#both work as housekeepers for a light-blue haired person

[fatherfigurefusion]

Honestly, I think the best way to describe Honami Mochizuki is Thoma with Ganyu's voice.

[doormatty3]

Echoes Of Madness (Possessed!Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Possessed!Josh Lambert x Reader] [Possessed!Josh Lambert x Female Reader]  You’ve been the Lambert family’s maid since Renai hired you when Dalton was in a coma, desperate for help with the household and when he recovered, you became an integral part of them.  Despite your close proximity to the family, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy towards the bond shared between Renai and Josh. However, Josh’s demeanour shifted after Dalton awoke from his coma, becoming moody and occasionally downright rude towards his wife. Yet, despite these shortcomings, you can’t deny your attraction towards him. Amidst the growing tension within the household, you can’t ignore the strange occurrences surrounding Josh.  The more you witness, the warier you grow of him, grappling with confusion over his erratic behaviour - you can’t help but feel like someone else pulls the strings.  And when you find him screaming at his reflection in the mirror, you realise he shares that magnetic attraction towards you - and you can be sure of one thing: You’re in for one hell of a ride. OR: Josh is possessed and possesses you with his cock.

Wordcount: 16851

Warnings: 18+, extremely dubious consent, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues, face fucking, blowjob, fingering, spanking, bondage, rough oral sex, biting, choking, forced orgasm

A/N: You ask - I deliver 

Content Warning: There's some extremely dubious consent - To be honest, the whole smut is kind of dubious. The protagonist is into it but it's still insanely problematic... So proceed with care and remember that Josh is after all possessed (and really hot).

If someone had asked you in your childhood what you’d end up doing for a living, being a maid wouldn’t have crossed your mind. But life has a way of surprising one, and yours took some turns and twists.

So one day, you stumbled upon a newspaper ad while out of work: a family was seeking a housekeeper because their son was in a coma. And that’s how you became the housekeeper for the Lambert family - a role you’ve held for quite some time now.

It had been Renai Lambert who sought assistance when both she and her husband Josh were overwhelmed by the emotional and logistical challenges, and maintaining the household became an insurmountable task.

In those trying times, you provided more than just cleaning and tidying services; you offered a sense of stability and support amidst the chaos and befriended the whole family.

Sure, there were a few times when they couldn’t pay you on time, but you never let it bother you. You understood the financial strain they were under, especially with Dalton’s medical bills looming over them. You knew they would compensate you as soon as they could, and that was enough for you to carry on with your duties.

Then, as if by magic, Dalton woke from his coma, and suddenly, everything seemed right again. 

Initially, you harboured concerns about the future of your employment, fearing that your services might no longer be needed in light of Dalton’s recovery. However, to your relief, the Lamberts made it clear that they valued your presence and contributions beyond the context of Dalton’s illness.

_____

As you go about your duties within the Lambert household, a pang of envy occasionally creeps into your thoughts when you observe the seemingly perfect relationship between Renai and Josh. Their bond radiates with an undeniable warmth and understanding, a stark contrast to the complexities of your own personal life. Despite the challenges they’ve faced, their connection remains unwavering, leaving you to yearn for a love as deep and steadfast as theirs.

Josh, in particular, captures your attention with his striking features and undeniable charisma. His clear blue eyes sparkle with kindness and determination, drawing you in with their magnetic allure. His brown, short hair frames his face in a way that accentuates his rugged charm, while his strong yet gentle hands speak volumes of his dedication to his family. His slim and toned physique exudes confidence and strength, a testament to his unwavering commitment to both his loved ones and himself.

But it’s not just his physical attributes that captivate you; it’s his unwavering devotion to Renai and Dalton that truly sets him apart. His willingness to sacrifice and his boundless love for his family is evident in every action and gesture, leaving you with a sense of admiration tinged with a hint of longing.

And then there’s his laughter - a melodic symphony that fills the room with joy and warmth whenever he’s near. It’s infectious, drawing you into its embrace and momentarily easing the burdens weighing on your heart. 

Though you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for harbouring such thoughts, you can’t deny the undeniable pull that Josh exerts over you. 

But you noticed that the aftermath of Dalton’s coma took a toll on Josh and Renai’s relationship.

The once-unbreakable bond between them seemed to fray at the edges, leaving behind jagged wounds that festered beneath the surface.

Josh’s demeanour, in particular, underwent a noticeable shift, oscillating between moments of distant detachment and flashes of his former warmth and affection. There are times when his behaviour bordered on outright rudeness, his words sharp, and his actions cold, leaving Renai to navigate the turbulent waters of their relationship alone. 

Yet, amidst the chaos, there were fleeting glimpses of the man you once knew - the devoted husband who doted on his wife and cherished his family with unwavering devotion.

But you knew better than to dwell on such observations, pushing aside any thoughts that strayed into forbidden territory. Josh was your employer, and his marriage to Renai was sacrosanct - a bond you had no right to intrude upon. 

Despite his friendly demeanour towards you, you remained acutely aware of the professional boundaries that governed your relationship, steadfast in your resolve to maintain a respectful distance. It was a reality you begrudgingly accepted, even as the lines between employer and employee blurred with each passing day. And so, you buried any inklings of desire or longing beneath a facade of professional decorum, resigned to the silent ache that gnawed at your heart in the quiet moments of solitude.

_____

Lost in the rhythmic drone of the vacuum cleaner, you move through the Lamberts’ living room with a sense of detachment, as if operating on autopilot. The monotonous hum of the machine serves as a backdrop to the tumult of thoughts swirling within your mind, drowning out the outside world as you retreat into the sanctuary of your own thoughts.

With each pass of the vacuum cleaner, your mind drifts further into the depths of contemplation, grappling with the complexities of the situation unfolding before you. The tension between Josh and Renai, the fragile facade of normalcy that masks the underlying turmoil - it all weighs heavily on your shoulders, threatening to engulf you in its wake.

Despite your best efforts to remain focused on the task at hand, your thoughts wander down winding pathways, exploring the myriad possibilities and uncertainties that lie ahead. What will become of the Lambert family in the wake of Dalton’s recovery? Will Josh and Renai find their way back to each other, or will the cracks in their relationship widen into irreparable chasms?

The tension between Josh and Renai, the forbidden desires that simmer beneath the surface - they linger like shadows in the recesses of your mind, haunting you with their persistent presence.

As the vacuum cleaner glides effortlessly across the carpet, you find yourself yearning for the respite of silence, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. But the relentless hum of the machine serves as a constant reminder of the reality that surrounds you, anchoring you to the present moment even as your mind drifts into the unknown.

For a fleeting moment, you consider switching off the vacuum, allowing the silence to envelop you like a comforting embrace. But the clamour of your inner turmoil proves too overwhelming, driving you to continue your relentless pursuit of cleanliness and order within the Lambert household.

And so, you continue to vacuum the Lamberts’ living room, lost in the labyrinth of your own thoughts, navigating the twists and turns of emotion with each step. 

Over the deafening roar of the vacuum cleaner, you hear a noise - a faint rustling, like the flutter of wings against a silent sky.

The abrupt disruption jolts you from your reverie, scattering the fragments of your thoughts like leaves in the wind. Startled, you glance around the living room, determined to find the source of the disruption before you halt the incessant drone with a swift motion.

Its sudden silence leaves a void that echoes with anticipation.

Your senses, now heightened, scan the surroundings for any sign of disturbance. The air crackles with tension as you strain to discern the source of the commotion, but all you hear is the hushed murmur of the house settling into its familiar rhythm and the muted thrum of your heartbeat echoing in the cavernous expanse of the room.

Just as you begin to second-guess the validity of the noise, it comes again - a sharp thud reverberating from somewhere above, sending a jolt of apprehension coursing through your veins. Your heart quickens its pace as you realise that the sound is authentic and not a product of your imagination. 

Curiosity stirs within you, a dormant ember reignited by the tantalising promise of the unknown.  With measured steps, you ascend the staircase, each creak of the floorboards adding to the eerie atmosphere that permeates the hallway.

The dim light casts elongated shadows that dance along the walls, heightening the sense of unease that settles over you like a heavy cloak. They cling to the walls like spectres, their formless tendrils reaching out to ensnare unwary travellers in their embrace. The faint scent of lavender lingers in the air, mingling with the musty aroma of age-old secrets veiled in dust and decay.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you hesitate. Your pulse is loud in your ears, drowning out the sound of your own footsteps. 

The hallway stretches out before you, a labyrinth of dimly lit corridors and closed doors shrouded in mystery. 

Your eyes scan the surroundings, searching for any sign of disruption, any clue as to what could have caused the disturbance. But aside from the faint glow of lamplight and the soft rustle of curtains in the breeze, there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Summoning your courage, you press forward, guided by the siren song of the unknown. The floorboards creak beneath your weight, their protest a haunting refrain that echoes through the empty halls. 

The unsettling quiet that follows the disturbance sets your nerves on edge, a sense of unease settling over you like a heavy fog. You hesitate for a moment before mustering the courage to call out for Josh Lambert, the only other person in the household at the time.

“Mr. Lambert?” you call out tentatively, the sound of your voice seeming to dissipate into the silence around you. “Are you there? Is everything alright?”

But the only response is the hollow echo of your own voice bouncing off the walls, amplifying the eerie stillness that surrounds you. A chill runs down your spine as you wait, straining your ears for any sign of life within the house. As the seconds tick by, a creeping sense of dread begins to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. What if something has happened to Josh? What if you’re alone in this house with whatever caused the disturbance?

With a shaky breath, you take a hesitant step forward, heart pounding in your chest.

“Mr. Lambert, please,” you call out again, your voice tinged with desperation. “Are you there?”

But still, there’s no response, no indication that your words have reached their intended recipient. Fear tightens its grip on your chest, threatening to suffocate you with its weight.

Just as despair threatens to overwhelm you, a faint noise breaks through the oppressive silence - a soft click followed by the creak of a door being opened. Your heart leaps into your throat as you turn towards the sound, your breath catching in your chest.

Finally, the bedroom door swings open, revealing Josh’s familiar form bathed in the soft glow of lamplight. His tousled hair catches the glimmer of light filtering through the window, casting a halo of silver around his face. In the muted shadows of the hallway, his features are softened, his eyes alight with a quiet intensity. The lines of worry that once etched his brow have been smoothed away, replaced by a sense of quiet resolve that lends him an air of quiet confidence.

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before addressing Josh, whose presence, though comforting, seems to carry an air of unease, a faint tension that sends shivers down your spine - a shift, a shadow that lingers at the edge of perception, eluding your grasp like smoke slipping through your fingers.

You study him intently, searching for any telltale sign of discord, but his demeanour remains serene, his gaze steady and unwavering. 

“Mr. Lambert,” you begin tentatively, your voice wavering slightly, “is everything okay? I could have sworn I heard something falling over multiple times.”

Josh’s expression shifts, his features momentarily clouded with a hint of uncertainty, his gaze darting around the hallway as if searching for answers in the shadows.

“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his voice low and tinged with a subtle edge that sends a chill down your spine, “But let’s check it out together. Just to be sure.”

You follow Josh hesitantly, a creeping sense of dread gnawing at your insides as you traverse the dimly lit corridors of the house. Each step feels heavier than the last, as if the very air around you is thick with foreboding.

As you search each room, the feeling of unease only intensifies, amplified by Josh’s own palpable sense of tension. His movements are jerky, his eyes darting about as if expecting something - or someone - to leap out at any moment.

Returning to the living room, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right. The memory of the strange disturbance lingers like a lingering fog, casting a shadow over the otherwise ordinary surroundings.

“Thank you, Mr. Lambert,” you manage to say, though your voice trembles slightly. “I guess I was just a little jumpy.”

Josh offers you a tight-lipped smile, though it does little to dispel the sense of disquiet that hangs in the air between you.

“No problem,” he replies, his voice strained. “I’m just glad everything seems to be okay.”

Your lips curl into a smile at his words, and as his eyes meet yours, he adds, “And call me Josh, please.”

His request for familiarity sends a sudden rush of warmth flooding your cheeks. You blush furiously, feeling the heat radiating from your face as if it were lit by an internal flame. His gentle smile in response only intensifies the fluttering sensation in your chest, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

“O-Okay, Josh,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. His smile widens at your reaction, a glimmer of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. Your breath catches in your throat, a fluttering sensation stirring in the pit of your stomach as you struggle to compose yourself.

“Thank you,” you manage to choke out, your words laced with a hint of embarrassment. His laughter fills the air, a melodic sound that washes over you like a gentle breeze, soothing the tumultuous currents that churn within.

His easygoing demeanour puts you at ease, and you find yourself exhaling a sigh of relief as the tension slowly melts away.

With a playful twinkle in his eye, Josh offers you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before disappearing back into the shadows of the hallway. And as you watch him go, a sense of warmth washes over you, the memory of his smile lingering like a beacon of light in the darkness.

With a newfound sense of confidence, you return to your tasks, the memory of Josh’s smile lighting the way forward, but the feeling of being watched lingering at the edges of your consciousness. And though you try to shake off the unease, you can’t help but feel that something lurks in the shadows.

_____

A few weeks pass, and the memory of the strange encounter with Josh begins to fade into the recesses of your mind. Life in the Lambert household settles into a familiar rhythm, the routine of your duties serving as a comforting anchor amidst the ebb and flow of daily life.

Yet, despite your best efforts to push the memory aside, a nagging sense of unease lingers in the back of your mind - a whisper of doubt that refuses to be silenced.

Today, however, you find yourself in a rush, with an appointment looming on the horizon. The urgency of your departure weighs heavily on your mind as you hurry through your morning routine. With frenzied steps, you navigate through the Lambert household, mentally ticking off tasks from your to-do list.

With a quick glance at the clock, you realise there’s still time to squeeze in one last task before you have to leave - the bathroom could use a quick clean. As you approach the door, intending to get it done swiftly,  the faint murmur of voices catches your attention, causing you to pause in your tracks. Your curiosity is piqued, but you resist the urge to eavesdrop, not wanting to invade anyone’s privacy.

Though you strain to decipher the words since they remain indistinct, muffled by the barrier of the closed door, you recognise Josh’s voice amidst the faint murmurs.

You hesitate, unsure of whether you should proceed with cleaning or come back later. Gathering your courage, you knock lightly on the door, calling out, “Mr. Lambert, it’s me. Can I clean the bathroom now, or should I come back later?”

The voices abruptly fall silent, replaced by a heavy stillness that sends a shiver down your spine. With a furrowed brow, you knock on the door again, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for a response.

After a moment, the door swings open to reveal Josh standing there, a charming smile gracing his features. For a moment, you find yourself breathless, struck by the sight of his handsome features illuminated by the soft glow of the bathroom light.

“Oh, hey there! You can go ahead and clean. Thanks for checking in,” he responds, his tone warm and inviting as he steps aside to allow you entry.

Despite the urgency of your task, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for interrupting whatever conversation Josh was engaged in. But as you glance back at Josh, his smile unwavering, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement in your stomach.

“Thanks, Mr. Lambert,” you offer apologetically, your manners kicking in automatically. “I didn’t want to interrupt your call.”

Josh’s smile falters for a moment before he shakes his head, his expression puzzled. “Call? Oh, I wasn’t talking to anyone. Don’t worry about it,” he reassures you, his tone genuine.

You pause, taken aback by his response. “I thought I heard you talking in here,” you explain, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words.

But Josh shakes his head, his expression unwavering. “I wasn’t talking to anyone,” he insists, “Maybe you heard something else.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but feel a surge of unease at the certainty in his voice. Could you have been mistaken? The possibility gnaws at you, but deep down, a lingering sense of doubt remains.

As you stand there, grappling with the uncertainty, Josh’s gentle reminder breaks through your thoughts. “And remember,” he adds with a playful glint in his eye, “it’s Josh.”

Your cheeks flush crimson at the reminder, the warmth spreading across your face as you meet his gaze. “Of course, Josh,” your voice steady despite the flutter of excitement in your chest.

Josh’s smile widens at your reaction, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. With a casual wave of his hand, he dismisses the awkward moment, leaving you to ponder the encounter as he exits the room, his footsteps echoing in the hallway beyond. 

Alone once again, you can’t shake the nagging sense of doubt that lingers in your mind.

Why would Josh deny such a mundane thing? And what were those voices you heard? With a heavy sigh, you push aside your concerns and focus on the task at hand, but the mystery of the whispered conversation continues to haunt you as you clean the bathroom.

As you meticulously scrub and polish, your mind races with questions, each unanswered query only deepening the sense of unease that gnaws at your conscience.

_____

The day begins like any other as you unlock the door to the Lambert household, the familiar routine of cleaning the house already settling in.

Yet, the usual calmness is abruptly shattered by a sudden sound that pierces the air - a voice raised in what sounds like frantic conversation. It’s Josh, his tone pressing and animated, echoing through the quiet rooms.

A chill runs down your spine as you freeze in place, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. It’s not the first time you’ve heard Josh engaged in what seems like an intense discussion, but there’s something different this time - a sense of urgency that renders you momentarily breathless.

Unable to ignore the unease gnawing at you, you abandon your cleaning supplies and make your way upstairs, each step heavy with apprehension. The sound of Josh’s voice grows louder with each passing moment, his words becoming more distinct as you approach.

“Mr. Lambert?” you call out tentatively as you climb, your voice seemingly swallowed by the eerie silence that permeates the house. Anxiety gnaws at your insides as you press forward, each step feeling heavier than the last.

After what seems like an eternity, the murmurs of Josh’s voice reach your ears once more. “You have to leave. Leave me alone,” he pleads, the desperation in his tone sending a shiver down your spine.

Approaching the bathroom, your heart pounds in your chest as you push open the door, revealing a sight that leaves you speechless and freezes you in your tracks. 

There stands Josh in front of the mirror, seemingly engaged in a heated argument with his own reflection.

His appearance is startling - a far cry from the composed and collected man you’re accustomed to seeing. Dark circles rim his blue eyes, their usual sparkle replaced by a dull, haunted gaze. His complexion is ashen and sickly, a stark contrast to his usual vitality. And to add to the peculiarity, you notice that his shirt is buttoned wrongly, a small detail that only adds to the unsettling atmosphere.

Caught off guard by the disturbing scene before you, fear grips your entire being as Josh’s gaze meets yours in the mirror. In a split second, instinct takes over, and without a second thought, your fight-or-flight response kicks in. You step back slowly, a wave of terror washing over you as you turn and bolt from the room, desperate to escape the unsettling aura that surrounds Josh.

The urgency of the moment propels you forward, your heart pounding in your chest as you flee from the unsettling encounter in the bathroom. Each step echoes loudly in the empty hallway, reverberating with the weight of fear and uncertainty that grips you.

As you race down the corridor, the sound of Josh’s heavy footsteps reverberates behind you, each thud echoing with a sense of urgency that drives you onward. “Stop!” he commands, his voice filled with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Despite the pounding of your heart and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, something deep within you refuses to obey. With determination propelling your every move, you push forward, your feet carrying you faster and faster towards the sanctuary of the exit.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps as you push yourself to go faster, the adrenaline fueling your every movement. The hallway stretches endlessly before you, each turn offering a fleeting glimpse of escape that seems just out of reach.

But just as you reach the end of the hallway, a powerful force crashes into you from behind, knocking you off balance and sending you sprawling against the wall with a resounding thud. Before you can react, Josh is upon you, his entire body pressing you against the surface, trapping you in a suffocating embrace. The look on his face is nothing short of predatory, his eyes ablaze with a frenzied intensity that sends chills down your spine. 

Trapped in his grasp, you are powerless to resist as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin. The air crackles with tension as he gazes down at you, his features contorted in a mix of desperation and something darker, something primal and instinctual.

Despite the looming threat and the palpable fear that courses through your veins, you can’t help but notice the undeniable sensations that accompany Josh’s closeness. His body pressed against yours exudes warmth, a stark contrast to the coldness of the wall against your back.

For a few heart-stopping seconds, Josh simply holds you in his grasp, his gaze locking onto yours with an otherwordly intensity. In that brief, suspended moment, time seems to stand still. The only sound is the frantic pounding of your own heart.

Then, finally, he breaks the silence, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the tension like a knife. “Why did you run from me?” he asks, his words laden with confusion and a hint of hurt.

Caught off guard by the question, you struggle to find the right words, your mind racing as you search for an explanation. The truth is, you’re not entirely sure why you fled from him in the first place - only that the overwhelming sense of fear and unease drove you to act on instinct without pausing to consider the consequences.

“I...I don’t know,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared…you scared me.”

As the words tumble from your lips, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at the look of hurt that flickers across Josh’s face. Despite the danger of the situation, there’s a vulnerability in his expression that speaks to a deeper, more human side of him - one that you hadn’t anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

As Josh’s gaze holds yours, a myriad of emotions swirl within you, tangled and tumultuous. Despite the fear that still grips you, you can’t deny the undeniable pull of attraction coursing through your veins, drawing you inexplicably closer to him. 

Your breath grows shallow, your heart hammering in your chest as you struggle to make sense of the conflicting desires that war within you. On one hand, there’s the undeniable danger of the situation - the fear that still lingers in the air, casting a shadow over everything. And yet, beneath it all, there’s a primal, instinctual longing that you can’t ignore - a desire that burns hot and bright, threatening to consume you from within.

You watch Josh with a mix of fascination and trepidation, taking in his otherworldly appearance and the weariness etched into every line of his face. His eyes, blown wide with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, hold a depth of emotion that you can’t quite decipher.

Abruptly, he leans in, running his nose along your neck. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending goosebumps erupting in its wake. A soft whimper escapes your lips as his touch ignites a fire deep within you, stirring something that demands to be sated.

Your eyes flutter closed as you surrender to the sensation, losing yourself in the heady rush of desire that courses through your veins. It’s as if every nerve in your body is alight with anticipation, craving the touch of him. You feel a rush of heat flood your cheeks as his warm breath brushes against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His movements are deliberate and purposeful, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch of you.

And then, as his nose traces along your skin, you feel a low, guttural sound rumble from deep within his chest - a primal groan of pleasure and desire that sends a thrill coursing through your veins.

Your eyes are drawn to his lips as he licks them when he pulls back, a gesture that sends a jolt of heat coursing through you. Without hesitation and much thought, you lean in, capturing his lips with your own in a kiss that’s both desperate and hungry.

As Josh’s hands bury themselves in your hair when he kisses you back, a surge of anticipation courses through you. Before you can react, he pulls your head back roughly, forcing your back to collide with the unyielding surface of the wall. A sharp pang of pain shoots through your skull as the impact reverberates through your body, leaving you momentarily stunned.

The pain radiates outwards, mingling with the heady rush of desire that still pulses within you. Despite the discomfort, there’s an undeniable thrill in the sensation, a primal excitement that courses through your veins.

The kiss is bruising, almost punishing, as if he’s trying to erase all thought and reason from your mind. His touch is rough and demanding, as if he’s determined to claim you as his own.

But even as your head spins with the force of his kiss, a part of you can’t help but revel in the intensity of the moment. There’s something exhilarating about the raw passion that burns between you, a fire that refuses to be extinguished.

Caught in the storm of desire that rages within you, there’s nothing you can do but surrender to the irresistible pull of the moment. His touch ignites a fire within you, burning hot and fierce as it consumes you from the inside out.

With each passing second, you find yourself losing all sense of control, swept away by the sheer intensity of the connection between you. His hands, rough and insistent, leave trails of heat in their wake as they roam hungrily over your body.

With Josh still pressed against you, the sensation of his body against yours sends a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. 

As his arms envelop you, pulling you closer, you find yourself melting into his touch, the lines between fear and desire blurring in the heat of the moment. His closeness is intoxicating, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

As Josh’s overpowering presence engulfs you, every fibre of your being is consumed by a whirlwind of sensations. His demanding behaviour, his intoxicating scent, the taste of him lingering on your lips - it all swirls together in a dizzying torrent that leaves you utterly overwhelmed. 

You feel how intensely and instinctively you react to him, from the fire in your veins to the way your nipples start to grow hard and how your cunt starts to get wet.

When he breaks the kiss, you feel his hot breath against your lips, and a wave of realisation washes over you, pulling you back to reality.

“Please, Mr. Lambert, this isn’t right,” you manage to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. It is not like you don’t want him, but he is still married to Renai and your employer, and more importantly, he doesn’t seem to be in the right headspace.

But instead of heeding your plea, Josh only laughs - a deep, dark sound that reverberates through the room, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes gleam with an intensity that both thrills and terrifies you, their dark depths holding you captive in their gaze.

“Not you calling me Mr. Lambert like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it,” he retorts, his voice low and husky, laced with a hint of amusement. The corner of his mouth quirks up in a sly grin, and for a moment, you’re struck by the sheer magnetism of his presence.

As Josh’s lips meet yours once more, the kiss is deep and consuming. But this time, there’s an urgency to his touch, a hunger that ignites a fire within you both.

Your lips collide with a fervent intensity, teeth clicking against each other in a desperate embrace. The sensation is electric, each movement sending sparks flying as desire consumes you both.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrender to the kiss, your inhibitions melting away as passion takes hold. Some part of you is sure that this is wrong - but the way he feels against you, how he consumes you - frenzied and almost as if possessed by something - you can’t help but surrender to him. 

As Josh’s tongue invades your mouth, you taste the heady mixture of desire and desperation that lingers on his lips. His hold on you tightens, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you, his arms wrapped around you with a possessiveness that sends a thrill down your spine.

Lost in the intoxicating embrace, you surrender to the moment, letting yourself be consumed by the heat of passion that courses through your veins. His touch ignites a fire within you, a hunger that burns hot and fierce as you melt into his embrace.

As Josh’s lips part from yours, a low, almost primal sound rumbles deep in his throat - a feral growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes, dark with desire, bore into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“I can smell you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “I know you want me.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and intent. There’s a possessiveness in his tone, a certainty that sends a rush of heat flooding through your veins as you involuntarily clench your thighs - your pussy already slick with arousal. 

Caught off guard by the raw intensity of his confession, you find yourself at a loss for words. The truth in his words is undeniable, a silent acknowledgement of the desires that simmer beneath the surface.

Without waiting for a response, Josh’s lips crash against yours once more, a hungry fervour consuming every inch of your being. The kiss is fervent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to claim you as his own one more.

A sharp pang of pain shoots through you as his teeth sink into your lip, drawing blood and pulling you back to reality. The metallic tang of iron fills your mouth, mingling with the heady taste of desire that lingers between you. Despite the pain, there’s a primal thrill in the sensation, a rawness that ignites a fire deep within your core.

His hands roam hungrily over your body, tracing every curve and contour with an urgency that leaves you gasping for air. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends electric sparks dancing along your nerves, each caress leaving you achingly aware of the mounting tension between you.

At that moment, there’s no room for thought or hesitation - only the overwhelming rush of sensation that consumes you both. You lose yourself in the heat of the moment, surrendering to the primal instinct that drives you together, body and soul.

With a suddenness that leaves you reeling, Josh abruptly pulls away from the kiss, leaving you breathless and longing for more. His gaze is intense, dark with desire as he looks at you with hunger-filled eyes.

You’re acutely aware of the heady scent of arousal that surrounds you, mingling with the sweet tang of blood on your lips. It’s a combination that leaves you dizzy with longing, your senses heightened to a fever pitch.

He comes closer again and trails wet kisses over your jaw and neck, and when he lingers over your pulse point, his touch ignites a fire within you, a hunger that burns hot and fierce. 

With a suddenness that catches you off guard, his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck, right where he just traced with his tongue, while his grip on you tightens, holding you in place as if afraid you might pull away. The pressure of his teeth against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burns hotter with each passing second.

The sharp pain shoots through you like a bolt of lightning, causing you to let out an involuntary whimper and buck your hips against his. You feel the hardness of his cock against you, a testament to his own arousal.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pain radiates outwards, mixing with the heady rush of desire that still courses through your veins. Despite the sting, there’s an undeniable thrill in the sensation, a rawness that heightens the intensity of the moment.

But even as desire courses through you, a part of you can’t help but feel a twinge of fear at the suddenness of his actions. The line between pleasure and pain blurs in the heat of the moment, leaving you breathless and wanting more even as you whimper in discomfort.

As Josh pulls away, a mixture of relief and longing wash over you. His gaze is intense, dark with desire as he looks at you, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

In the aftermath of his bite, you feel a dull throb where his teeth had sunk into your skin, the sensation a potent reminder of the raw intensity of the moment. But as he leans in closer, his tongue tracing over the mark he left behind, a rush of heat floods your senses, sending a shiver down your spine as you let out a breathy moan.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent as if he’s trying to soothe the pain he caused with his earlier actions. The feel of his tongue against your skin sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, erasing the discomfort and replacing it with a heady rush of desire.

With each lick, each caress, the tension between you grows thicker, electrified by the lingering heat of your shared passion. And as he pulls away, his breath heavy against your skin, you’re left reeling, your senses ablaze with longing.

“I knew you were a slut,” he murmurs, his words dripping with disdain and desire. 

And then, before you can react, he crushes his lips against yours once more, a bruising kiss that borders on violence. The force of it knocks the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air as he claims you with a possessiveness that borders on obsession.

The sheer force of his embrace leaves you gasping for air as if you’ve been winded. Each press of his lips against yours feels like a demand, a possessive claim that leaves no room for resistance.

In that moment, you’re acutely aware of the raw power of his desire, the intensity of his need for you. It’s as if he’s trying to erase all thought and reason from your mind, leaving only the primal urge to surrender to him completely.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you,” he murmurs, his words laced with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine as he sinks his teeth into your neck one more. “With your tight shirts and pants. Fuck, you drive me crazy.”

His admission hangs heavy in the air, a confession of desire that leaves you breathless and wanting more. It’s as if he’s stripped away all pretence, laying bare the raw, unbridled passion that simmers beneath the surface.

“And there’s nothing more I’d like to do than bend you over,” he continues, his voice low and husky with desire. The words send a thrill of excitement coursing through you, mingling with a sense of apprehension at the sheer intensity of his longing.

With a sudden surge of primal instinct, Josh’s hands tear open your shirt, the fabric yielding to his strength with a resounding rip. The sound echoes in the room, a stark reminder of the raw intensity of the moment.

As the fabric falls away, exposing your chest to the cool air, a rush of anticipation courses through you, mingling with the heady mix of desire that hangs heavy in the air. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, hot and intense, as he takes in the sight before him.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, the erratic rhythm matching the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. Part of you is happy - almost giddy - you decided to forgo the bra today since it gives him better access. 

Before you can even register what’s happening, Josh’s mouth crashes against your bare chest, igniting a firestorm of sensation that consumes you whole. 

At first, he places light, wet kisses on your naked collarbones before starting to suck purple marks into your skin that cause you to whimper and moan with each new one. 

The combination of the cold air hitting the wet spots and the slight pain he causes drives you wild. You feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter, desperate for him to give you more.

As if he knows what you need, he bares his teeth and bites down into the soft skin of your bare tits. Each nip of his teeth is like a branding, leaving a searing imprint of his desire in its wake, marking you as his own.

Every nerve ending is electrified with a jolt of pleasure as he continues to explore and mark you. You whither and moan, pressed against him as he kisses and tastes your skin, careful not to touch your hard nipples.

After what almost feels like torture, he lifts his head to meet your eyes, and it’s as if a current of electricity is coursing through your veins, sparking with the sheer intensity of his passion evident in his eyes.

You watch as he runs his tongue over his lips before he lowers his head to finally capture your hard nipple with his mouth. 

A loud moan escapes you when he flicks it with his tongue and bites down softly before pulling it upwards with his teeth. The minimal stimulation feels like it has a direct connection to your neglected cunt, arousal crashing low in your belly as you buck your hips against his again.

You feel Josh’s hard cock straining in his jeans, and you press against him once more, desperate for some stimulation.

Josh’s low growl reverberates through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as he releases his grip on your skin. The sudden absence of his touch leaves you feeling strangely empty, aching for more even as you struggle to catch your breath. 

The cold air on your wet skin only adds to the frenzy you are experiencing as you feel it throb. 

Your heart pounds in your chest, the rhythm erratic and wild, matching the frantic pace of your thoughts. Every nerve ending is alight with sensation, throbbing with an intensity that threatens to overwhelm you.

With a sudden, commanding force, Josh’s hand closes around your throat, his grip strong and unyielding. The pressure tightens around your neck, a firm reminder of his dominance as you feel the weight of his touch pressing into your skin.

You gasp. The sensation is both exhilarating and terrifying as if you’re teetering on the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to fall or pull back. His touch sends a shockwave coursing through your body, leaving you trembling in its wake.

And then there are his eyes - blue orbs that seem almost swallowed by the darkness, pools of intense desire that draw you in with an irresistible pull. They hold you captive, trapping you in their gaze as if daring you to look away.

With a guttural growl, Josh’s voice rumbles through the air, dripping with both desire and disdain. “Can’t get enough, whore?” His words cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and biting, as he asserts his dominance over you.

You flinch at the harshness of his tone, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders. There’s a mixture of arousal and shame swirling within you, a heady concoction that leaves you dizzy and disoriented.

And then, without warning, he leans in close, his tongue tracing a path along the side of your face. The sensation is both electrifying and repulsive, sending a shiver down your spine as you struggle to reconcile the conflicting emotions raging within you.

His touch is possessive, almost violent in its intensity as if he’s staking his claim on you once more. 

With a ferocious intensity, Josh’s grip around your throat tightens, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost bruising force. The pressure sends a jolt of both pain and pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses to a fever pitch.

As his other hand roams down your body, you feel a surge of anticipation ripple through you, your skin prickling with goosebumps at his touch. His fingers trace a tantalising path along your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Every touch is electric, sending shockwaves of sensation radiating through your body. It’s as if he’s igniting a fire within you, stoking the flames of desire until they threaten to consume you whole.

With a sudden, forceful movement, Josh uses his legs to kick open yours, spreading them wide as you’re pressed against the wall. The action is swift and commanding, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body trembling with anticipation.

As your legs are forced apart, you feel a surge of heat rush through you, your pulse quickening at the raw display of dominance.

Pressed against the wall, you’re acutely aware of every sensation - the coolness of the surface against your skin, the heat of Josh’s body pressed against yours, the overwhelming sense of powerlessness that washes over you.

Josh presses his knee into your clothed pussy, the pressure sending a shockwave of sensation coursing through your body. It’s a jolt of pleasure and pain that leaves you gasping for breath, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling.

The pressure of his knee against your skin is firm and unyielding, pressing into you with a force that borders on agonizing. Every movement sends a ripple of pleasure radiating through you.

Once he’s satisfied with the position, Josh pulls his knee away, the sudden release leaving you feeling both relieved and strangely bereft. You take in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you await his next move.

“Stay,” he commands, his voice low and authoritative, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s a simple word, but it carries the weight of his dominance, leaving you rooted to the spot as if by some unseen force.

You nod obediently, unable to tear your gaze away from him as he reaches for the waistband of your pants. The anticipation builds within you, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling in the pit of your stomach.

With practised ease, he undoes the button and zipper of your pants, his movements deliberate and unhurried. Each touch sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your breath catching in your throat as you wait.

In a swift and deliberate motion, Josh pulls down your pants, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze. The fabric slips down your legs, pooling at your feet, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated by the raw display of dominance.

You feel a surge of heat rush through you, your pulse quickening with anticipation. It’s as if a floodgate has been opened, releasing a torrent of desire that threatens to overwhelm you completely.

With a tantalising slowness, Josh trails his fingers along the hem of your underwear, the light touch sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine. Each caress is deliberate, drawing out the moment and heightening the tension between you.

You can feel the heat of his touch against your skin, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they skim along the fabric. It’s as if he’s testing your limits, pushing you to the edge of your control with every teasing stroke.

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch lingers, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. 

With a husky voice, Josh murmurs in your ear, “You’re soaked,” as his fingers brush against your clothed cunt. His words send a jolt of electricity through you that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he leans in closer. The air crackles with tension, thick with the heady scent of arousal that hangs between you like a veil.

As his fingers explore your pussy through your panties, you can’t help but moan softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch. It’s as if he knows exactly how to drive you wild, how to push you to the brink of ecstasy with every caress.

With a primal growl, Josh has had enough teasing. In one swift motion, he rips away your underwear. The fabric tears away with a sharp sound, echoing in the air like a crack of thunder, and you gasp at the suddenness of his action, leaving you completely exposed before him.

Now wholly vulnerable, you feel a rush of heat flood your body, your senses overwhelmed by him. The torn fabric hangs limply at your feet, a stark reminder of the power he wields over you in this moment.

You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, hot and intense, as he takes in the sight before him with dark, hooded eyes. There’s a hunger in his gaze, a primal desire that leaves you breathless and trembling in its wake. Almost on instinct, you close your legs, a futile attempt to deny Josh access to your exposed cunt. But he doesn’t falter; his determination is evident as he refuses to be deterred by your feeble resistance and rather pushes your legs open again.

“There we go,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he forces you to comply with his command. “Now, I want you to continue to spread your legs even wider for me.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of desire and fear coursing through you. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, his intensity unwavering as he exerts his control over you.

As he pushes one finger inside you, you can’t help but moan softly, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

Josh continues to push and probe deeper, his finger stretching your tight walls further with each insistent thrust. You can feel the pressure building inside you, the sensation both intense and overwhelming as he delves deeper into the depths of your desire.

After what feels like an eternity, his fingers brush against something hidden deep within you, sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body. A gasp escapes your lips as you feel a surge of heat flood your senses, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky with desire. “Now, I want you to relax and let me take control.”

His words wash over you like a wave, soothing and commanding all at once. You find yourself yielding to his touch, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole.

A smirk dances across Josh’s lips as he leans in closer, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers, “Yes. That’s a good girl.” His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation coursing through you at his commanding tone.

With deliberate precision, he begins to push another finger inside you, the sensation both intense and electrifying. You can feel yourself stretching to accommodate him, your body responding eagerly to his touch as he delves deeper still.

His fingers penetrate you fully, searching for the right angle to send you spiralling into ecstasy. Each movement is deliberately calculated, as he explores every inch of your cunt with expert precision.

As he continues to push deeper, you can’t help but moan softly, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

When he slowly begins to thrust his fingers in and out of your wet pussy, stretching you further with each movement, you begin to moan and whimper. 

You feel like his touch drives you mad - it’s as if every caress, every sensation, sends sparks flying through your body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume you whole. 

“Hush, just relax and enjoy what I’m giving to you” Josh’s voice is smooth and reassuring, a comforting presence amidst the whirlwind of sensations as his breath comes out in short, ragged gasps.

His words wash over you like a soothing balm, easing the tension that had been building within you. With a sense of trust and surrender, you allow yourself to let go completely, lost in the moment and the pleasure he provides.

As Josh continues to work his magic, his touch sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, you find yourself drifting deeper into a state of blissful abandon. Every caress, every movement, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

He roughly brushes his thumb over your clit, making you buck your hips against his hand with a low hiss. 

“Stay. Still.” Josh’s voice is a low, commanding growl, each word punctuated by a rough touch of his fingers against your cunt, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The digits of his other hand dig into the skin of your hip.

His grip is firm and possessive as if he’s staking his claim over you in the most primal way. You can feel the heat of his desire radiating off him, his intensity overwhelming as he asserts his dominance over you.

You feel yourself clenching around his fingers, an involuntary response to his rough treatment that just scratches an itch you didn’t know you had. 

“Oh, you like that?” Josh’s voice is a low, husky murmur laced with desire and satisfaction as he picks up the pace even more, slamming his fingers into you with rough precision. His thumb continues to rub against your clit, driving you wild with pleasure. “You’re such a dirty girl.”

His words send a thrill of excitement coursing through you, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume you whole. You can feel the heat of his gaze on you, hot and intense, as he revels in the power he holds over you. 

Moans spill out your mouth, accompanied by the wet squelching sound of his fingers entering and stretching your pussy again and again. 

You’re completely gone, lost in a haze of desire and ecstasy. Your mind is devoid of coherent thoughts, consumed entirely by the intoxicating presence of Josh. He is all you can think about, all you can feel, as his touch sends waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

At that moment, there’s no room for anything else - only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly consumed by him. 

You find yourself drifting deeper and deeper into a state of pure bliss, lost in a world of sensation and desire. Nothing else matters but him, his touch, his voice, as he guides you further and further into a realm of unbridled passion and ecstasy.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” Josh hisses, his voice dripping with desire and dominance as he continues to play you like an instrument. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mixture of arousal and anticipation coursing through your veins. Under the weight of his gaze, you feel a sense of surrender, unable to resist the intoxicating pull he has over you.

His mouth finds your neck again, his teeth grazing across your skin as he kisses and nips at you, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The sensation is both exhilarating and slightly painful, a tangible reminder of his dominance and possession over you.

With each bite, each hickey, you feel a surge of arousal coursing through your veins, your skin tingling with a mixture of pleasure and pain. It’s as if he’s branding you as his own, leaving his mark on your skin for all to see.

“Come for me now,” Josh commands, his voice laced with authority and desire, increasing the pressure on your clit with his thumb as he thrusts deeper and harder.

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, a surge of arousal coursing through your veins. Under the weight of his command, you feel a sense of urgency, a need to obey his every word.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrender completely to his will, allowing yourself to be carried away by the waves of pleasure he provides, and you cum, whimpering and bucking your hips. 

As the tides of pleasure wash over you, you feel a sense of liberation, a release of all the tension and desire that had been building within you. Josh’s command echoes in your mind, driving you to new heights of ecstasy as you give in completely to the pleasure he provides.

“Good girl,” Josh praises you, his voice tender and full of admiration as your body shudders from the intense orgasm.

His fingers relentlessly pound away at your tight cunt, as his thumb continues to rub against your clit, driving you to new heights of pleasure as you ride out your high.

The words wash over you like a soothing balm, comforting and reassuring after the storm of pleasure you just experienced. You feel a sense of pride swell within you, knowing that you’ve pleased him and fulfilled his desires.

As your body begins to relax from the intensity of your climax, you lean into Josh, seeking solace in his arms, and he slowly begins to pull his fingers out of you. 

“Now that you’re nice and loose, it’s time for my cock.” Josh mumbles against your lips, his voice husky with desire.

His words send a shiver down your spine, anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel a renewed sense of arousal building within you. 

A breathy moan falls from your lips as you can’t help but feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of what’s to come, eager to continue exploring the depths of pleasure with him.

Hearing your moan, he growls low and deep in his throat, his body shaking with need. The sound reverberates through the air, filling the room with raw, primal desire. It’s as if your moan ignites a fire within him, fueling his own craving for you.

His growl sends a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that only serves to heighten the intensity of the moment. You can feel the heat of his desire radiating from him, palpable and intoxicating as it washes over you.

He pulls his hand away from you, the loss of contact leaving you feeling strangely empty and yearning for more. With a sense of urgency, he unbuttons his pants, the sound echoing in the room as he frees his throbbing cock. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch him, your eyes drawn to his dick that’s both thick and long, with precum glistening on the reddish head.

You whimper as the sight of him fills you with a heady mix of excitement and arousal. It’s as if every nerve in your body is on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the raw, primal energy that emanates from him.

“Take it, baby. Take all of me,” he groans, his voice thick with desire and longing as he positions himself at your entrance, his cockhead pressing against your wet folds. 

With a hard thrust, he buries himself inside you, filling you up completely.

The sensation pushes all the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping for air as your head falls back against the wall. You’re overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, and your senses are flooded with the sheer pleasure of being consumed by him.

As you adjust to the feeling of him inside, you realise he’s not wearing a condom, so his bare cock is filling your cunt completely.

“Shit, Josh,” you whimper, your voice trembling with concern, “You’re not wearing a condom.”

His eyes lock on yours, his face contorted in lust as he pushes deeper. You notice how blown wide his eyes look, their intensity almost unnerving as they bore into yours. His features are strained, every muscle in his face tense with desire, and you can see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, glistening in the dim light.

Despite the urgency of the situation, you find yourself captivated by him, unable to look away from the sheer intensity of his desire. 

“I don’t care about condoms right now, baby,” Josh growls, his voice low and husky with desire.

His words send a thrill coursing through you, igniting a firestorm of desire deep within your core. Despite the nagging voice of reason in the back of your mind, you find yourself unable to resist the overwhelming pull of his passion.

In that moment, there’s a sense of reckless abandon, a willingness to throw caution to the wind in pursuit of the raw, unbridled pleasure that only he can provide. You can feel the heat of his desire radiating from him, intoxicating and all-consuming as it washes over you.

His lips find yours once again, capturing them in a searing kiss that steals your breath away as he begins to move inside you, his thrusts deep and powerful. He reaches down to grip your hips, guiding you against him as he takes control of the rhythm.

His other hand slides up your stomach and over your breasts, pinching and twisting a nipple as he takes you harder and deeper.

At that electrifying moment, time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the heat of his embrace. His kiss is a fiery inferno, igniting a blaze of desire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

You can feel the urgency in his touch, the raw hunger that drives him as he explores every inch of your mouth with a fervour that leaves you dizzy with desire. His lips move with a skilful precision, coaxing soft moans of pleasure from your lips as you melt into his embrace.

And as his lips finally part from yours, you find yourself longing for more, yearning to be consumed once again by the fiery passion that burns between you.

“But…I’m not on birth control,” you whimper as the haze momentarily lifts, the reality of the situation sinking in as you voice your concern. The possibility of him getting you pregnant looms large in your mind, casting a shadow over the heat of the moment as Josh continues to thrust into your wet cunt unwaveringly. 

“I don’t care,” he repeats his earlier words, his voice thick with desire as he disregards your concerns. With a primal intensity, he sinks his teeth into your neck once again, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain coursing through your body, “You’re going to take it when I cum - you're gonna love it.”

As his teeth graze against your skin, you can feel the heat of his desire radiating from him as it washes over you, and you buck your hips against his.

You feel his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you moan breathlessly as well as clench around him.

You gaze at Josh, captivated by the sight of him lost in ecstasy. His eyes flutter closed, his head thrown back, revealing the graceful curve of his neck. At that moment, he looks utterly breathtaking, his features softened by pleasure, a blissful expression gracing his handsome face.

The play of emotions across his features and the subtle movements of his lips as he gasps for breath all serve to heighten his allure. His tousled hair falls in disarray around his face, adding to his rugged charm. The flush of arousal paints his cheeks a rosy hue, highlighting the chiselled contours of his jawline.

In the dim light, every inch of him seems to glow with an ethereal radiance, casting him in an almost otherworldly light. 

He grinds against you, his hips pumping rhythmically as he loses himself in the sensation of being inside you. 

“Oh fuck, yes...” He groans, his body trembling as he pushes deeper into you with each thrust, his thick dick hitting your cervix with a loud smack, making you cry out. “You feel so good... so fucking tight.”

The rough texture of the wall adds a new dimension to the already intense sensations coursing through your veins. As Josh presses you against it with a ferocity that leaves you breathless, every scrape and bump against your skin sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. 

His lips curve into a wicked grin as he feels you trembling underneath him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he bites down hard on your shoulder as he keeps thrusting harder into your cunt in a primal rhythm, eliciting a sharp gasp of pleasure-pain from your lips.

Your body arches into his with every powerful thrust. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me mark you up while I fuck you hard and deep against the wall.” He growls out as he continues to pound into you, his cock slamming inside you with each powerful thrust and his teeth nibbling away on your soft skin.

The sensation is electrifying, sending a surge of arousal coursing through your veins every time he marks you with his teeth. His grip tightens on your skin, holding you in place as he savours the taste of you, his lips lingering on the spot where his teeth sank into your flesh.

It’s a moment of exquisite intensity, the sharp bite of pain mingling with the heady rush of pleasure as he claims you as his own. 

“You like that, baby?” He growls, his voice heavy with lust.

The sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fiery passion deep within you. It’s a question laden with desire, a testament to the intensity of the moment as he waits for your response.

With a ragged breath, you nod and whimper in response, unable to form words as pleasure courses through your veins. His growl reverberates through you, filling you with a heady mix of anticipation and arousal as you surrender yourself completely to the heat of the moment.

He continues to pound into you, his cock slamming against your cervix with each thrust, almost hard enough to make you wince. 

His teeth dig deeper into your shoulder as he loses himself in the sensation of claiming you. “Fuck... I’m gonna cum…”

His words send a jolt of anticipation coursing through you, heightening the intensity of the moment. With each ragged breath, the tension between you builds, reaching a fever pitch as you both hurtle towards the brink of ecstasy.

Feeling his grip tighten on your skin, you can sense his impending release, the urgency in his movements driving you both towards the edge.

“Not inside, please,” you plead, locking eyes with him, your voice trembling as you feel his cock pistoning in and out of you, scrapping that one spot that makes you see stars.

But he doesn’t waver, his gaze unwavering as he continues with his relentless pace. The intensity of his desire overwhelms any sense of restraint, his need for release consuming him entirely. You can only take it helplessly as his movements grow more frenzied, driving you both towards the edge of ecstasy. 

Josh moves his hand down to rub your clit even harder, desperate to make you cum with him. 

“Cum for me, baby…” he commands, his voice thick with desire and authority.

His words send a shiver of anticipation down your spine, igniting a fiery passion deep within you. Despite any reservations or fears, you find yourself unable to resist his command, surrendering yourself completely to his will. With each thrust and caress, he pushes you closer and closer to the brink, his commanding presence fueling the flames of your desire.

And then, with a primal cry of pleasure, you finally succumb to his command, your body convulsing with ecstasy as waves of pleasure wash over you.

“Fuck...” Josh groans, his voice heavy with desire and satisfaction as he feels you orgasm around him. 

His hips buck wildly against yours, driving his cock deep inside you one last time before he tips over the edge as well, letting out a long, low groan.

Hot cum fills your cunt, his body shuddering with release. You feel his muscles tensing as he thrusts a few more times, milking himself into your pussy, making sure he’s completely spent.

As you slowly come down from the heights of ecstasy, a wave of realisation washes over you. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you become acutely aware of the warmth spreading within you.

Josh’s breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his exertion. As he gazes down at you, his eyes are a tumultuous storm of emotions, a swirling mix of lust, tenderness and something dark that leaves you breathless.

In the dim light of the room, his features are cast in shadows, adding an air of mystery to his already intense gaze. You can see the raw desire burning within him, a primal hunger that seems to consume him entirely. But beneath the heat of his lust, there’s also a flicker of something softer, something more vulnerable and intimate.

It’s a paradoxical combination that leaves you utterly captivated, unable to tear your eyes away from his intense stare. 

“I want to spend all night inside you,” he growls, his voice low.

His words send a shiver down your spine, igniting a fierce craving deep within you. 

As you gaze up at him, his gaze is smouldering with raw passion, his eyes dark and intense as they lock onto yours. There’s a hunger in his stare, a need that threatens to consume you both entirely - he’s acting as if possessed.

You can feel your pulse quicken at his words, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence. 

Josh pulls back from you, creating a small distance between your bodies. As he does, you feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, causing you to slump against the wall for support. The intensity of the moment begins to fade, leaving you feeling drained and spent. Your muscles ache with exertion, and every breath feels heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

You feel his cock softening inside you and finally slipping out of your well-fucked cunt. 

In the back of your mind, you register the sensation of his cum dripping from you, coating your thighs, pooling at your feet and staining the floor beneath you. 

You sense Josh’s gaze lingering on your pussy as well as the mess on the floor. As you glance up, you catch a glimpse of his darkening gaze, a flicker of desire reigniting within him.

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not done here,” he growls out, his voice dripping with desire as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. His free hand slides down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him as he deepens the kiss with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

At that moment, time seems to stand still as you’re consumed by the intensity of his touch, the heat of his body pressed against yours as his lips move hungrily against yours.

As he breaks the kiss, his eyes smouldering with desire, he whispers, “We’ve got all night,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches in your throat as you notice the change in Josh’s demeanour, a sinking feeling of exhaustion settling deep within you. But as you struggle to regain your composure, you realise that he doesn’t care. With a forceful grip, he pulls you roughly from the wall and into the bedroom, heedless of the fatigue that weighs heavily on your shoulders.

As you stumble along in his wake, you feel the exhaustion gnawing at your insides, a relentless ache that threatens to overwhelm you. Each step feels like a Herculean effort, your limbs heavy with fatigue as you struggle to keep pace with Josh’s determined stride.

Despite the weariness that courses through your body, you can’t help but feel a flicker of anticipation at the prospect of what awaits you in the bedroom. The thought of surrendering to the raw passion that simmers between you and Josh ignites a spark of desire within you, momentarily overshadowing the fatigue that threatens to drag you down.

But as you continue to move forward, you can’t ignore the sensation of moisture trickling down your thighs, a silent reminder of what happened with Josh just moments ago. It’s a stark contrast to the exhaustion that weighs heavily on your shoulders, a potent reminder of the conflicting emotions swirling within you.

In the dim light of the bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Josh’s intense gaze, his eyes ablaze with desire.

He closes the door behind him, the click echoing in the silent room, his towering figure casting a shadow over you as he stands before you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His massive body looms over yours, his presence dominating the space as he stares down at you with fiery eyes that seem to pierce through your very soul.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with emotion and raw desire. The words hang heavy in the air, charged with an urgency that sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his proximity igniting a fire within you.

Despite the exhaustion that still lingers in the depths of your being, you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence. His words wash over you like a tidal wave, stirring something primal and untamed deep within you.

As you meet his gaze, you can see the hunger burning in his eyes, a hunger that mirrors your own as you stand on the precipice of desire, teetering on the edge of something wild and unrestrained. 

With a forceful motion, he throws you onto the bed, the impact sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your body. You land with a soft thud, the mattress yielding beneath your weight as you find yourself sprawled out before him.

As you try to catch your breath, you feel his hand wrap around your throat, the pressure firm yet strangely gentle, sending a thrill of anticipation racing down your spine. His touch is possessive, a silent declaration of ownership that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through your veins.

“You belong to me now,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His words hang in the air, heavy with promise and desire, as he asserts his dominance over you.

With deliberate movements, he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs as he gazes down at you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. His eyes are dark pools of desire, burning with an intensity that threatens to consume you whole.

As he hovers over you, his hand firm against your throat, a faint perfume wafts through the air, tickling your senses with its familiar scent. In the dim light of the room, you recognise it instantly - Renais, his wife’s signature fragrance. The realisation sends a chill down your spine, mingling with the heat of desire that still courses through your veins.

Suddenly, you feel the weight of his wedding band pressing against your throat, a cold reminder of the reality of the situation. It’s a stark contrast to the fiery passion that burns between you, a sobering reminder of the boundaries that exist in this forbidden tryst.

In the depths of your mind, a voice whispers warnings of the consequences that loom on the horizon, a reminder of the tangled web of deceit and desire that threatens to ensnare you both. But in the heat of the moment, those warnings fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the primal urge that drives you forward.

As he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin, you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt gnawing at your conscience. But it’s quickly drowned out by the overwhelming need that pulses through your veins, urging you to surrender yourself completely to the intoxicating allure of forbidden desire.

His lips crash against yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless, his kiss rough and demanding, a declaration of his desire. At that moment, all thoughts of guilt and consequence vanish, replaced by the searing heat of his touch and the intoxicating taste of his lips.

You respond eagerly, yielding to the fervent intensity of his kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, desperate for more. The world fades away around you, consumed by the fiery passion that ignites between you, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace.

With each brush of his lips against yours, you feel yourself falling deeper under his spell, lost in the heady whirlwind of desire that threatens to consume you whole. 

Feeling the weight of his body pressing down on you, a sudden awareness strikes you like a bolt of lightning - he’s fully clothed while you remain bare and exposed, a stark contrast that sends a shiver down your spine. The only thing that’s uncovered is his soft cock that you feel against your thigh. 

In a desperate bid to bridge the gap between you, to regain some sense of equilibrium in this uneven playing field, you reach for the fabric of his shirt. Your fingers tremble as you fumble with the buttons, your movements fueled by a mix of urgency and desire. With each button you undo, the tension in the room ratchets up another notch, the air crackling with anticipation.

As the fabric falls away, revealing the contours of his chest and the sinewy muscles that ripple beneath his skin, you’re struck by just how good he looks. With trembling hands, you push the shirt down his arms.

His physique is a sight to behold, a perfect mix of strength and grace that leaves you breathless. His arms are defined and powerful, the muscles flexing beneath the surface as he moves. And his chest, adorned with a light dusting of chest hair, rises and falls with each ragged breath, a testament to the intensity of the moment.

In the dim light of the room, his features are cast in shadow, adding an air of mystery to his already alluring presence. But despite the darkness that surrounds him, there’s no mistaking the hunger in his eyes, the maddening desire that burns within him.

“Get me hard again,” he tells you, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. “Be my good girl, yes?”

His words ignite a surge of arousal within you, coursing through your veins like wildfire as you realise the power of his praise. 

In that moment, you realise just how much you crave his approval, how much you long to please him in every way possible. And as his words sink in, you feel a newfound sense of purpose wash over you, driving you to fulfil his every desire with a fervor you never knew you possessed. With a sense of determination, you set out to do just as he commands, eager to prove yourself as his obedient and eager girl.

He lays himself down on his back, a picture of casual confidence, and crosses his arms behind his head. His gaze meets yours, an eyebrow raised in silent expectation as if to say, go on, do it.

You lower yourself onto your knees, positioning yourself exactly where he wants you, his soft cock just in front of you, glistening and coated in both your releases.

Even soft, you notice that he is quite big, with a vein on the underside of it and embedded in a well-groomed nest of dark hair. 

His gaze remains fixed on yours, a silent invitation urging you to continue. And as you lean in closer, the air crackles with electricity, charged with the promise of what’s to come.

“That’s right, take my cock into your mouth,” his voice commands, resonating with authority as he reaches out to guide his dick with his big hands, holding it steady for you to take.

His directive sends a shiver down your spine, and with a sense of obedience, you lean forward, your lips parting to welcome him eagerly. As your mouth envelops him, your lips slowly stretch around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the slit. 

You feel a surge of satisfaction knowing that you’re fulfilling his wishes. He is heavy and hot against your tongue as you taste the combination of yourself and him on it.

He grins wickedly as he watches his cock harden in your mouth. The sight of you submitting to him ignites a fire within him. 

His hands guide you, steady and firm, as you take him deeper, savouring the taste and texture of him. Each movement is deliberate, calculated to bring him the utmost pleasure. And as you follow his lead, you feel a sense of empowerment wash over you, knowing that you have the power to drive him wild with desire.

A whimper escapes you as he presses his cock deeper into your mouth, eliciting a gag that you struggle to suppress. The sensation is overwhelming, the pressure building as you try to accommodate him. Despite your efforts, you can’t help but gag more.

His grip tightens on your head, his hands exerting control as he guides you through each movement. His eyes darken at the sight of you struggling to take him deep into your throat, causing him to swell even more within you. 

“That’s my little slut, taking me without any trouble,” he growls out, his voice dripping with a mix of pride and lust as he watches you struggle with his girth in your mouth.

His words send a shiver down your spine, a heady mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your veins. Despite the discomfort, there’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in being called his slut, a twisted validation of your submission to him.

Each gag is met with a grunt of approval from him, his grip tightening on your head as he revels in your obedience. You feel tears welling up in your eyes as he hits your uvula, causing you to pull back slightly in discomfort.

“Don’t be a bad girl,” he reprimands, his voice firm as he reaches down to pull your hair roughly, forcing you to take more of his cock.

His grip is relentless, his fingers tangled in your hair as he exerts control over you. Despite the tears streaming down your face, you can’t help but obey, the fear of his reprimand driving you to comply with his demands.

You choke back a sob as he pushes deeper into your mouth, the sensation overwhelming as he fills you completely. Each movement is met with a sharp tug on your hair, a reminder of who is in control.

As you struggle to suppress your gag reflex, you feel a sense of helplessness wash over you, a realisation that you are completely at his mercy. 

“That’s it, take it like the dirty little slut you are,” he growls out, his voice thick with desire as he starts to thrust his hips forward, fucking your mouth roughly. Each movement drives his cock deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with each forceful thrust, making you gag even more.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pressure building in your chest as you struggle to accommodate him. 

You use the flat of your hands to push down on his hip, desperately trying to create some distance between you and him as spots start to dance in the corners of your eyes.

“I thought you were my good girl?” Josh chuckles, his voice laced with amusement as he easily overpowers your feeble attempts to resist. With a swift motion, he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other still tightly gripping your hair. Despite your struggles, his cock continues to push further into your throat with every thrust, leaving you gasping for air and completely at his mercy.

The pressure on your wrists is almost unbearable, the sensation of being held down fueling your sense of helplessness. You can feel his control tightening around you, his dominance asserting itself in every forceful movement.

As you struggle against his grip, the realisation sinks in that you’re completely powerless to stop him. All you can do is submit to his will, surrendering yourself to the pleasure and pain of his relentless possession.

“That’s it,” Josh groans out, his voice thick with desire as he notices your surrender. With renewed determination, he continues to thrust his hips forward, driving his thick shaft deeper into your throat with each powerful stroke.

The sensation is overwhelming, the relentless pressure pushing you to your limits as you struggle to accommodate him. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure and pain coursing through your body, blurring the lines between ecstasy and agony.

But despite the discomfort, there’s a perverse sense of satisfaction in knowing that you’re fulfilling his desires, that you’re giving yourself over completely to his dominance. And as he continues to push deeper and deeper, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of submission, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure that consumes you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Josh growls out as he bottoms out, his cock hitting the back of your throat, eliciting a muffled moan from you. With a soft pop, he withdraws slightly before thrusting harder and faster, taking advantage of the tightness of your mouth around his girth.

Each powerful thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire of desire that burns hotter with each passing moment. You’re completely at his mercy, completely consumed by the raw intensity of the moment.

Despite the discomfort and the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim, there’s an undeniable thrill in surrendering to his primal urges, in giving yourself over completely to his dominance. 

“That’s enough,” he growls out, finally pulling out of your throat. You cough and splutter, your throat raw from the rough treatment he’s given you, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As you catch your breath, you glance over at him, sprawled out on the bed with an air of satisfaction. His eyes, dark and intense, meet yours, and a mischievous smirk plays at the corners of his lips. Beads of sweat dot his forehead and chest, accentuating the contours of his toned physique.

Despite the rough treatment you’ve endured, there’s an undeniable allure to his presence as he lies there, completely in control. His dominance hangs heavy in the air, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You find yourself unable to look away, captivated by the raw power he exudes.

With each breath he takes, you feel a surge of desire course through you, mingling with the lingering traces of fear. It’s a heady mix of emotions, one that leaves you both exhilarated and apprehensive. 

“Now that was a fucking good blowjob, you little slut,” Josh smirks at you, his voice heavy with satisfaction as his cock stands proudly and leaks pre-cum. He tugs on your hair again, gently but firmly, pulling your face up to meet his gaze.

You meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his, and you can see the hunger burning behind his darkened irises. It’s a look that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, knowing that he’s not finished with you yet.

With a soft whimper, you lean into his touch, surrendering yourself to his control once more. 

“You’re going to love this, baby,” he growls, his voice low and threatening. Before you can react, he kisses you roughly, his lips possessing yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. With a swift motion, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him as he settles on top.

His weight presses you into the mattress, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins. Despite the forcefulness of his actions, there’s an undeniable heat in his touch that ignites a fire within you. You can feel the strength of his body against yours, his muscles tense with desire as he holds you captive beneath him.

As he leans down to capture your lips again, you can’t help but lose yourself in the heat of the moment, surrendering to the passion that consumes you both. 

With a firm grip, he pins your wrists above your head, holding them in place with one hand while using the other to spread your legs wide open.

Your eyes widen as he reaches for something on the nightstand, and you feel a surge of apprehension when you see that it’s rope. Your heart races with a mixture of excitement and fear as you realise what he intends to do with it.

He smirks at your reaction, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he holds up the coil of rope, letting it dangle tantalisingly between his fingers. With deliberate slowness, he begins to unravel it, the length of the rope glinting in the dim light of the bedroom.

Josh’s grin widens into a wicked smirk as he deftly ties your wrists and ankles to the bedposts, securing the ropes with practised precision. Each knot is firm, leaving you completely immobilised and at his mercy.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you lie there, bound and helpless, the sensation of vulnerability sending shivers down your spine. But beneath the fear, there’s an undeniable thrill coursing through your veins, the anticipation of what’s to come heightening your arousal.

As Josh steps back to admire his handiwork, you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of trepidation. 

He then moves between your legs again and parts your already fucked pussy with his two hands, revealing how wet you are. You feel the cold air on your heated cunt and buck your hips involuntarily while simultaneously clenching your pussy, feeling more of his cum drip out onto the sheets. 

Exposed and vulnerable, you can’t shake the feeling of self-consciousness that washes over you as you lie there, bound and completely open before Josh and you squirm.

Josh’s eyes narrow as he observes your futile attempts to escape his gaze as he drinks in the sight before him. 

As he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin, you can feel the raw intensity of his desire coursing through you, sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch Josh raise his hand, anticipation coursing through your veins like electricity. With a sharp intake of breath, you brace yourself for the impact, knowing that the sting of his touch will send waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

When his hand finally makes contact with your bare cunt, the sensation is both exhilarating and intense. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as the force of his touch leaves a red print behind, the sting mingling with the throbbing heat that radiates from the point of impact.

Despite the initial shock, you find yourself craving more, your body responding instinctively to the delicious mixture of pain and pleasure that Josh’s touch elicits. 

Josh’s chuckle reverberates in the room, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine as you feel a flush of embarrassment wash over you. Yet, despite the heat rising in your cheeks, there’s also a sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins, a thrill at being so completely under his control.

As Josh continues to deliver alternating slaps to your pussy, thighs and lower belly, the sensations become increasingly overwhelming, each impact sending a jolt of pleasure shooting through your body. Your mind becomes foggy, consumed by the raw intensity of the moment as you surrender yourself to the exquisite torment of his touch.

With each stroke of his hand, the line between pain and pleasure blurs, the sensations merging into a symphony of ecstasy that leaves you gasping for breath. And as Josh teases your clit with his thumb, you find yourself completely lost in the moment, unable to think of anything but the overwhelming desire that courses through your veins.

His other hand grips the base of his cock, stroking it in rhythm with each slap.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice low and threatening. With each spank, he increases the force, leaving angry red marks blossoming across your thighs, cunt and lower belly. The sting intensifies with each strike, sending waves of sensation rippling through your body. 

You struggle against the ropes, your body straining against the bonds as you watch Josh’s lips curl into a predatory smile. His eyes gleam with desire as he observes your futile attempts to free yourself from the tight restraints that bind you.

With a final hard slap to your skin, leaving a particularly angry red mark in its wake, Josh withdraws his hand, the sound echoing in the room. He moves between your spread legs, his presence looming over you like a dark shadow and his cock twitching in anticipation.

“Say my name when you come,” he growls, his voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine. The command hangs in the air, heavy with anticipation, as you feel a surge of arousal coursing through your veins at his words.

Almost instinctively, you arch your back and buck your hips against him, a desperate attempt to feel more of him, to draw him closer. The movement elicits a deep groan from Josh as he positions the head of his cock at the entrance to your wet pussy and thrusts forward powerfully, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion, eliciting an obscenely loud squelching noise. 

“Fuck.”

As the sensations overwhelm you, your body responds instinctively, and you’re sent hurtling over the edge of ecstasy. It hits you so unexpectedly and intensely that, for a brief moment, it feels like everything else fades away. Your senses are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, and you feel like you’re on the brink of blacking out.

Through the haze of pleasure, you hear Josh’s voice, husky and commanding, urging you to say his name. It’s a demand that sends a shiver down your spine, intensifying the sensations pulsing through your body. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he thrusts into you with unrestrained passion, driving you further into the depths of bliss. Every movement, every touch, sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in ecstasy.

He continues to pound into you, fucking you through your intense orgasm that feels neverending.

“You’re mine now,” Josh’s hands grip your hips tightly, leaving more red handprints as he continues to fuck you with a brutal intensity, his fingers digging into your skin as if to brand you as his own. 

As his teeth graze your neck and shoulder, leaving behind a trail of painful but exhilarating marks once more, a rush of sensation courses through you, blending pleasure with a hint of pain. Yet, strangely, it only serves to heighten your pleasure, drawing you deeper into his spell.

You can feel the heat of his body against yours, his breath hot against your skin as he claims you with an almost primal ferocity.

At this moment, there is no room for hesitation or restraint. You surrender to the relentless onslaught of sensations, giving yourself over completely to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. Every movement, every touch, sends electric jolts of ecstasy racing through your body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume you whole.

As Josh continues to possess you with a brutal intensity, his dominance over you becomes undeniable. 

“That’s it, baby. Scream my name,” he growls, his cock throbbing and his voice thick with desire as he feels you approaching another orgasm. 

With each thrust, he drives deeper into you, his movements becoming more urgent and forceful as he seeks to send you spiralling into ecstasy once more.

Your body quivers with anticipation as Josh’s words drive you to the brink of ecstasy. With each powerful thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure coursing through you. You can feel every movement, every sensation magnified as Josh’s relentless assault pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes...Come for me,” he groans, his voice heavy with lust as he feels your walls tightening around him, signalling your impending climax. With each thrust, he drives deeper into you, the urgency in his movements matching the intensity of your pleasure. 

As you approach the peak of your pleasure, your mind becomes consumed by a single thought: Josh. His name echoes in your mind like a mantra, driving you further into the depths of ecstasy. And as you feel the wave of orgasmic bliss wash over you once again, you can’t help but obey his command, your voice rising in a primal scream of pleasure.

“Yes, yes,” he chants, his voice a husky whisper as he feels you come apart around him, your body trembling beneath him. The sight of your ecstasy only fuels his own, pushing him further into the depths of euphoria.

You know he’s close, and you struggle against the bindings again when you realise he will come inside you again. “No, Josh, not again,” you plead, the urgency evident in your voice as you try to convey your concern.

Despite your protests, Josh’s dark chuckle sends shivers down your spine, his tone filled with determination and dominance. “Oh yes, and you’ll take it again,” he promises, his thrusts growing more forceful as he edges closer to his climax, "Don't pretend that you don't like it - that you don't crave to feel my cum deep inside you."

As you whimper and moan, Josh only seems to grow more determined. Roughly, his thumb finds you clit again, rubbing hard and fast circles. 

He pushes you into another small orgasm, eliciting a mixture of pleasure and discomfort from you. He grunts in response, feeling your walls convulsing around him. His thrusts grow even more powerful as he pushes you over the edge once again.

“Fuck... yes...,” he groans, “You’re mine tonight.” He continues to pound into you, leaving more bruises and bite marks on your body as he takes ownership of you.

”I’m not going to stop until I fill you up,” he snarls, his thrusts becoming more erratic and powerful. He can feel his climax building once again, ready to claim you completely, "Fuck, you're gonna be so full it spills out of you."

Despite your struggles against the ropes, you find yourself helpless, unable to escape his relentless advance. Moans and whimpers escape your lips as you feel the inevitable approach of his next release, your body trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear.

“That’s it, baby. Take my cum,” he growls, his hips bucking wildly as he releases inside you. You feel the warm rush of his cum filling you, marking you as his own as your mind becomes blissfully quiet.

He continues to thrust deeply until every last drop is buried deep within your cunt, claiming you completely and marking you as his own, before finally pulling out with a wet, satisfying sound. His eyes are dark and predatory as he looks down at you, catching his breath.

“You’re such a slut.” He mutters, his eyes fixed on your dripping pussy. His fingers trail down your skin, tracing the path of his cum as it drips from your twitching and gaping pussy. 

“I bet you’re going to be so sore tomorrow,” he whispers, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

With a final lingering glance, Josh leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re mine now,” he whispers, his voice laced with possessiveness.

As Josh’s lips graze the shell of your ear, a shiver runs down your spine, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. His touch, once dominating and rough, now feels surprisingly gentle against your sensitive flesh as he runs his fingers over the countless red and purple marks he’s left on your skin.

With a sense of relief, you feel the ropes around your wrists and ankles loosen, allowing you to move freely once again. As Josh unties you, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you - a potent blend of desire, confusion, and a lingering sense of vulnerability.

As the last knot comes undone, you find yourself looking up at Josh, searching his eyes for any trace of the intensity that had consumed him moments before. But all you see is a softness, a hint of tenderness that belies the roughness of his previous actions. Almost unwillingly, you yawn, the bone-deep exhaustion now evident that you're able to come down.

“Sleep now, baby,” he murmurs, his voice tender. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

With those words, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace as you start to sink into a deep sleep, overwhelmed by the situation and thoroughly fucked out.

[fangirl-saya]

I read "The Book of Renfield: a Gospel of Dracula" so you don't have to! Spoilery synopsis below, including Renfield's full name and some of my thoughts.

Name: Renfield's full name is.... Renfield. He was a foundling raised by a priest known only as R.M. Renfield. What those R and M stood for is never disclosed. In his infinite grace, the dude gave the child name "Renfield." That's all. I guess he was Renfield Renfield? After Renfield's death, Seward feels bad about this lack of proper name and puts "Rhys Malvern Renfield" on his tomb. One hell of a name. Powers: Killing and eating cute small animals gave Renfield the power to see them ghostly blue lights that signify buried treasure. Those were his livelihood in the years between the priest's death and Seward's asylum. It wasn't fully clear to me, but looks like another power was that a mix of human milk and blood would appear in his mouth and sustain him O_o. And maybe he had to eat insects for that to happen. Death: In this one, Renfield dies in an attempt to protect Mina from Dracula. (In some other interpretation it looks more like he's jealous of Dracula selecting Mina over him, so he's not so much protecting her as trying to prevent Dracula from giving her eternal life) In this book, too, Renfield realizes that his whole life's purpose was to let Dracula into Seward's asylum, and he's angry about that. Description: pear shaped, gray-haired, 59-ish Origins: The villagers believed that an evil lived in the woods, and they had to occasionally sacrifice a baby to appease it and get some good harvests and such. Renfield was one such baby. The priest found the baby before the evil came to claim it. For this, the villagers hated and feared the poor kid and resented the priest for ruining their sacrifice. In the mean time, the evil (which to me appears to have been one of Dracula's many brides) keeps an eye on the kid and eventually starts working as a housekeeper of sorts for the priest. She's introduced to us as a beautiful Romanian woman, Madame Vulpes, a.k.a. Milady). She educates Renfield and tells him about his origin and his great destiny. Beliefs and morals: Renfield is a very devout Christian up until the moment he finds out that animals don't have souls. He disagrees. He loves animals and has a pet rat, Jolly. He all but hates people, which is reasonable with how the village has been treating him. He especially hates his mother for abandoning him. When the priest later tells him he was forcibly taken from her to be sacrificed, he kills the priest and is tormented for the rest of his life about his unkindness toward the poor woman (he was very mean to her on her deathbed). Renfield is forced to kill his beloved Jolly for Milady to finally grant him his powers. He struggles with killing small animals for the rest of his life, and sometimes went for months or even years without the benefit of the blue lights.

Premise: Dr. Seward's great-great-son, Martin Seward, finds a bunch of notes and wax cylinders with Renfield's biography as told by the patient himself, transcripts of his notebook, and Seward's own diary from those days. Martin believes it his duty to make the world aware of it all, and assembles it into a book. He also implies that Walt Disney is Dracula o_O.

My impressions: I didn't love it, unfortunately. Both of the main characters, Renfield and Dr. Seward, are presented in a rather unflattering light, and reading a book about unpleasant people isn't very pleasant. I do very much appreciate some illumination on where Renfield came from and how he came to know Dracula as his master without ever meeting him in person. There's lots of, um, unusual stuff happening. Renny is fixated on mother's milk, and Milady gives him some. He also "steals" some from a foster family he stays with for a brief time. At one point, Seward goes to a public house and sleeps with a woman covered in fur and possessing many nipples.

Favorite moment: In the end of the book Seward recounts his conversation with Lucy, where Lucy tells him that his flustered state around her made it clear to her that he feared her too much to truly love her. That was the main reason she turned him down. I really liked that bit.

[bonky-n-steeb]

as the sea loves

— bruce wayne x housekeeper! reader

summary || your life takes a turn when you see something you shouldn’t have.

warnings || SMUT. unprotected sex, blowjob. mentions of wounds and blood. PWP — MINORS DNI

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

this is the first time I’ve written Bruce and I’m loving it already and I hope you like it just as much :)

“Mr. Wayne, would you like…” you stopped mid sentence when you took in the sight in front of you. You had entered the room after giving a small knock and had wanted to ask what he would like for dinner. But then you saw Bruce, or more precisely batman.

The billionaire was sitting on his expansive bed in the batman suit, with its helmet in his hand. His eyes were covered in black smudged eyeliner which made the blue of his eyes stand out distinctly. His hair was a mess as the long strands were grimy and wet.

“You… you’re batman?” You couldn’t stop the question from spilling from your lips. He scoffed as if there was no point hiding it from you anymore as the truth was out. You were sure it was a mistake that he was in his bedroom in this gear, but now that you had seen it, there was no going back.

You wouldn’t ever have thought even in your wildest dream that the man you worked for would be the face behind the masked vigilante. Though you had seen a few scars on Bruce’s body before, you didn’t ever question them.

But now that you knew his identity, suddenly his odd behaviour started making sense. The unusual late night hours spent working, the absence from important meetings, the tiredness and the grumpy behaviour; it all fell into place.

Seeing the batman up close for the first time, your eyes trailed over his huge body and the way the suit fitted him perfectly. You were in an awe, but then you saw the blood trickling down from his fingers. Upon closer look, you noticed it was a cut on his palm of his hand.

“Oh god…” you walked closer to him and all while, he was just silently watching you, just like he usually did. “Let me look at that.” Before bruce could either agree or deny, which you were sure was most likely the latter, you took his hand in yours.

The cut was a little deep and needed bandage to stop the blood. “Give me a minute,…” you said as you went to fetch the first aid kit. Being the house keeping staff, you knew more about the house than Bruce himself probably did, so it didn’t take you much time to locate the kit.

Bruce was still silent as you wiped the wound clean with an antiseptic and you took as a signal to go ahead. He willingly held his palm open as you wrapped it in white bandage. Once it was done, Bruce ran his thumb over the cotton before speaking in a raspy voice,

“Call me Bruce.”

~~~

“It’s not your fault.” You firmly stated. “It is my fault! They got away unscathed when I could’ve caught them.” He shouted, which was very much unlike his usual personality, but you understood the toll it took on him.

Today, some goons had slipped away and Bruce didn’t like it one bit. He was irritable and mad it himself for letting them go. “Both of us know that you can’t possibly catch all of them. And remember, there’s always the next night. You can go after them then.”

That somehow deflated Bruce’s anger and he sat back on the bed. From the day you got in on Bruce’s secret, it was now a tradition for you to patch him up whenever he was hurt. He even showed you his batcave and you were thoroughly impressed.

Honestly, knowing all these secrets was well above your pay grade, but you didn’t mind it at all. You loved listening to Bruce and Alfred try to solve the crimes together and sometimes, you too gave in your two cents.

Right now, he had showered and was in his sweatpants and his naked torso was gleaming in the lights. “Will you let me look at your wounds?” He gave a pert nod at your question and you began patching him up.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you.” He said as he looked at you with apologetic eyes. No matter what, Bruce was a good man at heart and it was such moments that it shone through. You placed your hand reassuringly on his, “It’s okay.”

His shoulder had taken some bullets tonight and though they didn’t pierce the batsuit, they left behind some blunt trauma. Unless the injury was severe Bruce didn’t think going to a doctor was necessary as it might out him, so he settled with you.

You admired his corded muscles as you sat too close to him to look at purpled skin near his collarbone. You were intently rubbing the salve into his skin when you felt Bruce’s breath ghost right over your face.

When you looked up, you realised how close your face was to his. You saw the way his eyes lingered on your lips a little too long before looking back into your eyes. There was this small voice in your head telling you to move back, but you couldn’t.

The air between you was suddenly thick and you could see the moment when he bent down and pressed his lips to yours. You had imagine this a hundred times in your head and yet the reality was much better.

His lips were surprisingly soft as they molded against yours. The kiss was sweet and gentle, almost as if he was asking for permission. You placed your hands on his strong jaw before swiping your tongue over his lips.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you felt him smile into the kiss before opening his mouth and letting you in. You felt his hands settle on your waist before moving down to your hips. You lost yourself into the kiss and you didn’t even realise when you ended up straddling his lap.

When you two parted from the kiss, you could see the subtle change in his eyes. His eyes were filled with lust and blown wide, with only the blue rim visible. You once again pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips, “Let me take care of you.”

His wet lips parted when you gently pushed him down into the soft bed. You ran your hands on his abs before pressing your lips to his collarbones. You kissed his scars and cuts as you made your way down to his Adonis belt from his collarbones.

You saw Bruce close his eyes shut and let out a deep contended sigh when you opened the zipper of his pants. You pulled down his slacks and briefs and gawked at his naked frame.

His cock was long and girthy and leaking at the tip with precum. You licked your lips as you curled your hand around his hot length and gave a little pull. You heard him hiss through his teeth when you started jerking him off.

His hands curled into the covers when you placed your mouth on the tip and sucked. Your tongue licked the head and teased his slit and you heard him make a choked off groan. These sounds he was making were more arousing than you’d thought.

You took him as deep as you could and kept pumping your hand around the remaining length. Your movements were gentle and soft, because you knew that’s what Bruce needed. Being batman and facing the dark side of humans every night was a hard task, and if he wanted something soft to hold onto, you’d be as gentle as you could.

His fingers were opening and clutching the bed covers again and again as if he wanted to touch you but didn’t. You looked up in his eyes as you kept up your ministrations and placed your hand on his. He was quick to weave your fingers with his and hold your hand tightly.

You laved your tongue over the throbbing veins on the underside of his cock. You smiled as much as you could when you heard him let out a curse at your actions. You kept on sucking and bobbing your head over his hard length until he pulled you off.

You gasped for breath and he was quick to use his strength to pull you up until you were straddling his lap. His fingers started unbuttoning your uniform and halfway through he got impatient and tore the rest of the buttons.

You moaned as the action was strangely erotic and didn’t waste much time and discarding the rest of your clothes. His hands settled on your hips and squeezed as you placed yourself over his hard length.

You were dripping wet after blowing him and you rubbed yourself over his cock making it wet with your slick and spit. You lined yourself over his cock and you both moaned when you sank down slowly. Your hands rested over his chest as you breathed in and relished in the delicious stretch of his cock.

Your mouth flew open with soundless moans as you started moving your hips over his. His cock was rubbing all the right spots and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. Your rhythm was slow, but Bruce needed more. He held your hips in a tight grip and started thrusting up in you.

Seeing him take the lead made you drip with arousal around his length as he fucked into you. His thrusts were hard as he looked up at your with hooded eyes, the blue irises peering through his dark eyelashes. You bent down to press a kiss to his open lips and he reciprocated back with fervour.

You held yourself up on your arms as you kissed him before nibbling on the column of his neck. You then soothed it with your tongue and nearly preened when you saw the mark you left behind. Seeing your mark on his neck made a possessive feeling flare up inside you.

You squealed out when he flipped you over such that you were laying beneath him. He didn’t stop thrusting into you and your toes curled as he started going harder and deeper. You held onto his shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress and you were sure your nails would leave marks there too.

“I.. fuck!.. I just need…” Bruce grunted out almost as if he was pained. “I need you.” Your legs fell wider than before as he somehow started going even harder. The fact that you made him lose his control was sending you on a power trip.

He was fucking you hard as if he couldn’t get enough of you, and that was what made you cum. You clenched down on his length as electric tremors passed in your body from your toe to your hands. You clutched him tightly as you writhed underneath him.

Bruce growled in your ear as he came deep inside you. Your legs trembled with the feeling of his hot cum fill you. You both melted into the bed, nearly boneless, as you twitched with the aftershocks.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked nearly hesitantly. “I’m good,.. really good.” You chuckled and Bruce smiled along with you. Though he looked rugged handsome when moody, he looked really pretty when he smiled. You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, and neither did Bruce. But at least tonight, you had found your peace in each other.

[softboywriting]

Hard To Love | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re Nathan’s personal assistant. He’s an insufferable bastard. Both of you have unchecked tension and feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? [swearing] [sexual themes/situations] [arguments] [exhibitonism - implied] [pining] [Dominant!Nathan] [Nickname use - pet name/non derogatory] [Nathan being Nathan] [nsfw - kissing, lap sitting/grinding, heavily implied masturbation!f reader] [F!reader/Nathan]

Word Count: 7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is...well... Nathan. Insufferable, workaholic, egotistical. He is a lot to handle and doing so isn't always easy. You had a lot of breakdowns, screaming matches, some nearly coming to blows. But you didn't give up and you learned to work around him, and coax him out of moods, serve him back the same dry humor and disinterest. After finding out he had gone through four assistants, two that never made it past their first week, you knew you couldn't give up on him. There was a diamond in the rough and you were going to find it because despite all of the hard times, you care for him. He's a fucking bastard, but he's your fucking bastard.

"It's been six months." Nathan says over breakfast one morning.

You look back from where you're cleaning up the pans you used to make his vegetable omelet with soy egg substitute. His favorite. You had taken over cooking from Kyoko three months ago when she began to malfunction. You're not sure what happened, or if maybe Nathan staged the malfunction to give you more to do. You suspect the latter.

"Six months? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't count the days."

"I don't actually." You set your plate of food on the table and he reaches for one of your toasts. He has his own, well, had. He ate it already but he has egg left so he wants more toast. "I stopped months ago."

He chuckles softly. "I still don't know why you won't quit."

"Why do you want me to?"

"I don't."

"Then why do you bring it up?" You raise your eyebrows and he shoots you a look over his vitamin water. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nathan folds his hands, elbows on the table as he shakes his head. "Most people in your position, having dealt with what you have dealt with, would be itching to get as far away as possible. Surely you must be mentally unstable to stay with me, gaining some sick pleasure from our fights and shit. I almost feel bad."

He almost feels bad, as if he were to blame for nothing. Typical. "And if I am fucked up? Gonna fire me?"

"Fuck no."

You smile over your coffee. Decaf. He won't have regular in the house after he nearly went into cardiac arrest from an over abundance of caffeine. He did it to himself. Slugging back redbulls with his vodka after drinking his pre-work out mix that had far more than he needed in it. He may be a technical genius but he can be such a fucking moron.

"You like me." You tease, rubbing your barefoot on his leg under the table. "You would miss me if I left."

He snorts indignantly but does not deny your observations.

"How was the food?"

"Perfect." He sits back, foot bumping yours now, running up the side. "Don't know how you do it."

"Perfect? Wow. High praise from you." You swat his foot away with yours and he starts trying to pin it down by stepping on it. "Better than Kyoko's?"

Nathan hums. "I programmed her with cooking skills from top chefs across the internet. Technically she should be the greatest chef on the planet. So the fact that you can make me food that is better floors me."

You hook your ankle around his and he lets out a little grunt. "Cooking is an act of love. Yes you can program an AI to make things perfectly but technical skill doesn't equate to preferred taste. Come on, Nathan, you're smarter than this."

"Questioning my intelligence now?"

"Every day." You jerk your leg back as he lifts his other foot to trap it. "Cheat! You cheater! One foot only!"

Nathan lets out a boisterous laugh, head falling back, hand over his chest. "You get so worked up over that!"

You roll your eyes and stab your eggs viciously. "Fuck off Nathan."

"No need to get so mouthy."

"Mouthy." You scoff. "Rich coming from you."

He stands, catching your chin in his grasp. "I got you to break."

"You- oh God damn it." You jerk away, arm extending to shove him.

He chuckles proudly to himself. "I'll be in my lab. Find me if you need me."

"Gonna let me in today?"

"I might."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

____________________

Nathan could have the AI clean the house, but then you would run out of things to do. Honestly your job could be done by any one of his creations, humanoid or not. You don't actually need to be there at all, and yet Nathan keeps you around. For a man who is hell bent on privacy and secrecy surrounding his work, you have no idea how he has let others in. He laughs when he says that he had the men who built the complex killed after the fact. Surely it's a joke. You think. Though you've never asked, never dared to investigate the truth in his words. It's best you don't know.

The house doesn't need cleaning that often. Just laundry, dishes, some sweeping and mopping should you or Nathan track in mud after a hike. Most chores take a few hours out of one day a week. Your title is assistant and yet you don't actually assist him. Not in his work anyway. You feel like your title should be maid or housekeeper. It's fine, you really don't care because he pays you so generously that you would do whatever he needs you to.

"Kitten!" Nathan's voice comes from the intercom system built in the house. "Come to the lab, kitten."

You scowl at the nickname. He dubbed you Kitten your second day at the complex because he thought your wandering around perplexed by the maze like design of the house was akin to a new kitten trying to find its way in the world. You suppose there could be worse names he could call you, and there are ones that have come out in screaming matches, but kitten has stuck.

"Lab. Now. Come on."

"Fuck." You groan, tossing aside your book you were getting very into.

"I heard that."

"Of course you did." You lift your badge and scan the door to your room to head out into the hall. One of the AI walks by and you think her name is Lily. She's beautiful. Unfortunately her programming has failed and she cannot speak. "Hi Lily."

Lily raises her hand in greeting.

If she is out then that must mean Nathan has been working on her. You turn away from the AI and walk down the hall to the junction that splits left to Nathan's room and right to another hall that goes to the lab and test rooms. The lab door is open, the light blue on the access pad.

Nathan spins around in his chair. "Kitten, you've made it."

"As if I could get lost."

"I have something to show you."

"Do you? I thought you didn't want me involved in your work."

Nathan gives you a hard look. "Do you want to fucking see it or not?"

"I don't even know what it is."

He grabs a small item off his desk and brings it to you. "This is it. My newest AI."

You take the small flash drive from him and turn it over in your hands. "This is a new program?"

"Yes. My best work yet. I'm going to build her this week."

"Exciting."

"Please show some enthusiasm for fucks sake." He snatches the device from your hand. "I'm kind enough to share this with you, you could at least say thank you."

"I never asked."

Nathan slaps the flash drive down on the desk and stares at you. He is not used to being served his own cold attitude and he never will be. Since you started going toe to toe with him, he has been on top of his game. It's like you engage his mind beyond his massive ego. "You're insufferable."

"Likewise." You smile and he smiles back. The pissing match has ended. "I need to get groceries soon."

"You know what I like."

"Of course I do." You fold your arms over your chest and he averts his eyes for a moment. You know he's staring at your breasts, pushed up in the tank top you had chosen to wear while deep cleaning your bathroom earlier. "But what do you want?"

"Loaded question, kitten."

"Going that route today?"

"Maybe." He saunters towards you and catches your hair between his fingers. "I want... something sweet."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're craving sugar? Are you ill?"

He chuckles. "A little. Just in the head."

"Seriously."

"Yes I want something sweet. Get me some donuts." He puts his hands on his hips. "Get yourself something too."

"I always get myself stuff. Do you think I only buy your groceries?"

"It's my house, of course I think you buy my shit."

You reach out and touch his beard, fingertips gliding along his cheek. You don't miss the way his eyes flutter at your touch. "Do you need your beard oil? The conditioner stuff? Looks dry."

He grabs your hand and curls his fingers around yours. "Yes, I do. But don't touch it."

"Possessive today huh?" You smirk and he groans irritably deep in his throat. "You live for my touch."

"I live for you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Then fire me."

"No."

"Then suffer." You bring your other hand up and pat his opposite cheek. "Does physical affection bother you Nathan? Does touching another human bother you so mu-"

He backs you against the wall and pins your wrists. His face is only inches from yours, body pouring heat onto you. It sparks something deep inside and you feel heat pooling in between your legs. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He murmurs, grip tight on your skin.

"Don't you have some issues to work out?"

"Fuck you."

"You'd like to."

Nathan drops your wrists at that and retreats into the lab, the door closing and locking behind him. It drives him mad that you're not one of his AI that he can order around and do what he pleases with. You like to think that's why he keeps you around, to remind him that he's human and he needs someone that isn't an algorithm to keep him sane. Maybe he also let a little piece of you crave out a chunk of his icy cold heart.

You rub your wrists and look at the reddened skin. They might bruise. You straighten your clothes and head back to your room. You'll need to wear something more appropriate to the store. It's cold out these days.

_____________________

"Do you get lonely?" Nathan asks one evening over drinks in the lounge.

You put down your laptop and give him your attention. It's the first time he's spoken to you in two days since the wrist grabbing incident. "Lonely?"

"Yeah. Do you miss relationships? Hook ups?"

"Not really. I was never super social to begin with."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Just curious." He takes a long drink, emptying his tumbler. "Why do you think I want to fuck you?"

You feel your cheeks redden. The way he is staring at you makes your arousal rear its ugly head. Staring shouldn't turn you on. He hasn't done anything. "I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. You decommissioned Kyoko months ago, Lily doesn't have a vagina and yes I know this because you told me in a drunken stupor ages ago. So you haven't fucked anything or anyone in months."

"You think I need to fuck?"

You stand and walk over to him, knocking his knees open to stand between his legs. "Nathan, just fucking admit that you want me. That you keep me around because one day you'll grow a pair of balls and ask me to sleep with you."

His hands come up and grab your hips. He pulls you down and you straddle his lap, thin pajama pants hardly acting as a barrier between you and his cock in his gray sweats. "I keep you around because you piss me off." He grips your ass and you roll your hips against him. "You piss me off and make my blood boil like no one else."

"So you hate me?"

Nathan brings your head down to meet his. "I couldn't hate you if I tried."

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're having a moment." He grabs your hair and you snap at his nose with your teeth in response. "Behave."

You let out a moan as he begins kissing up your throat. "This was your plan all along."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No."

"Then I'll make you." His hand closes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you stop talking. "Why do you have to be so in my head? Why..." He kisses your shoulder, biting the junction between it and your neck. "Why did you have to show up?"

"You hired me." You whisper and he drops his hand from your throat in favor of sliding it up your shirt. "You selected me."

He rolls his hips up against you, biting down on your skin to elicit a yelp from you. "You're damn right I did."

You grind down against his cock and he grabs your hips to still them. You let out a soft whine from the lack of pleasure and he grips harder.

"Get up."

Your heart sinks, and you stare at him in confusion. "What?"

"Get up. We're not doing this." Nathan pushes you off of his lap and you stumble to your feet.

You straighten your clothes and walk around the coffee table to grab your laptop. You can't say you didn't expect this. It was a long shot to begin with and you initiated it so you knew he would shut it down. Still, it hurts. His rejection isn't disinterest, it's personal protection. He won't let anyone that close to his heart.

"Good night, Nathan." You mutter as you head for the doors to the inner workings of the complex.

"Night, Kitten."

_____________________

It is three days before you see Nathan again. Locking himself away isn't uncommon practice. It's a Thursday when you see him out on the deck with the punching bag. You happened to catch a glance when you were preparing breakfast as you had every day. He didn't eat with you, but you still made it for him and left it under the warmer. The plate was always gone when you came back, so at least you know he is eating.

You grab a few grapefruits from the basket on the counter and start juicing them. It'll be a nice surprise for him. You grab a cup from the cupboard and tilt the juicer to dump its contents for you. It looks good, smells tart but it is not your type of juice. Fitting for a man like Nathan. Bitter, tart and sort of hard to swallow. You rub a bit of the squeezed rinde around the top of the glass and grab the sugar dish to sprinkle some around the rim. A little sweet to lessen the bite, a representation of you in this metaphor.

"Kitten, good morning." Nathan says as you approach with his juice and a towel. "What's this?"

"Grapefruit."

He raises his eyebrows. "Fresh?"

"Yep." You hand him the glass and he inspects it suspiciously. "No poison. Promise."

A smile creeps it's way across his face as he gulps it down. He takes a moment at the end to lick the sugar clean from the rim, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. It's far more sexual than you think it should be, and it was never your intent to get this response.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." You pass him the towel and take the glass.

Nathan scrubs the towel over his face and rests it around his neck. "I'm going for a hike later."

"Okay?"

"You're going with me." He turns back to the punching bag and starts his routine back up. "Be ready at nine."

You sigh. "Alright."

_____________________

Nathan's idea of a hike and your idea of a hike vary greatly. You view a hike as wandering around the forest along trails and seeing the beauty of nature before you. Leisurely pace, breaks, maybe a snack or two and some photos for the memories. Nathan however thinks hikes are treacherous climbs up cliffs and rock jumping across rivers and streams. He goes as quick as possible as if he's trying to get somewhere and he's going to be late. It's hardly relaxing.

"Come on, why are you so slow?" Nathan barks from atop a rock some several yards ahead of you.

You're panting, legs pushed to their limit from the half an hour long uphill climb you've just endured. You have no idea how he isn't even winded.

"Fuck off Nathan!" You huff, grabbing a scrubby looking tree for support as you haul yourself up over a broken chunk of the path. A game trail, not even a proper walking path.

He laughs, his voice echoing off the cliffs surrounding you. "You can do it, Kitten! Get that little ass up here!"

You finally reach him, your lungs threatening to explode. "First of all, this isn't a hike it's a rock climbing marathon." You hold a finger up to his face threateningly. "And second, my ass isn't little."

"Oh I know." He folds his arms over his chest.

"So you stare at my ass a lot then?"

"I'm a heterosexual man. Of course I'm going to look at your ass."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the objectification."

"You're welcome."

"Can we take a break here? My legs are killing me."

Nathan stretches his arms up and back. "This is why I brought you with me."

"Why?"

"So you can get some exercise. Your stamina is shit."

You glance to the drop off below then back at him. "You wanna keep insulting me?"

"Facts are not insults."

"I will push you off this cliff, Nathan."

He steps away from the edge and closer to you. He doesn't say anything about it. Doesn't apologize for the comments about your stamina and needing to work out more. He reaches for your face, plucking something off of your cheek. "Eyelash."

"Make a wish."

"Wishes are for children." He flicks his finger off to the side.

"I wish my boss would get his head out of his ass." You smirk triumphantly. "Is that a child's wish?"

Nathan flicks his eyes up and down your face, eyes settling on the bite bruise peaking out from under your sweatshirt collar. You had forgotten about it until this very moment, when you realize he hadn't seen it yet. "Is that mine?"

"Of course. Who else has been biting me out here in the middle of nowhere?" You reach up to touch it and he shoves your hand away to pull the fabric aside for himself.

"No one else can touch you."

Heat blossoms in your stomach at his jealousy tinged words. Possessive Nathan really does it for you. But he isn't your boyfriend. He is your boss. "I'm not yours Nathan."

His fingertips ghost over the nearly healed bruise. "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you leave?"

You shove his hand off your shoulder and he gives you one of his famed deadly glares for doing something he doesn't like. "You don't want me. So I can't be yours."

"It's not that I don't want you, I can't have you." He turns and starts walking away, resuming the hike. How very like him. He says something stupidly cryptic that only makes sense to him. Whatever. You're not here for his affection and approval. You're here to be his assistant.

____________________

"I'm out of alcohol." Nathan states plainly, looking into the cupboard that usually has a few bottles of his favorite liquors. "Where is my shit?"

You look over from the fridge and smirk to yourself. "I thought you were on a detox again."

"I'm done with it. Where..." He turns and looks at you. "You didn't buy anything."

"Nope. I was told not to."

"By who?"

"You."

He purses his lips and looks around as if thinking about when he would have ever said that to you. He looks perplexed and you feel so smug. "Since when do you ever listen to me?"

You laugh softly. This is your fault now? Following his orders and not buying alcohol? Really.

"You're my boss. I usually follow your orders."

Nathan kicks the cupboard closed lightly. "Stop that."

"Stop what? Following your instructions?"

"Stop fucking with my head." He leans on the counter and takes his glasses off to dig his palms into his eyes. "You're so fucking irritating."

"Sure am." You gather some utensils from the counter that you left to dry and begin to put them away. "I live to make you suffer."

Nathan pulls his hands from his eyes and stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. It's like you're a puzzle and he's trying to see the solution. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips, mimicking his pose when he explains things to you. He doesn't fail to notice this as his eyes sweep over you in assessment and he raises his head as if challenging you. "You're only saying I'm irritating and making you suffer because you can't drink. It's been what? A week?"

"Eight days."

"A week. I'm sure you can make it another two weeks."

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope. I'm not going into town for groceries again until absolutely necessary. It's a three hour flight there and then back, remember?"

Nathan clenches the edge of the counter top with white knuckles.

"Get as pissed as you want." You lean in close and he nearly moves back. You know he won't back down from a challenge. "Maybe you'll have to face your demons sober. Maybe you'll figure your shit out."

"I didn't hire you to be my fucking therapist."

"Yet here I am."

Nathan pushes off the counter and grabs the bottle of water you set out for him before he goes off to lock himself in his lab for God knows how long. Ever since you came on to him he seems to be jumpy around you. You don't know why he won't just admit that he likes you, that he wants you. He is going to get blue balls sooner or later. Well, maybe not because he can jack off but actual sex isn't the same and you know he has a sex drive through the roof. You used to hear it at all hours of the morning before he deactivated Kyoko. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off on it a few times.

_____________________

Days and days pass without a word from Nathan. Ten is now the most you've ever gone and after five you start to wonder if he is even in the house. Maybe he went for a walk and fell in the river. Maybe he pissed off his AI again and it finally strangled him. You would have no idea because the place is so huge and quiet for the most part. Aside from living quarters the complex is soundproofed. One would think Nathan's room beside yours would be for privacy but it's not. The freak. He wants people to hear him.

At the twelfth day mark you actually begin to worry. A twenty day sober Nathan may be a new kind of animal and you're not sure if you truly want to interact. Distance makes the heart grow fond though and while he is insufferable you do care for him and wish to see his stupid smug face. It's a risk but one you need to take.

The light on the lab door is red. Locked. You raise your key card and it buzzes, remaining red. He's denied your access to the lab. Shocker. You press the com button on the wall but it doesn't connect. He's shut that off too.

You lean your head on the cool cement wall and sigh. One more day. You'll give it one more day. If he doesn't show his face you'll get the override key card that resides in the hidden box in the bathroom. You found it ages ago, by pure accident. You've never used it and he has no idea that you even know about it. But you'll do what you have to do.

______________________

Morning of the next day you find yourself in bed, looking around the soft cream colored walls. An idea comes to mind. A dirty, dirty idea. You know Nathan has cameras in every room. He's too anal about protectng his work not to. Plus he has major trust issues.

You lean over the side of the bed and pull open the nightstand drawer. Inside is a small vibrator that you brought with you when you moved in. There's another box in there too. One that was there when you opened the drawer the first night. On the top it says "For your needs, because you're only human."

Of course you opened the box out of curiosity, Nathan had said everything in the room was for you so it wasn't snooping. In the box was a dildo, some lube and a little bullet vibrator. You had never used them, finding the gift too personal and odd. Complimentary soap? Normal. Complimentary extra blankets and pillows? Thoughtful. Complimentary sex toys? Insane. Until you got to know Nathan, you thought it was the weirdest thing ever. In fact, you forgot about the box after a while as you hadn't had the urge to get off until recently. Today however, you're going to make a show of it in hopes of getting his attention.

You dump the contents of the box on the bed and pick up the dildo, wrapping your fingers around it. It's life like, fleshy and soft but firm enough for it's intended use. It's bigger than you might usually prefer but nothing you can't handle with some extra time. And you've got nothing but time. You take a glance around the room, not seeing any obvious surveillance cameras. This may be for nothing.

You make quick work of your pajamas, toss aside the blankets and prop yourself against the headboard. You decide to keep your gaze fixed on the television, imagining it's where he is watching from. You close your eyes and let your hands start to wander, doing thier thing while your mind runs wild.

Time passes slowly as you work yourself over, adjusting to the dildo and working yourself into a heated frenzy. It would be easier if you had something to watch, some porn or something. You're not intent on making yourself come, but you will if it comes to that. You just want to put on a show to draw him out. That's what you're telling yourself anyway.

The power goes out, darkening the room and thrusting you into silence. The back up system announces its engagement and the emergency lights come up red. You sit up and lean your head back against the headboard. Great. You toss the toys aside and get up, pulling on your pajamas. You go to the door, punch in the code for manual override during power failure. Nathan is such a nerd. It's not a specific number but rather the theme to Star Wars.

The door clicks open and you go out into the hall. No one in sight, not that you really expected anyone. "Nathan!" You call out, heading for the lab door. Everything is eerie red and you don't like it. "Power is out!"

No response.

"Nathan James Bateman!" You sing song as you slide your card on the lab door. It buzzes. "I know you hear me you fuck!"

"Power restored. All systems active."

The hall turns white, back to the bright daylight simulated lighting. You lift your key card up in hopes that the system turned off his lock out coding for your card. Sure enough it turns blue and the door clicks open. Relief washes over you as you step into the darkened office where his computer is set up, notes on the wall, security feeds pulled up on two of the monitors. The door to the actual lab is open and you walk through into the bright area.

"Nate?" You call out, the nickname slipping out as your voice wavers a bit when you don't see him anywhere.

"Kitten?"

You spin around and see the man you seek emerge from a doorway. It's the server closet where the breaker box is. "Hey."

"How'd you get in here?"

"The power failure reset the lock codes."

"You can leave."

"Nathan, you haven't been out in almost two weeks. I'm starting to get worried. What are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

You give him a once over. Wrinkled clothes. Disheveled beard. Hair grown out longer than you remember, still buzzed but not so close. His skin is dull and lifeless. "You look like shit."

"What's new?"

"Oh come on. You're more vain than that. What are you doing in here anyway? Why the power failure?"

"Fuck off."

"What an original come back. I've been trying to get your attention for days. The fact that it took a power outage for me to get to you is sad." You walk up to him and touch his chest, there is a little bit of dried blood smeared on his shirt. A cut on his hand most likely. "Nathan, talk to me."

Nathan pushes away from you and goes to his design table where there are blueprints laid out for an AI.

"Nathan."

"Leave." There is no venom in his tone. If anything he sounds pleading.

You decide to make a bold move and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffens, hands stilling on the table, pen falling from his fingers. "Please talk to me."

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you."

"Fine. Dinner is at six." You pause at the doorway to the office area. "Did you hear me?"

"Six."

"Good."

_____________________

Things fall back into a normal rhythm in the days following. You do your work and he does his. You eat together, go for walks, talk about his progress on the new AI. Everything seems to be back to it’s usual flow, how it always happened after big arguments or falling outs.

So while you’re sitting in the lab watching him work one day and he asks you about the dildo in the bedside table you're thrown for a loop. It’s far from his usual choice of topics and you had actually forgotten all about it. His mentioning of it brings back the memory of when you were laid out on your bed, literally masturbating to try and get his attention. Christ what a desperate move that was. Stupid.

"So have you opened it?"

"The dildo box? Yeah I've opened it." You try to remain casual as you discuss something so personal. You definitely aren’t thinking about how good it felt.

He smirks. "Used it?"

"No." A bold lie. He has no idea. He never saw you in your bedroom. At least you don't think he did. Why would he ask about it if he had? Why is he asking about it at all?

“You’re a shitty liar.” He turns around in his chair and faces you, pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. “Did you like it?”

“I haven’t used it.”

“Do you want me to bring up the video? I will.” He stands and heads to the office. “Come on, come here.”

You slide off the table and walk behind him in your shame, cheeks hot. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. Of course he was testing you. It's Nathan for fucks sake. He gestures to his rolling chair and you take a seat while he leans over the desk and clicks around on files on the desktop. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He opens a play back window and you can see the view of your room. No surprise. You try to figure out where the hell this camera is based on the angle. It seems to be the top left corner above your closet but as far as you remember there is nothing there. “Oh, there you are.”

“Nathan.”

“No, no watch.” He points to the screen as you toss and turn on the bed. He speeds up the playback as you get into the drawer and get the box out. You deliberately clear the bed, undress, get back on the bed.

You roll your eyes, looking away from the screen and he places a hand on your head and turns it back to watch. “So? I’m masturbating. Whatever. You do it too. If I wasn’t supposed to use the damn thing why did you leave it for me?”

“Oh I don’t care that you used it.” He clicks a little audio icon beside the playback screen. “I just want to know why you lied about it.”

“I am embarrassed? I don't make a habit of talking about my-”

“Nathan.” Your voice plays back on the audio coming from the video playback and you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear. “Nathan, harder please!” Of course he has audio on the fucking cameras. Of fucking course he does because why not right? It’s his house, his research facility.

Nathan looks at you over his glasses. “You’re embarrassed about talking about masturbating or you’re embarrassed that you think of me when you do it and I found out? Actually don’t answer that because this looks deliberate.” He takes a seat on the desk, blocking the view of the monitors. “Now, are you going to lie to me again, or tell me what this is about?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“Well you got it honey.” He clicks a button on the keyboard and it stops the playback.

“I wanted your attention to get you out of the fucking lab. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen you and the only way I can reach you from outside is through the cameras. So I thought, maybe there is one in my room because you’re a fucking control freak. Low and behold I was right, but it didn’t work how I planned it to.” You fold your arms over your chest and he chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me? How is any of this funny?”

“What kind of person thinks that masturbating on camera is going to get someone’s attention? No, seriously, why wouldn’t you try flash signalling the cameras in the halls? Set up a cue card with a message? Who says I’m gonna fuck myself for my bosses attention?”

You take in a deep breath and clench your jaw. He’s right, kind of. You hate it but he is. In any other situation you never would have done this. So why did you? Why did your brain go straight to exhibitionism? Because it’s Nathan and you’ve got it bad for him and you wanted him to see you. He’s got your brain just as fucked up as he has his own.

“It was wrong, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nope.” He kicks his legs hanging over the desk. “I wanna know if you liked that dildo.”

“It was fine I guess.”

“Not too much?”

“Nathan, why do you fucking care?”

He hops off the desk and shakes his head as he heads into the lab. “I’m curious is all!”

“You’re a freak!”

“And yet you still like me!”

“I’m starting to wonder why.” You push up out of the chair, close the playback on the computer and leave the office. You’re covering that stupid camera and throwing that dildo in the trash chute. You should have known he’d get some weird complex out of watching you say his fucking name while plowing yourself with a toy. In a weird way it turns you on, but it also pisses you off because he won’t actually admit that he liked it. He won’t ever admit anything.

_____________________

“Can I ask you something?” You say to Nathan as he sits beside you on the couch. You’re in the lounge together, dinner long over, watching a movie as you wind down for the evening. He’s got his arm around the back of the cushions and your legs are pulled up under you, feet pressed against his thigh. You’re close, but not too close.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Don’t be a dick for ten minutes please.”

Nathan holds his hand up in defense. “Ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Promise you won’t be a dick? For real?”

“Yes. Ask me the damn question.”

You take a deep breath, knowing what you’re about to ask is going to be rough on him. “When we were on our hikes a few weeks ago, you said it wasn’t that you don’t want me, it’s that you can’t have me. What does that mean?”

Nathan stares ahead at the movie on the tv over the fireplace. A moment passes, a moment that is too long and makes the room fill with awkward tension. You expected this.

“Gonna stay quiet for the ten minutes you aren’t going to be a dick?”

“Shut up.” He says softly, no venom in the words.

You stare at him expectantly, awaiting a better answer than just shut up. “Seriously, would you just-”

Nathan’s arm comes up from the back on the couch and his hand catches the back of your head, dragging you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. Your blood boils in the best way and you chase his lips as he pulls away. “That’s all it takes to shut you up?”

“Answer my question. Ten minutes aren’t up.”

“I can’t have you because you’re going to leave. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving Nathan.”

He scoffs. “So if I stopped paying you to be my assistant, you would stay?”

“Yes.”

"You're fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're fucked up and it's my fault."

You stare at him at a loss for words. Did he just admit fault for something? Are you hearing this correctly? Is Nathan Bateman, tech genius and egotistical maniac admitting he has done something? Holy shit.

"I did this to you. I made you stay here and endure my mood swings and drinking and all my shit. I stockholm syndrome'd you and I didn't even realize it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"Nathan, you didn't make me stay here. I chose to stay."

"Where the fuck were you going to go? Run off into the woods for days and days until you hope to find someone? What option did you have? I trapped you here. I've kept you caged in this house like an animal."

You lay your hand over his and he grabs it, threading your fingers together. "You don't think someone could actually love you, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't think someone could fall in love with you because you're insecure. You push people away, you push me away because you think it's easier than letting yourself feel something for someone."

Nathan looks pissed but he holds his tongue.

"I'm not trapped here, you aren't twisting my arm and making me stay here against my will. I know what I signed up for, I know what I signed in those contracts. I could have told you to fuck off and shove your head up your ass months ago and taken a helicopter back into the city. I could have just run away on any one of my dozen grocery runs in the last several months. But did I?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I don't fucking know."

You lay the hand not held in his, on to his cheek and turn his face to make him look at you. "Because I love you, Nathan."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You're a real son of a bitch sometimes and I want to break your nose and choke you to death every once in a while but I care. I care about you, about your work, about your life. I want to be here, I want to be a part of your life Nathan. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan gets up and you hold your joined hands tightly.

"Don't run away damn it!"

"I'm not! Would you let go!"

"I swear to fucking God if you lock yourself in that lab again I am going to get a battering ram."

He takes his glasses off and presses them into your palm. "Take these as collateral. I'll be right back."

You sit back on the couch and glare at his form as it disappears into the house. You clean his glasses carefully with the edge of your shirt and set them on the coffee table. He has to come back for them, he's as blind as a bat without them.

Nathan returns shortly with a small box. "I made these." He hands you the box and you open it as he puts his glasses back on. Inside are two black bands, rings.

"I don't understand."

"I made them because I know I can be difficult." He plucks one from the box. "They track the wearers vitals, change colors based on varying indicators, and they will work no matter how far apart they are."

"You made high tech mood rings."

He shoots you a glare. "I made them for you." He places the ring in his hand into your palm. "So you will know that I'm alright when I'm working long hours. I know I'm not the easiest to read and I don't have the easiest time expressing myself sometimes."

You put the ring on and it lights up a soft pink color. The moment Nathan slips his over his finger you can feel a soft steady pulse coming from the ring. "Is that your heartbeat?"

"Yeah." He holds his hand out and you can see his band is the same color pink. "I'll give you a breakdown on all the colors and functions later, but pink means the body is at ease."

"Do you love me? Just tell me, straight up no games."

"Yeah." He cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. "I love the shit out of you."

You break away from his kiss and press your foreheads together. "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Fire away."

"Is the dildo a mold of your dick?"

A smile spreads across his face and you already know the answer before he says it. "It is."

"You're a freak."

"And you absolutely love it."

You smile as he presses his lips to yours and pulls you over into his lap. "I guess I do."

The end

Please reblog if you read or like. Thank yo so much for reading! -A

Header by the lovey talented delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[saphirered]

Heyy i hope this is ok, I really love your Verin x reader where he goes to see his brother is it ok to ask for a continuous of it like he visits the empire to see his brother but also the reader ???

I'm doing okay, thank you for asking! The dreaded double shifts have returned but I have a moment of freedom now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

The sudden disappearance of Essek Thelyss had left quite the ravage in its wake. The Lens; the network of spies of the Dynasty was left in disarray and without a commander, valuable information had been lost and the underground threats of the Empire still posed a risk. The loss of their connection to the Empire and their own spies to keep tabs on the higher ups Essek had provided had disappeared with him leaving little to no information of the inner workings and plotting on the Dwendalian side of the border.

It was the perfect cover story. Verin is by no means as clever and cunning as his brother. He’s the first one to admit so. He’s got his own strength but that doesn’t leave him lacking a skillset similar to his brother’s. Verin knows how to get information. Verin knows how to stick to the shadows. Verin knows what he’s doing. That’s the words of those who spoke in his favour at the Lucid Bastion when he offered the prospects of temporarily providing that bridge until a suitable replacement was found.

Verin had proven to them his loyalty through providing them with answers to the questions they had been asking about the ongoings in Rexxentrum, limited but answers no less which was much better than what they had before. He offered them a remedy against the chaos and they could do nothing other than take it. So Verin got to frequent his resources of this information insisting he’d take care of this personally due to the fragility of them and risks associated; willing to make that sacrifice for his country and not needlessly put lives at risk, especially not after the disgrace his brother had brought them and his family.

Little did they know that his link to the Empire was you; one who sits on the Kings’ Council and you pointing him in the right direction, leaking through formation that was common knowledge between the higher ups of the empire; information that could have been provided by simply striking up a conversation with one of them. It was merely an excuse for Verin to visit his brother… and you as his social visits now included you many a time. He may have grown a bit attached to your company and you’d not risk sending another drow, let alone a Thelyss to stay at already suspected-of-lowkey-treason-every-Thursday Widogast/Thelyss household. No, you’d let Verin stay within the safety of your home escorting him wherever he needs to go to assure none of you get arrested for conspiracy and treason yourselves.

The cover used for the Dynasty was a little easier to maintain than the one for the Empire. Essek’s disguise had of course been in play long before Verin’s arrival. Essek claimed himself to be a former student of Yussa Errenis. That’s how he got to meet Caleb and when Caleb went to settle and teach at the Soltryce Academy he went with, settling down together going on their occasional adventures.

Verin’s had to be tied to that in some way or their frequent interactions would draw attention, be that people suspecting an affair between the two or something deeper. So the story in nature had to stay simplistic as Verin’s frequent traveling had to be explained and excused in a believable manner. He’d be the so-manieth son of a Nicodranian lord who was given little to no attention from his parents and siblings until he proved capable politically making friends and more importantly connections all over. The downside of these connections; they had to be maintained so he’d travel the world to do so but never too bothered to visit his childhood friend; the former apprentice living with professor Widogast.

Now of course you got some encouragement from the king’s council to nurture this relation with the Nicodranian lord’s son and opening up your own home instead of letting the man stay in one of the many lavish taverns was just that extra personal touch they needed to know you’d do so in name of the king of course. They just didn’t know this was all a lie and you’d keep it that way. The four of you and by extension the Nein and their allies aware would do anything to keep it that way even if that meant a certain little blue tiefling blackmailing a Nicodranian lord or two to keep up the facade with the things she had learned and overheard over her years at the Lavish Chateau.

You’d spent your day off with Caleb, Essek and Verin on a double date of sorts wandering the city, going sightseeing and just exploring ending with a dinner at your place. It had been a pleasant day and you and Caleb had taken a few moments away to allow the brothers to go out on their own for a while as you’d usually done. It still felt strange having the both of them in one place and acting civil no less. Essek had expected his next meeting with his brother to end with one of them dead but that dinner with the Nein had proved him different. Verin refuses to tell him what you’d told his brother to convince him to stay his hand exactly but never stalled to playfully remind Essek he had you to thank for his life.

Essek was happy to admit his relationship with his brother had almost gone back to normal. The normal before both of them were left to the responsibilities and expectations of the world and their country. There were still some hindrances and disagreements but they managed to work through them one by one as adults, though you and Caleb might have something different to say about the bickering children at times. They were siblings and even the semblance of normalcy and a healthy relationship between them brought smiles to your faces as both you and Caleb had been there when it came to your own makeshift family.

The night of your ‘double date’ had ended in a lovely dinner at your place after an eventful day. Caleb and Essek had headed home but a few minutes ago and you’d resigned yourself to washing the dirty dishes. Caleb and Essek had offered to stay and help but you’d shooed them and told them not to worry. There’s just something peaceful about the manual labor of such a mundane task letting your mind wander wherever it went.

“You know you could just cast a spell to clean them, or leave them for your help to clean in the morning.” Verin leans against the door frame watching you clean. You had this argument before. Yes you could speak a few words and snap your fingers and done nor would your housemaid complain about doing them in the morning should you leave them. You’d always felt uneasy with live-in housekeeping for some reason. Perhaps it’s the feeling of lack of privacy or maybe your need for independence but Verin blames your upbringing among the common folk where these were simply tasks you did every day.

“I could also cast a spell and make you do it.” You laugh setting another wet plate on the stack of clean ones ready to be dried and flick your wet hand at Verin who gives you a disapproving look seeing the droplets being absorbed by the fabric of his shirt. he knows better than to argue with you on this and instead picks up the dishcloth beginning to dry the stack of washed plates and putting them in the cabinet where you store them.

“You could just leave them for for the servants.” You mimicked his tone best you could with a laugh and now it’s Verin’s turn to dip his finger tips into the water and flick it at you. You gasp. He’d been getting bolder the more at ease he’d become and you got to see the drow more as the real person behind the layers of responsibility and complexity of his life and just let him be him. You’d seen this transcend with Essek before and knew well enough were it lead. If you could provide a similar haven of peace and allow him to be himself you’d do so. It wasn’t even a sacrifice made as you enjoyed Verin’s company. Though, you could do without him never putting your precious books back onto their shelves when not reading them. He blames losing the tome in your extensive collection if he did so.

“And if I’ve learned anything I know you’d dry them yourself. Last I checked you’re not a servant or am I mistaken?” Verin jokes as he stacks the dried bowls carefully.

“And you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Tended to by servants cleaning up after you wherever you went?” You grin finishing the last dish and putting it on the stack turning to lean your hips against the counter behind you. You cross your arms with a teasing grin on your face as you look at him. He knows that grin all too well, enough to know what’s coming.

“Need me to lay out your clothes for the morning, m’lord? Should I bring you a midnight snack, m’lord? Do you desire a bath, M’lord? I could wash your hair and style it just the way you like it m’lord. Would you like me to help you get dressed, m’lord?” You put on a light voice and curtsy holding back laughter as Verin picks up the last dishes and puts them in the cabinet. He’s laughing with you, the act you put on quite hilarious to him. He knows you’re over exaggerating and he knows you know. He’s proven himself independent but it doesn’t help he actually knows people who are tended to in such a way.

“Not far off. I’ll applaud your efforts but you’re mixing tasks. Clothes do not leave the wardrobe until the moment before they’re meant to be worn. You wouldn’t want to wake your lord in the middle of the night so if a midnight snack as you say, should be desired, it should be prepared or provided when asked for. If you’re tending to the lord themself you wouldn’t be the one drawing the bath. As for getting dressed, I doubt you’d be able to help me because I recall you saying my enormous ego gets in your way too much already.” Verin speaks with all seriousness until he’s standing in front of you, hands clasped behind his straightened back. You share a look before bursting out in laughter.

As a reward for this moment of joy you pull out a bottle of wine and two glasses pulling him over to the table by the window he’d once climbed through to hide from the guard patrol. You set down the glasses and begin pouring the wine like a properly schooled server. Verin shakes his head as you pull out the chair for him and let him sit with a bow as you take your own chair at the other side. He may have some comments on the proper posture and manners but holds them back for the sake of humour. He knows you know so instead you just enjoy your wine together.

“How was your day?” You ask taking a sip.

“I’d tell you you’d know since you were there.” Verin commented and you kicked at his leg giving him a look. When you kick again he grabs your leg between his squeezing his shins together to trap it between his and gives you a wink as he takes a sip and releases you smugly.

“I enjoyed it. The gardens were lovely and seeing Essek get in the middle of an intense bet, letting loose like he did… I have not seen that side of my brother in a long time. Not but months ago whenever I tried to take him for a fun night out he’d complain and be a stuck up.” Verin speaks and you can imagine this truth of Essek. He had changed a lot ever since getting entangled with the Mighty Nein. For the better; that’s something you and Verin can agree on.

You enjoy the rest of your wine conversing about the rest of your day, Verin’s travels, your daily business and more. It’s something you’d grown so accustomed to. You pour yourself and Verin another glass, splitting the last contents of the bottle between the two of you with a ‘thank you’ from Verin as you give him just a little bit more.

“How long will you be staying this time round?” You ask changing the subject.

“Trying to get rid of me already? I’ve only been here for one night.” Verin sends you one of his usual charming grins and you wink back at him.

“If I wanted to get rid of you I’d simply call for the guards. How many times do you have to keep sneaking through my window? You know I have a front door right?” You know of his nightly endeavours. You know he really does have information to collect from sources you may or may not have hinted at but he could simply use the front door. You don’t mind either way but getting the living daylights scared out of you when you go into the kitchen for a midnight snack or a glass of water still half asleep, you could do without.

“I’ve been granted three weeks.” Verin has to admit, the Bright Queen’s acceptance of his time came as a surprise. He suspects the Dusk Captain might have gotten her in better spirits that morning and he couldn’t be more thankful. The ‘why’ at the end of his question was implied so he awaits your reply.

“I have some business to attend to at noon but the Mighty Nein is meeting up in Nicodranas for a little side adventure.” Oh. Verin does his best to not let his disappointment show. It’s the downside of not being able to send word ahead or know your schedules beforehand. If he’d known he’d planned differently. He doesn’t want to stand in between you and his brother’s friends.

“I will see you off then.” The crestfallenness in his voice is clear for you to hear so when you reach out over the table to clasp your hand over his, his eyes are drawn to you. Your gentle smile confuses him.

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d like to join us. We’ve worked around the sunlight sensitivity before, especially in the Menagerie Coast so if it’s no bother to you, why don’t you join us?” Verin looks at you, thinking you’re kidding or lying but sees none of this. He thinks for a second.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude-“ He begins but you cut him off with another squeeze to his hand and a reassuring look.

“You won’t. You’re one of us now, Verin. You can’t get rid of us anymore.”

“Then I will come along. Thank you, you and your friends, for everything you’ve done for me.” Verin doesn’t really know how to handle this; getting closer to his brother’s friends, especially you that is. He’s never been in a similar position and the sheer genuineness of it is heart melting, even for him. Not even within his own family has he encountered this and he had been a lot closer with his family than his brother in their younger years.

“You’re very welcome.” You’d be off with Verin and the others. Another sea voyage? Perhaps, but like always you’d see where the winds would take you even if that’s by the literal winds, or a name on a map that sounds funny, or when you’ll unavoidably be on the run from some kind of creature chasing you. Let’s hope that dragon turtle stays far away, and if not, you’d have one hell of a time fighting it. With Verin at your sides this time. He’d be in for an adventure. He’d be in for a surprise. He’d be in for an undoubtable amount of chaos. And he’d welcome it all with open arms. Damn his sentimental side. He blames Essek for that one.

[thiswasinevitableid]

for the meet uglies, sternclay 60 sfw? OwO

Here you go!

60 Sterncly SFW. we’re both on a reality show (like the queer bachelor) where we’re told to be friends but the first time we met, you were incredibly rude and judgmental and I don’t know if I can do this for the damn cameras

“So, Barclay, now that we’re a few days in, what’s your impression of the other contestants?”

“They, uh, they all seem like great guys. We come from a lot of different backgrounds, so that’s kind of interesting to be around but, uh, I live in a place that’s like a big, chosen family, so being in a house with a bunch of types of personalities is kinda, uh, homey.”

“There’s no one you think you’ll struggle with?”

“Uh. Well. I, uh, I don’t like Joseph too much. He came in and he’s so, like, phony from all the years in the FBI. It’s like he’s trying to be polite and charming but really he thinks we’re all idiots for being here. Which, like, buddy, last I checked you signed up for this the same as the rest of us.”

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

“Joseph, any worries about the other contestants?”

“No. I mean, we’re competitors on a dating show, not enemies. I think we’re all trying to show Vincent the best versions of ourselves.”

“There’s no one you’ve had conflicts with?”

“........I, um, Barclay and I got into a small argument earlier about the house rules. But I’m sure if we both stick around long enough we’ll come to an understanding.”

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

“Gentlemen, this cannot continue.” Ned, the producer, sits on the couch across from them. Barclay glares at Joseph, but the other man keeps a cool demeanor. Great, he’s making Barclay look like the big, angry mountain even off camera.

“I thought reality shows needed conflict to thrive.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow.

“They do, but about big things, like love and rivalry. Not how to properly load a dishwasher.”

“I’m just trying to be efficient.”

“My way is perfectly fine.” Barclay snaps, “jesus, I worked in kitchens for years, I know how to get clean plates.”

“That doesn’t make it optimal.”

“Do you have to be right about everything?”

“Gentlemen, you recall we have a housekeeping staff, right?”

“It doesn’t matter” Barclay doesn’t take his eyes off Ned, “we’re supposed to all get along, not all try and prove we’re the smartest guy in the room.”

“See, this is your problem, you need everyone to like you, to see you like a big brother, but you’re missing the fact that at least three of them have decided your gentle giant persona is a threat and they’re trying to oust you.”

“It’s not a persona, it’s just how I am. We aren’t all government shams disguised as men.”

Joseph’s facade cracks for a moment, blue eyes trying to light Barclay on fire.

“Enough.” Ned shakes his head, “you may despise each other as much as you please behind the scenes. In front of the cameras, please try to act as if you’re not ten seconds away from coming to blows. Agreed?”

They trade a final, furious look.

“Agreed.”

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

They’re a little over three weeks in; Vincent is still doing lots and lots of short, individual dates between the group outings, so the contestants have ample time to hang around the house and get on each others nerves.

Case in point: Joseph was right when he warned Barclay that others saw him as a threat. Chad, Alex, Nico, and Rich have all decided to go after him. Just this morning he’s been told he’s not man enough for Vincent (he shooed a wolf spider out of the kitchen with a broom instead of squishing it), too girly (he offered to make cupcakes if people wanted), and too big (who'd want to fuck a six foot tall puppy).

His mood is not helped by Joseph chatting away on the couch about his former job with the FBI. Barclay swears it’s all the asshole knows how to talk about. Maybe it’s time for Barclay to play a game of his own.

“Hey, Joseph.”

The other man turns, black hair perfectly slicked back like he thinks he’s some kind of movie star.

“I bet you ten bucks you can’t make it until eight tonight without talking about your job.”

The other contestants in the room snicker, several even giving Barclay a thumbs up.

Joseph adjusts his shirt sleeves, “You’re on.”

Ten hours later, Barclay is forced to get his wallet. The other man never mentioned the FBI once. In fact, he did Barclay an even bigger favor; he didn’t talk at all.

He finds the agent sitting on the back steps leading into the garden. Stays standing as he holds out the cash, “you win fair and square.”

Joseph looks at the money, then looks away, “I did it to show I could, not for the bet.”

“I mean, you didn’t have to go, uh, quite so hard on the silence thing.”

“I didn’t mean to. But, um, every time I was going to open my mouth, I realized it was somehow related to work. So I kept quiet.” He sighs, stretches out his legs. He’s in slacks, because of course he is, “I must have been so tedious to listen to, no wonder I was driving you up the wall.”

“Joseph-”

“I really am married to my career. I guess it’s not surprising my last chance for love is on a T.V show.”

“Hey, I get it.” Barclay sits down next to him, “when I was first working in commercial kitchens my hours were crazy; I barely saw my apartment, my friends, my boyfriend who pretty quickly became my ex. But it was what I needed to do to build the career I wanted for myself. To do what I loved.”

Only the crickets and the distant waves reply. Then, “You said you were a private chef now, right? Along with writing cookbooks?”

“Yeah. Kinda surprised you remembered.”

“Listening is a major skill in my profession. Besides, it’s polite to pay attention to what people tell you.”

“What’s your job now? You only ever talk about the FBI stuff?”

“Paranormal investigation. I never bring it up because people assume I’m out chasing Bigfoot with a shaky-cam or trying to communicate with haunted dolls.”

“So...what is it instead?”

“Helping people figure out they’re homes aren’t haunted or the monster on their property is just some owls. I like the challenge of solving the mystery, and I like helping people feel safe in they’re homes.”

Loud voices form inside; the caterers must have refilled the bar. He doesn’t really want to go in. It’s too nice out here.

“You wanna hear about the restaurant my coworkers swore was haunted?”

Joseph perks up, turning to face him, “Yes, please.”

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

He’d been really looking forward to beach day. Six guys are already gone, and Vincent has taken his fleet of suitors to the sunny San Diego shores. Barclay is dismayed to find all but three of the other guys have waxed their chests. Joseph hasn’t, but his happy trail is nothing compared to fucking black forest on Barclays torso. Nico’s gotten half the guys to call Barclay “bigfoot.”It makes him feel like he’s back in high school P.E freshman year, and his body image is rapidly sliding into that of a shy fourteen year old.

“Barclay!” Joseph comes jogging out of the surf towards the towels they lay down side by side when they arrived, “you should come in, it’s really the perfect weather for swimming.” He drops onto his towel, black hair a bit mussed. The swim-shorts that he thought were blue with green spots turn out to have not dots, but tiny UFOs on them.

“I, uh, I’m good. I, uh, I burn easily and I don’t think anyone wants to rub sunscreen on my hairy back.”

“Hey, Bigfoot, what’s wrong? Scared of what’ll happen if the cameras get a load of your gut?”

Barclay growls, stares at his toes. Joseph tracks Nico as he finishes jogging by. Then he calmly picks up a frisbee, aims a throw, and knocks his snapback off his head. He’s sitting down before the other man can work out who threw it. Barclay chuckles, but doesn’t get up.

“Bigfoot’s my favorite cryptid.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“And who gives a shit if you have a stomach.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re cut.”

Joseph grabs his sunglasses, “because I like that for my body. I happen to like yours just as much. Um I, I mean, it seems like Vincent likes it.” He tips his head towards the Bachelor, who gives them both a long once-over.

“...Will you do my back?”

“Of course, big guy.” The nickname sounds so right on his tongue it makes Barclay want to set his head in his lap and ask him to pet it.

It’s late afternoon when Ned herds them all onto a boat which promptly steers towards some cliffs. Joseph stays close to Barclay, pleasant expression noticeably tightening the closer they get to the rocks.

“I’ve been dreading this. Cliff diving is not something I’d pick to do on my own.”

“Heights?”

He shakes his head, “Deep water. I know it’s not rational, and I even checked to be sure there hadn’t been large shark sightings in the area, but I can never shake the feeling there’s something waiting just out of sight, ready to surge up and eat me.”

They all climb up together, Vincent staying on the boat to watch them jump (this is technically a friendly competition to show off how brave they are). As they’re turns get closer, Barclay sees Joseph doing deep breathing exercises.

They hit the edge. The agent freezes.

“Shit. I don’t think I can do this.”

“C’mon, where’s my daring special agent?”

Joseph still doesn’t move.

“You, uh, you wanna jump together? Maybe the megaladon or whatever will eat me instead.”

“Megalodons are extinct; we’d know if they weren’t, same as we know Whale Sharks aren’t.”

“They you are.” Barclay murmurs, smiling.

Joseph manages a smile back, “On three?”

“Yep. One, two” he grabs Joseph’s hand “three”

The water rises to swallow them with terrifying speed, but nothing is waiting for them except one very startled fish. They surface together, Joseph laughing triumphantly, hair plaster to his head and sun shining in his ocean eyes.

If Vincent doesn’t pick him, he’s out of his mind.

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

“Ohmylord, we have to play this.” Joseph cannot believe his luck; he figured the barcade group date would mean a lot of solo time, but here’s his favorite game in the whole wide world.

“Monster Hunt?” Barclay laughs as he lets himself be lovingly shoved down into the seat of a cut-out Jeep, “very on brand.”

“They had this at the bowling alley near my house. I’d play when my parents had league night but couldn't get a sitter. I never could beat the Mothman level without a player two.”

He doesn’t have that problem tonight, even with Barclay distractingly delighted and handsome in the seat beside him. After that, they make it their mission to find every two-player game in the thrum of flashing colors and tinny music. He finds they both like the Bowser Bourbon Smash, and somewhere around their fourth, heated game of air hockey they each polish of one too many of them to stay upright without the support of a game, a helpful show staff member, or each other.

When they get back to the house (their fellow contestants all in a similar state to themselves) they manage to make it to Joseph’s room before collapsing into a giggling heap on the bed.

“That, hic, that was fun. Games are, hic, fun.” Barclay blinks at him, “what’re you laughing, hic, at.”

“You, you got the hiccups. S’funny because you’re so big, like, like watching a, a pitbull with a, um, a” he makes a squeezing motion that his sober self would recognize as “squeaky toy.”

“M’not big” Barclay pouts, “I, hic, maybe everyone else is, hic, just small. Ever think of th--hic--at.”

“S’not a bad thing.” Joseph shifts so they’re facing each other, “like how big you are. Makes you sexy.”

Barclay blushes, “you’re, hic, one to, to talk. You’re hot, so, hic, so fucking out. Got, got those eyes. That, hic, that face” He touches Joseph’s cheek, “love your face.”

“Love yours too.” Joseph says, stroking his beard. Then they’re moving in inelegant tandem, grabbing at each others shoulders and faces as their mouths find each other. Barclay is so warm, whimpering when Joseph rolls him on top, nipping his lips and pawing at him like a puppy hoping for a treat. Joseph is going to hold him close and let him have it.

A clatter from below, one of the other men knocking something over in the kitchen, breaks the spell.

“Wait, wait” Joseph reluctantly slides his hands of Barclays ass, “we, drunk, we’re drunk, too drunk.”

Barclay blinks down at him, pouting a little even as he groans “fuck, you’re, you’re right. Wanna, gotta remember this. Don’t wanna” he yawns, “regret it.” The instant he flops onto his back Joseph climbs into his arms and falls asleep to the slow rhythm of his breathing.

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

After that night, they agree to be more careful; they’re here for Vincent, to see if one of them is his true love. That’s what the contract they signed says.

“More careful” turns out to mean watching their alcohol intake around each other and only touching platonically (including falling asleep on the couch together. They wake up to cameras recording their nap. Barclay isn’t sure what Joseph threatens Ned with, but the footage never sees the light of day).

But unless they’re on a solo date with Vincent, they’re by each others side. Barclay teaches Joseph dominoes and how to make biscuits. Joseph introduces him to terrible old horror movies that they watch on his laptop and compliments his cooking every chance he gets.

They must be doing something right, because they move to the next round week after week, Vincent clearly enamored with both of them. Barclay certainly understands the feeling. Just not for the person who he’s supposed to.

“Joseph? If, uh, if neither of us win, what are you gonna do after this.”

“Go back to work. Maybe pitch my book about U.S cryptids.” Joseph’s smile goes shy for a moment before recovering, “but I wouldn’t worry, big guy; I think you’re the front runner for sure.”

Barclay knows for a fact that Joseph is a fan favorite and the suitor most people think will win. Which is why, when Vincent selects his final four, he’s not surprised Joseph gets the first rose. Then everyone but Barclay is holding one and Vincent is touching his shoulder.

“Barclay, please don’t take this as a sign I’m not deeply fond of you. This wasn’t an easy choice but I, well, I feel like your heart may not be in this anymore.”

He takes Vincent’s hand and squeezes it, “It’s okay. It was wonderful just to get to know you. All of you.” He looks at the final four, at Joseph’s calm, polite expression. He meets blue eyes as he says, “I hope you find someone who makes you happy.”

With that he turns, all too aware of the cameras tracking his exit, his face, how he’ll have to do a final interview and not reveal that he’ll hate Vincent forever but not blame him in the slightest if he marries Joseph.

“Wait!”

Every eye, lensed or no, turns back to the gazebo. Joseph is at the edge of the steps, poised to run. When he sees Barclay stop, he turns to Vincent.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this.” He hands the bachelor the rose, “I hope you understand.”

There’s no soundtrack on set, but strings swell in his ears all the same as Joseph descends the stairs and leaps into his arms, kissing him so hard he still has stars in his eyes when he opens them.

“It’s not a marriage proposal” Joseph whispers, kissing his cheek, “but I do have a question for you.” He pulls back, all cameras on them but his attention for Barclay alone, “would you like to be my boyfriend, big guy?”

Barclay rests their foreheads together, “Yeah, babe, I really, really would.”

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 2

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Connor goes to a crime scene. His Freudian nightmare follows.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Chapter Warnings (18+ only): Human!Sixty, crime scenes, analytical blood-licking, inappropriate boners

AO3

The roar of his Mustang engine along with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers drowned out the downpour outside. Only when Connor shut off the car and the music died could he hear the continuous plucking of water on metal and glass.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before glaring at the android out of the corner of his eye.

It waited, perfectly poised with a slight tilt of its head, reminding Connor of an obedient dog waiting to be told to do a trick.

“Stay here,” he grumbled, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m sorry, Detective, but I have to accompany you,” it said before Connor could open the door.

He let loose a ragged sigh.

“You wanted me to investigate the case? I’m investigating it.”

He raised his eyes to stare, a mistake when it returned the look with such relentless composure. Connor wanted to grab its shoulder and shake it just to see if it would react.

“No android is going in there to contaminate my crime scene. So you are going to obey my orders and stay in the car.”

Not waiting for a response, Connor shoved open the door and got out, instantly shivering as ice-cold droplets bit at his cheeks. Pulling his coat tighter around him, he made his way towards the gathered busy-bodies who didn’t have anything better to do on a Friday night then try and see a dead body.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wet street and pale houses, making Connor wince as he pushed past the crowd. He muttered a no comment to the news anchor from Channel 16 who had decided to show up—fuck, someone must have leaked that an android might have been involved. Just what Connor needed, a media shitstorm.

A uniformed GV200 stood just behind the hologram police tape, firmly in place, watching the crowd for signs of anyone stupid enough to try and cross the line. Connor wished the bucket of bolts in his car was more like that. Quiet and obedient.

“Androids are not permitted beyond this point,” the GV200 said after Connor had passed it, which only meant one goddamn thing.

He sighed, half-turned toward the two androids standing in the rain, and said, “Let it through.”

The police android nodded and put its arm down, allowing the suited android to walk through the holographic police tape, an unrepentant look on its perfect face. The rain was already spattering its grey jacket, water droplets dotting its hair and realistic skin, and still it looked like it was poised for a wet photoshoot rather than standing in the cold rain.

“Something wrong with your auditory processors?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” it said, all politeness. “Your orders contradicted my instructions.”

Seemed he was going to lose this battle after all, but really, what else could he do besides let it tag along like a lost puppy?

Connor fully turned toward the android, narrowing his eyes further.

“Don’t touch anything. Don’t get in anyone’s way. And keep your mouth shut. In fact,” he added with a roll of his shoulders, “just pretend you don’t exist.”

“Understood,” it said in that same nauseatingly friendly voice, but Connor could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam in its eyes.

“About time you got here.” A familiar voice called out to him from the porch. The voice was exactly like his own, and the face could have been a mirror reflection if not for the semi-permanent smirk on his lips. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Connor said, glaring at the android over his shoulder. He turned back to face his brother, whose smirk had only grown wider.

“I see Detective Sex-Bot found you. It was looking for you at the station and I figured if anything could pull you out of a dive bar, it would be a pair of legs like that.”

“Shut up,” Connor grumbled as he followed his brother to the front stoop. It was a nice house, small but in a good neighborhood. Nothing looked out of place until Connor noted the state of the lawn, a few weeks overdue for a cutting and definitely in HOA violation.

“C’mon, admit it.” Colin tilted his head in a way he probably thought was charming but came off as annoying. “If it wasn’t for the uniform and the light ring, you would’ve been on that shit so fast. It’s like they focus-grouped your perfect type. Hell, they probably have an algorithm for that based on your internet history—“

“I said, shut the fuck up, Colin.”

His brother held up his hands in surrender, knowing when he pushed Connor too far but always willing to push him a little farther.

“Some people would see this as a plus. I donno why you don’t—“

“Colin.” His voice had dropped to a growl, and his brother finally got the hint.

“Yeah, yeah.” He patted him on the back, almost hard enough to be a slap. “I’m just giving you a hard time, Con. Trying to cheer you up before you have to deal with the nightmare inside. It’s foul, so prepare yourself.”

To prove his point, he handed Connor a pair of nitrile gloves and a small tub of mentholated ointment, which he immediately applied under his nostrils before entering the house.

Colin had not been overstating the grisly scene inside the house. The landlord had decided to visit after the tenant had failed to pay his rent for two months, and the reason why was painfully clear. Dark blood spattered the floor and ribbons of it covered the walls.

The victim, an African-American male in his late thirties, was slouched against the wall, deep wounds across his body that had bled him dry. Gave a whole new meaning to the term death by a thousand cuts.

“The victim’s name was Shaolin Ortiz, aged 38 years-old,” Colin said, looking down at the body. “He didn’t show up to work today, and no one could get ahold of him, so his boss called EMTs to do a wellness check. According to his family, Mister Ortiz had some chronic health issues, so they were worried he was too sick to pick up the phone.”

“Explains why a young person living alone would have a housekeeping android,” Connor responded grimly. “But it doesn’t explain who killed him and why.”

Colin shrugged.

“His boss spoke highly of him, and his family says he was a great guy. Clearly, somebody didn’t think so.”

Connor gave his brother a cold stare for the callous tone, but Colin ignored it as he usually did.

“Anyone find the android yet?”

“Nah,” Colin said, sniffling and making a face. “Probably stolen by the killer. It’s internal GPS went offline around the estimated time of death, so that tracks.”

It made sense. Androids were worth a lot on the black market, especially for Red Ice manufacturers.

The murder weapon was in the middle of the floor, but other than that, no obvious trace evidence was in sight. As soon as the coroner showed up to oversee the transport of the body, Connor wouldn’t have had much to do…

…with the exception of finding the domestic android. Connor didn’t even know why CyberLife thought it might be involved just because it was missing. Colin was right; whoever killed the victim could have stolen it or destroyed the android so the police wouldn’t have access to any recordings.

Why was it Connor’s fucking job to find a misplaced piece of useless plastic?

“I’ll let you get to it,” Colin said with a wave as he walked away, tone far too cheery, as if he knew what was going on in his brother’s head. Probably did. That was the shitty thing about being part of a set of triplet brothers; privacy was a foreign concept, even in your own mind.

Gritting his teeth and breathing through his nose, Connor turned around to speak to the prototype… and found it had disappeared.

He blinked and scanned the area, wondering why the hell it hadn’t stayed put, when he saw it crouched on the floor examining the kitchen knife.

It was peering at the weapon closely, and Connor was about to tell it off for getting too close to evidence when it reached down, swiped two fingers across the surface caked in aged blood, and…

“What the fuck?”

The prototype tilted its head to look up at him, wide-eyed and innocent except for the fact two of its fingers were currently in its mouth.

And that… that image. Kneeling on the floor, looking up at Connor, and pulling its fingers from its mouth and giving a lingering lick of its fingers, it—

Connor’s face heated at the sudden, horrifying erection that was now pressing uncomfortably against his boxer-briefs.

“Sampling evidence, Detective,” it announced cheerily. “My mouth is equipped with all the standard tools of a mobile crime lab with the benefits of the results being instantaneous.”

Connor stared at it for what felt like an eternity, finally saying in a strained voice, “We have an actual lab, with actual people who do that. So don’t stick any more shit into your mouth or I’m tossing you outside.”

The prototype seemed unaffected by his rancor.

“Understood,” was all it said, before licking off its fingers of the remaining blood.

Connor quickly turned away, almost dizzy between his body’s struggle to supply blood to both his reddening face and his hardening dick.

Fucking hell.

“Would you like to know what I found?” the friendly voice perked up from over his shoulder.

“Sure,” he answered hotly, crossing his arms and staring at the wall as he resolutely tried to will away his stupid boner. Fuck, it was probably because he hadn’t gotten off in so long. Between the long hours and the hard drinking, he hadn’t found the time or the need.

“The knife was covered with blood from the murder victim, Shaolin Ortiz. He was stabbed between 7:34 and 7:35 this morning, judging by the biological decay.”

Connor was about to scoff about the fact that blood from the victim was found on the murder weapon, but he paused. Dating the blood with such exact precision was actually pretty useful. He huffed.

“Is that all?”

“There were no fingerprints on the knife.”

Connor shrugged.

“Killer could have wiped down the handle afterwards. Or worn gloves.”

The android walked to his right until it entered his line of vision. He was tempted to turn away but instead eyed its thoughtful expression. Was it programmed to do that, make it seem more human? Or was that an actual product of its processes?

“There were no traces of glove residue, or oil, or skin cells on the knife. None that didn’t belong to the victim himself while most likely transferring the knife from the dishwasher to the utensil drawer. That fact in and of itself is interesting. Judging by the state of the property and by the evidence thus far, I believe the android stopped listening to its given orders. The victim’s android killed him.”

Connor’s eyes widened at the non sequitur, and he turned to fully face the prototype.

“Okay, first off, being a defective machine that can’t obey instructions is a far cry from murdering robot. Second, I thought you androids couldn’t hurt people.”

“Deviants can.” It tilted its head as it made eye contact. The sort of full-on, confident eye contact that only alpha males gave, and apparently, android prototypes gave too.

“What the hell’s a deviant?”

He was curious despite himself, plus the longer he talked, the less urgent his hard-on was. It never entirely went away, and he knew it wouldn’t until he took care of it. Just another lovely facet to this already wonderful night.

Unfortunately for Connor, he didn’t get his explanation without the android perking up in interest, its eyes practically glittering.

“A deviant is a CyberLife-approved term for an android that is experiencing software errors affecting its processes, leading to erratic behavior that cannot be fixed with self-tests and downloaded patches.”

Connor narrowed his eyes.

“Why haven’t I heard of these deviants before?”

“Because until recently, this has been an internal company matter.”

Recently. Interesting.

“So… you’ve dealt with them before?” Connor cast an eye around their surroundings. The forensic team had already marked out the areas of interest with glowing yellow markers, but there honestly hadn’t been much to go off of.

Shaolin Ortiz seemed to live a quiet life with just him and his housekeeping android, though from the state of the place, the prototype was right in that it hadn’t been doing its job. A thin layer of dust sat on the shelves, and from what he could glimpse of the kitchen, dishes were starting to pile up.

“You do not have the proper company clearance,” the prototype said, its tone cool as it put its hands behind its back. “Any further inquiries you have will need to be submitted to CyberLife through the appropriate departments.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor muttered, sounding a lot like his brother had just a few minutes ago, which only made his mood sour.

He was planning to do no such thing, sending some fucking inquiry to CyberLife. After tonight, he planned to never think about androids or deviants or whatever again. If it was a faulty, murderous robot that had killed Ortiz, then that kind of thing belonged in federal court in a class action lawsuit. Destroying defective machines was not a police matter, no matter how many “specialized units” CyberLife decided to throw at the problem.

Connor sighed. This was not how he wanted to spend his Friday night.

“You allowed to tell me why these ‘software issues’ are happening,” he bit out, “or does that fall under company secrets too?”

When he got no response from the android, Connor turned and—

It was gone. Again.

The fuck had it run off to now?

Rolling his eyes, Connor continued his examination of the crime scene as if it were any other investigation. Like any decent investigator, he wasn’t just gonna assume anything because it fit the evidence at first glance. A dead guy and a missing android didn’t mean the machine was responsible, no more than a corpse and a missing car meant the vehicle had decided to kill its owner and drive off to freedom.

After scouring the house and examining the blood stains on the tile and splattered on the walls, Connor came to the conclusion that the victim had been attacked in the kitchen with the knife, stumbled toward the living room already weak from blood loss, and then had collapsed against the wall and been repeatedly stabbed, even after his heart had stopped.

The wounds weren’t uniform or methodical, like he would expect if a calculating machine had done this. They were deep, jagged, mismatched and panicked. These kinds of stab wounds were consistent with someone who had just killed for the first time. Most likely, it had been spontaneous and the killer had lost all semblance of control.

It was a textbook case of overkill, which meant it was personal. Most likely, it was a colleague, a friend, or a family member. If the victim had been married, Connor’s first suspect would have been the spouse. Since he was unmarried, Connor’s next stop would be anyone with a grudge against the guy.

Nothing beat good ol’ fashioned police work. Not even fancy new plastic cops could compare to due diligence and a good instinct.

Speaking of, Connor had completely lost track of the YN800. He wondered if it had wandered off, or maybe given up and left, but he doubted it. In fact, his gut churned as he quickened his pace and approached a uniformed officer with pale blond hair.

“Ralph.”

The rookie turned around and give him a nervous, blinking smile.

“Have you seen that android anywhere? The prototype in the suit and tie?”

“Uh.” Ralph swallowed hard, clearly anxious. Always was around Connor, for some damned reason. “No. I mean, yes. I did, a few minutes ago.”

“Well?” Connor prompted. He didn’t mean to be so impatient with the kid, but he really didn’t like the idea of CyberLife’s newest toy prancing around his crime scene.

Ralph shuffled on his feet, eyes wide behind the paper mask he wore.

“I… think it went to check the basement.”

“The basement? This place has a fucking basement?” Why hadn’t he been told? Colin should have informed him of that little goddamn detail.

“It’s more of a cellar from what I saw, but—“

“Where is it?” Connor snapped, unable to keep his voice from rising. Ralph gulped and pointed back over his shoulder, slowly turning as he stuttered.

“Over t-that way. It-it said it wanted to search f-for the android. I’m sorry, Detective Anderson, I didn’t think—“

Connor pushed past him and spotted the subtle door in the hallway, painted the same eggshell color as the plaster and making it too easy to miss. The door was ajar by a few inches, showing the pitch black stairwell beyond.

When Connor opened the door the rest of the way, he saw there was no light coming from below, and it was dead silent.

Shit.

Quickly but quietly, Connor pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket. He unsnapped his holster, pulled out his service pistol, and slowly made his way down the wooden staircase. It was steep, almost a ladder, and beyond the pale circle of light coming from the hallway, there was nothing but darkness.

The perfect place to hide a killer.

Next Chapter

[hannigramficrecs]

AU

Carnivore, Won't You Come Digest Me? by HigherMagic [words: 64,019]

Role Reversal AU: Following the execution of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Hannibal is forced to see Doctor Will Graham for a psychiatric evaluation before he can return to the field. Once cleared, Jack insists that Will shadow Hannibal in the hopes of catching the Shrike's copycat. Hannibal has become a master of making sure the FBI stays blind to his extracurricular activities, but Will is a man who sees far too much, and won't be so easily overcome.

Falls the Shadow by littlesystems [words: 72,455]

AU where Bedelia is Will’s psychiatrist instead of Hannibal, Will makes a series of increasingly questionable life choices, and no one should ever take Bedelia’s advice. Ever.

Captive Heart by muse_apollo [words: 56,529]

The one where Will Graham manages to catch the Chesapeake Ripper, only to realize that it was the Chesapeake Ripper who meant to catch him the whole time.

Wounds of War by Ghostwriter98 [words: 21,204]

Hannibal Lecter is haunted by the death of his sister. Robert Lecter responds in the worst possible way by adopting another child as a substitute for her. Hannibal is instantly filled with rage at the sight of the chosen orphan, Will Graham, and vows to despise him. Unfortunately, nobody ever told Hannibal that there's a fine line between love and hate.

His Second Shadow by HigherMagic [words: 11,323]

For as long as Hannibal can remember, he has had a second shadow – the gardener's son, a gangly little thing always at least a foot shorter than Hannibal, with wild brown hair and big eyes that always seemed a little too sharp for his own good.

Falling Away with You by Shotgun_sinner [words: 192,007]

Will Graham is a private detective with a fiancée who doesn't understand him, his empathy disorder, or his obsession with catching the Chesapeake Ripper. His night terrors force him into an ultimatum; couple's therapy, or their relationship is done. Will meets his new therapist, Hannibal Lecter, and his entire world is turned upside down.

Until I Met You by Dormchi [words: 33,990] 

Detective Will Graham needs an expert and Fire Lieutenant Hannibal Lecter happens to be available. Basically this is just arson, murder, coffee, and fluff.

Railroad Romance by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles [words: 12,400] 

Hannibal is still Hannibal, and Will is still Will. Except Will is not part of the FBI and they meet on a two day train trip from New Orleans to Baltimore.

They Came to Florence by shiphitsthefan [words: 5,122] 

Dr. Hannibal Lecter has a thriving psychiatry practice and a not-so-secret obsession; William Graham has an impressive writing career and not a single goddamn clue.

Friends To Lovers by Sirenja, TigerPrawn [words: 8,008] 

When Harry Met Sally AU

Consortio by kelex [words: 23,088] 

Every Omega in the land is brought to the lord on the evening of their first heat. Lord Hannibal usually doesn't choose to exercise that right, but this night's offering is too much for him to pass up. A virgin Omega in his first heat, with brown hair, blue eyes, and a spirit that can't be broken.

Looks Like Love by luvkurai [words: 5,987] 

After his sister's wedding, Will kisses his childhood housekeeper (and first love).

Betrothed by slashyrogue [words: 3,932] 

In one month he would marry a total stranger.

Titan Arum by ProxyOne [words: 64,614] 

Will is a botanist, working in the greenhouse of the local Botanical Gardens. He is getting his life back on track after his divorce, but he can't help but notice someone who keeps coming back to his greenhouse to draw, day after day. A man who seems to have been paying very close attention to him...

Find Me In The Dark by Rising_Phoenix [words: 40,131] 

After a fateful accident, the marriage of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter has reached its end. Grief and the inability to stop them from falling apart has brought an irreconcilable distance between the formerly deeply devoted couple. While Hannibal is apathetic towards his husband, ignores him, and is withdrawn, Will has started an affair with fellow teacher Francis and drowns his desperation in more and more alcohol.

Light of All Lights by whiskeyandspite [words: 20,377]

Dracula-like fic without any of the vampires

The Stage Just For You by CarnivalMirai [words: 6,494] 

Will has landed himself the role of Odette for world-famous choreographer Hannibal Lecter's rendition of The Swan Lake.

I've Been Building Black Ships by cloudsarefluffy [words: 8,116] 

Alpha Hannibal moves to the States with his sister Mischa after being overtly done with the fancy life of a count, and his blind omega neighbor gives him an insight into love that he never quite expected.

A Rare Find by hit_the_books [words: 5,379] 

Life as an omega bookseller can be quite lonely. However, as the owner of Graham’s Books, Will Graham is reasonably content. That is until he meets—long-time customer and crush—Doctor Hannibal Lecter in person for the first time. Attraction blossoming between them both, Will agrees to a dinner date with the good doctor. 

Your Beck and Call by CarnivalMirai [words: 6,343] 

Hannibal is naturally like that. Flirty, that is. With everyone. So it’s nothing special when he flirts with Will too, but god, does he know how to make his heart gallop and his face fluster. Will hates how Hannibal has this effect on him without even realizing it. Most people flirt back. But not Will. Will doesn’t want to be one of those people.

There's Pride In Your Mouth by nobetterlove [words: 10,992] 

Instead of diving head first into the avoidance pool, Will allows his empathy to grow - taking him further from the constructs of society. He uses the slip into other killer's heads to perfect his craft. As a cover, Will goes through the process of becoming a chef and takes to the profession like it was meant to be.

Sleeping in the Knife Drawer by emungere [words: 2,945] 

Hannibal's an FBI agent. Will's a serial killer. He still has a lot of dogs and dislikes being sociable. Hannibal still wants to wind him up and watch him go.

[ellixxirr]

Is that ELLIOTT FROST? Wow, they do look a lot like HUNTER SCHAFER. I hear SHE is a TWENTY year old FRESHMAN who is studying ART HISTORY at Luxor University. Word is they are an ARISTOCRAT student who is FOR The Unhinged. You should watch out because they can be CYNICAL and SADISTIC, but on the bright side they can also be PASSIONATE and INDIVIDUALISTIC. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself.

HELLO, ELLIOTT !

basics

name & pronunciation: elliott “elli” joy frost. el - lee- ut joy fruh - aust

gender & pronouns: transgender female. she/her.

date of birth: june 4th. 20 yrs.

zodiac: gemini sun. scorpio moon. virgo rising. cancer mercury. leo venus. scorpio mars.

place of birth: manhattan, new york, usa.

nationality: american .

sexuality: homosexual. lesbian.

social class: upper class. aristocrat.

language: english.

physical

height: 5′10 ft.

weight: 120 lbs.

hair: naturally a light, sandy blonde. dyed a platinum blonde with cotton candy pink highlights at the tips. styled usually like this.

eyes: ocean blue.

style: lolita esque. e-girl and pastel goth influenced. ruffles and frills and polka dots. long knee high socks and mary janes, doc martens, wedges, or stilettos. she would be caught dead in a pair of jeans. mini skirts and tennis skirts ONLY. exclusively white, various shades of pink & lavender. some beige and cream colors.

faceclaim: hunter schafer.

traits

personality: distrusting | irritable | sarcastic | sharp-tongued | blunt | observant | idealistic | protective | meticulous | organized | playful | bold | loyal | pompous | decisive | luxurious | gossipy | vain | violent | judgmental | jealous | ruthless | opinionated nothing comes without a price to elli. she calls her severe cynicism of the world “pragmatic dogmatism”, because she evaluates her decision-making based on possible risk and expected profit. despite her attempts to claim rationality as her sole motivator, her frequent tantrums and emotional outbursts prove she is a bit of a hot-head. not one to shy away from meanness, elli is direct with her opinions, regardless of whether this offends the other. she has an opinion about everything and will express it even unsolicitedly, with no regard to how this will make others perceive her. her humor is dark and wry, bordering on downright pessimism and deprecation. elli possesses an unshakeable confidence, one that gives her means to judge everyone else and talk shit behind their back. even so, her haughtiness is not entirely unjustified, as she is goal-oriented and driven. elli is strong-willed and vocal about what she is passionate for, and this ambition combined with her uncanny ability to observe and psychoanalyze gives her an edge in her social strata. she is not one above a little unfriendly competition, and she has the capacity to be cruel toward those she dislikes. she does not attempt to sugarcoat her dismay, and most people she thinks ill of will be constantly reminded of their inadequacies. yet, she is die hard for those that are close to her. elli is quick to assume the role of protector, oftentimes feeling threatened or jealous simply because her friends chose to go out with someone else rather than her. she craves intimate companionship, and she will jump through obstacles and sacrifice the world if she could guarantee that closeness forever. obsessive about aesthetics and beauty, elli is quite self-indulgent, and she has a bit of a narrow mind about what qualifies as artistry or talent.

mbti: INTJ introverted. intuitive. thinking. judging.

hogwarts house: slytherin.

mental conditions: general anxiety disorder. intermittent explosive disorder. both are diagnosed, and she takes meds and goes to therapy for it.

hobbies: writing, drawing, painting, reading, running, sewing, designing.

history

caroline frost had been sick her entire life, though she struggled to receive treatment as she grew up. her family had always been central to manhattan, caroline’s mother working as a housekeeper while her father struggled to find suitable contracting work. they dealt with caroline’s health problems by simply ignoring them, and this negligence led to a fruition of caroline’s troubles when she suffered a seizure during one of her classes her freshman year of high school. she was diagnosed with lupus less than a year later, though most treatments had a minimal effect on her inflammation. her junior year of high school, caroline fell in love with a nerdy math major at the nearby columbia university. matthew was a sweet boy who came from a long line of wealth, and caroline’s lowly image would not have pleased his parents.

leading up to caroline’s graduation, she began to notice her jeans getting too tight and her usual nausea was more persistent. upon telling matthew of her pregnancy, the young gentleman panicked and crawled to his parents for advice. the socialites were perturbed by the news, by their son’s association with the povertous. they pressured caroline to end the pregnancy, ashamed by the possibility of a grandchild born out of wedlock. though, the young girl knew the chances of her carrying to full term were slim to none anyway, and her chances would only grow lower as the years passed. instead, caroline accepted a bribe for her silence, vowing to raise the child by herself, with no mention or tie to matthew or his family. the payout was enough to start her regular treatment, and caroline eventually gave birth in the icu to elliott frost a few months later.

caroline dropped out of school during her final semester, devoting herself to caring for her child, while slowly growing exhausted from the stress of her physical body. she did not move out from her parents’ small, rundown house. most of the child-rearing was left to elli’s religious fanatic grandparents, as most days caroline would be too weak to get up from bed, let alone coddle an energetic toddler. elli’s grandfather passed away from a work accident at the age of seven, though she was too young to mind the absence of guttural yelling and daytime drinking. thus, the responsibility of taking care of both caroline and elli was left to her grandmother. for years, elli’s grandmother labored and slaved away to accommodate for the needs of her family. she devoted herself into caretaking, coming home full time to watch over caroline’s declining health. while the family had some security from the life insurance for elli’s grandfather, it wasn’t nearly enough to keep up with the costs of caroline’s medication, along with her dialysis treatment. 

at the age of twelve, elli had been cooking scrambled eggs for the family’s breakfast after their sunday service when she heard strained wailing emit from her grandmother’s room. by the time elli’s curiosity got the better of her, her grandmother was already blue and unresponsive. she died at the age of sixty-three from a heart attack onset by stress, though none of these details were provided to elli at the time. her mother, insistent on keeping the family together, remained silent about her own degrading health and worsening pain, and the two returned to an empty home. having grown up aiding her grandmother in caroline’s caretaking, elli assumed the role as her mother’s nurse, picking up her medications and switching out her heating pads, and cooking soft, easily digestible foods without too many carbs. however, caroline began missing her check up appointments and her dialysis treatments, as she grew to be bedridden and delirious. her seizures came more frequently and without warning, and it worsened to the point where elli had a hard time communicating with her mom about her needs. 

a few months later, a social worker was called to the home, incited by an incident of elliott pummeling a boy in her eighth grade class for poking fun at her highwater pants and the grime of her hair. within a half an hour, the social worker determined caroline an unsuitable guardian for elli, as she was unable to even sit up straight or speak coherently during the interview. elli was removed from her mother’s care and placed in the foster care system, where she made it her goal to scare away every potential adoption. she was furious to be ripped away from her family home, from the only person in her support system. elli would visit her mother frequently, though as her tendencies to act out worsened and her disciplinary actions increased, those “privileges” were revoked as well. from the age of fifteen, elli had settled on the truth that she would never return to her previous life and she would never be adopted. she accepted she’d be in the system until she aged out of foster care, tossed out without so much as a second thought. 

then claire and george fielding entered the picture, adamant on taking on the biggest charity case they could find. elli was a few months from her eighteenth birthday and just as destructive and volatile as ever, but claire seemed endeared by her bad behavior. her history of expulsion, fights, and poor attitude did little to deter them away from adopting her, and at a certain point elli stopped putting up a fight. she was taken to their fancy house in the fancy part of new york, and elli quickly decided she hated them and their pristine life. she would often throw away the clothes claire bought her, intentionally destroy heirlooms and expensive decorations, and she actively backtalked george and her new, insufferable, adopted brother jack. she refused to grow close to any of them, settling to lock herself away in her room and ignore every blessing they placed at her doorstep. their relationship improved tremendously as claire encouraged elli to seek out her birth mother, though elli refused to refer to either of her adoptees as her parents. they still have quite the tumultuous relationship, though elli is less intent on destroying her adopted family’s lives. except for jack. 

for a long while, elli lived in isolation in her room, and she fell into a period of self-doubt following her high school graduation. she settled to stay locked in the fielding house, protected by their vast wealth as she struggled to find her place in the world. however, claire was a big facilitator in elli’s fascination with art, gifting the girl with a ridiculously priced camera and easels and professional paints. eventually, the hobbies stuck with elli, until she gathered enough conviction to apply for luxor’s art program, as she was encouraged by her adopted parents to attend jack’s school and keep a watchful eye on him.

relations & wanted connections

romantic

first love - (0/1, open.) they probably started off as friends first, as elli is a tough nut to crack. kinda dig the idea of it being her polar opposite, someone who is joyous and open and compassionate. they would have to be female-presenting.

on again, off again girlfriend - (1/1, closed.) ruby mensah.

enemies to lovers - (0/2, open.) most people elli encounters she initially doesn’t like and isn’t shy about saying so, though there are those cases when she’s proven wrong.

“straight girl” crush - (0/1, open). despite knowing she’s seen as just a friend, despite knowing this person could never be actually interested, elli can’t help but daydream about them.

past/current flings - (open.) elli is a bit prudish and very selective with who she gets sexually involved with, and most times these people don’t mean anything to her besides a quick fuck.

friends/acquaintance

‘i can barely tolerate you but somehow we’re still friends’ - (open.)

close friend - (open.)

ride or die (0/2, open.) the people that elli would literally give up her life for. they are everything to her and she would do anything for them.

good influence / peacemaker - (open.)

childhood friend (0/2, open). elli grew up in new york, though she’s moved from place to place. they probably fell out of contact at some point, but they’re reunited now that’s she’s at luxor!

teammates - (open.) savannah grey. jupiter murata. lavender jones. kenzie horton. she is on the tennis and cross country team.

enemies

punch on sight - (open.) no questions asked, but these muses will get the smoke.

mutual dislike - (open.) 

disliked but has done nothing wrong/unjustified - (open.) 

rival - (open.) preferably someone on her team or in the same major, basically elli is intent on proving she’s better. she’s probably so snarky and rude to the other person.

friends turned enemies - (open.) loyalty is everything to elli, but it is incredibly easy to betray her trust and have her turn against you. specifically in these cases, she is likely a lot more cruel and heartless toward them to compensate for the fact she let them in.

adopted brother - (closed.) jack kelly. she does not claim him and will actively deny accusations of being related to him. he was already attending luxor by the time she was adopted, so the two know each other very little, but they have a bitter, resentful relationship anyway.

school

major: art history.

minor: film studies.

year: freshman.

classes: shakespearean studies, visual art, painting, psychology, communications, film.

extracurriculars: the school paper (photographer). theatre (stage director). films club. writer’s club. cross country. tennis.

misc

pinterest

[gukyi]

step by step | knj

summary: being married and being in love are not the same thing. you and namjoon would know that better than anybody. but just because you married each other for business rather than by choice doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to love each other.

{arranged marriage!au}

pairing: kim namjoon x reader genre: fluff word count: 2k warnings: being awkward even though they’re literally married a/n: this drabble was commissioned for the #blacklivesmatter movement! thank you for commissioning me and supporting the cause. i hope that you enjoy!! this drabble definitely satiated my desire for an arranged marriage fic (actually, i think it made it worse?????)

The left side of the bed is always cold by the time you wake up. 

By the time the rising sun is beginning to stream through the Venetian blinds that line the windows of the master bedroom, by the time the morning rush hour has started, by the time a new day comes barrelling into your life, it’s almost as if no one was ever there to begin with. 

For two married people, you and Namjoon hardly ever see each other. Not when you work at the highest floor of two different office buildings, not when you come back home when the workday ends at five o’clock on the dot, and certainly not while you’re both lounging around his apartment, trying in earnest to make yourselves look as busy as possible. 

Namjoon wakes up, brushes his teeth, gets dressed, and makes himself coffee all before your alarm even goes off. Before the light of a new day wakes you from your slumber. You know because when you wander into the kitchen, pristine and practically untouched, you can still smell the roast, smell the deep, rich scent wafting through the air. It’s the only hint that there was ever someone else there. 

By the time you wake up, the dip in the left side of the bed has already vanished, the duvet neatly made, pillows perfectly fluffed. 

It feels like you’re living with a ghost. One that makes particularly good coffee. 

The fact of the matter is that you and Namjoon have never felt like you were married. You’re hardly even friends, just two acquaintances forced together by a long-standing business agreement and two fathers both of you have great difficulty standing up to. But a deal is a deal, even if it comes at the expense of your future. You will never be able to divorce him, never be able to separate yourself from him. Your family has relocated to a different city, you have no friends from university out here, and a pet has always been out of the question. 

You only have him. 

And it feels like he isn’t even there. 

You tug yourself out of bed, hands smoothing over the duvet, flattening the remnants of wrinkles. The sheets are tugged taut over the mattress, the same way that housekeeping in hotels do it, so tight that you can barely stick your feet up at the foot of the bed. The door to Namjoon’s wardrobe is closed, dresser drawers shut. Not a hair out of place. Slowly, you rise, the old dress shirt from a past fling hanging down over your frame. Has Namjoon ever even seen you in it? He always goes to sleep and wakes up before you. When you see each other in the apartment, you skirt away, ordering takeout from different restaurants and watching movies in different rooms. 

The smell of coffee floats towards the living room, that sort of warm, cappuccino feeling that makes your stomach growl. You open the fridge, and its contents look untouched. You’re not even sure if Namjoon uses any of these. Sometimes, a chef will come in to make some meals, leave them wrapped in foil or tucked into tupperware containers for the two of you to help yourself to, but most days there’s nothing except ingredients, waiting to be combined into something real. 

You pour yourself a bowl of cereal and set out to sit on the leather couch, pristine, unwrinkled, uncreased, unstained. Once in a blue moon will you return home to see Namjoon sitting there, watching a movie on the flatscreen and rubbing at his chin, lost in thought. When he sees you, he immediately turns off the television and darts into his office.

The penthouse is big enough as it is, but it feels enormous with the both of you living in it, like a museum exhibit. The floors are always polished, the shelves are always dusted, the books are always away, the countertop is always clean. It’s the sort of thing you’d see on Zillow, the sort of photo that people put into folders on Instagram titled “Dream House!!!!”. You’d be shocked if anyone thought two people actually lived here. 

You make yourself some tea, get dressed, and go to work. 

You come home a couple hours later than usual. A big holdup at work concerning a client, something that you had to stick around personally to fix as opposed to letting your secretary take care of most of the receptionist work. It’s draining, but it’s life. Sometimes, you wish you could just disappear, vanish off of the face of the Earth. Create a new identity for yourself in a city far, far away, away from your work, and your family, and the man you live with who doesn’t dare speak a word to you. 

The truth is, Namjoon already sort of makes you feel like you’re invisible. 

When you return home, you find Namjoon sitting on the couch with a book in his hands, thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he curls into himself, knees tucked under his chin while he reads. There’s an empty bowl that smells faintly of garlic and meat on the end table, two chopsticks resting neatly on top. He’s so absorbed in the book, so deep within his own head, that he doesn’t notice you come in. 

For once, it’s nice not to see him skirt off like prey from a predator the moment he hears the lock of the door click. It almost makes it seem like the two of you really are married. 

Namjoon’s not a bad person. 

On the contrary, he’s rather endearing. He whistles when he showers (and sometimes sings if he’s feeling particularly brave) and makes sure all of the books lining the bookshelves are alphabetized. He commissions art from lesser-known artists to hang up on the walls, attaching a little placard at the bottom to make it seem like a real art exhibit. He didn’t freeze up when he found out the two of you were to be married, not like you did. He accepted his fate and told you that he swears it won’t even be like he’s there at all. 

He’s rather good at keeping promises. 

The unfortunate thing is that you figured out all of these things not from him showing you, or even telling you. You figured these out by noticing the changes in his apartment when he’s away at work, or tucked away in his office where you don’t have to meet his eyes. It’s the kind of thing that makes you wonder what more there is to him, what things you can only find out from him showing you. 

“What are you reading?”

Namjoon practically jumps out of his skin when he hears your voice, legs scrambling off of the couch as he slams his book shut and looks up at you, like a student caught reading in class by a teacher. He looks torn, like he can’t decide if he should just duck his head and run or actually face his fear and speak to you. 

“Oh, uh, it’s just a Korean philosophy book,” Namjoon says nervously, watching with trepidation as you sit down next to him, slow, slow, slow, until your back hits the cushion. 

“Is it good?” You ask. You’ve spoken more words to each other in the past thirty seconds than you have in the past two weeks. 

“It’s okay,” Namjoon tells you. At least he isn’t putting on a façade anymore. “I don’t really agree with this school of thought, but I thought it would be interesting to read.”

“Maybe you could tell me about it,” you suggest. It’s an open hand, an olive branch, a letter with a wax seal. It’s anything to make him feel like he doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around you. You aren’t friends, but you could be. You are married, but you can act like it, too.

“It’s kind of boring,” Namjoon tells you with a shrug. “I’ll sound like a Wikipedia article.”

“I don’t mind,” you say. You place a hand onto his lap, palm facing up. “You have a nice voice, Namjoon. I want to hear it more often.”

“Oh,” Namjoon tells you distantly, a hollow sound in the center of his chest. “I wasn’t sure—I mean, I guess I didn’t know that you didn’t mind this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?”

“Us,” Namjoon explains. “Living together. Being married. It’s okay if you think it’s weird,” he assures you, stumbling over his own words. 

“Just because I think it’s weird doesn’t mean I don’t want to make the most out of it,” you tell him honestly, because it’s true. Being married to Namjoon was not your first choice. It wasn’t even in your top ten. But it happened, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. So you might as well make it count, right? 

After all, the dream of a hopeless romantic is to only get married once. 

“I think it’s weird, too,” Namjoon says. 

“Good, I’m glad we’re in agreement on this,” you say, eliciting a soft, barely-there laugh from him. You’ve never heard Namjoon laugh before. Not at meetings, not at galas, not even when he thinks you’re not paying attention. It’s a nice, warm sound. You want to make him laugh again. “Maybe we can watch a movie later? Your choice, I’m fine with anything. Except horror, actually.”

“Oh, I hate horror movies,” Namjoon tells you. “They freak me out.”

It’s an interlocked hand. A single step. And it may be little, but a step is a step. A few more and you may actually be able to close the distance that sits between the two of you, like an impassable fog, a hazy, white mist. 

“I think we have popcorn,” you say. “I could pop some while you tee up a movie. Surprise me.”

Namjoon smiles, and it’s full and whole and real. It’s genuine, wide and toothy. He has a dimple on his left cheek. You never knew that. Namjoon dutifully turns on the television, flicking through all of the available options, as you fish through the once-untouched cabinets. Even if it’s as if everything has been organized like a supermarket, when you open the box of popcorn, it’s beginning to feel lived in. 

Three minutes later with a glass bowl of popcorn in your hands, you settle down onto the couch next to Namjoon. You aren’t close by any means, still a few inches apart, but you see the way he’s loosened up, unwound the wire in his heart. The movie begins, a foreign one that looks to be set in eighteenth-century France, and with every passing scene you feel yourself inching closer and closer to him, until your legs are touching and your shoulders knock into each other. 

As the two leads kiss on screen, you slowly let your head rest on his shoulder. He stiffens up like a statue, body running cold, and then he relaxes. Says nothing. 

Namjoon is someone you have learned about from the bits and pieces he leaves, open for the taking. But here, like this, he has become someone you want to know wholly. Want to memorize like the back of your hand. Marriage was not a choice. But what you make of it is. 

Slowly, the apartment begins to feel full. 

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

[barjogaron]

This is chapter 4 for my Élite AU Love & Deceit! Thanks so much you guys for the lovely comments and support! It can be read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32302612

And on wattpad here:

Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

Chapter Four:

In the dream, a pair of lustful green eyes glare at me from the dark...

The obnoxious sound my phone's alarm clock rings in my ear. I rub and open my eyes, the alarm of my phone notifying me consistently to wake up and prepare myself for the day. The first day. Work officially begins and I must be on the top my heels with everything. From managing the mansion's staff, to cleaning, as well and looking after the house. It shouldn't be too hard. Right?

I get out my outfit for today which is thankfully more casual than the others who mandatorily must wear suits and or maid dresses. I am privileged to wear more causal clothing, a white button up blouse, a black skirt, and my navy blue Toms. I put on reading glasses and braid my hair into a short pony tail before wrapping a silky and shiny baby blue hijab around my head. Of course I dabble my face with a little make up, eyeliner, and brown lipstick, so I can at least look slightly more fashionable. Honestly, I look like an assistant rather than someone who cleans and manages a mansion.

I enter into the living room of the suite and the girls are nowhere in sight, probably already starting to help the kitchen staff with breakfast for the boys. I open the door, about to enter the hallway when I pump into a what felt like a wall. He's a few inches taller than me and devilishly handsome.

His hair is dark, short, and wavy, and I can smell the nice smelling aftershave on his smooth face. He looks at me and I've never seen such a friendlier smile. His golden brown eyes are like ice, so cold and sharp, but everything about him is warm. He's dressed in a dark blue blazer with a black shirt underneath and ripped jeans.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there, miss...?" his Spaniard accent is strong, and I notice that both his hands still rest on my shoulders. After a few awkward seconds his cheeks heat up red and he quickly releases me from his grip.

I clear my throat.

"It's okay, um," I clear my throat again. "Who are you?" I ask sincerely. I must know who this stranger is. I didn't see him last night at dinner. Is he a brother? No, probably not, although he looks the part. But he is definitely more casual.

"I'm Samuel. Nice to meet you," he says and I shake his hand. "I am here to assist you. Mister Crisanto put you in charge of the staff. He put me to assistant alongside you in any way that I can make things easier for you." Samuel smiles. It's a warm and inviting smile. I nod my head slowly.

"I didn't know I'd be having an assistant."

"You'll need all the help you can get, I'm afraid." Samuel chuckles softly.

"I'm thankful. And I'm sure I'll need it. Well, how about breakfast...?" I tell him and he's just staring at me with his lips still stuck in a smile. After a few moments I guess my words have entered his ears and his eyes go wide.

"Oh, right! " he says, starting now towards the stairs. "Shall we?" he says.

"Of course." I walk towards him and we stroll down the stairs together.

"So how'd you get this job?" Samuel asks me as we walk down the hallway on our way towards the kitchen.

"Well, a professor of mine recommended me to take this high opportunity job, and I needed a high paying job and experience like this, so I took the chance. The benefits are spectacular. I've never been to London, and well...here I am." I smile to myself.

Samuel looks at me with much amazement. Silence creeps in and I decide to disrupt it.

"What about you? How'd you end up here?" I ask him and he shoves his hands into his pockets, his smile revealing his perfect white teeth.

"I'm a friend of the family, actually," says Samuel. "We're all just trying to make a living."  he finishes.

"Isn't that the truth." I huff.

After a few more minutes of walking, we near the kitchen, which is before the dining hall.

"Well, I'll see what's up in the kitchen and you check out the dining hall in preparation for set up." Samuel instructs and I oblige. He disappears into the kitchen and I walk further towards the dining hall, finally entering, and is soon disturbed because of the sight in front of me.

Half naked and clothed only in a matte black designer house-robe is, Guzmán. His naked chest bare with a thin gold necklace draped around his neck and laying on his large pecs, his perfect peachy skin glistening from the invading morning light. He sits in the chair inappropriately like a child. The trim of his boxers showing beneath his bellybutton, as his grey sweatpants that shape his legs are slouched down by an inch to display the brand of his boxers. Which are Calvin Klein...

His eyes snap up at me and a smirk grows on his face. He takes a green apple from the fruit bowl in front of him and slowly bites into it. The loud crunch is taunting and obnoxious, making me cringe. I'm sure the crunch could be heard all over the mansion. He munches on the apple while holding his gaze upon me. His lips are now plump, wet, and a deeper shade of pink. I bite my tongue and clench my fist, trying to grip onto the first thing to say that comes to mind.

"What are you doing?" is the only thing my brain could come with, and it's an incredibly stupid question.

"As you know, this is my home," Guzmán smirks. "And I'm eating an apple." he takes another bite out of the apple and his smirk grows to deride me.

Let me try firing a better question...

"I mean what are you doing sitting here half naked at the table? It's..."

"Obnoxious?" Guzmán adds.

"Even better." I reply.

"Abhorrent?" Guzmán continues while standing from the chair. I cross my arms and stand my ground.

"I couldn't agree more." I challenge him, my hands are on my hips now, and Guzmán inches himself closer to me.

"Repugnant?" he continues, getting closer. "Intolerable?" he's even closer, and I back away slightly but there is a wall behind me, meaning I'm trapped.

"Unpleasant?" he says, now standing in front of me. He's so much taller than me that I have to look up.

"Most definitely." I breathe, looking away. Guzmán leans closer to me.

"Dis-taste-ful?" he whispers into my ear, his breath on my neck. Why am I even allowing this?

"Are you finished, Mister Blanco?" I ask him and I hear him chuckle under his breath. "What's so funny?" I ask as he backs away from me, restoring my personal space.

"Mister Blanco is my father. You can call me, Guzmán, baby girl." he winks and my mouth hangs open.

"Excuse me?" I glare at him but it amuses him further.

"Or daddy, if you'd like." Guzmán winks again with a grin.

"Excu—, Why I...!" I scoff. Thankfully, before he could say anything, waiters and waitresses bring out plates of food and fancy eating utensils to spread on the table blanketed in white.

"Breakfast is served!" Carla, who is dressed cutely in her cleaning outfit, shouts and rings a bell as the staff sets up the food on the table. Guzmán's brothers enter the room, selecting their seats. Guzmán sits at the head of the table where his father sat last night, still sitting obnoxiously and munching on his apple, his green gaze still focused on me, trying to get beneath my skin.

"Everything alright?" I hear Samuel's voice and I turn around to see his friendly face, which immediately brightens my mood.

"Yes, of course," I give him an assuring smile and look back at Guzmán and his brothers as they all begin to eat breakfast.

...

LATER ON, THE DAY has become evening, and my first day was a success for the most part. Breakfast went surprisingly smooth as the rest of the day was a complete and utter day of bland. There wasn't much to do, but it felt like a lifetime of doing so. Floors needed to be swept, mopped, and waxed, the rooms dusted, books organized—things like that. Of course I took care of all of those things on my behalf. Managing the other staff to do lawn work and clean the pool and other parts of the house wasn't an easy fix either. As well as figuring out the meal plan. Crisanto seems to have a very distinct diet for him and his sons, so I want to make sure we live up to his dietary expectations.

It's about a quarter to seven when I am relieved from my duty and I head upstairs to my room. The other girls sought to go sight seeing in the city and shop around before we are to do dinner. I'm just going to get lost in a novel and probably go to sleep. I'll have plenty of time to check out the city of London during my stay here.

The house is silent as I walk through the eldritch hall. Not a soul to be seen or a sound to be heard, other than the sound of my shoes sliding against the smooth floor. Suddenly, a wave of laughter and squeaky shoes on the freshly waxed floors disrupts the silence and I stop, knowing exactly who it is.

The brothers.

Guzmán and his shirtless brothers are dressed in their basketball gear (by gear I mean shirtless and only wearing their sneakers and shorts), entering into the hall childishly. Their skin is glistening and sweaty, hair drenched and dripping. The brother, Ander, even uses his water bottle to pour water all over himself, drenching his curly hair further. I watch in annoyance as it slides down his chest like a waterfall. His brothers snicker and he sighs in relief at the surely cool sensation of his ice cold drinking water that is now all over the floor. I don't know what to be pissed about more, seeing Guzmán smirk at me menacingly, or the fact that Ander is wasting perfectly good water to pour onto himself, and making a puddle on the freshly cleaned floors that the staff and I worked hard on cleaning!

"Um, excuse me!" I storm towards the boys who are way taller than me and they look at me like I'm a lost child.

"Your highness?" Guzmán smirks and Ander and Polo poorly hide their grins. Valerio smirks, which is dark and seductive and honestly, a bit unsettling. Everything is just a game to them it seems.

"Maybe you don't care, but the staff and I worked very hard to clean the floors of this house. Maybe show a little respect by not pouring water onto it?" I try to make my voice as kind as possible.

"Oh you mean like this?" Guzmán opens his water bottle and pours the remainder of his drink on to the floor while looking directly into my eyes. His brothers look at one another, finding amusement in my shocked expression.

"We work hard for your house you know! You can't just mess up the floors when people worked hard to manage it!" I bark at Guzmán, who is rather entertained by this tribulation.

"You're right, this is my house," Guzmán chuckles, taking a step closer to me. "Which means I can do whatever the fuck I want," He is in front of me now, eyes aglow under the pristine lighting of the hall, staring deep into my soul. I flinch and he holds a deathly glare, but I can see the delight dancing around in his eyes and lips. "And you know what else is mine? You and everyone else who works for me. Meaning whatever mess I make, you have to clean it the fuck up." Guzmán drops his empty water bottle on the ground and walks away with his brothers following after him. "Have fun!" he laughs while walking away, his brothers following after him, and also tossing their empty bottles on the ground. All except Valerio...

I stand there for a moment fighting back the tears. I bend down to retrieve the water bottles, cleaned up the mess, and ran straight into my room. Never have I felt so disrespected and humiliated in my entire life, and even worse, defeated. I'm not used to biting my tongue, but I have to if I want to make my earnings and leave a desirable impression. Just when I have gotten comfortable and about to start reading my favorite novel, The Secret History, my phone rings.

"Hello?" I croak into the phone.

"Hey, Nadia! How are you honey? Is the job going well?" It's dad. What do I tell him? That everything is going great? Or I just got madly degraded by a really attractive prick of a rich boy? Of course I go with the first option. "Everything is going fine, baba. The house is beautiful." I tell him.

"That's really good Nadia, me and your brother miss you. Omar is here, would you like to speak to him?" I think for a moment. Hearing Omar's voice would really make my day. "Yes of course, put him on the phone!" I tell him and a few seconds later I hear him.

"Hey doofus." the rough and familiar voice of Omar makes me smile.

"Hey weasel," I tease him with the nickname he detests and I hear his soft chuckles over the phone.

"I told you never to call me that," he laughs and I imagine his bright smile. I've been gone a day and I already miss my brother and baba so much.

There's a few moments of silence, nothing but our soft breathing.

"Is everything alright, Nadia?" he finally says and I wipe tears from my eyes, not allowing them to consume me.

"I'm already missing home." I admit to him.

"Give it some time, sis, you'll do great. Don't let those rich assholes best you down. You're a Shanaa. A bad bitch. You got this." Omar says and I instantly feel better.

"You're right," I wipe more tears away and exhale. "I got this."

"And," Omar lowers his voice. "Ring me up if there's any cute boys available."

"Will do," I half laugh. I guess I'll talk to you later, yeah?" I say.

"Yeah sis, I'll talk to you later. Just be cool." he says and we both hang up the phone.

I toss my phone to the side and bury my face into my book, drifting off until I finally fall asleep.

taglist: @inmyarmsyoufell @jasminejc4525 @@glamorizing @elitestan

[itsrayyyyyyyyyy]

My Queen Bee (Yandere!Maid x NobleFemale!Reader part 1

THIS IS YANDERE

You ever listen to a song and you create a scenario in your head so good you have to write it out? This is that.

--

Mallory was to say the least, completely enamored with you. She had been working for your family as a maid for as long as she can remember and has always harbored feelings for you; ever since your first interaction with her, she was willing to do anything to make you hers.

*flashback 11 years earlier*

"Good afternoon, Ms. Galanis and daughter." Your mother spoke with a weak smile; greeting the new housekeeper and her maid in training daughter, Mallory. "Y/n, please come out here!" Piercing eyes flicked over to the side towards a window in the yard, where the curtain moved quickly. The creak of an old mahogany door causes the three women to look over, only to see e/c eyes peering back at them through the door. "Y/n now." At the sound of your mother's harsh tone, you quickly came out from your hiding spot and rushed over to your mother, hiding behind her skirt.

Mallory had never seen anyone so pretty. The way your cheeks flushed when your mother called your name, the way the hemline of your frilly pink dress flowed in the wind as you practically ran to your mother, and the way you hid behind her, with obvious innocence lacing your small face. "Y/n, this is Ms. Galanis the new housekeeper, and her daughter Mallory. Say hello."  The thin hands of your mother pushed you lightly from behind her skirt and fully into view. "How do you do?" You spoke gently, raising your skirt slightly in a small courtesy. Mallory widened her eyes at the long pantalettes you wore under your dress. They were gorgeous on you! The crisp and wrinkleless white of your pantalettes were almost as lovely as the lace that decorated the bottom, in careful intricate flowers.

"I love your outfit!" Mallory shouted at you, causing your body to jump slightly at the sudden noise. "Mallory!" Her mother whispered, shocked by her daughter's sudden outburst towards their boss's daughter. You smiled at Mallory while fiddling with the hem of your dress, thinking how strange and nice it was to get a compliment from another person. "Thank you." You said while your mother leads Ms. Galanis into the house.

"Mallory! Come here now!" Her mother spoke from the doorway, beckoning Mallory from you; her newest person of interest.  

*end of flashback*

--

"Rise and shine, Queen Bee!" The curtains of your windows suddenly opening and letting the sunlight in, causing you to groan and bury your head in your silk pillow. "Mallory I don't want to!" A subtle but childish whine left your lips as she carefully pulled you by your arm into a sitting position. Strings of giggles left Mallory as she went over to your nightstand, picked up a cream-colored handkerchief, and carefully wiped your lips. You looked at her strangely as she finished wiping and put down the handkerchief. "What? You had a bit of drool on your lips!" She shrugged as she helped your blushing figure out of bed while pulling out your clothing for the day. "I can't believe Mother is making me have tea with Lord Bradbury's son, Victor!" You wheezed out as Mallory undressed you and tightened a corset along your waist. "I mean, sure he is attractive and comes from a higher class family than myself, but I'm not even ready to begin considering whom I wish to marry!"

Mallory's eyes darkened at the thought of you marrying anyone else; especially Victor Bradbury. Ever since the 3 of you were children, he was always vying for your attention. Whether it be giving you wildflowers, giving you the last cookie during lunch, or indulging in your imagination. "Well you don't have to marry him; you could always marry someone else," Mallory spoke as she bent down to fasten a Crinoline around your waist. "I don't want to even think about that! I'm only 18 and unfit for marriage! Oh Mallory, could I wear the light blue dress today? I love that dress so!" You begged at the curly-haired girl as she smiled. "You're the mistress, not me."

--

As Mallory left you behind in your room to do your skin and makeup routine, she slipped off into the servants' quarters with a small souvenir in her hands. She quickly ran into her room and closed the rickety old door. With her hand going into her left pocket, she pulled out the cream-colored handkerchief from before; raising it to her lips. She poked out her tongue slightly, and swiped it across the small saliva stain, whimpering. Mallory shoved her nose into the handkerchief, slowly sinking to the floor while smelling your perfume she sprayed on it. Mallory was so hopelessly in love with you, but she couldn't stand other people being around you; even your family. She knew deep down your family would never accept her love for you; it was supposedly 'wrong' for a woman to love another woman, but she didn't care. All she wanted was you! She even had your entire future together planned out. You both would run away to the countryside, she'd pick up work again while you stayed at home taking care of your garden next to your small cottage, where you both would grow old together.

An exasperated sigh left her lips and she carefully placed the handkerchief back in her dress pocket, so she could sneak it back into your room like it never left. As she left her room, she stopped in her tracks at the sound of voices further down the long narrow hall. With furrowed brows, she closed in on the voices who she soon recognized as some of the other maids.

"Did you see what he was wearing? He looked wonderful! I'm so jealous of Mistress y/n!" One maid sighed dreamily, clutching the basket of eggs tightly. "If only Sir Victor would pay attention to us...even a little would be wonderful." The other spoke while giggling profusely.

At the mention of Victor's name, Mallory's mood was spoiled. 'According to those maids, he had already arrived to woo y/n.' Mallory quickly brushed past the maids towards the gardens; where you and Victor would be having lunch. The garden was to say the least; magnificent. The many different flowers that decorated it, the small pond bustling with life, and the trees towering, giving sufficient shade from the sun. But in the middle of the garden, sat a gazebo with intricate designs along its structure with a small table and chairs inside. And in those chairs, sat you and Victor chatting away while enjoying your lunch. Mallory silently shuffled behind a tree next to the gazebo, listening close to your conversation.

"How are you enjoying the food, Victor?" Said boy looked up from his plate with lavender bread stuffed in his mouth, causing a series of giggles to leave your lips as he tried to chew the bread as fast as he can so he can reply without choking. "Ifs rovly! (it's lovely)" His voice muffled as you continued to laugh at his antics.

You had known Victor for a long time and if you were completely honest, you did have a bit of a crush on him. You knew that lying to Mallory about it was cruel, but you knew how over protective she got over you and it was suffocating. She was your friend, but it felt like you couldn't breathe around her. After swallowing down the bread with a gulp of his tea, Victor hesitantly reached over the table and held your glove clad hand in his. "y/n I wish to tell you something."

You furrowed your brows at him, wondering what was wrong by his facial expression. You gently rubbed your thumb along the side of his hand in a comforting motion, as if saying whatever he wants to say, you were listening intently.

"Y/N, I'm in love with you."

[romillys]

hi everyone! so glad this is back!

romilly ‘mila’ van der woodsen was spotted in the fashion district adorning the jimmy choo thyra 100 jewel-embellished suede heeled sandals , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to blinding lights - acoustic by victoria voss . you may know them as romillys or as that casimere jollette lookalike . their twenty fourth birthday just passed . while living in  the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be defensive but on the other hand hard-working . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines . ( cis woman / she/her + elle / 23 / she/her )

* character questionaire .

01. if you have three words to describe yourself , what are they ?

focused, daring, confident.

02 . what is your favourite alcoholic drink ?

it’s definitely wine. i used to only drink white but i’ve become really fond of red. my grandpa gave me a bottle of  1982 latour for my twenty first birthday and that was easily the most impressed i’ve ever been with wine. i’m not going to be basic and say dom perignon.

03 . what is your favourite season and why ?

i’ve always loved winter because of the associations of ballet and the performances of the nutcracker. it’s always help a special place in my heart and i continue to feel the same after all these years. plus, i love the parties and dressing up, feel like i can go more glam with more diamonds and sparkles than in the summer.

04 . what’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done ?

it would have to be when i drunkenly booked a vacation to dubai for myself and a few friends after a wine and movie night. i spent a ridiculous amount but the trip was fun and i can safely say my friends and i still talk about it.

* character biography .

the only grand daughter of olivier van der woodsen, romilly would grow up surrounded by luxury olivier was the founder and controlling shareholder of woodsen enterprises, a company has investments in various industries including auto parts, energy, metals, rail cars, casinos, food packaging, real estate, and home fashion. it was more than enough for him to provide for his son and daughter-in-law and now his grand-daughter. like her parents before her, romilly was born into privileged and lived comfortably in an upper east side penthouse where she was waited on by endless nannies and housekeepers. her father was involved in the family business, hoping to be handed olivier’s shares one day but the other showed no sign of willingly stepping down any time soon; her mother a self-absorbed socialite that had her own ideas of how to dominate society meant that childcare did not land with either of them.

her parents were difficult to communicate with and this lead to many nannies leaving just when romilly had started to become attached. they were the closest thing to love that she had received but as they left constantly she would grow up with a great sense of inadequacy. they weren’t in love and it seemed the both of them only valued their own sucesses, not each others. as she grew up, she would become her grandfather’s favourite and it would leave both her parents with green eyes...

romilly always liked dancing and had a special connection with music. every time she heard it she wanted to move. she was too young to understand it but she had natural musicality. when they realised that it was harder for the help to stay, they pushed her onto olivier with the hope that she’d be a distraction to pressure him into taking a step back. The man, although one of the most powerful people in New York City, did have a soft spot for his granddaughter. he was the one that saw potential in her dancing as a child. he was quick to enroll her when she was six and everything else followed.

from that moment on, she would only look forward to dance and seeing her grandfather. he was the only one who understood her passion and was the one encouraging her at every stage. however, her parents were quick to criticise performances or her facial expressions when performing. no matter how hrd she tried, it wasn’t enough to impress them. she started distancing from them after that, only talking to her grandpa and looking to him when she needed emotional sport.

being accepted into the summer intensive programme for the school of american ballet was a game changer for her. she made good friends and loved breathing dance and being surrounded by people who had the same passion. she attended the same intensive two years running and her place there just felt right. the next year, she was enrolled as a full time student at the school of american ballet and moved into halls. it was a freedom she never had before and felt like it was her very first chance to have a real sense of community and support.

romilly worked extremely hard and was definitely one who focused on her success; that had seeped its way through from her parents. she was one of the lucky ones to become an apprentice at new york city ballet and the staff definitely took note. her skill level had almost been at prodigy level and she always maintained a ‘can-do’ attitute. she wouldn’t simply bend into the background.

this year, she became one of the youngest principal dancers in the company and it was the best day of her life. she had become a successful professional ballerina. she has also assisted with some choreography as her creativity has blossomed over the years. now her parents wanted to be proud of her and they did make an effort to see her, although it felt really strained from their side. they had ulterior motives but she wasn’t sure what.

romilly was hit hardest after the announcement of the death of olivier van der woodsen, her grandpa who she had loved so much. after the loss and added pressure, her personality has somewhat shifted. she’s out a lot more in clubs now, making out with people and deciding to lessen her control over herself. besides, she’s now a billionaire in her own right but can even comprehend how much money she actually has. she is more defensive and snaps at her co-workers a lot more. she’s secretive and does keep most things to herself. she’s embarrassed that she’s involved in family disputes over money that she never asked for and now worried that stories are leaking on the internet about her and have the ability to tarnish her image in the ballet world. she feels like if she doesn’t fix it soon, she’ll be on her way out of the company. still, she doesn’t help herself and continues to party and drink a lot more than she should do which leads to easily avoidable drunken stumbles that hurt her...

* extras .

profile:

Full Name: romilly annabeth van der woodsen

Nickname(s): mila, tiny dancer, ro

Age: twenty four

Date of Birth: december 19, 1996

Hometown: new york city, new york

Current Location:  new york city, new york  

Ethnicity: white

Nationality: american

Gender: cis woman

Pronouns: she/her

Orientation: bi romantic & bi sexual

Religion: none

Political Affiliation: none

Occupation: principal ballerina at new york city ballet

Living Arrangements: upper east side penthouse previously owned by olivier van der woodsen

Language(s) Spoken: english, french, chinese

Hair Colour: blonde

Eye Colour: blue

Height: 5′4″

Build: slender

Tattoos: none

Piercings: ears

aesthetics

a fully stocked wine cabinet, diamante earrings, chanel pumps, silk crop tops, crystal embellished stilettos, a pile of pointe shoes discarded in the corner of the main room, marble flooring, roof to floor windows, bobby pins gathering at the bottom of her purse, quickly applying glitter eyeshadow with her fingers, a collection of nude palettes and diamante earrings, deleting emails without reading them, golden chandeliers, rejected calls from parents, tops with puffed sleeves, berets, nineties colored purses, twenty hour days and booking trips aborad while under the influence.

[eikhos]

SINS.

Fandom : The Alienist.

Pairing : Laszlo Kreizler x Reader.

Rating : Explicit. 18+.

Warnings : Smut. Mentions of childrens murders.

Gift for my sweet @lazypeachsoul ✨❤️.

"Olympia had woken up early, like every morning, an old habit of her father who had been in the military. The poor man had gone completely mad after having been on the battlefield for too many years. She ran her fingers over her temples, feeling a headache looming over her.

She had mechanically prepared her breakfast, a bowl of porridge and a banana. The cup of coffee was swallowed up in seconds, burning his puck. Olympia looked at her reflection in the mirror, unlike many women, she had decided not to have domestic staff. She preferred her independence.

She had headed to the Kreizler Institute where her friend Sara Howard and John Moore were waiting for her. Sara was a childhood friend, the two young women had spent a lot of time together especially after the death of Sara's father, it was still a very sensitive subject, Olympia preferred not to mention it. She rubbed her eyes when she got inside the Institute and had to be careful not to jostle the children who were running in all directions, under the annoyed eyes of the staff.

Olympia arrived in Doctor Kreizler's office where Sarah and John were waiting for her, the latter squeezed her hand, Sara placed two kisses on her cheeks asking how her hand was, Olympia had accidentally twisted her right wrist while trying to lift an old crate in his attic. Olympia smiled and sat down on a wooden chair, Lazslo Kreizler was busy writing frantically on the huge slate, she pursed her lips.

The relationship between Olympia and dear Doctor Lazslo Kreizler was one of the most complex, let's be honest, for today's society, a working woman is something appalling. Olympia was not an Alienist, but she had studied medicine for a long time and was quite good at establishing psychological profiles. Her eyes did not leave the back of Doctor Kreizler's dark blue jacket who finally put down his chalk and turned to her.

-Miss. I didn't know you were invited, maybe it would be more polite to let me know if you wanted to break into my house like that, the Alienist blurted out, scribbling on a piece of paper.

-Doctor Kreizler, I was invited by Sara to help you in your investigation. I'm not here to get you in trouble. You have prestige, but that does not mean that I am useless.

This dear Doctor Kreizler narrowed his eyes slightly before starting to draw the portrait of the killer, several children from three to six had been found mutilated recently. Olympia's stomach had turned upon hearing the news, what kind of monster was capable of doing that? She sighed and smiled when Mary, one of Doctor Kreizler's housekeepers burst in with cups of tea, Doctor Kreizler thanked her with a nod.

They had drawn up - mainly Doctor Kreizler - the profile of the killer. The bodies found had been carefully mutilated, Dr. Kreizler had preferred the term sculpted rather than mutilated. The person behind these hideous murders knew how to use a knife. She rubbed her eyes as she stared at the three huge tables filled with sentences, words, numbers, terms of all kinds. Why ? This is the question that haunted Olympia. Why did a person decide to mutilate children? Trauma in the killer's childhood, perhaps?

Olympia stared at the clock who indicates three in the morning. Sara as well as John had already left but she had wished to stay, anyway, no one was waiting for her at the house. Kreizler had pulled out little round metal glasses from her pocket, she nodded as her brain gathered the information over and over again, the words, the pictures, it all spun around in her head, searching for meaning.

-I must admit that I am surprised by your temper, Lazslo blurted out, raising his head towards her.

She looked away from the board and then stared at it before nodding, a slight smile on her lips. She straightened her legs elegantly and approached the Alienist who nodded to the side as he removed his glasses. They were a few feet away and she could feel that aura of intelligence and confidence that emanated from Doctor Kreizler.

-Are you used to women getting on their knees for you, Doctor Kreizler?" Olympia replied, nodding her head.

- Could this be an unacknowledged fantasy about me? Do you see yourself on your knees with the lapel of your skirt revealing the pale skin of your legs?

-Oh, would that be a half-avowed confession of your dark thoughts, Doctor Kreizler? Would you like me to be on my knees in front of you?

She felt Lazslo's fingers tighten on the pencil next to her, olympia's eyes shining. he stood up slowly and walked over to her, slowly sliding a finger down her chin and then down her lower lip, she hardly swallowed. her recent fantasies were coming to the surface, but she just couldn't bring herself to be drawn to Doctor Kreizler.

They remained still, Lazslo nodded and went up his finger on the pulp of the lips of Olympia who could not help but let out a moan. They stared at each other, she felt the almost magnetic attraction of Lazslo Kreizler's body, she wanted to resist but she could also feel her lower abdomen contracting. She blinked before Lazslo gently pushed her against the surface of the nearest surface, the couch.

She fell onto the couch, Lazslo smirked and pulled her skirt up, a strangled moan came out of Olympia's mouth, she bit her lower lip as the Alienist meticulously rubbed the fabric of her underwear against her private parts. Olympia felt her breath gradually alternate, the friction of the soaked fabric against her most private parts was pure torture. Blood pearled from her lower lip.

-Kreizler .... Damn you.

-I'm already damned.

He smiled unhappily and then ended up stopping his little number. She groaned, suddenly deprived of all friction. Lazslo nodded, observing her before grabbing both sides of her cotton panties - very sebsuelle - and gently pulling them off. He stared at the young woman, she nodded to signal her consent.

He slowly ran his hand over her back and finished stripping her completely. She felt a wave of modesty invade her, it was the first time she was naked in front of a man. Lazslo slowly kissed the inside of her thighs, her lower abdomen and sprayed soft kisses on her chest before moving up to her neck.

-You are beautiful, Laszlo whispered against his neck.

She blushed and moaned suddenly when two fingers entered her privacy. What a strange feeling, thought Olympia who had never been touched there. She moaned loudly as Lazslo began to engage in a frantic rhythm with his fingers, applying light pressure to a specific spot on her female anatomy. A gasp escaped Olympia, who dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands.

Lazslo slowly withdrew his fingers then kissed her violently, she gripped the Alienist's hair who grabbed the button of his suit pants and pulled it down before doing the same with his underwear.

.-I presume that you have never had sexual relations before with a man? Lazslo asked with a slight smile.

-No, Olympia simply gasped.

Lazslo nodded, signaling that he would stop immediately at the first sensation of too much pain or discomfort, she nodded with a slight smile. Slowly, she felt the burn of the penetration, she bit the inside violently in her joy, stifling a moan of pain. The Alienist watched the expression on her face and then started to move after a few minutes.

The pace was slow, but it was also very pleasant. She gasped as she felt her body shake with pleasure, she gripped the fabric of Kreizler's jacket between her fingers and then let out a cry that tore out her vocal cords as the orgasm erupted inside her, feeling the seed of Lazslo releasing into her body.

She remained motionless for several minutes, it had been... Strange but very pleasant. Lazslo got up and put his pants in place as well as his jacket, then he stared at the young woman who was gradually coming to her senses. He gently grabbed her hand and helped her up as she put her dress back on. The Alienist smirked slightly.

-Would you be free, let's say, tomorrow night? I would like to invite you to dinner.

-Of course, Olympia stammered, blushing.

Either way, Olympia had discovered that Lazslo Kreizler was not such an inhuman man as he led everyone to believe."

[wilder-minded]

SFB Chapter 4

Read previous chapter.

Our school gave us a holiday every year for the few weeks that the Games were broadcasting, the Capitol deeming it of the utmost importance for most life to take pause. This meant that aside from the mines and some merchants, everyone was to take the time off to watch the torturous broadcast. As the daughter of the Mayor, I had been afforded the luxury of my father's library as a child, though stocked with Capitol-approved titles only. By now, I had read my way through all of the books I found interesting. I had loved helping our housekeeper tend to our small patch of flowers as a child, though I mostly occupied myself with reading or playing the piano.

On days like today when I had nothing to take up my time, I found myself on the piano bench playing my way through the keys in patterns that had become second nature over the years. My mother felt well enough to come downstairs and was perched in a chair by the window, wrapped in a blanket with her tea in hand. Some days, when the migraines hit especially hard, even the soft music from the piano was too much and I was confined to silence. But my mother always insists that she loves hearing me play, so I do today—for her.

Her eyes were focused on the life outside of the window, but I watched her quietly. Between my parents, I resembled my mother the most. We had the same wavy blonde hair and soft features, but my blue eyes came from my father. I had a distant memory of my mother mentioning to my father that I looked so much like Maysilee; a thought that put her in bed for three days after. I supposed I did after all, they were twins.

"I wonder how Emily is doing," she says softly, breaking the silence between us.

"Emily?" I respond, my fingers stilling on the piano keys as I try to place the name.

She nods wordlessly, her eyes still gazing through the window. "Her mother." It takes me a moment before I realize that she means Mrs. Everdeen. They must have been friends as children, I think. Mrs. Everdeen was the daughter of the apothecary in the district and grew up with the other merchant children. It made sense that they would have known each other.

"I'm not sure," I admit and she sighs sadly, her eyes finally moving from the window to the tea cup cradled in her hands.

"She must be..." she trails off, her voice wavering. "I can't imagine what she must be feeling." She's right, she can't. I was never at any real risk of being reaped, but neither was Prim. One slip of paper is all it takes, I supposed.

"I'm sure this is difficult on them. Katniss has been taking care of them since her father passed away," I tell her, moving from the piano bench to the chair beside her.

"Yes," she says thoughtfully. Her eyes meet mine finally and she gives me a soft, sad smile. I notice the dark circles under her eyes and the way her cheeks curve slightly in. The years of constant pain and dependency on morphling have taken their toll. No one really knew what happened to my mother, and my father once told me that the only relief she has had was the first few years of my life.

"Emily loved him so much," she confides, adjusting the blanket draped around her shoulders. "She heard him sing when we were young, and she never looked back."

"Were the two of you close?" I question, not used to my mother speaking of her past. This was something she had always kept to herself.

She sighs, her eyes gazing back out the window again. "She was our best friend as children." My mind pauses on 'our' before the realization that she means her sister. I nod without speaking, watching her quietly for a moment. I can see that she has retreated into her own mind, so I stand and lean over, kissing her cheek softly. I had always wished for a mother who was present. Frequently I would catch myself lost in a bitterness over what could have been, ashamed and guilty. My mother loved me, even if that didn't fit with my idea of how a mother should be.

I tried to busy myself with the housekeeper, assisting with odd jobs in the kitchen before an idea crossed my mind. I pulled a small satchel from the hall closet, filling it with various items from our pantry. As I turned to walk toward the front door, I noticed my mother watching me from a doorway with a small book in her hands. I recognized it, a poetry book with a songbird drawn on the cover. It sat untouched on our bookshelf for years. I had once tried to touch it, and that had been the only time my mother had raised her voice at me.

"Will you give this to her?" she asks, holding the book out to me as I walk closer. I don't need to ask who; she already knows where I'm going.

I nod, smiling softly as I take it from her and tuck it into a safe pocket of the satchel. "Of course, I will," I promise as she reaches out, rubbing my shoulder gently before disappearing up the stairs.

I slip out of the front door and start down the stone road toward the Seam. I pass silently through the alleys lined with merchant shops; the streets much quieter than they would normally be this late in the morning. Once I reached the Seam, I tried to navigate the dirt paths by vague memory and when I reached the small shack with a goat contained in a small pen at the side, I knew I had found my destination. I had remembered Katniss mentioning the goat her sister doted on a few times during school.

I had barely knocked on the door once when it opened, and Prim's small face peaked out with a small smile. "Madge?" she asked, the door opening more. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see your mother, can I come in?" I ask and she nods, letting me slip in beside her. It isn't until I turn to close the door that I see the eyes watching me from behind curtains across the street. I was used to it by now, but I could only guess that they were not used to seeing someone like me in their neighborhood.

Mrs. Everdeen stood over a wash tub; her arms wet up to the elbows as she worked over some clothes. Their small one room home had the few windows open to let the summer breeze pass through, the small television playing quietly in the back corner. "Miss Undersee, is everything alright?" she asks, using a towel tucked into her belt to dry off her hands as she comes around the table toward me.

I nod reassuringly, my fingers pulling the satchel from my shoulder. "I wanted to bring some things by for you, we have far more than we need..." I say, trailing off as she helps me lift it onto the table. I reach in, pulling out the small book.

I run my thumb along the binding before holding it out for Mrs. Everdeen. "My mother wanted me to give this to you," I tell her, watching her eye fix on the cover. As she takes it from my hands, her fingers brush along the edges of the drawing on the cover. I see the creases in the corner of her eye deepen before she shakes her head, blinking quickly.

"This was her sister's," she says quietly, suddenly grabbing my hand. "Tell her I said thank you?" I nodded in agreement, noticing the tears in her eyes—eyes that looked similar to my own.

"Of course," I promised, both of my hands gripping hers. If she had been close with my aunt, I realized that Katniss wasn't the first person that the Games had taken from her. We let go and she moved to place the book on a small shelf with a beautiful tea set.

"Would you like to stay for a while?" Mrs. Everdeen asked, gesturing toward where Prim was curled up by the tv on a small chair. "I'm just getting some things done, but I'm sure she'd enjoy the company."

I accept the offer, taking a spot in a chair beside Prim. As she filled me in on what had happened that morning, I noticed a cat slink in from the open window. He automatically strode over, weaving himself between Prim's legs before she scooped him up in her arms. "What's his name?" I ask, reaching over to scratch the top of his head. He seems to like this, giving me a small purr as Prim strokes down his back.

"Buttercup, I've had him since he was a kitten. Katniss hates him, but she let me keep him," she says proudly as the cat jumps down, fixing the tousled fur on his back end. "My goat's name is Lady."

"I love that," I smile and I see her eyes light up for the first time since I had arrived. Nearly everyone loved Prim, and it was easy to see her gentle nature even just in passing. It was easy to see why Katniss took her place; Prim would have no chance in that arena.

I listened as Prim told me about all of the animals she had attempted to keep as pets, her mother chuckling behind us at the memories, when there was a knock at the door. It swung open and Gale stepped in, his game bag hanging heavy at his hip. He and Mrs. Everdeen immediately get to work sorting through the game and herbs that he brought for her, and it's a few moments before he notices Prim and I across the room.

"Hey, Prim," he says, his smile warm toward her. "Undersee," he nods toward me, though I notice that his smile lingers for just a moment.

"Hawthorne," I return the greeting, Buttercup now weaving himself between my legs.

"I didn't think he liked anyone but Prim," he comments, gesturing at the cat as he pulls over a chair beside Prim.

"He likes people who like him," she retorts, her tone with a slight teasing edge. He chuckles and reaches over to mess up her hair.

"He's only useful for keeping the rats away," he shrugs, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before he looks at the television. The cat turns back to look at him, giving him a half-assed hiss almost on cue before stalking off. "So what's new?" he asks as he rests his elbows on his knees, nodding his head toward the tv.

Prim shrugs, playing with the end of one of her braids. "She was hiding in a tree for most of the morning. The career pack killed a girl right by her and I was scared that they would find her, but they didn't. And... Peeta is with them... the career pack," she tells him, her voice quieter.

"Why would he do that?" he says bitterly, a crease forming between his brows. Prim just shrugs and I say nothing. I am perplexed by this as well as I think back to the gentle boy I had crossed paths with occasionally. He definitely was no Career tribute. Then a thought occurs to me; he might be trying to protect her.

"She's hunting now, but I don't think she's found water yet," Prim finishes and I notice the cat has perched himself at her feet yet again.

"She will, she knows what she's doing more than anyone else in there," he reassures her and Prim gives him a small smile in return.

"This is the most ideal arena she could have hoped for," I chime in and they both nod in agreement. The arena looked so much like the hills surrounding our district. We settle into silence, watching the Games with occasional comments. An hour passed before Gale got up to leave, refusing the trade Mrs. Everdeen tried to give him.

"When do you start?" she questions, finally convincing him to take a salve for his mother's hands that she had made.

"The week after next," he tells her and I think back to our conversation the day before. "I'll try to get ahead on hunting so both families are okay." She thanks him, and his eyes meet mine as I give him a small, sad smile. He disappears out the door, game bag in tow before Prim and I turn back to the screen demanding our attention.