’, that’s the problem,” she interrupts. He’s stunned into silence. “I’ve taken a lotta shit in my life, Joel, and I’ll keep taking it if it’s for the greater good. I’ve followed you around for years and I’m loyal, but I ain’t stupid. I see you slipping. Everyone does. Everything I’ve done for you, everything I’ve sacrificed for you… you gotta play your role.”

“I’m tired of it,” he whispers.

“You’re not tired of everything it gets you.”

He grumbles at that and mutters something like it doesn’t get me what I really want, and she knows he means you. She knows he still wants you, even when he pretends like he doesn’t. She sees the way he purposely avoids you and looks the other way when you come near. It’s all bullshit bravado, and she fuckin’ knows it. She knows he’s sad, lonely, heartbroken without you. But she needs him to either put up or shut up. Admit it or move on. She can’t have him stuck in this loop of destruction.

“Leave her be, Joel. It’s done with her, it’s over.”

—

Two weeks go by in a blur, Joel doesn’t sneak away to the farm, he avoids Amber at the Thursday meetings, he steers clear of you at the Sunday service. He goes where Tess tells him to go, meets with who she tells him to meet with. His leg heals well and he’s back on his feet much sooner than the doctor expected him to be. He spends his days working with the gardeners in town to get ready for spring planting, and the evenings working in his office to schedule patrols and plan maintenance for sections of the perimeter fencing. 

He keeps his head down and keeps his mind occupied. He starts to feel better, and then he’ll lie in bed at night and he’ll hear the door to the tiny room across the hall close and remember you’re not there. It cuts like a knife in his hollow chest, the slow thumping of his heart echoing in its empty chamber. He feels bad for going the whole day without missing you and his stomach gets tied up in knots over everything that happened. 

He tries so hard not to think of you, to keep his mind busy with anything else… until he can’t. Until everyone stands up as he introduces Bianca’s baby to the community and then everyone sits back down and there you are. You’re standing in the middle of a pew halfway back, staring daggers through him. Looking at him like he just slapped you in the face. He can’t help but look at you – for the first time in over two months – and watch you come undone.

He sees you run out of the sanctuary and only Tess’ iron grip clawing at his elbow keeps him from running after you. After the service he tells her he’ll meet them in the hall for lunch and she reluctantly leaves him, mouthing behave yourself as she goes.

And then you’re in front of him again, the both of you looking into each other’s eyes. There’s so much fire in yours, he hasn’t seen you look like this since the first day he saw them, backed into a corner of the clinic like a trapped animal, teeth bared and ready to pounce. You start snapping at him, biting him with your words, and he can’t fucking help himself. He bites at you right back. Every sharp barb of your tongue, every click of your fangs, he’s spurred on to hiss and claw in response. You call him a liar and then tell him you don’t care when it couldn't be more obvious that you do. 

Why won’t you just admit that you care? Why won’t you just admit that you miss him? Why are you so afraid of the truth?

You brush by him, purposely knocking his arm with your shoulder as you exit and when he turns to follow you he sees Tess in the doorway. She walks up to him and he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until her arms close around him and he’s sobbing into her shoulder.

“She hates me,” he heaves.

“She doesn’t hate you, Joel,” she hushes.

“She does. She thinks that was my baby.”

“Did you tell her it wasn’t?”

“No,” he sniffles.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Cause I’m incapable of doing the right thing. I just keep fucking up,” he sobs. “I keep doing the wrong thing every fucking time. I grab her, I hurt her, I say the wrong thing, I fuck it all up.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he wails.

“I do, I know why.”

“Why then?” Joel sniffles.

“It’s easier for you to push her away than it is to let her in.” 

—

Joel is sitting in silence at the dinner table later that night, mindlessly picking at his plate, lost in his thoughts. The meal has long-since finished and the women are clearing the table, moving in and out of the kitchen and talking with each other. Beth is excitedly telling them about a barn cat who had kittens last year and everyone is gushing over the talk of adorable kittens. 

Joel remembers Sarah finding two abandoned kittens after a soccer game one cloudy May afternoon, two flea-infested little rats hiding behind the practice field’s bathrooms. She’d carried them in her shirt back to him, all three of them crying, begging him to let her keep them. He said no a hundred times but still wound up driving all of them all the way across town to the only vet’s office open on a Saturday. Hundreds of dollars later they were stuffed full of medicine and food and were sleeping curled up in the crook of Sarah’s neck. 

She told him she understood when he said they couldn’t keep them forever – allergies, he’d explained – but that didn’t stop big, fat tears from rolling down her face when she placed them into the arms of their new owners.

“You did such a good job taking care of them,” he’d told her, wiping away her tears. “You should be so proud. Look how big they got! You did that! You gave them a shot at a great life.”

“You did it too, dad,” she’d said, hugging him, telling him he also did a good job.

He didn’t do shit, he just couldn’t say no to her. And she thought he hung the moon. She thought he was some kind of a saint. Joel Miller, patron saint of disgusting, sickly little kittens. The man she thought he was… he could never be that man. Not then. Not now. Not after everything he’s done.

And then he realizes he’s sobbing again, at the dinner table, and everyone is staring at him. 

“Y– You okay, Joel?” Beth asks.

“Yeah,” he sniffles. “I was just… thinkin’ about Sarah.”

“Who’s Sarah?” Kerri says.

“Can everyone give us a minute?” Tess says.

The room quickly clears and Joel is still sputtering and sniffling at the head of the table. Tess sits down next to him and he slides off his chair, kneeling on the floor and burying his head in her lap, tears rolling down his face and soaking her jeans. He’s muttering I can’t lose her too and sobbing and Tess thinks this might be it, he might finally be ready to face it.

“What’s wrong, Joel?” Tess asks gently.

“She left me, I fucked up and she left, I don’t deserve her, she hates me, I’m a monster and she hates me and I don’t do anything right and I just fail over and over and she can’t stand me and all I do is–” his cries, devolve into a blubbering mess.

—

It’s just before midnight and the house is dark and quiet. Only a lamp in the living room casts a glow on them – Tess and Joel on the couch – where they’ve been sitting and talking for hours. He’s finally calmed down, having talked through months-worth, if not years-worth, of feelings with her. Things they’ve already talked about, things she’s suspected but never had confirmed, and secrets they’ve kept even from each other. It felt cathartic, like a weight lifted from the both of them, and they sit in companionable silence before they head up to bed.

A loud, frantic knocking at the front door makes both of them jump. Tess goes to answer it and all Joel hears is a tandem of words, spilling out like a waterfall so quickly he can only catch some of them. Not in bed… looked everywhere… can’t find... He gets up from his seat and heads to the door, freezing when he sees Danny and Diego’s harrowed faces standing on his darkened porch.

“W– what’s goin’ on?” Joel asks, looking between the two men and Tess.

Tess grabs his arm, bracing him.

“She left.”

🖤

NEXT

As always, muchas gracias to my amazing editor, @papipascalispunk for sticking with me through my highs and my lows, my slumps, and my manic incessant babbling about CJ.

TAGLIST (lmk if you wanna be added or removed) @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @speckledemerald @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @blvckmvgicwoman

[chaotic-mystery]

Not A Survivalist Girl Part 5:

“I want to fucking tear you apart”

Written by @chaotic-mystery & @tightjeansjavi

( Joel Miller x f!reader )

Summary: You finally get what you've been waiting for from Joel but you quickly realize he's not a gentle lover, he's far from it and so are you. Your foul mouth has landed you in a world of pain with Joel and he's not letting you off easy.

Warnings: consensual rough sex, heavy degradation (slut, whore, cockslut, stupid girl) praise kink, pet names (good girl, daddy,) sir kink, pain/humiliation kink, dom/sub, choking, spitting, throat fucking, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, edging, cream pie, unprotected p in v, doggy style and breeding pose, overstimulation, filth, mean!Joel, dark! Joel, rough! Joel, possessive! Joel, talking you through it, hair pulling, biting, smacking (if you squint) no after care, porn, NSFW (+18) minors dni!

WC:5.7k

A/N: Gi and I were giggling the whole time writing this, so I hope you guys are ready for it. This can be read as a stand alone if you aren’t familiar with our series! Love you angels, let us know what you think! 🖤

Was he being serious right now? Was he really going to sit there and tell you that you didn’t mean something you said? You scoffed as your mouth dropped a bit, “I always mean what I say, Joel. You are beautiful and nothing is too rough to me, big boy.” Let’s see how he likes those apples.

Joel could feel what was left of his rationale was dissipating before his very eyes. It crumbled like sand pulverized by crashing waves. Fluttered like ash from a burning fire disappearing into the thick blanket of black in the night sky. His pupils expanded, darkened as the fire's warm glow flickered against his irises. The close proximity to you was spinning his mind in fast circles. Your exposed skin begging to be touched by his calloused hands, and wet mouth. He swallowed hard, the Adams of his apple bobbing as his gaze met yours. He wet his lips with one swipe of his tongue as all the blood in his body flowed southward, straight to his strained cock that was pressing painfully against the confines of his worn boxers.

“You’re playin’ with some dangerous fire right now, girlie. You sure you wanna do that?” His brow raised as he leaned in close, close enough that you could taste the whiskey on his breath and feel the heat radiating from his body. “I’ll give ya one chance to take back what ya just said. After that..” He trailed off as his eyes flitted down to your lips. His hand reached out, cupping your jaw as his thumb dragged across your lower lip, tugging the soft skin down with his thumbnail. “C’mon. Use those big girl words and tell me you don’t fuckin’ want this. C’mon, girlie. This is your one chance to back out while you still can.”

“You tell me if I don’t want this” you whisper as you put his hand over your clothed cunt, feeling how wet your panties became since he started touching you. You moved your hand over his and showed him how you wanted him to relieve the built up anticipation in your panties. His rough hand slid the thin fabric to the side and like magnets attracted to one another, his fingers found where you needed him most. A groan escaped Joel’s lips as he caressed every inch of your soaking wet folds. Your whimpers filled the cabin walls and you were growing hungrier for him by the second. It wasn’t enough that he was just in your panties, you needed to show him how badly you’ve waited for this.

Part of you wondered if he thought of you whenever he flipped through his dirty magazines touching himself. Your hands found his broad shoulders and you helped yourself into his lap, making sure his hand never escaped your panties. Joel started circling your clit faster, his hand on the small of your back to hold you close against him. “God dammit do you know how long I’ve waited for this, Joel? Fucking Christ I-” you cut yourself off by crashing your lips onto his like you’d never get the chance to kiss him again. Your hips started bucking against his hand and you found a delicious rhythm between the two of you.

“Did I fuckin’ say you could kiss me?” He growled against your lips, fingertips digging harshly into your lower back, nails scraping against the skin. “Did I fuckin’ say you could even touch me?” He bit down on your lower lip hard, tasting copper along his tongue as his teeth broke through the delicate skin. He drank in your whimpers as his fingers continued to play with your clit. “Such a fuckin’ little slut throwin’ yourself at me like this. Fuckin’ my hand like a bitch in heat.” He tsked under his breath. “You gonna let me do whatever I want to you? Huh girlie?” He smacked your clit with his fingers once, then again as your body jolted forward. “You want this that bad, huh? Your little clit is gettin’ all puffy n’swollen for me. Hurts a little doesn’t it baby? Yeah, I bet it does. You poor poor thing.”

You breathed in sharply as he smacked your clit and your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the root firmly. “You aren’t gonna tell me what to do right now, Joel. You always tell me what to do, not this time.” You hissed at him and dug your nails into his back while you were still tugging at his hair with your other hand. He was right though, it felt so good it hurt but god did you fucking need this.

“You wanna fuckin’ bet on that girlie?” He removed his hand from your cunt, fingers wet with your slick as he wrapped his hand around the base of your throat, squeezing down along your windpipe just enough that you’d have tears welling up in your eyes. He wanted to turn you into a fucking blubbering mess. His eyes bore into yours as he used his upper body strength to push you off his lap and onto the carpet below. He pinned you down beneath his weight, using his knees to keep your thighs spread apart as you felt the heavy weight of his concealed cock bulging against the thin fabric along the soft swell of your tummy.“Here’s how this is gonna fuckin’ go. You’re gonna shut that smart ass mouth of yours, and get on your fuckin’ knees. You want this so fuckin’ bad?” He chuckled as he dragged the bridge of his nose against your cheek, inhaling your sweet strawberry scent. “Well, you’re gonna fuckin’ take whatever I give to ya.”

A smirk formed on your face as you closed your eyes for just a second to take it all in, and nodded in agreement. Joke was on him, you wanted him to man handle you and get rough. “Well c'mon then daddy, show me how big your cock is since you want it in my mouth so badly.” You egged him on to pull it out, you knew it was big. You may or may not have seen it once when he was getting out of the shower and he left the door open just a crack. It wasn’t intentional, he probably knew you were going to get up to get food and decided to give you a peek.

Joel nibbled along the soft skin on your cheek, dragging his lips and tongue down your exposed neck as he continued to inhale your aroma. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of it. Truthfully, he was more than compliant to lick every inch of your skin like the dirty man he was. “You want my cock? Then get on your fuckin’ knees. Don’t make me ask you again.” He slipped his hand down from where it was wrapped around your throat, bringing it down over himself, palming his cock through the fabric. You could see a dark wet patch from where the head of his cock had weeped a few beads of salty precum through the thin material.

You practically jumped up to your knees with eagerness and placed your hands on your thighs, waiting for him to pull his underwear down. The wet patch was making your head spin and you were growing needier and needier. Looking up at him with big puppy dog eyes, you teased him by licking your bottom lip and taking it between your teeth slowly before releasing it. You wanted to reach down between your thighs and play with yourself, but what would Joel say if he caught you doing that? When have you ever cared what he’d say? You tossed the idea to the side and did exactly that, shoved your hand right down your panties and rubbed circles over your clit.

Joel was certain that this was actually the prettiest sight he had ever laid his undeserving eyes on. How could someone be so fucking eager for him? Here you were, sitting on your knees like the compliant good girl that you were. Nearly drooling at the sight of him. God, he wanted to fuck your face. Stuff you full of his cock till you couldn’t breathe. He wanted to see tears streaming down your cheeks just so he could wipe them away with a calloused thumb. He knew right then and there as you unashamedly played with yourself under the fire’s glow, that you were something mixed between an Angel, and the Devil. A sinner just like he was. “Look at you. So fuckin’ needy for me. Lemme see her. Let me see how wet she is for me. You’re just a dirty little slut, huh girlie? Just a dirty little cockslut.” He palmed himself over the fabric as his eyes slightly lolled back into his skull. He could barely handle it anymore as he finally pushed his boxers down and his cock sprang free, slapping up against his stomach. Thick, veiny, the ruddy head dribbled in pre-cum, just for you.

Your lustful eyes watched as his cock emerged from his boxers and you swear you were seeing stars. There was no way that was going to fit inside you, but you were absolutely willing to try. You were going to make it fit inside you. Just hearing how he talks about your pussy made you gush with excitement and only made you want to play with yourself more. Without standing up you managed to shimmy out of your panties, tossing them at Joel’s chest. As you lean back while still on your knees, you spread your cunt for him to see it glisten and admire how pretty it is. You wanted him to see what he was about to destroy, what was soon going to be all his.

Joel wrapped his fist around the base of his cock, giving it a few firm tugs as his eyes glazed over, in a trance at watching you play with yourself. “Now that’s a fuckin’ gorgeous sight if I ever seen one..” he let out a harsh puff of air. “Can’t wait to fuckin’ get my mouth on ya. Only if you’re a good girl f’me.”

He scooted closer to you on his knees, cock heavy in his fist as his free hand cupped your cheek, softly at first, before you felt the pads of his fingertips digging into the soft flesh on your cheek, “Open that fuckin’ mouth of yours f’me. Nice and wide. Wanna see that pretty ‘lil throat I’m gonna fuck.”

Almost desperately doing what he said before he finished his sentence, you opened your mouth wide and stuck out your tongue waiting to be fed. You hummed quietly as you sat there, ready for him to fuck your face. It felt like butterflies took control over your stomach, forget butterflies actually; it felt like the whole damn zoo took control over your stomach. Never once did you peg Joel Miller to be the teasing type to make you beg to have his cock down your throat but here you were, begging.

Joel watched you with hooded eyes. His pupils were blown out, dilated as he was zoning in on his prey. His next meal. You looked dumbly pretty, obeying him like this. So willing, so needy. “That’s a good girl.” He praised you before releasing his tight grip that he had on your face, bringing his hand back to lightly smack you on the cheek. It was a loving smack. Before you could react, he shoved two of his thick fingers right down your throat, pressing them down harshly over your tongue to make you gag. “So fuckin’ pretty for me. You’re so good at always runnin’ that fuckin’ mouth of yours. I’m gonna take care of that issue for you, okay baby? Gonna stuff that pretty little throat of yours with my cock.” He slipped his fingers out, leaning directly over you as he dragged the head of his cock across your parted lips. “Keep that mouth nice and wide for me, that’s it baby. Good girl.” He rasped before he spat a glob of saliva right down into your awaiting mouth, watching as some of it dripped down the side of his cock. “Now, lick that up f’me. Nice and slow.”

There was nothing else you needed to say to him, now it was time to play and get played with. You got on all fours as you dipped your head down to where the saliva dripped to the base of his cock and with a flattened tongue you licked all the way from the shaft to the very tip as slow as you could go. Of fucking course you wanted to swallow his cock whole but you needed to make him wait just as much as he made you wait. You had to let him feel every inch of your tongue glide over his rock hard cock and coat it in spit before you shoved it down your throat. When you reached the head, you swirled your tongue over the tip and gathered all the pre-cum he was constantly spilling. As you grab his cock and begin to jerk him off slowly, you look at him and grin, “You’re gushing like a fucking tube of lip gloss, baby. Such a whore for me huh?”

It had been so fucking long since Joel had felt the warmth of a wet mouth around his cock. The almost instant euphoria washed over him as he took in a shuddered inhale. His hand had found its way to the back of your head grasping your hair tightly in his fist as a slew of profanities slipped past his parted lips. “Fuuuck. Jesus Christ, if I woulda known your mouth was this good, I would have put it to good use sooner.” He gripped your hair tighter as the muscles under his stomach clenched inwards. His head tilted back slightly before his gaze fell on you once more. Eyes narrowed as he yanked your head upwards harshly. “The only fuckin’ whore in this room is you girlie. Get to fuckin’ work. It ain’t gonna suck itself.”

Even when he was horny he refused to laugh at a silly thing like what you just said, go figure. He wanted his cock sucked? That’s exactly what he was gonna get. You leaned down and placed your hands between your knees to hold yourself up as you maneuvered his cock back into your mouth. As you started to bob your head back and forth, you hummed against him while trying to take him whole. You gagged when the head hit the back of your throat but you weren’t a quitter, you didn’t push him away. Instead, you shook your head from side to side for a few seconds and then released him from your mouth, starting the same thing over and over. Your whiny moans were muffled from his cock being shoved in your mouth but he still felt them vibrate against his thick shaft. Looking up at him as you release him once more, a string of spit connected from your mouth to the tip of his cock and he really got to see how desperate you were for him. “Tell me I look pretty like this. That I look so beautiful with your cock shoved down my throat, tears spilling while I choke on you.”

“Fuck yeah, that’s it. Good girl. Suckin’ me off like the good little cockslut that you are.” He rocked his hips forward when he felt the head of his cock reach the back of your throat. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this girlie. Throat stuffed with my cock. So fuckin’ beautiful.” He hissed under his breath as he brought his freehand up to his mouth, biting down on his fist. “You got two hands for a reason, don’tcha? Play with your needy little pussy while you suck me off. C’mon. I wanna see how wet you can get yourself f’me. Wanna see you drippin’ all over the fuckin’ carpet.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice to touch yourself, so you reached down between your thighs and ran your fingers through your soaking wet slit, listening to the faint clicking sounds you made as you rubbed around your throbbing clit. Just seeing him so worked up over your mouth was enough motivation to cum right there all over the floor but you had to pace yourself. You took his cock in your mouth and went all the way down until your nose bumped the base of his cock and you gagged a bit, a moan mixing in there somewhere. Not even wondering if he’d like it, you grabbed his cock with your freehand and held it to the side and sucked up one of his balls into your mouth. Your tongue toyed with it while you sucked firmly before releasing it with a pop sound. If he didn’t like his balls being sucked before this moment, he does now.

Joel doesn’t think he’s going to last much longer with you like this. No, he knows he is not going to last much longer. His eyes are hooded, glazed over as he watches you suck one of his balls into your mouth. The tears that were welling in your eyes from deep throating him sent an animalistic growl coursing up his throat. In one swift movement he was yanking your head away from his cock as he squeezed your face harshly, causing your swollen lips to pucker. “Now, that is enough.” He narrowed his eyes down at you, zoning in on the bit of precum dribbled along your chin. “You enjoyed that, huh girlie? You loved havin’ my cock shoved down your throat? Yeah, of course you did. What am I gonna do with you now?...” He had a grin playing on his lips as he observed you with harsh scrutiny. “Think I wanna have a taste of exactly how wet I got your pussy. She’s glistenin’ ain’t she?” His lips parted mockingly in an o shape as his hand slipped between your thighs, brushing the back of his knuckles across your puffy, swollen lips. “You think I should have a taste? See just how sweet you really are?”

“Y-yes please sir, please put your mouth on me, I-I need you so badly- fuckk” you cry out and grind against his hand, your brows furrowing in pleasure. He was getting you so hot and bothered you were so close to getting up and riding his face. He had the perfect nose for it, too. You laid flat on your back and spread your arms out, running your hands over the carpet under your palms. You were practically getting into position for him, all he had to do was put that gorgeous face between your legs.

Sir.

Now that was something that Joel Miller could 100% get behind. “Sir? Mmm. Now we’re talkin.’” He grabbed ahold of your ankles beneath his rough palms and just when you thought he was finally going to nestle his head between your open thighs, he roughly flipped you over in one swift movement so you were laying on your stomach. You felt his arm swoop in under your middle as he forced you to arch your back at an uncomfortable angle. Your ass in the air as you felt his hands pry the soft flesh of your ass cheeks apart. He didn’t allow you a grace period to get comfortable in the new position he had contorted you in. Oh no, he didn’t want to waste any more precious time. His mouth was on you in an instant, tongue lapping at the sticky sweet slick between your folds, while his nose was firmly pressed against your clit. He was eating you like a man starved, groaning against you as he reached down between his own thighs and grabbed ahold of the base of his cock, giving it a few firm tugs. He pulled back momentarily, only to spit all over your already soaked cunt. He lapped up his own saliva, mixed with the addictive taste of your arousal. He was positively feral as he dove his tongue into your tight wet hole, fucking you with the wet muscle. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet, girlie. All f’me? This cunt? It belongs to me. All fuckin’ mine.” He growled against you, mouthful of your pussy as he shook his head back and forth vigorously. “All. Fuckin.’ Mine.”

Your nails clawed at the carpet as you whined Joel’s name, begging him to keep going just how he was. If this was the way you could die, you’d go happy. You pressed your cheek against the floor as you moaned louder with every swipe his tongue did over your clit, and boy did he know where the clit was. Joel wasn’t like anyone else you had been with before. Most of them took a few looks at your boobs and that was enough for them to cum to while they attempted to fuck you. Not a single one gave you this much attention, praised you exactly how you wanted to be praised. Joel Miller owned you. “Fuuuck daddy, don’t stop. That’s the spot. I promise you I’m all yours, I swear. You make me feel so fucking good, my god.” you squealed and bounced your ass a little to create friction against his tongue.

Joel scraped his teeth across your clit as he wrapped his lips around it and sucked on the little bud harshly. “I ain’t your fuckin’ daddy, girlie. You fuckin’ call me sir or I don’t let you cum.” His arm that was firmly wrapped around your middle yanked you further back into his face. He was ready to drown in your fucking pussy at this point. Get drunk off your taste along his tongue. “You’re all fuckin’ mine. You got that? You cum when I say you fuckin can.”

He’s a fucking pro at this, must’ve done it a lot before the outbreak, you thought to yourself while his mouth worked on you. Reaching behind you and grabbing the back of his head to make sure his face is as deep as he can make it, you moan his name louder with every flick of his tongue. The way he slurped up your juices like he was starving, the way his groans vibrated against you, Joel Miller was the devil himself. “Let me cum please, sir. I wanna cum for you so bad” you barely managed to get out.

“You think a fuckin’ slut like you gets to cum?” He mumbled against your soaked cunt. He pulled his face from between your thighs. His chin, beard, and lips were coated in your slick. He didn’t give you much time to recover as he slipped two fingers into your wet warmth. He pumped his fingers at an agonizing fast pace as he leaned down over your back, his cock sliding across your lower back as his freehand grabbed your face roughly and pushed it down into the carpet. “Only way you’re gonna fuckin’ cum is around my cock. You fuckin’ hold it in girlie. Or else I won’t fuck you. How’s that sound? I’ll leave you beggin’ for more and I won’t give it to you.” He gruffly whispered against the shell of your ear.

“So fuck me how you think I should be fucked, Joel. If I’m such a slut, fuck me like one.” You smirked, trying to get a rise out of him. His words made your spine tingle and your body felt hot, so desperate for him to be inside you and rip you apart from the inside out. You slid one of your hands down your stomach and to your clit, giving it the attention Joel was slacking. He had you so close and if he’d gone just a few seconds longer, your clit wouldn’t be aching this badly. “Shove your cock inside me, I know you’ve wanted to since the first time you saw me. I found your dirty magazines, you filthy old man. Do you think of me when you look at them?” The playful tone in your voice was probably annoying the shit out of him considering you called him out for his magazine stash.

Joel pressed your cheek further into the carpet and when he saw you slide your fingers over your clit, he slipped his fingers out and smacked your hand away. “Did I fuckin’ tell you that you could touch yourself?” He was feeling a newfound sense of rage when you openly admitted to going through his things. “You fuckin’ dirty little whore. You went through my fuckin’ stuff?” He growled against your ear. “You know it’s rude to go through someone’s personal belongings, right girlie? You knew exactly what you were fuckin’ doin.’” He tsked under his breath as his free hand wrapped around his cock. “Such a bad girl. A bad, bad, bad girl.” He didn’t even bother to tease your entrance with the tip of his cock. He was absolutely ready to slice you right down the middle as he harshly jutted his hips forward, sinking fully into you. His nails dug into the flesh of your ass leaving crescents in their way as he snapped his hips forward over, and over again.

You shrieked as he buried his cock inside your soaking wet hole, not giving you any time to adjust. “You knew I was a bad girl and you knew I’d find them- fuck, Joel.” you cried out and reached back to put your hand on his as he dug his nails deeper in your skin. You arched your back further with every thrust Joel made until your chest was pressed into the carpet. The warmth from the fire and Joel’s body started to make you sweat slightly, your body starting to glimmer in the glow of the flames. “What’re you gonna do about it? Fuck the attitude out of me until I can’t walk or do anything? Show me your worst, Joel.” Your orgasm was building once more in the pit of your stomach and the thought of cumming before he tells you to actually scared you a tad, simply for the fact you weren’t sure how he’d react.

“What the fuck else did ya go through, huh?! Fuckin’ sneakin’ around my shit after I spared your fuckin’ life?!” He grunted deeply as he continued to slam his hips into you. He listened to the sound of his skin slapping harshly against yours, along with the crackling of the fire. His nails were digging so harshly into the soft flesh of your ass that he was drawing blood. Did he care? Not one fucking bit. “You just shut that whore ass mouth up and take whatever I fuckin’ give you.” Each harsh thrust had him driving his cock even deeper into you. You could feel the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix with each thrust. He wasn’t showing any mercy; especially after he found out that you betrayed his trust.

“N-nothing Joel I swear, it was just the ba-throom” the slapping of your skin interrupted you and made it difficult to focus. Suddenly you felt like maybe you shouldn’t have brought up the magazines, but you didn’t think he’d be too upset. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m sorry” you kept repeating and begging for him to listen. It was all becoming too much for you, overwhelming you as he was thrusting so deep inside you, his nails digging even harder, the anger you could feel radiating off of him. You squeezed your walls around him, trying to keep yourself from cumming right then and there. It was right there, your stomach doing flips while your clit thumped with eagerness. “Please don’t be mad at me, I’ll be a good girl, I’m sorry.” you whined and squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on anything except how he said you have a whore mouth and how wet that made you. As he pumped in and out of you, a faint squelching sound filled the room and you whimpered his name louder.

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ liar, girlie. You’re sorry? Oh, I’m sure you fuckin’ are. It’s too late for you to be a good girl, baby. Too fuckin’ late for that.” He slipped out of you suddenly, giving you false hope that he was done but of course..that hope was immediately crushed when he grabbed your ankles and roughly flipped you over onto your back. A mixture of his pre-cum and your slick coated his cock and your inner thighs as he pressed your thighs into your chest. Slipping back into you was easy work with how soaked you already were and at this angle, you felt him reaching spots you felt were impossible to reach. You could feel him deep within your lower belly with each thrust. His hand grabbed your jaw roughly as he forced you to look up at him. His brows were furrowed in concentration and his eyes were as black as coal. “Fuckin’ look me in the goddamn eyes and tell me that you didn’t go snoopin’ anywhere else.” He gritted out between locked teeth as the pads of his fingers dug into your cheekbones.

Your eyes widened at his angry tone, his grip on your face making it hard to look away and lie. “I promise I didn’t Joel, I swear” you croaked out and screwed your eyes shut. Every piece of you was hoping he’d believe you and let it go. You grabbed his hand and tried to pry it off your face and onto your neck, trying to choke yourself with his hand. “Tell me when I can breathe, go ahead.” you insisted. The familiar white hot burning sensation was back in your core, making you feel like you could never get enough of this. He was fucking you so good you begged for him to never stop, keep going until he couldn’t anymore and leave his cock inside you to grow later when he’s ready to continue. You hooked your arm around the back of your knees to hold them closer and give him as much access to you as possible. Joel’s callused hands felt so good against you, his touch always so firm and rough on you.

“Give me one good fuckin’ reason as to why I should believe you? One fuckin’ reason.” He grunted as his thrusts became less coordinated, and more sloppy. He growled under his breath when you tried to remove his hand from your face but this was the one moment where he obliged and wrapped his hand around the base of your throat. “I’m gonna cum inside this fuckin’ pussy. You got that? I don’t care if you have to say ‘bout it either. I’m doin’ witn you whatever the fuck I please. Bet a slut like you loves to have your pussy coated in a dirty old man’s cum, huh girlie?” He watched the way your eyes rolled back as he snapped his hips forward. “Bein’ a good girl and grippin’ my cock so tightly. Fuckin gorgeous. Dumb little cockslut. I ain’t ever gonna fuckin’ let you go.”

“Please please please” you repeated as his grip on your throat sent your head spinning and your legs began to tremble, your mouth falling into an o shape as he drilled into you. “Joel let me cum with you, let me cover your big cock with my cum and show you how good I really am” your voice wobbled from the limited air being inhaled. Tears started to prick your eyes the closer and closer your orgasm was getting, your toes curling in the air. “This is your pussy, Joel. Do whatever you want to me, cum so deep inside me and watch it spill out before I suck your cock clean from our fluids mixing.” Your other hand went to your nipples and pinched them firmly, slightly twisting just to get you that much closer to cumming for Joel.

“That’s fuckin’ right girlie. You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. All of you fuckin’ belongs to me. You best not forget that either.” His tone was possessive as he claimed complete ownership over you. “Let those pretty ‘lil tears fall f’me. Weep for my fuckin’ cock. That’s it baby. Good fuckin girl.” He brought his free hand down to where your bodies were connected and rubbed your clit in harsh circles with his thumb as he gave a few more harsh thrusts. “Cum for me girlie. Coat my fuckin’ cock. Every last fuckin’ drop. Give it all to me.”

Your back arched off the floor and you squirm while your orgasm washes over you, guttural moans of Joel’s name and curse words flying from your lips. He was sending you over the top with rubbing your clit. You tried pushing his hand away but Joel being Joel didn’t budge.”Fuuuck Joel, that’s so good. You treat me like a fuckin’ princess. Now cum inside me and fill me up full.” Your breaths were deep as you tried to regain your senses, Joel still very much pumping in and out of you. His cock was twitching and you could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer. You bit your lower lip gently and looked at Joel with your beautiful eyes that he has a hard time saying no to, trying to get him to cum so deep inside you.

Joel let out a guttural almost animalistic sound that crescendo deep from within his throat. His hips stuttered as hot spurts of cum coated your fluttering walls. He bit down on your shoulder hard as he finished inside of you. The moment was over as quick as it came. Joel was already slipping out of you without another word. His cold demeanor washed over his post orgasm haze as he grabbed his boxers and yanked them over his hips. He grabbed the rest of his clothes in a fury. He wasn’t looking at you. It was as if you didn’t even exist in his close proximity anymore. He didn’t participate in any form of aftercare. He didn’t leave tender soft kisses along your face. Instead, he left you there on the carpet, fucked out with his cum dripping out of your spent cunt. Even with the fire's warmth, your body felt cold. His bedroom door slamming shut echoed through the cabin walls like a cymbal.

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 2

An AU Elvis fic

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis’ full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, voyeurism, masturbation, blood/gore

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone!

I hope you like this fic so far! I'm having fun writing it and it's getting more spicy 🤭 Reader is going through it and I'm loving the tension between these two. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs. 🖤

Your alarm clock seems to be louder than usual and the instant feeling of anxiety fills your body when you open your eyes. You dreaded going to work today and wished you could just call out sick. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind you were going to get called into the office today and get scolded, and maybe possibly fired. How did you fuck up the most simple of tasks?! Clean and get out. But no, you had to become a nervous wreck around Elvis and shatter a champagne bottle in your hands, making more of a mess and bleed all over his suite. 

You muster up the courage to get ready and take a shower. Removing the bandages from your hands, you inspect the damage you caused. The cuts didn’t look as bad as yesterday but hurt when stretched your fingers out and flexed your hands. You decided to wrap them back up to keep the wounds dry and clean. 

Looking at the clock, you decide to get to work a bit early incase management needed to talk to you. Might as well prepare for the worse. The drive to the hotel made your stomach turn, the way the air smelled made you sick the closer you got to the parking garage. 

You get to the locker room at noon and it’s buzzing with everyone about to head to lunch. You take a few more steps into the room and everyone grows quiet, throwing disgruntled looks to you. You have no idea what everyone’s problem is but you quickly make it to your locker and get your things out, trying to act like nothing is bothering you. Your friend, Anna, opens her locker next to you and bumps your shoulder.

“What’s with everyone today?” You mutter, looking over your shoulder and seeing the disgusted stares continuing. 

“Everyone found out about you getting promoted to the penthouse and they’re pissed. Especially the ones that have been here a lot longer than you have.” She whispers. “But I’m happy for you, you work your ass off. You have to tell me, what’s he like?” She says in an excited whisper. 

“Well, he’s a dick. Rudest asshole I’ve ever met,” you snicker. She looks at you with wide eyes and covers her mouth from the the laugh that wants to come out. 

“Really?! What did you say to him? What happened?” She presses. 

“Not much but he was just in a foul mood. He watched my every last move and…” you stop yourself, still very much embarrassed about yesterday’s events. 

“Come on tell me,” Anna says eagerly. 

“I broke a champagne bottle and bled all over his suite, then he kicked me out,” you say with a snicker, the nerves getting the best of you and needing to let out the pent up anxiety. 

She lets out a giggle and picks up your bandaged hands. “Y/n, what the hell. That’s awful! You’re like the biggest perfectionist on earth. What happened?” 

“He made me… so nervous. I don’t know what it was about his presence but it just was so intense. The way he’d look at me gave me chills, I don’t know! I have no explanation other than the nerves got the best of me and it broke me, literally,” you say jokingly as you raise up your bandaged hands. 

Anna laughs at you and you continue to change your clothes. 

“Y/n, get in here,” Tanya’s voice echos loudly from the back office. You stomach drops and you look nervously at Anna. 

“Shit, this can’t be good,” you mutter. 

It feels like a death march, and you try to come up with an excuse for your behavior but nothing is good enough to get you out in the clear. 

You swing open the office door and see Tanya looking down at paperwork. 

“Shut the door please,” she says with the wave of her pen. 

You comply and take a seat in the chair, your leg nervously bouncing up and down. 

“How was your shift yesterday?” She asks, her tone unwavering. 

You swallow harshly and clear your throat before speaking. 

“It went well. Was there any notes Mr. Presley left for me?” You say quietly.

She hands you a piece of paper and you hesitate to take it. 

“He sent this down sometime last night. He was so impressed with you y/n. Left you high praise and that’s really a feat! Not even Laura got such high praise when she worked up there. I’m really impressed too,” she says proudly. 

You exhale a sigh of relief and let out a nervous laugh as you take the paper from her hand. 

“Mr. Presley would like to keep y/n as his permanent housekeeper. She gave wonderful care and service.” -Presley Enterprises

You’re at a loss for words and don’t know how you received such a letter. You could have sworn by the wrath in Elvis’ voice you were going to be fired but the opposite tone was conveyed and now you were his permanent housekeeper?

“Thank you Tanya, I’m glad everything worked out smoothly for him. Was there anything else you needed from me?” You say positively. 

“No that was all. Keep up the good work,” she says cheerfully. 

You excuse yourself and close the door behind you, making a swift jog to the bathroom. How were you able to get such high praise when he made it so clear that he hated you. That you were a complete nuisance to him and had to harshly kick you out! That wasn’t normal and you wanted to ask him what the reason for such crass behavior was. You check your hair in the mirror and slick it back in a tight ponytail.

The locker room clears out and it’s left with you and your wandering thought. The shrill sound of the phone makes you race to grab the phone from the wall. It was too early for Elvis to be calling, it was only 2 o clock, so at least you can take a few more moments to calm yourself down and get ready for your shift.  

“Housekeeping, this is y/n,” you quip. 

“Mr. Presley is requesting your services,” the voice says darkly and hangs up. Your heart races and you scramble to make sure you have everything. You sprint your way to the elevator with your key to get to the penthouse, making sure to not make him wait as long as he did yesterday for you in your nervous state. 

The elevator jolts up and you smooth out your uniform. The doors open and the same man is waiting for you when you step out. You quickly make your way to the door and step inside. 

The decedent smell fills your nose again and you quietly close the door behind you. There’s so much more light in the room today and as you turn around, you realize the curtains are all open, letting in that fresh sunlight. Your eyes dart to the moving figure moving in your peripheral. Elvis stands a few feet away from you in all black again, a white shirt buttoned down to the middle of his torso and his hair perfectly combed back in his signature way. 

Again, you’re heart raced by just the sight of him. You stand there for a second trying not to stare but miserably failing. Nerves rush through you, waiting for him to snap at you for yesterday's mishaps and make you feel incompetent. 

“H-hello, Mr. Presley,” you say intimidated, giving a slight smile at the last second.

“Hello, y/n. I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a grin. He makes his way toward you in a slow, nonchalant manner and raises his hand out in front of him. 

You realize he’s not wearing any sunglasses today and can see how blue his eyes are for the first time. They’re electric, so captivating, and alluring. They’re like clear blue tropical waters, something you’ve only seen in books. No photograph could properly capture this shade of blue and you just wanted to swim in them. This makes your heart beat flutter again and you try to regain focus on what Elvis is saying to you.  

“I’m very sorry for how I acted yesterday. Maybe we can start over. I hope you don’t think I’m a rude asshole,” he suggests with a chuckle. 

You wince and the words he said, the same ones you whispered to Anna a few hours ago, and feel bad that you said it based on your one interaction. But if he admits he was wrong, you’ll take the apology. Looking down at his pale hand, it’s covered in rings that are probably worth more than you make in a year’s salary. You carefully wrap your fingers around his large hand and shake it. He still feels cold like he did yesterday or maybe it was just the coolness of the rings making him feel that way, you couldn’t decipher what was the coldest. You tried not to dwell on it and tried to stop staring at his hands as you noticed the scars and calluses on his long fingers. 

You meet his gaze and smile genuinely for the first time. 

“It’s alright Mr. Presley, I was also a bit nervous yesterday and wasn’t myself.” You assure. You notice he still has your hand in his grasp, rubbing the faintest circle on the back of your hand distracting you from making a coherent thought. Even though his temperature was off from yours, the way his skin felt on yours was obsessional. The way it tingled effortlessly through your body down to your toes and you wanted more. Your heart continues to dance in your chest and you feel his gaze intensify. 

“Are you feeling better Mr. Presley? You were very…cold yesterday,” you say shyly. 

He lets out a small hum before answering, “Never better honey. You definitely brightened up my day,” he says coyly. 

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. How does this man have so much charm in his body that he makes you feel like a love-struck puppy? 

He finally lets go of your hand and you want it back on you, liking his touch more than you should. 

He starts to walk toward the couch, looking over his shoulder at you before sitting down, “please, sit with me. I want to get to know you better,” he coos. Standing there unable to speak, you nervously smile and shake your head at him. 

“No, that’s okay Mr. Presley I don’t sit down in the guest's spaces when I’m on the clock. I really should get started cleaning.” You defer. 

For a second, his eyebrows furrow in confusion, then his eyes grow soft and almost plead for you. “Oh no please, I insist,” He smiles softly. 

“That’s okay Mr. Presley. If you want, you can ask me questions while I clean, I’m okay with that,” you say cheerfully. Turning to your cleaning cart you left here last night, you grab a trash bag and begin to clean up the remnants of last night's party. You quickly glance over at him sitting on the couch, watching you like a hawk with a smirk on his face. 

“What did you want to know about me?” You ask, picking up bottles and throwing plates away. 

Elvis hums softly to himself, trying to find the words to ask, “How old are you?” 

“I’m 30, but I really feel like I’m 16 still,” you quip cutely. You hear a low chuckle come from him. “How old are you,” you throwback to him. 

“Hmm, I guess I’m 38 but sometimes I feel 33, maybe even 21 at times but based on how many times I’ve traveled around the sun, I’m just 38.” He remarks. 

“Okay, I’ll say you’re young at heart,” You say and you hear him chuckle. 

“What do you like to do for fun?” He asks next. 

This actually makes you pause and think because quite frankly, you don’t know. 

“Well, it’s hard to say… I work pretty much all the time so the days I do have off, I just clean up my apartment or go swimming or something. I just don’t have a lot of time for fun,” you say a bit defeated. He looks at you with sorrow in his eyes, hearing the sadness that is behind those words. 

“I’m sorry to hear that. That’s no way to live,” He noted. You nod in agreement as you tie off the trash bag and reach for another one. 

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest, but I get by and that’s all that matters,” you try to say cheerfully. 

“So do you ever leave the penthouse?” You ask him cheekily. 

He snickers and nods his head, “only when I have to. I just don’t like it. There’s nothing out there for me,” he broods. 

“Ah I see… do you miss being able to walk down the street without being noticed?” 

“Sometimes, but my fans gave me all of this so I can’t complain,” he says stoically. 

There’s a comfortable silence that is built in between you two as you continue to work. He still watches you intensely like he did yesterday, but there was a sense of curiosity embedded in that stare. You move to the next room and he follows closely behind you. This room you assumed could be a guest room since it didn’t seem to have any personal belongings of Elvis’ in there. There were a dozen candle sticks, all in red, lit up making the room feel eerie and ancient almost. You couldn’t pinpoint what that feeling, was but the more you observed the contents in the room, how strange the things he did collect. There were books on death and philosophy. Books on history and myths. It was all very fascinating to you as you carefully move these items out of the way to clean, trying to read the back cover of them. They were all very dusty and old. You had never seen a book made like this. Bound in a light brown cover with red lettering on the front and golden leafed edges on the paper. 

He sits on the edge of the bed as you reach to dust the books and the shelves above the bed, something you didn’t get an opportunity to get to yesterday. His eyes stare at your ass, watching you make the smallest movements as you are focused on getting the job done. You look over your shoulder at him and see where his gaze is directed at. Your cheeks feel on fire being the object this man is looking at lustfully. You haven’t gotten this much attention from a man in years and you can’t lie to yourself, you kind of like it. 

You get off the bed and fix the comforter, fluffing up the pillows as you stare back at him with a similar intensity. 

“Can I ask what you’re staring at?” You jest. 

“Nothing honey don’t worry. You’re just very beautiful that’s all,” he admits with a grin. You can’t help but smile hearing those words come from one of the most handsome people you’ve ever laid eyes on. And even in your drab pale blue uniform that was uncomfortable, he still managed to see your beauty. 

“So you’re married?” He stipulates and the sound of his voice makes you jump after the comfortable silence that was there previously. 

“Huh?” You asked confused. 

“You have a suntan on your ring finger, I assumed it’s because you’re married and don’t wear your ring while you work,” he observes. If you’re not mistaken, you feel like you can hear slight agitation in his voice? His eyes do that thing that makes you want to crumble before him as he expectantly waits for your answer. 

“Oh, well no, I’m not actually married. I’m just engaged and yeah I don’t normally wear the band at work so it doesn’t get damaged… You have good eyes, Mr. Presley,” you say jokingly. 

“Mhmm…how long have you been engaged?” he continues. 

“A couple years,” you say embarrassed. You were the last one out of all your friends to get married and it weighed on your mind. Maybe Daniel didn’t want to marry you after all since he doesn’t even bring up a date or anything. You tried to convince yourself that you didn’t wear your ring to not get it dirty or lost, but as time has gone on, something about it didn’t feel right wearing a ring there… 

“Why is that?” He snaps. You shoot your eyes back to him and he’s now standing up, looking at you like he could jump over this bed and attack you. 

“I don’t know… We haven’t gotten around to setting a date or pick a venue or anything. It just isn’t the right time,” you say sheepishly, defeat tainting your voice . 

Elvis walks around the bed toward you, analyzing every inch of your body until he’s right in front of you. 

“You deserve better,” he mumbles, reaching out and touching your cheek with his cold hand, rubbing his thumb softly there, giving your body a shiver. His eyes drink you in as he stands there with your face in his hand, chest beginning to rise and fall quicker. You watch as his chest heaves, inspecting every detail of your face and trailing down to your collarbone to the swell of your breast. Your skin gets chills as he does this and he notices, bringing a smirk to his face. 

“If only you knew…” he mutters. 

You grab his wrist, feeling your breathing increase with his close proximity making the room spin. Your vision gets blurry and you grab onto him tighter. You wanted him to comfort you in way you didn’t quite know about. You just wanted his body close to yours, like that would fix all your problems. A complete shift in thought compared to yesterday when all you wanted to do was say thirty yards away from him. 

“Elvis, I-I -I should get back to work,” you say a little breathlessly. 

His chest continues to rise and fall quickly and he bites his lower lip, nodding his head to you. 

“Of course, I’ll leave you alone. Leave whenever you would like,” he says quickly. Before he turns away, he takes his hands off of your face and gives the back of your bandaged hand a kiss. His lips barely grazed your skin but the way his lips dragged down along fingertips before he left was all too much to handle. The way your body screamed for more was frightening. 

You had never even thought of wanting another man since you’ve been with Daniel. You had convinced yourself that he was all you needed. But the way that Elvis makes you feel… you may need to question some of that. 

But it's Elvis. Everyone wanted him so it wasn’t like it made you any more special that you found him attractive too. You’re pretty sure your mom even finds him attractive. 

All this weird tension he’s given you today sizzles in your body and it takes everything in you to not follow him to the other room. He quietly leaves the room and turns in the direction leading to his bedroom, leaving you standing there unable to think. 

If only you knew…

His voice lingers in your head like a soothing whisper and you realize you were holding your breath thinking about this. You have to get a hold of yourself. You can’t actually think you can get Elvis Presley. He’s the most lust-after man on the planet and you’re just his housekeeper. There’s nothing there. 

Cleaning the rest of the penthouse felt atomically challenging. Your head couldn’t focus on anything in front of you and it took 3 different tries to not leave streaks on the mirrors. Your mind kept replaying that kiss on your hand, the way his lips felt so plush and soft on your skin, and wanted them to kiss more than just your hand. The way his hand felt on yours, looking at those long skilled fingers enveloping your small fragile hand. Those fingers that have had years of callouses from playing guitar so much and would probably feel amazing if they were running along your back. 

Shit, focus. 

You look at yourself I’m the mirror and see how frazzled you look. The burning want in your eyes for this man is so palpable, you’re embarrassed you’ve gotten yourself like this. 

Checking your watch, it’s 8 o clock, way past the time you thought you’d be done but with all these distractions, you moved at a snail's pace today. You finally finish and do a last walk-through of the space, making sure nothing is out of place. 

“Mr. Presley I’m all finished. Did you need anything else?” You announce loudly, unsure of what part of the penthouse he’s in. You don’t hear an answer and continue to check everything over, even checking behind the curtains for any wandering champagne bottles, then shutting the curtains for the night. 

Passing by the door that you assume leads to his bedroom, you hear noises. Moans in fact. The door isn’t closed all the way and the glow of the tv shines through the crack. Everything in you told you not to pry but the mystery of his seclusion when it came to his bedroom quarters had your curiosity reeling. You slowly tip-toe to the doorframe, pressing your forehead to it to peek in. 

There was a large tv set against the wall with a mirror to the right of it. On the tv was a pornography movie playing with a man and woman touching each other and making all these sounds. The man was teasing the woman, squeezing her nipples and she let out a pent up moan. You couldn’t see anything else in the room until you looked in the reflection of the mirror. There you saw Elvis sitting on the edge of his bed in his robe, watching intently what was on the screen. His hair looked like he had just come out of the shower with some strands falling onto his forehead, making him look somehow even better than before. Your eyes go back to the tv and watch the man continue to tease the woman with his dick, rubbing his length in between her folds. She moans and your eyes flash back to Elvis, seeing his mouth slightly open and his intense eyes looking at the scene unfold on the screen. 

He looks so good like this, the lust slowly dripping over his face and the way his eyebrows started to furrow. You watched as his fingers pulled the robe ties loose and open the garment. He opens it letting the thick material fan open to expose his naked body underneath. 

You have to hold your breath when you see him sitting there. You haven’t seen many men naked, but this was as beautiful as they get. His body was toned and perfectly pale white all the way down to his toes. Your eyes can’t help but stop and stare at his length. It was a lot longer than you expected and made this feeling grow inside you. 

Want?

Need?

Lust?

Jealousy?

You weren’t sure what it was but God he looked so good. He brings his hand up to his mouth and he spits in it, wrapping it around his length and he starts to rub it back and forth in his hand. You didn’t care what was on the tv you just wanted to watch him. He focuses on the tip of his cock, rubbing some of his precum along the shaft. There’s a vein that pops from his neck the longer he does this, making you wish you could just bite there. 

The moans escalate from the movie and his hand picks up pace, making his own delicious moans that drown out the others. Standing there you cross your legs, squeezing your thighs together as you realize that you’re starting to get wet from just watching him. 

“Oh fuck,” he moans, soft and sultry. His voice brings you a zing of pleasure straight to your core. It scared you that this is how this man makes you feel but you can’t help but keep watching the scene in front of you. 

Another moan slips from his beautiful mouth and his hand jerks his length harder. Your breathing picks up and that need inside you grows. You feel so naughty, so dirty for even remotely liking this. 

“Mmm, yes… you like that,” his voice dripping in temptation making you shiver. 

His hand stops suddenly and your eyes travel up to see his face. There you see piercing ice blue eyes looking back at you in the mirror. His eyes look dangerous and wild, hungry for attention and you were their prey. Your heart thumped louder than it ever did before and your stomach flipped. You quickly back away from the door and make a run for it. 

You swing open the front door open and pull the cleaning cart through after you, making the heavy door slam loudly. Your heart keeps ringing in your ears and you feel like you could throw up at any second. The guys standing in the hallway stare at you like you’ve gone absolutely crazy. You advert your eyes away from their gazes and slam the elevator button, making the doors open quickly and you rush inside. Pulling the cleaning cart in just in time before they close and you press the basement button. 

The elevator cart lurches down and you crouch over, hugging your knees to your chest and feeling like you’ve just jumped into the biggest trench you’ve ever seen, and its filling up with water fast. You have to gasp for air and felt dizzy with everything that you just saw. 

But he was so distracting, so beautiful, you wanted more of him. You knew it was wrong. You were still very much engaged to another man. To a man that doesn’t even care to ask how your day was. 

There was too many confusing thoughts in your head and you had to get out of this place and clear it. You finally reach the locker room and change, shredding off your uniform and grabbing your purse before running to your car. 

You drove through the city like a wanted criminal. Almost blowing red lights and switching lanes any time you felt that person was going too slow. You just needed to be alone and gather your thoughts and calm down. Pulling into the driveway, you quickly turn off the car and rush to get inside. 

Locking the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief that you’re alone. 

“What are you doing home so late?” Daniel’s voice booming in the otherwise silent house making you tremble even more. 

“I uh, I had some overtime today, it’s busy season because Elvis is in town,” you say assuredly. It wasn’t a total lie. The hotel would get fully booked every time he was there for his residency and would have to put in some extra time cleaning rooms and washing towels and sheets. 

“Ah yeah, I forgot that bum is in town,” he shrugs. His tone stings at you for whatever reason and you move into the living room to put your purse down, trying not to make a big deal about it and try to calm yourself down. He sits down on the couch to put his shoes on and you see what he’s wearing. He had his three-piece navy blue suit on he always wore to work and he did look very handsome in it. The blue made his eyes stand out. 

“You look nice tonight,” you say softly. He doesn’t look at you and nods his head as he goes to grab his keys, “thanks, I’m off to work see you later,” he says dryly. 

The slam of the door doesn’t make you flinch and you sit there annoyed more than anything. You get up to lock the top bolt and feel the stillness of the house as you turn around. You’re used to the silence but today it felt different. 

Heading into the bedroom, you take off your uniform after a very long and eventful day. Sliding the skirt off your hips, you feel something odd between your legs. You pull your panties down too and see the slick that has gathered at the bottom of them. Your cheeks redden, shocked that he made you that wet by just watching him. 

You haven’t been this aroused in years and it terrified you that Elvis had that much power over you. He barely even touched you and you were a wreck. You couldn’t even imagine how it would feel if he touched you intimately…

You quickly take a shower and let the hot water run down your tired body. Trying to calm yourself down, you take your time and wash your hair. Turning off the faucet, you wrap your towel around you and scurry to the bedroom to get your pajamas. Reaching into the dresser for a pair of panties, you throw them on the bed as well as your matching pajamas. You pat your body dry and sit on the edge of the bed, thankful for the soft plush mattress to soothe your tired body. 

Unwrapping the towel, you grab the pair of panties you got out and start to slip them on. But something catches your eye; the arousal that continued to leak out of you. Your heart thumps loudly and you let out a frustrated groan. The effect this man left on you is dangerous. Your body could not forget the feeling he gave you by just being in his presence. The nervousness, the intrigue, the lust, all of that burned inside you as you feel your clit begin to throb because of him. Your fingers carefully slide down and find your aching bud. You take a sharp breath in as you discover how sensitive it is.

Rubbing it in slow circles, you feel so much relief, so much pleasure instantly that you’re pretty sure it’s not going to take you very long until you come undone. The amount of slick that came out of you was embarrassing but you didn’t care, you kept focusing on yourself.

Suddenly those long calloused fingers flash in your mind and your heart gallops at this salacious thought. You can’t help it, in this very moment, you wanted to have those fingers touch you in places that hasn’t gotten any attention in ages. Your hips involuntarily grind into your finger and a louder airy moan comes out of you. Your index and middle finger glide through your sopping folds and moan more as you rub them on your clit, sending another shock in your body.

“Oh god,” you moan breathlessly, putting more pressure on your bud. 

You feel that coil in your belly tighten and about to snap any second. You let your head fall back and squeeze your eyes closed, working yourself up to orgasm.

His voice echoes in your head, the sound of his gruff voice making you tingle when you thought of how it sounded when he was pleasuring himself.

You like that?... you hear his voice again and you cry out in frustration.

You feel your walls flutter and cry out, feeling the euphoric feeling take over your body.

“Ohmygod,” you moan out, “Oh my god E-Elvis,” you hiss and you gasp at what just came out of your mouth so easily. You sit there shaking, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm reel through your body. You felt horrified you just moaned out his name. What the hell was wrong with you?! This should not be happening. You could not be fantasizing about another man, especially one that is Elvis. 

A dark shadow moves in the corner of your eye and you snap your head in the direction of the bedroom door. There’s nothing there but a huge chill runs down your body and your breathing continues to grow heavy. You were being paranoid and the shame and guilt ran through you. 

It was probably nothing. You were the only one home. Just your imagination running wild and making yourself crazy. You get up and shut the bedroom door and lock it for safe measure.

You get underneath the sheets and focus on your breathing. 

You had to get a hold of yourself. You can’t let this get out of hand. You can’t let yourself succumb to his charm. Go to work and don’t get distracted.

Yeah, good luck.

Tagging 🖤 :

@powerofelvis @plasticfantasticIOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86

[enchantedflameandflower]

Glimmer 30/? Billy Butcher!

HI!!! We are so close to Season 4! I'm going to start marking the chapters that have smut, for those looking for a quick smutty romance read so please keep an eye out for that! Please give my little story a chance! 🖤

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter (29)

Notes: Please give my story a chance! Thank you so much!

_____

Chapter 30

The click of Addison sliding the clip into place in her 9MM echoed throughout the empty back stairwell. She lifted her gaze to meet Billy’s, dark and fierce, dangerous, and they shared a knowing look. Billy nodded and she flicked off the safety and released a round into the chamber. 

She met M.M.’s hard stare then, he had insisted on going with them, and then she nodded to the protective operative in swat gear with them rounding out Mallory’s team for this endeavor.  

Taking the lead, Addison started silently up the concrete stairs, Billy right at her shoulder. “Remember our orders?” she tested him as they climbed their way to the fourth, then the fifth, floor. 

“Fuck orders,” he growled in reply. 

Addison stopped, turning to face him and she lifted a gloved hand to his chest. 

“Mallory wants him alive, Butcher,” she whispered.

Flame raged in his eyes and he glanced away. He was wearing a black sweater and black jeans with his duster, and he looked ferocious. Even more so than usual. “Yeah well we don’t always get what we want, eh?”

Addison took a breath. “Let’s at least try.”

M.M. gave her a look from behind Billy’s shoulder that she knew well but she didn’t let it show on her face. Billy’s eyes were all dark brutality. 

Addison blew out her breath and closed her eyes to focus, listening. It wasn’t a huge building but she was still surprised to find very few people, even after a couple sweeps for sound. 

“Our guy’s at the top,” she murmured. “Far corner,” she jerked her head. “Two others…”

“Only two?” Billy asked. 

Addison listened one more time then nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Well that’s a damn shame.”

Addison pursed her lips. He wanted blood, but she trusted him still. She nodded to Billy, shifting to let him lead. 

They went through the door from the staircase onto the top floor silently and Addison paused to listen again. 

Two guards, outside a room. Stillwell inside. She looked at Billy and he nodded back, understanding without having to say a word. 

From around the corner, still out of sight, Addison took a breath and spoke. “Put your guns on the floor and go to the elevator quietly and you can just walk out of here, no harm no foul.”

She heard them both shift, but no reply came. “Count of 5, boys,” she continued out loud to them, then she exchanged glances with Billy and M.M.. Wordlessly they agreed to let Billy make the first move. When he stepped out, he was fired on immediately. He ducked back, unscathed and then took a step out again killing the guard that had shot at him with a single bullet before ducking back. It was only a second before the second guy tossed his gun to the ground with a thud. “Fuck this,” he mumbled and he stepped into the elevator without any hesitation. Addison pinned Billy with a hard stare.

As soon as he was gone they went to the door. Billy kicked it open. 

“Come out here and show your face, ya cunt,” Billy growled from the behind the doorway. 

At first there was no reply and Addison zoomed her senses in on him. He was in there all right, crouching in the corner of the room. His heart rate was elevated but seemed to be from more than just adrenaline. He was on something too. And he was fumbling with a gun…trying to load it but his hands were not steady. 

Addison jerked her head toward the corner of the room he was in and mouthed “GO” at Billy. 

The four of them streamed in, weapons drawn. Billy went in first, kicking the gun out of his hand, while everyone else trained their sights on his chest. 

“I should kill you right there you fuckin’ cunt, right where you’re skulkin’,” Billy growled, towering over him. 

“Billy -“ Addison murmured but she was interrupted. 

“You,” Stillwell snarled back. “You killed my sister you fucking animal. I loved her, my sister. She was everything…”

“Shut up you stupid cunt. I don’t care about any of your fucked up Game of Thrones shit and for the record I ain’t the one that killed her.”

“Ha! That’s rich,” Stillwell said as he stood again. “You’re a monster…you’re not human -“

Billy whipped his gun across his face, splitting his cheek open and making him cry out as he fell to his hands. 

Butcher’s dark eyes were wild with rage. “I didn’t kill her but I’m gonna kill you, as slowly as I can. I’ll break every bone in your body and let you bleed out -“

“Billy!” Addison reached out to touch his arm. “Stop. He can’t hurt me. He never could. He’s a weak piece of shit. He’s nothing. Let Mallory handle him.”

Billy managed to turn to look at Addison, but his eyes were unfocused, his breathing heavy. She could hear his heartbeat without trying, pounding wildly and so hard she thought it might burst through his ribs.

“Billy please…” she curled her fingers around his bicep, as much as she could, glancing at M.M. for a second - his gaze and his gun were thankfully trained on Stillwell where he was dripping blood on the carpet, trying to stay conscious.

“Billy, I’m right here. He’s nothing.”

Finally his eyes focused on hers, and his heart started to slow. He rubbed his hand brusquely over his jaw then nodded once. When he turned back to Stillwell, he slammed his heavy boot into his face, then kicked the gun across the room. “Secure him!” he barked at the operative with them.

As soon as he had his wrists cuffed, they took a step back but stayed on alert. The operative drug Stillwell to his feet, but he seemed barely able to stand so he looped his free arm under his shoulder, pulling him forward.

The next second happened in a blur. Stillwell somehow knocked the operative back and he cut through his plastic restraints. Then he lunged - not for Billy though, but for Addison again. Billy pulled his gun as soon as he saw him move but it was too late.

Stillwell had pulled a knife from somewhere - maybe this had actually been his plan all along - and as he lurched forward with a deranged cackle he buried the knife deep in Addison’s shoulder.

But Addison was a different person now. 

Quick as a whip, she reached back and pulled the blade out and had it in her hand. She swung it through the air in a perfect arc, slicing it across his throat. Blood sprayed across the room, a few drops fell on her but most of the blood splattered all over the poor operative. 

Both Butcher and M.M. turned to her, lifting their brows as Stillwell slumped dead to the ground. 

Addison looked at them. “Oops,” she said, cold as stone. She sheathed the knife in a strap on her thigh after wiping it clean. 

Billy watched her walk out the door. “Fucking diabolical.” He smiled. 

*.*.*.*

As soon as it was all over, Billy took Addison back to the hotel. He was frantic over her injury but she had healed by the time they got there. Still he was clearly upset she had been hurt again because of him but she felt absolutely dead on her feet, exhaustion weighing her down like nothing she’d ever felt in her life. 

When she finally woke late the next day, Billy was gone, but she didn’t think much of it. She knew he’d back in time for bed. So, even though all she really wanted was to eat something and go back to sleep, she made herself change and parked herself on the couch reaching for her cell. 

Billy came in again just as she was finishing the last of three lengthy phone calls. 

“Just have Claire go look,” she said tiredly into the phone. “I just don’t really care, and she knows what I want. Whatever she decides is fine.” She gave Billy a half smile and he sat in the chair across from her. “Yeah, okay. Talk to you later.” She hung up the phone, tossing it aside and took a breath, meeting Billy’s gaze. 

“Who’s Claire?”

Addison sighed, pulling the throw blanket over her lap. “The assistant I hired to work with my financial adviser.”

“What? Just now?” 

“No, I hired her after my father died. Just to…to help me deal with all of it.”

“Is it kind of strange I didn’t know you had an adviser and an assistant?”

“I’m sorry.” Addison shook her head. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Anything else?” He smiled at her, but she knew his question was serious too. And it was important to her, to share everything with him, there was nothing she wanted to keep from him, even if it was just difficult to think about those demons from the past.

“Well…” she looked out the window. “I also called my broker and my realtor this afternoon. I’m just going to get a new apartment. Not in my name this time. I can use my trust.”

“Sounds like a good idea, but it’s just that easy, eh? Just get a new place in the city?”

“Billy,” Addison swallowed. “I know you know I have money, but I - it’s a lot. It’s a lot of money. When he died, I didn’t want it, but his business manager - well as much of a piece of shit my father was, Mark is actually a good guy. So I donated a lot, but I invested the rest. And I’ve made a lot more since…” 

“When you say a lot, how much are you really talkin’?” 

“If we need to…I can take care of all of us. We can go anywhere you want, all of us, and not have to worry about a thing.”

Billy clasped his hands leaning forward in his chair. “Addi, we wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I know…” She met his hazel eyes and the love she saw there refilled her heart again, just like it did every time, but she could not pretend she didn’t see the rest of his uncertainty and the darkness in him swirling there too. 

“Anyway,” she couldn’t talk about it anymore right now. “I’ll get a new place. I want something with a few bedrooms this time in case…in case anyone needs….” She bit her lip. “Um, and security and safer and just you know, all of it. I was telling Mark to just have Claire scout out my options in person. And I’ll hire a company to go in and move everything from my old place. M.M. said he’d go to oversee it when I schedule.” 

Billy nodded again and all she could think was that she would give anything to be able to read his mind but she couldn’t. She didn’t think the money bothered him at all, but he was holding something back. 

They didn’t talk about it anymore though, she only felt exhausted again. Billy ordered room service and when she finished he reached for her hand and took her back to bed. 

When she was settled under the blankets, he undressed then slid into bed with her, wrapping her up so tight in his arms. He felt so so good but she couldn’t help wonder - why was the way he was holding on so tight making her nervous. 

But then he whispered, his breath warm, against the shell of her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

*.*.*.*

“Addison.”

That tone of voice, she’d come to know it so well.

When M.M. had completely lost all patience with her. 

“You have a spectacular new apartment in a fancy fuckin’ high-rise in midtown and yet you’re sitting in this musty old basement with us motherfuckers across the river. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, speak for yourself,” Frenchie spoke up from the kitchen brandishing his spatula at him.

Addison gave a heavy sigh, tilting her head to rest against the back of the couch. There was no point in not saying anything, they’d find out sooner rather than later anyway. 

“I haven’t heard from Billy in three days and I have no idea where he is.”

_____

Please let me know what you think?!

Thank you, love you all! <3

Chapter 31

[theforgottenmcrmy]

Oaths~ Part 3/3 (Ser Harwin Strong x Reader)

᯽ Please note that this is an overall Part 23 to the series Growing Strong. The masterlist, and part 1, can be found HERE ᯽

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong x Tyrell! Female Reader

Warnings: GOT typical sexism, canon divergence, mentions of past character death, general Ser Criston Cole hatred

Summary:

Would Lord Corlys turn his back on Rhaenyra, when in doing so meant he severed his relationship with his granddaughters? Moreover, would Princess Rhaenys continue to steadfastly stand by him if he did? The love the typically stoic Targaryen princess held for them was a secret to none.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this past few parts.🖤 I hope you enjoy this one. The next parts will probably be posted close together as well, but may be titled two separate chapters (as opposed to part 1/part 2, etc.). I'm tossing around the idea of "Second Sons" as one of the next chapter names if that's indicative of anything. I hope you all have a great rest of the weekend 🖤

"... It is said that they have been executed.

More hushed whispers ensued.

This was news to Harwin. It was most unfortunate that what Queen Rhaenyra alleged, while foul, was not entirely beyond belief. Particularly not when one considered the likes of Lord Otto Hightower and, Harwin could only assume, his snake of a brother Larys, could have been acting in the Usurper’s interest.

You kept your voice even, but Harwin still felt the shock of the news as it registered within your mind from his place several paces away. “Executed? …At whose command?”

“It is said Lord Otto Hightower has my half-brother’s ear. He has been named as the Usuper’s hand, after all.”

You said nothing, still reeling.

With undisguised disgust lacing her tone, Rhaenyra pressed on. “However, it is rumored that the dowager queen’s sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole, contributed more actively in carrying out Otto Hightower’s decrees.”

Just the mere mention of Ser Criston Cole’s name was enough to get Harwin’s blood burning. However, the implication that Ser Criston Cole was further besmirching the name of the White cloaks, and all knighthood alike, by playing the role of judge, jury, and executioner as he saw fit, and without any repercussions? That was downright infuriating.

A flash of a memory filled Harwin’s mind. The night of what was supposed to be the opening feast celebrating then Princess Rhaenyra’s nuptials to Ser Laenor Velaryon. The rage, pure unbridled anger as Ser Criston Cole pummeled one of the guests to death with his bare hands. How such a horrific act had gone not only unpunished, but rewarded by continued service under Queen Alicent’s protection was beyond Harwin’s ability to comprehend. Ser Criston Cole should have been stripped of his cloak right then and there- if not worse.

The words were out of Harwin’s mouth before he had a mind to stop them.

“It seems Ser Criston Cole’s bloodlust has not diminished, even after all these years.”

As he had not stepped forward, Rhaenyra had to physically turn her body to look at him. When she did, their eyes met with an understanding Harwin had seldom reached with any other. For their own multitude of reasons, the two of them shared a mutual hatred for Ser Criston Cole.

“It would seem so, Lord Strong.”

What Harwin would do to have one more shot at the poor excuse of a man. Perhaps, in time, such an opportunity would present itself... Perhaps Queen Rhaenyra would arrange such an opportunity for him. Needless to say, regardless of how fate provided him with it, Harwin would not squander it.

Rhaenyra opted to forgive his outburst and did not rebuke him for speaking out of turn. When she turned back to the Painted Table to address you and the rest of the group at large, she was reinvigorated with purpose. “Rest assured, Lady Y/N, when I reclaim King’s Landing and ascend the throne, I will have justice for Lord Beesbury, Lord Caswell, and all others who were wrongfully slain for upholding their oaths to me. Rest assured, Lord Otto Hightower and Ser Criston Cole will be dealt with.”

Harwin wondered whether Lord Otto Hightower would be given a trial. Despite his egregious treachery, the queen’s supporters would likely demand he be given one, if only to put him through public humiliation before his demise. And any supporters of the Usurper would cite the lack of a trial as an example of supposed tyranny on Rhaenyra’s part.

But Harwin did not think Prince Daemon would so willingly pass up the opportunity to feed Lord Otto to Caraxes…

To the room at large, Rhaenyra proclaimed, “As my first official act as queen, I have decided to declare Lord Otto Hightower and Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower as traitors to the realm. They, and all of their supporters, are a danger to the stability of the Seven Kingdoms, and their rebellious acts will be met with justice- the queen’s justice.”

“Hear, hear!” Lord Bartimos Celtigar bellowed, to the audible agreement of many around him.

“And as for the others we have mentioned here today- Ser Criston Cole, Lord Larys Strong, Lord Tyland Lannister, Lord Garrett Redwyne, and any other individual found to be acting in support of the Greens’ cause or otherwise aiding the false rule of my half-brother- it is my will that they be apprehended and made to stand trial, where the extent of their crimes will come to light. May the appointed jurors and the Seven have mercy on their souls.”

“A wise decision, Your Grace,” Lord Gunthor praised, stepping forward and up to the Painted Table once more.

“Agreed!” Lord Bartimos concurred. “An iron fist against against this Hightower treachery is certain to set the tone for your reign.”

Across the Painted Table from him, Lord Rydan stepped forward. “And what of the Usurper, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra’s response to the posed question was not immediate. As she visibly deliberated within her own mind, her entire council watched her expectantly. Finally, she said, “I will not have it be said that the Greens were more generous and willing to prevent needless bloodshed than I. If they wish to offer terms in the hope of a peaceful resolution to this mess, I shall meet them halfway. Maester Gerardys?”

The man in question broke through the remnants of the observing crowd, his chains rattling softly as he stepped forward once more. “Yes, My Queen?”

“Send a raven to King’s Landing,” Rhaenyra commanded him, before pausing. After a moment, she added, “And send a second to Oldtown, addressed to my youngest half-brother. Inform them all that I have declared Lord Otto Hightower and the dowager queen as traitors to the realm. Make very clear my intentions to have everyone else who has aided in the unlawful usurpation of my throne arrested until they may stand trial. As for my half-brothers, Daeron, Aemond, and Aegon, as well as my sweet sister, Helaena… they have all been led astray by the council of evil men. Let my siblings come to Dragonstone, bend the knee, and ask for my forgiveness. I shall gladly spare their lives and take them back into my heart. They are my own blood, and I will not be made to be a kinslayer.”

The implications of the queen’s orders took their time resonating within the minds of those in the room. And for several long moments, a silence fell upon the room.

Lord Rydan was the first to break it. He cleared his throat, and raised his eyebrow. Not without caution, he inquired, “Is that wise, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra turned to look at him with mild surprise. “Are you questioning me, Lord Bar Emmon?”

“I would not say so, Your Grace. ‘Tis just, while your inclination to be merciful is admirable, I worry about unforeseen consequences that may arise by leaving these challengers to your throne alive.”

“If my half-brothers renounce their claim to our father’s throne, they will no longer present a challenge.”

“Your Grace, we have already witnessed how little the Greens value their oaths,” Lord Bartimos interjected carefully. “Even if he agreed and bent the knee to you, could the Usurper truly be trusted to keep his vow? And what of the younger two? Rumors persist that Aegon fancies spending his time drinking and gambling, and that he much prefers the company of whores rather than courtiers. But Aemond is said to be studious, cunning even. Who is to say he would not bend the knee to appease you, if only to- perhaps quite literally- stab you in the back the moment you lowered your guard?”

“There is also Daeron to consider,” you chimed in softly, visibly more reluctant in voicing your concern that Lord Celtigar and Lord Rydan had been. “I do not think Daeron would oppose you of his own accord, Your Grace. By all means, he has seldom had a chance to come to know you, let alone grow to despise you. But he is surrounded in Oldtown by those who would whisper poisonous thoughts into his ear. And though he is young, and only a squire, I’ve heard it said that he is quite brave, and bold... Should anything befall Aegon and Aemond, the Greens would not have a difficult time shaping him into the kingly pawn they so clearly desire.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward, placing her palms downward upon the Painted Table as she regarded her advisors through the hoods of her violet eyes. Her next words were spoken with severe conviction. “I will not have Aegon killed, nor any of my other half-brothers for that matter. I will commit no such act by my own hand, nor do I wish to command it of another’s. I will not be a kinslayer.”

“The Usurper is not to be touched,” Harwin insisted, stepping forward as well. “Nor Aemond, nor Daeron.”

He took several strides over, resuming the same place at the Painted Table where he had stood shortly before. You looked up at him as he came to a stop beside you. Beneath the large stone slab, his fingers brushed yours lightly.

“If blood is to be shed, let it be Aegon who bloodies his hands first,” Harwin urged, looking at the surrounding lords and ladies imploringly. “Let our queen’s hands remain clean of that filth. No matter what region or customs we each hail from, I imagine we can all agree that no man, or woman, is as accursed as the kinslayer.”

“If you do not mean to have the Usurper killed, and if he does not agree to bend the knee, where does that leave you, My Queen?” Lord Bartimos countered, now mildly vexed. “What is our next move to dispose of the Green boy and reclaim what is rightfully yours?”

The queen pulled herself up, straightening her back and leveling her shoulders. “That is the reason I have called you all here, My Lord Celtigar. Remaining idle in Dragonstone is no longer an option- time is of the essence. Any reinforcements the Greens plan to send for, or any they have already sent for, will advance close to King’s Landing with every sun set.”

“You need to act,” you insisted seriously, the words slipping from your mouth before you had a moment to question whether to silence them. Respectfully, you added, “And with haste, Your Grace.”

“I agree. But the problem in doing so remains thus- the extent of my allies are, as of yet, mostly unknown. It would be far easier to devise a strategy if all the pieces upon the board were apparent. The majority of those who have already declared their support for me are present in this very room, and yet, as Prince Daemon reminded us all the other day, the amount of swords at our immediate disposal would not be nearly enough to take the city… Still, I am not without hope that a possible solution to my problem merely has not yet come to light.”

“How can we best aid you, Your Grace?” you asked.

“I have called you all here as my counselors in my time of need,” Rhahenyra said simply, looking at the many faces about the room once more. “Council me.”

“I still maintain that a swift, precise show of force would bring this farce to an end.”

Lord Bartimos’ impassioned argument re-commenced for what you thought might have been the fifth time. In all honesty, you had lost count after he had repeated his proposed strategy thrice times over.

Rhaenyra remained at the head of the Painted Table, though instead of standing, she now sat in a chair that had been placed there for her. She fiddled with the armrest absentmindedly as her counsel argued amongst themselves around her. You had also lost recollection of how much time had passed before she had given up on having an active voice in the discussion, when she eventually succumbed to the seemingly undeterred will of the loudest participants in the room.

Still, if she so desired, Rhaenyra could silence them all, and cease what she may have hoped would be fruitful dialogue, but what had ultimately become an unproductive squabble. But Rhaenyra’s mind was elsewhere. Where her thoughts might have laid, you dared not to speculate. Few other of her councilors seemed to even notice her straying attention, save you and Harwin.

Many of the other lords and ladies, though almost all had taken a turn to provide their input at some point or another over the last hour, had resigned themselves to the outskirts of the room once more. Many indulged in wine or engaged in frustrated whisperings with one other as disagreement after disagreement had shifted the tone in the room from one of promise to one of dull despair.

But as for Lord Bartimos Celtigar and Lord Simon Staunton, they had remained standing at the Painted Table. Each insisted the superiority of their own plans of attack loudly before the others in the room, despite the fact that most everyone else was no longer paying them much mind either.

You and Harwin had also remained at the table. Though your intent of support had been declared, neither of you had the resources with which to offer immediate help to remedy the queen’s unfortunate circumstance. Because of this, the pair of you had opted to remain relatively quiet thus far.

But as Lord Bartimos droned on once more, you realized your patience had grown incredibly thin. And as Lord Simon eagerly pointed out a flaw in his proposed plan- again- you finally came to the conclusion that the very least that you and Harwin could do was to try and regain some control of the room while the queen mentally worked to regather her bearings.

“You must use what the gods have gifted your house, Your Grace,” Lord Simon was saying, though Rhaenyra had not looked in his direction for several minutes. “Dragons.”

Lord Bartimos nodded enthusiastically, suddenly amenable to Lord Simon’s proposal. “Use them, Your Grace, and the Usurper will have no choice but to oppose us with his own dragons. Our nine must surely overwhelm his four.”

“And as the dragons clash in the skies above, how many innocent lives shall perish in the flames below?” you demanded, glaring at the two men across from you.

Lord Bartimos and Lord Simon turned to you readily, eager to have yet another challenger present themselves to the forefront of their debate.

Lord Bartimos gave you a small, wry smile, and chuckled dryly. He took the break from his self-imposed ramblings as an opportunity to finish off his goblet. A serving boy stepped forward to refill it with wine.

Lord Simon was not so subtle in his own response. “I would not expect you to know of such matters, Lady Tyrell, given that you are both far younger than I, and of the fairer sex. But this, in all but name, is a matter of war. And in war, people die.”

“The purpose of war is to fill graveyards,” Lord Bartimos added, his freshly refilled goblet of wine swishing around precariously in his wrinkled hand. “And the trick is to put more of their men in the ground than your own.”

With a commanding edge to his voice that he had seldom had use for these days, Harwin argued, “If you rush King’s Landing with dragons now, the majority of casualties will be the citizens of King’s Landing themselves, not Green soldiers, or even our own.”

Your husband’s authoritative tone was rather effective on Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos, who had suddenly lost their smug expressions and had yet to find another. They blinked blankly a few times as Harwin continued.

“We want to rule the city, not burn it to the ground. All of this talk of brute shows of strength is futile; our queen will have ample time for feats such as those later on in her reign. Perhaps the solution to our immediate problem lies in a far more… subtle approach.”

The attention of Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos had already turned to Harwin, but at your husband’s rather curious wording, your interest was piqued as well.

Half-cautiously, half-disbelievingly, Lord Simon requested, “What exactly are you suggesting, Lord Strong?”

Harwin’s eyes fell upon the Painted Table, his hazel hues fixating on King’s Landing. “I am very familiar with the halls of the Red Keep. I know of its integral strengths, and I could speak to more than a few of its weaknesses as well.” He looked up, meeting the hard, questioning glares of Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos in turn. “But I am even more familiar with the inner workings of the city. I have spent many hours and countless nights patrolling its many streets and alleyways. I believe that all we would truly need is one night, and a few good men. We could take the city from the Greens by surprise, not force.”

Lord Bartimos raised an eyebrow. “My Lord, do you know of the queen’s shield, Ser Criston Cole?” It was not a question; the entire room had heard Harwin’s snide remark not but an hour before. “They say has been made Lord Commander of the King’s Guard.”

This was news to you, and as such, you knew it had to have been news to Harwin as well. But Harwin was unphased, and his deadpan reply to Lord Bartimos was delivered with such flippancy, you had to stifle the chuckle that threatened to break your reserved composure.

“All the better, then. Ser Criston’s exorbitant hubris will have undoubtedly created ample opportunities for us to spot the weaknesses in the White Cloaks’ patrols and allow us to capitalize upon them.”

Behind you, Selwin was not so successful in halting a short laugh that slipped out from his lips.

“I believe Lord Harwin’s idea has merit,” Prince Jacaerys announced, joining the conversation.

Like his mother, he too had opted to say little. Unlike his mother, Jacaerys seemed intently focused on the many conversations happening around him, as though he sought to digest all of the information being presented.

“Thank you, My Prince,” Harwin nodded to him graciously.

Jacaerys returned the gesture stiffly before turning back to Lord Simon and Lord Bartimos. “We ought to explore Lord Harwin’s idea further, see if we might be able to devise some sort of plan. If spilling blood can be avoided, especially if it is to be the blood of our subjects, then that is a route that must be pursued at all costs.”

Lord Bartimos looked absolutely tickled at the young prince’s suggestion. “Might I remind you of how your ancestors claimed the Seven Kingdoms, My Prince?”

On the other side of Harwin, Ser Erryk Cargyll suddenly stood to attention, his focus captured by something across the room.

“The Lord of the Tides, Lord Coryls Velaryron, and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

The announcement, quickly followed by the tapping of a cane upon the stone floor, caused the heads of everyone in the room to snap over towards the entryway, including your own.

There, accompanied by Princess Rhaenys at his side, and trailed by his granddaughters, the Ladies Baela and Rhaena, the infamous Sea Snake himself descended down the stairs to fully enter the chamber. He walked step by step with his wife, publicly and proudly displaying to all who were not keen enough to already know that the pair viewed one another as nothing less than equals. The two emitted a sense of authority that no man or woman in their right minds would dare challenge. And when they moved, the rest of the room gave them the respect they had silently commanded, with various nobles bowing their heads as they passed.

Lord Coryls used the support of a cane, and his neck was wrapped in bandages. The true extent of his injuries were never made known to you, but the physical remains of the treatments that had been deemed necessary all but confirmed in your mind that they could have been as fatal as the rumors had suggested. The fact that Lord Coryls was upright, walking, and seemingly of his right mind thus far was incredibly fortunate.

You had not seen Princess Rhaenys since Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s petition in King’s Landing, and that had been some weeks ago. Though she looked much the same, she also looked refreshed, reinvigorated, and positively pleased to be back at her partner’s side.

Lord Coryls had been fighting in the Stepstones for the better part of the last decade. If you were forced to gamble, you would wager that Princess Rhaenys had not seen her husband in all that while. The thought of being separated from Harwin for such a span of time was not a welcome one in the slightest, and it only served to increase the amount of respect you held for Targaryen princess, for the Queen Who Never Was.

“My Lords, and Ladies,” Lord Coryls greeted the room, sounding mildly winded. No one would dare comment upon it.

“Lord Coryls!” Rhaenyra had risen from her seat, watching the every movement her father and mother by law made with earnestness. “It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again.”

The Sea Snake looked genuinely touched from her words. “I am very sorry about your father, Princess. He was a good man.”

As their elders exchanged greetings, Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena slipped away, weaving through the various lords and ladies in the room to take their chosen places besides their betrothed. You noted, not without amusement, that the faces of the eldest Velaryon princes were visibly enlightened by the ladies’ mere presence.

Lord Coryls looked about the room, as though making a mental record of every face present. “Where is Daemon?”

“There are other concerns which demanded the Prince’s attention,” Rhaenyra replied simply.

Though Lord Coryls looked as though he wished to say more, he let the matter go. Cane in hand, he continued to meander over to the Painted Table, and the lords and ladies who were in his way silently parted to free his path. He looked down at the stone depiction of the Seven Kingdoms appraisingly.

“Your declared allies?” he surmised.

“Yes,” the queen confirmed, crossing a few paces to resume her rightful position at the head of the Table.

Lord Coryls hummed. “Too few to win a war for the throne.”

The reminder, though blatantly apparent to all who had been present in the room for any period of time that morning, was no less disheartening to hear when spoken aloud. But you could tell the gears in Rhaenyra’s mind had once more begun to turn.

“Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses of Arryn, Baratheron, and Stark-”

“Hope is the fool’s ally.”

“Both Arryn and Baratheon share blood with my house, but all of them swore oaths to me.”

“As did House Hightower, if I remember.”

“As did you, Lord Corlys.”

The Sea Snake was a fierce man, one who had never shied away from speaking his mind, or from demanding answers for difficult questions. He had the respect of many throughout the Seven Kingdoms because he had earned it. But Rhaenyra Targaryen was not merely some spoiled princess making frivolous demands, either. You had to admit, it was rather interesting to bear witness to their exchange of dialogue as they attempted to assess one another.

Lord Corlys did not seem interested in granting Rhaenyra’s insinuation a response. Instead, his critical gaze turned upon you and Harwin. “Lord Strong, Lady Tyrell.”

“Lord Velaryon,” you acknowledged, as Harwin bowed his head in greeting beside you.

“The pair of you are a far way from home, are you not?”

“It is most fortunate,” Rhaenyra interceded, “that Lord Harwin and Lady Y/N were already in the midst of traveling to Dragonstone for a much overdue visit. Houses Tyrell and Strong have both reaffirmed their allegiance, Lord Coryls.”

Lord Coryls’s eyebrows raised. “Those would be some significant numbers of men added to your cause, Princess… ‘Tis unfortunate that any mustering of significant force from Highgarden or Harrenhal is likely to take more time than can be afforded.”

“Rest assured, Lord Coryls, if summoned, our men will ride with purpose to aid our queen,” Harwin countered.

This seemed to amuse the Sea Snake. His gaze lowered, his focus settling across the Painted Table. He started with King’s Landing, then moved upwards towards Driftmark, Dragonstone, the Eyrie, and all the way up to the Wall in the North. His attention left the Painted Table then, moving towards his granddaughters, who stood beside their betrothed at the far end of the table.

He, perhaps more than anyone else, save his lady wife, had to see in them what was plainly apparent to almost all others. Baela and Rhaena were each the image of their mother, and by extension, House Velaryron, in their own ways. Though there was little doubt that Baela and Rhaena offered their grandsire the respect that many others did, you could tell by the resolved looks on their faces that little would sway them to abandon their betrotheds’ sides- physically or figuratively.

Would Lord Corlys turn his back on Rhaenyra, when in doing so meant he severed his relationship with his granddaughters? Moreover, would Princess Rhaenys continue to steadfastly stand by him if he did? The love the typically stoic Targaryen princess held for them was a secret to none.

…

Just as Lord Corlys’s silence had begun to cause you apprehension, the Sea Snake looked back towards Rhaenyra once again.

“Your father’s realm was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood, and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand. You have the full support of our fleet, and house… Your Grace.”

As Lord Coryls bowed his head in respect to his queen, you felt the shock of his words settle into your mind and amongst others in the room.

Pun aside, the Sea Snake’s declaration was truly a change in the tides. With the larger numbers of the combined Lannister and Redwyne fleet already at Aegon’s disposal, the support of the seasoned and battle-tested Velaryon fleet was absolutely essential to Rhaenyra’s cause. And now, it was officially hers.

Though she masked it well, the queen was still wide eyed. “You honor me, Lord Corlys.” Her eyes softened as a thought struck her. She turned behind her, addressing one of the few other Targaryens in the room. “Princess Rhaenys.”

You dared to wonder if the support of the Queen Who Never Was meant more to Rhaenyra than the indomitable naval support she had just been handed. Ever graceful, Princess Rhaenys’s small smile was as unwavering as her strength.

The queen offered a gentle smile of her own, but when she turned back to the Painted Table, it faded just as quickly as it had come. “But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.”

You silently offered up words of praise to the Seven that Rhaenyra had not taken any of Lord Bartimos or Lord Simon’s deadly suggestions to heart- at least not for now.

Lord Coryls looked befuddled by her assertion. “You do not mean to act?”

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast,” Rhaenyra corrected him. “I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.”

Though the lords and ladies within the room had disagreed with one another on many issues that morning, all were hard-pressed to protest the queen’s reasoning.

Even Lord Corlys accepted her answer without further inquiry, nodding to himself. After a moment of thoughtful silence, he said, “A consequence of my near demise in the Stepstones is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we further seal the Gullet, we can cut off all seaborn travel and trade to King’s Landing.”

You felt goosebumps run the lengths of your arms, sheerly covered with the fabric of your gown. If what the Sea Snake said was true, the Redwyne and Lannister fleets were as of much use to Aegon as the men in and around Highgarden who waited to be roused by you were to Rhaenyra. They could not tilt the scales in the Usurper's favor if they were unable to sail to King’s Landing.

Princess Rhaenys stepped forward. To the queen, she volunteered, “I shall take Meleys and patrol the gullet myself.”

Though Lord Bartimos Celtigar had been a proponent of charging the Red Keep with dragons not but a moment before, the latest developments had caused a major change of mind within him. “When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround King’s Landing, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Green surrender.”

Could it be that simple? You narrowed your eyes at King’s Landing in thought. The plan- if successful- had the potential to minimize the overall loss of life, for the citizens of King’s Landing, the soldiers sworn to those in the room, and the very beasts the Targaryens had built their dynasty with.

Though the queen looked somewhat hopeful, she also seemed to restrain herself. “If we are able to completely seal off Green reinforcements from reaching King’s Landing, by land or sea, and if we can strategically make use of our men and dragons at hand, perhaps it could work… But a siege can go on for weeks, months even.”

“The Red Keep would be more than prepared for a siege.”

“It certainly is,” Lord Corlys acquiesced. “But if it is made known to those within that aid will never reach them-”

“Days could feel like weeks, the weeks months,” you realized out loud. “The Greens would grow desperate.”

“Even if the Velaryon fleet could restrict movement of the Redwyne and Lannister fleets in the Narrow Sea, King’s Landing is still accessible by land on all other sides,” Rhaenyra noted, before looking at you expectantly.

“I shall write to my uncle at once, and give the order to start mustering our men,” you avowed. “If we act quickly, and with the right intelligence, the Tyrell army could cut off any Hightower forces marching from Oldtown and up through the Reach.”

Rhaenyra nodded understandingly, the traces of a small, grateful smile lingering on her face. She cleared her throat, looking to others in the room as she did so. “Even if we could deter the main Hightower forces, there is still the possibility that others within the Seven Kingdoms will join the Greens’ cause.”

“Not all of them would be as far away from King’s Landing as Oldtown,” Lord Corlys agreed. “And if they were not, they would pose a more immediate threat to our siege than a Hightower army ever could.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened, but out of determination rather than anger. “If we are to have enough swords to surround King’s Landing, and to truly eliminate any chance of the Usurper and the Greens receiving aid, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eerie, and Storm’s End.”Maester Gerardys offered, “I’ll prepare the ravens, Your Grace.”

“We should bear those messages.”

All eyes turned to the eldest Velaryon prince, and now heir to the Iron Throne, who had spoken for the first time in a long while.

Prince Jacaerys, palms facing downward on the Painted Table, did not buckle under the sudden attention his proposal had drawn. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens, and they’re more convincing. Send us.”

Lord Coryls did not take care to hire his proud smile as he beheld his grandson. To Rhaenyra, he said, “The prince is right, Your Grace.”

Rhaenyra looked at Jacaerys for a moment, then to Lucerys, who stood silently beside his brother. The second Velaryon prince did not look as confident as Jacaerys, but that did not take away from the determination you saw in his brown eyes. You did not doubt for a second that if his mother asked it of him, Lucerys would readily join his elder brother to act as her envoy in an effort to reclaim her throne.

“Very well,” Rhaenyra conceded. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north, first to the Eyrie to see my mother’s cousin, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell, to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly fourth to Storm’s End, and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon.”

For the first time in hours- or perhaps days- an undeniable sense of hope had fallen over Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra declared, “We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore… And, the cost of breaking them.”

You watched with something akin to glee and fondness as the room erupted into enthusiastic conversation. You had known the truth of it since you were but a girl, when your father traveled to King’s Landing and made the oath before King Viserys himself. But now, witnessing the moments leading up to the truth being made real, and for all in the realm to behold with their own eyes- it was another matter entirely.

The Seven Kingdoms was to finally have its queen.

A/N: 🖤🖤🖤

[luthien-under-bough]

Daemyra Masterlist🖤🔥❤️

WIPs

i got a bad desire (baby i'm on fire) - rated E, chapters 17/?, ~102,000 words, modern westeros au, in which a one-night stand means Daemon might actually be Rhaenyra's father, dead dove: do not eat

the ghosts that we knew - rated T (for now), chapters 2/?, ~7330 words, modern au where Rhae (Rhaenyra Targaryen, but not THAT Rhaenyra) encounters the ghost of Daemon Targaryen on Dragonstone

we open our throats to sing - rated E, chapters 3/?, ~43,000 words, No Dance canon divergence, where Rhaenyra runs away to Volantis, and Daemon goes to find her

milk teeth - rated E, chapters 5/?, ~32,000 words, No Dance canon divergence, Daemyra early marriage, breastfeeding/lactation kink & character study on Rhaenyra's relationship with motherhood

augurs of spring - rated E, chapters 2/3, ~15,000 words, Old Valyria AU inspired by The Mists of Avalon

give me your ecstasy - rated E, chapters 4/?, ~18,000 words, modern AU with magic, Daemon returns from along deployment with a special gift for Rhaenyra

AUs

won't be satisfied 'til i'm under your skin - rated E, chapters 2/2, 25,367 words, modern AU, role reversal where Rhaenyra is Daemon's aunt

ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you - rated E, chapters 6/6, ~31k words, modern au, in which Daemon & Rhaenyra cheat on their respective spouses with one another (angst with a happy ending)

something borrowed - rated E, 6353 words, a prequel oneshot to 'ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you' that takes place on the day of Rhaenyra's wedding to Harwin Strong

better not touch (i want it too much) - rated E, chapters 7/7, ~31k words, modern westeros au, Rhaenyra comes to Dragonstone to stay with Daemon for the summer while her father is away on holiday

fledgling - rated E, 7900 words, King Daemon/Dark Daemon AU, where Daemon inspects Rhaenyra before her bedding ceremony

acquisition - rated E, 6700 words, modern corporate AU where Rhaenyra is CEO, and Daemon is her executive assistant - but outside of work Daemon is her Dom.

mama told me there'll be days like this - rated T, 5600 words, modern AU, Rhaenyra is determined to have a terrible time at her dad's wedding to Alicent, but she can't seem to stay in a foul mood when Uncle Daemon is around

Canon Divergences/Episode Fix-Its

for our blood is restless - rated M, ~1200 words, alt ep 4 where Daemon stays at the brothel

i found some hate for you, just for show - rated T, ~2400 words, alt ep 5 where Rhaenyra leaves the wedding feast with Daemon

down on my knees, with unquenchable thirst - rated E, ~5300 words, post-ep 4 canon divergence where Rhaenyra returns to the brothel

do you feel the hunger? - rated M, ~6400 words, alt ep 3 where Daemon joins the name day hunt

Character Studies

do you really feel alive without me - rated M, 3500 words, two-shot examining events of ep 6 from Daemon's and Rhaenyra's POV

viventes enim - rated M, ~1280 words, Daemon introspection/character study during the events of ep 6-7

the likes of a darkness so deep - rated M, ~3500 words, Major Character Death, Daemon introspection/character study during an alt ep10 where Rhaenyra dies in childbirth (cw: necrophilia)

Shameless Smut

penitent - rated E, ~3400 words, Dom!Daemon finds a new use for the small council orbs

squeeze and bind - rated E, 4625 words, Dom!Daemon ties up Rhaenyra after another small council meeting

kiss me hard before you go - rated E, ~2300 words, Divorced!Daemyra have some hate sex, modern AU

deep tissue - rated E, ~4,000 words, massage therapist Daemon, modern AU

stay wrecked and jealous for this - rated E, 4,315 words, Rhaenyra goes to the Westeros version of the Warped Tour and hooks up with band manager Daemon, modern AU

seven blessings - rated E, 3700 words, CNC roleplay with Rhaenyra dressed as a septa

when you move, i'm moved - rated E, 6600 words, modern AU pegging

Fluff & Humor

farsighted - rated M, 1200 words, modern AU, Daemon confronts the harsh reality of aging and needing glasses

Naked Attraction: The Lost Episode - Not Rated, ~4000 words, crackfic written as an episode transcript for a "lost episode" of the UK dating show Naked Attraction, where Rhaenyra is the contestant

Prompt Fills

>> Events

Summer of Dove Prompt Event - prompt fics written for Fire, Blood & Kink's dead dove event (summer 2023)

Hot[Daemyra] Summer Snippets & Stories - prompt fics written for the HotD Summer Snippets & Stories prompt event (july 2023)

>> Other

BYOM; or, Bring Your Own Mistletoe - rated E, 7725 words, no specific prompt, but a general holiday-themed fluff & smut fic to get me into the Christmas spirit, modern au

my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder - rated M, 1000 words, prompt: the song Lover, You Should've Come Over by Jeff Buckley

best laid plans - rated G, 500 words, prompt: flight cancellation

your lips, my lips (apocalypse) - rated M, 500 words, prompt: holiday party hookup

meet me under the mistletoe - rated T, 500 words, prompt: bringing home a fake SO for the holidays + mistletoe

if the fates allow - rated T, 500 words, prompt: “Through the years we all will be together / if the fates allow”

Background Daemyra

like light refracted - rated E, 23,765 words, Daemyra x Aegon II ep8 canon divergence

the comforts of home - rated E, ~4300 words, Daemyra x Baelon (Daemon's father) threesome

nothing so undoing as a daughter - rated T, ~1200 words, Viserys POV after he learns of Daemyra's secret wedding

[rei-dragoness]

🌼anon and this is once again a Vera thirst

Warning: ex girlfriend Vera (kind of), non con, breeding

I'm scared of Vera, he is too obsessive, too possessive, and too dangerous. I know I'm her commandant and all, but she is too "overprotective." Beating a construct to death because he is talking with me is too much. So I transfer, being Gray Raven commandant is fun, Liv is sweet, Lucia is kind, Lee is gentle, everything is fine until she finds me. Somehow she got me alone, without Lee, Liv, or Lucia to protect me, and fucked me senseless. Taking me from behind, she drives me insane with how much she knows about my body and with how much pleasure and pain she brings me. Sometimes she would fuck me while making me sit on her lap, kissing me like she was a wolf devouring her prey brutally. Even when I was tired and my body gave up fighting, she would just continue to fuck me like an animal, saying, "It's your punishment for leaving me." Perhaps she would kidnap me to her room and continue to fuck me like I'm a cheap whore on the street, cum into my hole like I'm just a breeding machine for her to used. When will she stop? When she was satisfied because we all know that a construct stamina is not something to joke about.

Ex gf Vera would be so insane for you it’s unbelievable

You belong to her only, why should you leave her? She knows your body best and she can make you feel so so good. Getting so used to her raping you again and again that you become addicted to the pain, and she knows shes gonna break you until you depend on her.

Btw if you have your own account i suggest writing your own posts!! The wording could be fixed up a little and other than that this is good stuff so please consider writing and posting dark kinks and stuff bc i'd def follow and read them!!

[epicwalrus]

And with this chapter, Forest of Secrets reaches its end. Thank you so much for reading 🖤

I will be taking a break from Blood and Gold for a few months as I work on my Merfolk AU ready for MerMay and Papa Panzi's next addition in June. But fear not, Blood and Gold will return in July!

Wu Xie, Xiao-Ge and Wang Pangzi have fled Changsha, hiding out deep in the mountains in the original Wushanju. When Xiao-Ge awakens from his coma with no memories, Wu Xie promises to help him recover them. As they pass the winter in hiding, both Wu Xie and the now-amnesiac Xiao-Ge grow closer, Wu Xie resumes his hunt for the Wangs despite the distance between himself and his allies back home, and strangers flit between the trees.

Part 2 of the Blood and Gold series.

Snippet:

Xiao-Ge looked around the courtyard Hei Yanjing had led them to. The pond was dry, its vegetation rotting and billowing its foul, slightly sweet odour across the garden on the breeze. The space itself felt strange as if it had been very purposely arranged not for aesthetics but something else. 

“I’ve never seen a building with a Feng Shui set up like this,” Wu Xie said from where he walked next to him.

“Oh, is our Xiao San-Ye a student?” Hei Yanjing asked, looking back over his shoulder.

Wu Xie shook his head. “Not really, but I majored in ancient architecture at university, so I came across it a lot. Some of it managed to stick with me.”

At the mention of Feng Shui, Xiao-Ge mentally jumped to attention, looking around at the silhouette of the surrounding buildings. He found what he was looking for looming over the buildings to their left, a tower reaching high into the night sky. Xiao-Ge snapped his gaze back to Hei Yanjing and frowned. This was the Qi manor, the home of the long-extinct Qi family.

Read More on Ao3

[cookietastic]

Hello! I need medication for life to prevent my lungs from collapsing, this implies permanent treatment with steroids, oxygen therapy, control of oxygen in the blood and antibiotics to prevent the development of bacteria in the lungs.

I'm afraid I have to insist on this because it may be the only way to get my treatment.

I need medication for life to keep my lungs from collapsing, this costs around $700 per month.

Things are really tough on me,I can’t afford. Please donate🖤

does my forehead say "fucking idiot" on it.

Like my dude you took this from someone's actual gofund me page that's some foul ass shit

[crow-cards]

Hello! I need medication for life to prevent my lungs from collapsing, this implies permanent treatment with steroids, oxygen therapy, control of oxygen in the blood and antibiotics to prevent the development of bacteria in the lungs.

I'm afraid I have to insist on this because it may be the only way to get my treatment.

I need medication for life to keep my lungs from collapsing, this costs around $700 per month.

Things are really tough on me,I can’t afford. Please donate🖤

I haven't been here in a while but I needed to respond to this bc this is SO FUCKKN FUNNY my one of my friends just asked in our discord server abt whether this EXACT PERSON was a scammer and another friend sent a link to someone's profile who calls out/teaches ppl abt scams and THEIR MOST RECENT POST IS ABT THIS PERSON LMAOO

here's the link for anyone who wants to see it I promise I'm not just being an asshole 😭

and u are absolutely not following me girl I do not accept scammers that try to guilt people into giving them their money here BACK foul beast

[oflostinfound]

The acid of the contents of the rodents strays blood stained the air. Marking a desperate hunt in her bloody claws that mangled the dead stray. Sitting beside a trail and litter of smaller animals in the barren city.

Digging into the small pathetic meal to bleed it out and swallow every foul drop. The ache of hunger always crawling and gnawing holes in her stomach. Even the small prey here is simply unsustainable. But she couldn’t stop until the pain in her gut was relieved.

Dropping the limp and dried rat to the floor. Her nose smelt another and the energy and hunger tells her to digg her maw in the nearest bleeding creature. To drive the pain away and feed her till sanity returns. Teeth quick to snap at the small thing's spine.

Meeting its bone and feeling the tear and gore touch her tongue. Its angst screams before utter silence as death meets the small stray die.

Its shape is blurry. That did not matter -can’t remember. Didn’t care. The blood is like ivory when the sun seeks to burn beggars.

Cold water for burns.

A sharp gasp- Red eyes turn quickly to the noise. Another blurry face cannot quite recall.

And the first thought is of death. And murder. For food or fear.

Before another second passes by she jumps.

Hit by the harsh sun. When Jewel finally wakes her ache is far from hungry. She grips her stomach. Quick to part herself so that she could bend her head and vomit whatever upset her gut.

Finally collecting her thoughts and remembering her night beforehand. Jewel notes the smell of a morning shower. Outside the disgusting mess that she made.

She pulls herself up gripping the tree. Coughing due to the lingering stomach acid that didn’t escape her mouth. Her throat burns.

And the knot in her stomach refused to change. Rather Jewel felt nauseous.

And her back felt tense from sleeping underneath a tree.

Sudden shift as the scent of surrounding woods turns muddy with salt as disgusting mucus trails down her nose.

Jewel sniffled. Following a ribbon trail she saw before. And minorly worry if Grimbright knew where she had slept or caught her in that embarrassing mess she made. Well- Honest Jewel didn’t feel well enough to care.

She just followed those little ribbens. Jewel should collect them…

@sparedareitspiecesasitflies

The ribbon trail was recent, left carefully between branches and poking out from leaves in such a way that only a keen eye would notice. Or, the eye of someone who would look for them.

The calling cards do not make the vampire travel far. A short hobble later would lead to a shaded glade, different from the one they would usually meet in, but containing a stump for the daemon to sit upon all the same.

She'd been examining her nails, picking some of the dried blood from under them. A barbed tail swishing low behind her, but at the sight of the hunter of hunters it starts to swish a little higher, more violently- agitated.

|| 🖤 ||: ❝ You look like shit. ❞

Translation: Who did this to you and can I kill them?

Not that she would actually show she cared for this vampire. This... woman who weaseled her way into her mind on days when they didn't see sight of each other. Made a nest in her heart, like unwanted mice in the attic or walls.

But like hell was she going to try to chase her off, this company was good company...

|| 🖤 ||: ❝ You were passed out when I found you. What happened? ❞

@sparedareitspiecesasitflies

[summerwritesfics]

🪦Bad Things Happen Bingo

Masterlist of work for Bad Things Happen Bingo, get your own card here

Current Status: In Progress!

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Stitches

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&🈲Gen - Crippling The Competition

I Feel The Light Hidden Behind Me - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&❄️&🈲&💨&⚠️Gen - On The Run

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Don’t You Dare Pity Me

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 💨❄️Tomas Vrbada/Kuai Liang - Setting A Broken Bone

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🥊&🏹Gen - Locked In A Trunk

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔫&❄️Gen - Slowly Running Out Of Air

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️&🈲❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang & Sektor/Kuai Liang - Surrender

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔫🌨️Cassie Cage/Frost - Prank Gone Wrong

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&❄️Gen - Denied Food As Punishment

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥⚰️Hanzo Hasashi/Bi-Han - Theft

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&🔪&❄️Gen - Forced To Beg

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔫🌨️Cassie Cage/Frost - Trapped In A Burning Building

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Chained Heat

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🈲❄️Ship - Truth Potion/Serum

You Poor Sweet Innocent Thing, Dry Your Eyes And Testify - 🧡 Mature - 🔪&❄️Gen - I Have You Now, My Pretty

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ❄️Gen - Bastinado

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 😎❄️Johnny Cage/Kuai Liang - Mugging

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - ⚰️&❄️Gen - Voice Breaking

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Internal Bleeding

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥❄️Hanzo Hasashi/Kuai Liang - Friendly Fire

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 🔥⚰️Hanzo Hasashi/Bi-Han - Deathbed Confession

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 😎❄️Johnny Cage/Kuai Liang - Stage Fright

Rivered Blood Shoots Out The Dead As Bodies Foul The Air - 🧡 Mature - 🔪&❄️Gen - Playing Dead

Fic Title - 🖤 Rating - 💨❄️Tomas Vrbada/Kuai Liang - Tongue-Tied

[oflostinfound]

Grimbright expected the struggle, which is one of the few reasons why Jewel wasn't sent falling into the branches below. The smell of her blood making him grit his teeth, but now wasn't the time to focus on the budding anger. Instead he adjusts her in his arms, so she was pressed flush to his chest as all eight eyes watch the demon on the ground.

|| 🖤 ||: ❝ Eath's here, yes, she says she has a plan. But we need to find a way to restrain that. ❞

Rarely would he admit it, but seeing what Hax had become was a horrible sight, truly. One of the very few things that actually made his stomach turn.

An Inner Demon, a foul creature, did his ward really think she could subdue them? Return them to the person they were before they died? Surely it was wishful thinking at best.

|| 🖤 ||: ❝ Hm. We'll have to talk about your common sENSE-! ❞

His voice raises a good octave as the bolder flies at the two of them. A beat of his wings and he's out of the way- mostly. The oversized rock hitting his lower left leg with a sickening crack, the incubus crying out and gritting his teeth diving below the treeline to weave out of sight of the transformed guardian.

Landing, with difficulty, among some underbrush. The incubus's wings taking most of the rough landing as they wrapped around both himself and his the vampire.

|| 🖤 ||: ❝ Fucking- Spirits damn it! ❞

He hisses, sitting up once he had rolled the vampire off his person.

In the distance a scream of rage, a bleating of the smaller daemon as she moves between the trees and tries to draw Hax's ire. Seemingly working, but at this distance it was hard to tell just how well it was going for her.

Pulling her arms up to defend herself. Jewel takes the talons to herself. Guarding or trying to protect herself from a serious strike. But it is quick to be thrown. Panicking when she doesn’t hit the floor. 

Jewel slips, unable to grasp Hax. Not predicting the portal behind her and falling into Grims hands. Knocking the wind from her. Struggling against Grims hold at first. Before settling. Swallowing dryly.

Glaring bitterly. “I didn’t predict that I would need to.”

Jewel heard Hax’s monstrous form cry out in frustration. Drawing her to focus on the landscape below. Biting her lip as an unwanted sense of relief at Hax lack of mobility. Ignoring the sting of her bleeding wounds.

She starts to acknowledge Grim’s words. “Eath? Here.”

Trying to gather a sense of position. Worrying about the location of Eath. And what Hax might do. Only to be drawn by the boulder.

The skies are less safe now. Not being on her feet makes her flounder. Only able to hold herself closer to Grim.

[e-munson666]

More Than Mean 6

++Peter/Henry/001 x F!Reader++

(Peter puts you in your place after your most recent escape attempt. He let's you know just how hopeless it is to try to deny him anymore)

Warnings ⚠️: 18+ NON CON MENTIONED (towards the very end) Language, manipulation, death, Peter is his own warning. Forced relationship, kidnapping, assault (broken bone, use of Peters powers.) Stockholm syndrome for the reader. A/N: This series is dark. Please only view if you are comfortable. I in no way condone the things written. Fiction is fiction and nothing more.

Taglist: @rayballs66 @myersobsessed @prettysbliss @edb954 @stunnababy2212 @elodieballard @horrificslvt @ibibishiboula @thatlesbosimp @prettysbliss @starfishfaerie @stunnababy2212 @your-local-rockstar-simp @nightless @tox-toxic @little-lily-w

(Master-List)

🖤Lady Hellfire🖤

You were in a foul mood when you finally became lucid, becoming fully aware of your broken and chained state. You glared at Peter as he walked into your room, setting some water on the bedside table.

"What the fuck did you do to me Peter?" You scowled, scooting away from him as he took a seat next to you on the bed.

"Watch your mouth" Peter retorts, shooting you an angry look.

"Peter, you've broke BOTH of my legs.........you have me chained at the throat, WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" You yell, fear taking over.

Peter harshly slaps you across the face before speaking, "I SAID, watch your mouth." You begin to sob, the cut on your face from previous assults splitting open once again, causing blood to trickle down your cheek.

Peter scoops you into his lap and gently cleans the blood away before holding you against his chest in a too tight hug. "I warned you, didn't I Bunny" he starts, "I told you what would happen to you if you disobeyed me, and you continue to do so over and over again..." he rocks you back and forth as you sob louder, soaking his white t-shirt in tears.

"Why can you just let me go Peter?" You sob, you are so broken, so scared, you aren't sure how much more of this you can take.

"I've already told you, you stupid little girl, YOU aren't going anywhere. You belong to me now, I took your body, and I will take your heart too. You'll see." Peter nearly whispers, lips pressed against your ear.

His words sting your skin, causing you to cry louder. Peter just holds you, giving you soft shushes and caressing your face. "You will stay chained like this, until can agree to stay with me. To be my wife, to birth my children, and to help cleanse this pitiful world from its own mediocrity."

"Or" Peter adds, gripping your cheeks, forcing you to look in his eyes before he continued, "I can leave you chained here forever, and STILL do all of those things." "Your choice litte Bun."

Your eyes were wide with shock and fear. *He's going to force me to be his wife......he's never gonna let me go* the thought swirled around in your head, making you dizzy.

"So, what's it going to be little girl, the easy way, or the fun way?" He snickered darkly, never breaking eye contact with you as he spoke.

"Th.... th.......the e....easy w...way P...Peter" you respond in shame, voice broken over your sobs.

He let go of your face and smirked, "Good girl" he praises, removing you from his lap to stand up. He reaches into his pocket for the collars key before leaning over you to access the back of your neck. He unlocks and removes the collar, tossing it aside before firmly grabbing your throat, forcing you to lay down on the bed.

"Listen to me very closely, if you step out of line ONE more time, you will never see the outside of this room again, I will lock that collar and destroy this key, do I make myself clear?" He asks sternly.

You are struggling to breath under Peters hold. You open your mouth to speak but can't get any words to come out. You nod up at Peter, eyes burning with tears again.

"Words little girl, use your fucking words" Peter snaps, bringing his other hand down for a hard slap across your already bleeding cheek.

You whimper in pain, "yes, yes Peter, I understand" you choke, eyesight becoming blurred.

"Thats what I thought little Bun, now be a good girl for me and strip" he demands, removing his hand from your throat.

You hesitate for a second, knowing whats coming next, and choke out a pitiful cry.

"Dont make me ask again, I'm not above breaking more bones little girl" he states.

He goes to work removing his pants as you remove your dress, blubbering and pleading with him while you do so.

Peter hovers over top of your naked, shaking body, "you are going to shut your mouth, and you are going to take it, you are my wife now, and it's time to start our family"

You let out a shriek as Peters hand came down hard on your face one more time, splattering blood between his fingers, droplets landing on the bedsheets. He grins wildly at the site, bringing his fingers up to his lips and licking them clean.

You continue to cry as he hovered over you, "cry all you want Bunny, you're so pretty like this" he says, before crashing his lips onto your trembling ones.

*

*

*

A/N: pt7? Its just gonna keep getting darker from here little Bunnies.