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#Give me a brush. I'll fix your hair for you
makeyoumine69 · 2 days
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Spit In My Face
— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader
— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.
— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).
— WORDS: 21k (oops)
— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face
— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!
— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].
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Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.
“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you. 
All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"
His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options." 
You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."
Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”
With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection. 
"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.
"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"
Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:
“We’ve arrived.”
"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.
Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?
As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.
"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around. 
"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."
"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form. 
When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.
"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way. 
"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.
Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:
"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again!  Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."
'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”
The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”
“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.
Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. 
"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"
"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.
"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."
"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.
“Please, follow me.”
Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.
“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”
"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."
Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.
“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”
“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"
“Yes, Miss.”
"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.
Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.
"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.
The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."
“Are you here alone?”
“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”
An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.
"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.
"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."
The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.
"Do you have a date or not?"
"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.
"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.
"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.
Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"
Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"
"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.
It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze. 
"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.
"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?” 
First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”
“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”
With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.
“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”
“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”
With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.
“Time literally stopped for me when you left.” 
'What a beautiful flattery.'
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After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.
“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”
“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.
And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.
"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."
A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.
"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"
You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"
"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"
“What?”
"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."
Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”
Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”
“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”
After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.
"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work. 
"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."
"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.
Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”
"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"
"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"
“Stop it, Patrick…”
“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”
Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.
 “Can you just leave and let me change?”
“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”
Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"
He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”
"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."
“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf. 
“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place. 
“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”
With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress. 
And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.
"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.
Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”
'No, not good...no!'
“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end. 
"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."
"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart. 
“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”
Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple. 
"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.
Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.
“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”
As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.
“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.
“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”
Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.
With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt. 
“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”
Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop. 
When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”
'And he just stopped, holy hell.'
Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.
“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"
Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy. 
'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'
A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.
“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt. 
“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.
Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.
“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”
“You…Only y-you...”
Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."
“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.
With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan. 
And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”
“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.
Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”
You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”
Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”
“What for? I can pay for this myself.”
His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”
“But I didn’t ask...”
A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.
Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.
“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”
At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.
'Oops!'
Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:
"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.
"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."
"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"
"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.
“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”
"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”
He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.
"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 
"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"
The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.
"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.
"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."
Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"
"Of course!"
All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"
Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"
"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"
When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."
Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.
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All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.
'Bullshit.'
"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?
Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."
You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.
“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 
“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”
Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”
“Relax?”
“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”
"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"
Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”
“You’re such an…”
Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.
When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.
"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 
The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am." 
Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.
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His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.
"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.
"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."
Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”
"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."
'Excellent.' 
Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?
"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."
"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 
Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:
"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"
Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.
"I don't understand, why do you ask?"
Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."
Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"
"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."
Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."
After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.
"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"
A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  
'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'
"Cupcake..."
"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"
'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:
"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"
"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding." 
"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.
With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.
"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 
"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 
As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.
"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."
"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."
"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."
Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"
“Ask yourself.”
The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.
"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"
"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"
"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"
Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 
'No, no, no. Not again'
You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 
'Stop.'
"Cupcake."
'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.' 
"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"
One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.
"Daddy."
Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.
"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.
Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 
Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.
"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"
"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 
"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"
This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.
"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."
"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.
"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."
"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."
A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.
"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."
"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”
"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.
Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:
"Come back!" 
"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."
Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.
Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 
As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.
'Just leave, please!'
Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.
"Patrick."
"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.
"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."
And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.
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When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.
Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.
"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.
"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."
Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"
Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.
"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 
"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."
"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"
Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 
That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."
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Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.
"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?" 
With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.
"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"
"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."
"Even worse than you?"
He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."
"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"
"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.
"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies." 
"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."
"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."
"That's right."
Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.
"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing. 
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"
That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun. 
"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body. 
But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.
"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"
"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."
You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.
"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.
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Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.
After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.
As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.
"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.
You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."
Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."
'God, what a jerk.' 
"Can't say the same about you."
"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."
"You really think I care?"
And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.
"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."
You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."
Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.
"Do you like him?"
"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.
"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."
Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?
"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."
"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.
"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness. 
"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."
The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.
"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.
"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."
You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.
Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.
Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.
His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.
God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.
After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.
A second, two seconds.
It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.
"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.
Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?
At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.
Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."
Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on. 
With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"
Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.
"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening." 
With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery. 
"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?" 
Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."
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You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest. 
"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.
His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much? 
Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.
Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.
The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'
Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.
The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head. 
"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.
"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"
"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"
"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..." 
Lost.
Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents. 
"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"
A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.
"HEY! We were just trying to help!"
"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"
Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?
"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"
At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it. 
"Who did this to you?"
'You did.'
But he would never know.
"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?" 
Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.
As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.
"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"
Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine. 
"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"
Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."
Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"
You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.
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Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.
Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.
"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.
You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."
Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.
"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.
"Because it doesn't matter."
"It does."
"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."
The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.
"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face. 
"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."
A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.
"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"
What the hell was going on inside your head?
Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.
Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?
When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.
"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."
Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."
"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."
"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."
Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."
To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.
"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.
"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."
He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.
"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."
You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.
"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."
This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.
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There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.
Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 
Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.
“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”
His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”
“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”
“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”
Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”
'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'
You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.
“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.
“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”
Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.
With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”
“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.
“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.
You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”
“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”
His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.
“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”
Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.
“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”
“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”
He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”
“Good for you.”
You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.
“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”
Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 
“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 
Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.
'It's already too much.'
Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 
“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”
Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.
“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”
His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”
Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 
“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”
You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'
After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 
“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”
“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”
“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”
Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?
With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 
“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”
It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.
“And what do you do to relax?"
“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”
“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”
With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."
At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.
“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.
There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.
“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”
“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”
“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”
“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”
At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 
You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.
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In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 
The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 
'Excellent!'
Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.
Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.
Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?
Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.
Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.
“Cupcake, are you—”
A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.
“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”
Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 
How could he let this happen? 
As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.
Never.
"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 
"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 
"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."
"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.
"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"
Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 
After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 
Emotions were overtaking you.
Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”
“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.
Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.
“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 
Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”
“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.
This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.
One, two, three…
What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?
Four, five, six…
The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.
Seven, eight, nine…
How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 
“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.
Ten.
“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.
The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.
“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.
“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"
“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”
“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.
Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.
“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”
“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”
With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”
You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 
Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?
Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.
Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.
That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”
“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.
Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.
“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”
“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”
As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.
“Stay like that.”
After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.
“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”
“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”
“Yes! Yes, please!”
Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.
His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.
The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.
“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.
Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.
“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.
Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.
“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.
“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"
This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.
Why did it hurt so good to be alive?
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You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.
"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"
Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.
"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?" 
"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.
"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.
"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"
God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.
Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.
“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”
Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.
A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat. 
Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off. 
Jesus Christ.
Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache. 
New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.
"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.
Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.
With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."
Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."
"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. 
"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"
"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking." 
Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"
"That sounds really good."
Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”
With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”
And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.
“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”
A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.
“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”
“I won’t, I promise,”  the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”
With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’
Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.
“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door. 
“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”
After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”
“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”
With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”
“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.” 
This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’
Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”
“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”
Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”
“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”
You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”
Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.
“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”
“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?” 
‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’
Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.
"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"
"Not really, but I need your help."
"Help?"
The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.
"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.
You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”
Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”
“You already said that.”
“Oh, did I?”
“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”
“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”
Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’
Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?” 
Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.” 
“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”
“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”
The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.
“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”
“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”
"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."
“It was just an accident.” 
“You could die, Cupcake…”
"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."
“Ouch.”
“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.
“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”
Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.
“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you. 
First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.
“Pat-Patrick…”
“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”
‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’
“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”
There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.
Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.
“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”
The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.” 
Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”
Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”
“Are you…really telling me this?!”
“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”
The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?
“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”
“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”
Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”
A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.
"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."
"Patrick..."
He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."
"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."
The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair. 
‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.
All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.
A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.
“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”
“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”
Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”
“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”
"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."
“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.
Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.
Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.
“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”
Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”
His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.
“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”
"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."
"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."
"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."
"Us?"
"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."
With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened. 
All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.
When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.
The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat. 
With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”
Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”
The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”
“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”
“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”
“Thanks.” 
With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said: 
“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake, 
I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. 
Utterly yours, P.B.” 
Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.
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P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!
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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months
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Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!
I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!
Brother's Coworker
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PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader
SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.
WORDCOUNT: 4.2k
WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.
A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.
Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.
“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 
“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 
Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.
“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”
“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 
Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 
Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”
You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 
“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 
“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 
Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.
“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.
“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”
“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 
“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”
“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”
Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 
“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 
“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”
“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 
Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 
This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 
He stands like a statue. 
“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.
“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 
A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 
You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”
Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.
Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.
“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.
“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 
Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.
Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.
Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.
Christ, how long had you been staring at him?
“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 
Your brother slashes you with a grin.
“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 
“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 
“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.
“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 
“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 
“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”
“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 
“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.
“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 
Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 
Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.
Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 
Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 
You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”
“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 
“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”
“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 
Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 
He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 
Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.
“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 
“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.
“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 
Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 
“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 
Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 
“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 
A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”
You huff and smirk. 
“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 
You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 
Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.
“That’s my job!” 
Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 
“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 
The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.
“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 
You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 
“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”
“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 
Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 
Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 
“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”
“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 
“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 
Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 
“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 
He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 
You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 
By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 
Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 
Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 
“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”
Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 
The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 
“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”
Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.
Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.
“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 
“I just told you—”
“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 
Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 
What in the hell was going on? 
Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 
“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 
For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 
In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 
He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 
When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 
“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”
“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.
“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 
The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 
Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 
“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 
“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.
Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 
“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 
“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 
Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 
You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”
“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 
“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 
The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.
You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 
Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.
“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”
Splaying your hands, you back out. 
“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  
“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.
“Well, why not?” Simon glares.
“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.
“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”
You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 
With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 
“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 
Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 
A secluded home. Nothing around. 
Then why had your words seeped into him?
“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.
In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 
As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 
Silent.
There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 
The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.
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samandcolby-ownme · 5 months
Text
Tangled Around You | Colby Brock
Summary: this was originally a Sam request but in my sleep deprived state last night, I for some reason, had Colby on the mind, but here is Sam’s version of this.
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, flirting/teasing, fingering, choking, scratching, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, praising, fluffy then filthy
Word count: 1.6k
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╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
Colby tightens his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder as he watches one of your favorite movies with you.
Tangled.
"Seven am the usual morning, lineup." You snap your head towards him singing. He smiles, laughing as you continue, "Start on the chores and sweep 'til the floor's all clean.."
He brushes his thumb against your leg, absolutely in awe about how comfortable you are around him. He absolutely adores the way you feel safe with him.
In more ways than one, really.
"And so I'll read a book, or maybe two or three." You sing with a smile, and soon enough he joins in.
He's only seen this movie a million times with you.
"I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery, I'll play guitar and knit, and cook and basically, just wonder when will my life begin?" You sing as you tilt your heads opposite of each other while laughing.
He brushes hair from your face and shakes his head with a smile, "I fucking love you."
You lean in and kiss him, laying a hand on his cheek as you hold your lips on his for a few seconds, "I fucking love you." Your eyes move from his lips to his eyes before leaning in, starting a slow and mild make out.
"Thought you said we were just watching a movie tonight, babe?" He mumbles against your lips and you smirk, "We are." You slowly pull away, smiling at him as you turn your head back towards the tv.
You tilt your head, resting it against his as you hum along to the song. Colby slides his hand up your bare legs, gently grazing his nails up and down your thigh.
You know what he's doing, and it's working.
"Colby." You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and take a deep breath as his hand moves up higher, "Hmm?" He hums, playing innocent.
You fight back a smirk, your eyes staying on the tv but you're not actually watching it. You're thinking of other things that specifically involve Colby.
"We can make it quick, hmm?" He slowly presses his lips up your neck, "Or not. Your choice."
You take a deep breath as you tilt your head, giving him more area for his lips to cover, "What do you want?" You ask him quietly as your eyes stay fixed on the tv.
"I'm asking you babe." He slides his hand up, gently gripping your chin to turn your head towards him. Your eyes meet his, "Like I said, your choice."
You spin around to straddle him. Your eyes are on his face, watching as his eyes close when you run your hand through his hair, "You can do whatever you want to me."
His eyes open and his lip pulls between his teeth. You run your thumb just under his bottom lip and it springs free from grasp of his teeth, "Anything?"
You nod, "Anything."
He keeps his eyes locked on your face as he slips his fingers between your skin and panties, "First, I want to make you cum."
You nod as your breathing quickens, "Please."
He smirks and gently toys with your clit, slowly building you up. Your eyes flutter closed as he applies more pressure, "Eyes on me, princess.",
You force your eyes open, struggling to keep them open when he ever so slowly slides two fingers in, his rings pushing against your skin, "Colby.." you whimper out quietly.
Your face scrunches with pleasure as he slowly thrusts his fingers in and out, "That feel good?" He slides his hand over your hair, "Looks like it does."
You moan out, nodding as you grip his sweatshirt, "Give me a minute and I'll take it off. I'm focused on you right now."
You moan at his words, "Fuck, yes." You gasp as he curls his fingers, brushing against that perfect little spot inside of you, "Kiss me."
You lean in, pressing your lips to his. He lays a hand on your lower back, pressing his fingers into you through his t shirt that draped over your upper half.
He swallows your moans with ease, "I love those sounds you make." He whispers, his lips bumping into yours as he talks, "They're so pretty."
He lays you back onto the couch, fingers still inside of you, "they're even better when I'm the one who gets you to make them."
His lips attack your neck, sucking hickies into your skin. You moan out and tangle your fingers into his hair, "So close."
"Be a good girl and cum for me."
His words make you clench around his fingers, "Colby." You whimper out as you move your hips slowly, "Sh-shit."
"You're so close, babe. Come on." Colby look down at your hips moving to meet his hands, "Fucking hell. You're so hot." He groans lowly, "I can't wait to be inside of you."
His words spill you over the edge. You arch your back off the couch, moaning out as he continues to slowly finger fuck you through your high, "That's it baby, did so good."
He kisses up your neck, and along your jaw before kissing back to your ear, "Take these off for me."
You nod, breathing heavy as you shimmy your soaked panties down your legs. You watch as he pulls his hoodie up over his head in one swoop.
"I'll never get enough of you." You think out loud and he smiles, "Yeah, I feel the same about you." He pushes his sweats down, stepping out of them before sitting down, "Come here."
You move back to straddle him and his hands slide up your arms, cupping your cheeks as he pulls you in for a kiss, "Can I have this?" He asks pulling your shirt up over your head without giving you a chance to say anything, "Thanks."
You smirk and he winks before reaching down to rub the head of his cock up and down your pussy, groaning out along with your moans as he slips inside.
You sink down onto him, letting out a loud gasp as you fall into him, "Fuck, fuck you feel so good."
He wraps his arms around you, pressing his hands to the upper part and small of your back, "I want to cum already." He chuckles slightly but gasps when you clench around him.
"Move baby." He slides his hands down to your ass, guiding you up and down his cock. You keep a hand on his chest as you grip the back of the couch by his head with the other.
He rests his head back, eyes on you, "That's it baby, fuck yes." He groans as you move on his cock, clenching and moaning because you feel another orgasm approaching.
"Go ahead baby, as many times as you want." He bites his lip as his hands move to squeeze your hips, "Just like that, fuck that feels so good." He sighs, "Fucking hell."
He slides a hand up around your neck, gently squeezing and watching as your eyes roll back.
He squeezes your neck, causing a semi muffled moan to escape.
"Not much longer baby, you got it." Colby whispers as he watches you wrap a hand around his wrist. You squeeze, which means you want him to squeeze harder.
He adds more pressure, moaning at your soft squeaks as he thrusts his hips upward to meet yours, "One more time baby, just cum for me one more time."
You look down at him staring up at you, watching and feeling you grow closer and closer. You let out an almost silent moan, sinking all the way down on him. You rock your hips back and forth, grinding on his as you reach your breaking point.
He brings you down to meet his lips, letting go of your throat so he can lay you back onto the couch. He pushes his hips all the way in and your legs instantly wrap around his waist, moaning out loudly.
"Fuck, y/n." He buries his face into your neck, moaning lowly as you clench around him, "Shit, shit. Yes."
You whimper out as you dig your nails into his back and he groans, "Fuck, do that again." You comply, instantly dragging your nails up his back. He groans and reaches up to grab the arm rest of the couch.
He pushes himself up slightly, using his other hand to hold your thigh, spreading your legs more for him as he picks up the pace of his thrusts.
You make eye contact with him and it's game over.
For both of you.
You clench around his twitching cock, your moans mixing with his as you both get each other off together.
He leans down, pressing his lips to yours as he smiles, "you good?"
You nod and run a hand through his hair, "I'm great. How are you?" He smirks and nods, "I'm doing pretty damn good."
He pulls out and scoots himself between you and the back of the couch, reaching up to throw a blanket over your naked bodies.
"You know if we stay like this, we won't get to watch the end, right?" You look at him over your shoulder and he kisses your cheek, "That's the point."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
Thank you for requesting!
Just a little psa, I'm down to write anything so don't be afraid to send me those nasty needed ideas because I love them.
Likes and reblogs are appreciated!
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twoloveswords · 1 year
Text
bakugou x reader; cw: smut, penetration, gagging
You absent-mindedly chew on the end of your pen. "Why are they so big?"
Everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats. This is not how a costume design meeting with Dynamight typically goes.
You cut your eyes from the schematics displayed on the large screen at the end of the room over to the Pro-Hero.
There's an agonizing five full seconds of silence. Well, agonizing to the other people in the room, at least.
"Aerodynam-"
"You're not a car, you don't need spoilers growing out of the side of your head."
Dynamight runs his tongue over his teeth. He stands up to his full height from his seat next to you. "Everybody else, out."
The other attendees are quick to vacate the premises.
"Anything else you wanna add?" he asks, pressing his hands on the large oak table and leaning down to get in your face.
"Yeah, they mess up your hair." You reach up and run your fingers along the band of his mask, fixing stray locks that are curled under it or pressed flat against his scalp.
His expression softens. "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"
"Yeah?" you smirk, resting your chin on your hand, a devilish sparkle passing through your eyes.
"Underminin' me and then touchin' me like that, all soft. It's fuckin' annoying."
You laugh. "I'm sorry, Katsuki." It earns you an eye-roll, but you lay your hand on his and pull his attention back to you. "I mean it. I shouldn't have been so familiar with you." You lower your voice to a whisper. "I'll blow my cover."
Katsuki looks down at your hand on his, then brings your fingers to his lips, giving them soft kisses. "'S alright," he mumbles, "sometimes I want people to know." He releases your hand and lifts your chin with his finger so he can kiss you. It's a deep kiss, the pressure of his lips on yours firm and constant. "They say it's for your safety - like I can't fuckin' protect you," he adds when he breaks away from you, whispering the words into your open mouth.
"I know you can protect me, baby," you coo, and he kisses you again, this time encouraging your lips to part so he can swipe tongue along yours.
"Nothing's ever gonna happen to you on my watch," he growls between kisses that are now roaming down your neck. His voice is deep and protective, but his eyes are possessive as they rake over your body.
The heat in your blood is rising and your mind begins to fog. "Katsuki..." you breath out weakly.
He pushes your rolling chair out from under the meeting table and lifts you out of it by your thighs, placing you roughly on the edge of the table, legs spread wide so he can slot himself between them.
"You'd like it too, wouldn't cha? If everyone knew?"
You bite your lip, nod meekly.
"Where's that big attitude now?" he smirks.
You take a breath, finding yourself again through the lustful haze. "Why don't you come find out?"
He pulls you towards him by your thighs until your core brushes up against his clothed dick and you moan.
"You gonna let me fuck you right here on this table?" he asks, cupping your face.
"Take that stupid mask off first," you bite back.
He sets his jaw in annoyance but obliges, sliding the fabric off of his head. Now all that's left is the messy eyeblack streaked across his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
"Fuck," you whimper, making a show of lying flat on your back on the table. "You look so hot like that."
Katsuki takes the opportunity to hike your dress all the way up to your waist so he can pull down your tights and panties, which he manages to rip in the process.
There's no time for any other foreplay - the time you've been alone in this windowless room together is already suspicious enough - so he doesn't waste any time in pulling down his pants just enough to free his aching cock.
He slides into you all at once and a loud moan rips from your throat.
Katsuki stills inside you. "You gotta be quiet for me, yeah?"
"I don't know if I can," you sigh, and it's not a tease or a joke. You really don't know if you can keep your voice down when he's fucking you.
"Open up, then," he says, and tentatively open your mouth.
He inserts his balled-up hero mask into your mouth to muffle the sounds of your debauchery. You bite down on it, and it tastes like sweat and musk, and everything about the situation you're in is making your pussy pulse around his cock, still buried inside you.
"You can breathe?" he asks, and you nod. "Good," he growls, and then he's pistoning himself in and out of you and your hands scramble for purchase, eventually finding the edge of the table to hold on to. Katsuki never gets tired of seeing you like this underneath him, brows furrowed and eyes glassy, pleasure shooting through all of your nerves, entire body bouncing with the force of his thrusts.
His thumb finds your clit and your eyes roll back.
"'M gonna have to make this short baby, I'm sorry," he says as he continues working your puffy clit towards an orgasm, "but I'm gonna take care of you at home tonight, okay?"
You nod, deliriously close to the edge.
"Gonna fuck you stupid tonight, my smart girl, gonna fuck the brains right outta you," His movements get quicker, his hips slapping roughly against your thighs. "Just gonna hafta be a quickie for now - fucking christ - so we can keep our secret, right?"
You try to moan his name but the sounds are lost to the fabric gag in your mouth, and then you whine and your back arches off the table and Katsuki knows you're about to cum so he quickens the pace on your clit to send you spiraling into your orgasm. Your legs shake and he plants a hand on each of your thighs, whispering s'okay baby, I've got you while he chases his own release, eventually spilling himself inside you.
"Knew I'd make you eat your words," he chuckles as he gently pulls the mask free from your mouth.
"You treat all your employees like this?" you joke.
"Only the secret girlfriend ones," he quips as he helps you slide back into your tights and smooths out your dress.
You both take a few moments to compose yourselves.
"You ready?" Katsuki asks, his hand on the door handle.
"Yep!"
He turns the handle and steps into the hallways. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement on the mask designs," he says, a little loudly and awkwardly.
He's never been a good liar.
"Actually," you start, and Katsuki throws you a glare and subtly shakes his head no.
But you have other plans.
"I have some notes on your neck brace, too."
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jkslipppiercing · 3 months
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I'll show you | Part 2 | jjk
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♡ summary: you show jungkook how much you love him...by giving him head.
♡ genre: a bit of angst, fluff, and smut all in one (mostly smut and fluff) (idk)
♡ pairing: boyfriend!jk, soft dom!oc.
♡ warnings: a LOT of kissing, jungkook is frustrated/mad, oc gives jk a blowjob, gagging is mentioned, oral (m receiving), dick sucking, he cums in her mouth, praise, jk calls her a good girl.
♡ WC: 2.6K
♡ a/n: enjoy 😮‍💨🤭
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After leaving you with an incredulous weight of frustration on your back, Jungkook had showered, gotten dressed, and hung out in the living room.
He's sat there, knees spread wide apart, forearms under his head, looking at the tv through his thick lashes with a head lazily laid back on the headrest; shamelessly offering his masculinity.
The wails of the tv blend into a chaotic blur of white noise in the back of your head, and the awkwardness that basically radiates off of you is almost palpable.
You switch your weight from one foot to the other, only to give yourself something to do.
"Show me" replays in your head over and over again, and you simply can't make it stop.
What on earth does he mean by that?
Show him what?
Should you bake him a cake or something?
No...that won't do.
Well...what about writing him a letter?
Seriously?
This is fucking ridiculous.
You don't realize you've said that out loud until he flicks a gaze over to you.
His eyes hold yours for a mere second. You think he might actually say something, so you stare back at him in anticipation of some sort of reaction.
...which never comes.
His gaze trails back to where it was originally settled, watching the tv as he feigns interest.
This is so damn frustrating.
Deciding to test the waters with him, you take a few steps forward.
His eyes remain stubbornly fixed on the tv, and as you come to a halt in front of him, he still refuses to look at you- so he settles on staring at a point behind you.
He's being childish.
Too bad, because you won't fucking have it anymore.
"Show me" blares in your conscience as a reminder.
Your foot enters his personal bubble of space, and as a first initiated interaction from him, he spreads his knees a little for you to fit between his legs.
The action sparks a flame of hope upon what could be.
Okay...
Now what?
In a split second of hesitation, you abandon all thoughts of rationality and take a seat. On him.
He lets you.
Knees digging into the couch on either side of his waist, you straddle him. The brush of your core against his crotch sends an electrifying jolt up your spine, and he finally looks at you when he notices how your breath shallows.
He doesn't speak, and neither do you.
Hands in need of holding onto something, you delve them into his hair. You play with the hair on the back of his head, scratching his scalp.
He always loved the gesture, humming approvingly whenever you went on with it; but now, the coldness of the silence weighing the air between you spreads an ache through your chest.
He just stares.
Another emotion accompanies the ache, and you soon recognize it to be challenge.
So you lean forward and latch your lips onto his jaw. To start off slow, you kiss the slant of it sweetly. Inching down a bit and boldly licking a long stripe up the length of his neck, you're satisfied once jungkook sucks in a sharp breath.
As you make out with the length of his neck, an urge to grind on his dick grows- but you fight it.
When you bite down on his sweet spot, he groans disapprovingly, which causes you to lick and suck on the area to dull the pain.
The throbbing ache of your heart intensifies when you realize he still hasn't laid a hand on you.
"What are you doing?" He roughly rasps out, clenching his jaw when you give his throat one last kiss before you pull away.
You widen your eyes innocently, deceptively showing a stance of confusion.
"Hm?" Your hands remain unrelenting as they comb through his strands. Planting one last peck on his jaw, you fully straighten. "What am i doing?"
Echoing his words only did so much as to avoiding his question, but you don't break the act even when his stare hardens.
He looks away, and your heart just about shatters.
With now softer eyes, you chase his line of vision as you tilt your head to the side, catching his eyes with desperate ones of your own.
"Still mad at me?" Hands slowly slipping away from his nape, you look down, afraid you might actually cry if this goes on any longer.
Enough.
It started off with the both of you being mad at each other, and you found his anger so over-exaggerated that you became just as pissed at him as he was at you.
-is. He is pissed at you.
Well, now, frustration gave way to just as much misery as anger.
Your raging emotions of upsetness subsided to show those of sadness.
It's only been a short while since he last had his hands on you, but it feels as long as a lifetime.
"Fuck, I'm not- I'm not mad at you, y/n." The frustration nestled in between the dips of his voice is palpable, and your tears burn the back of your eyes. You blink in effort to push them back.
A lump in your throat grows, and you force it back down with a thick swallow, eyes never meeting his as they stay fixed on his shirt.
Fiddling with your hands is all you can do, but you muster a weak answer. "Sure seems like it to me."
It might sound angry, but it's soft. Defeated.
He runs a hand through his hair, and the position you're in looks awkward, but it's not. Not in the least.
On the contrary, it's comfortable; familiar. Feelings of security lighten up the thickness of the tension in the atmosphere, poorly so.
"Do you not love me anymore?" The question has you looking up so fast you're afraid your neck might snap.
Vulnerability swirls in his dark chocolate eyes, bleeding through his tone, and you want to kiss the hurt that accompanies it away.
You narrow your eyes in disbelief. "Will you stop saying that, for god's sake?"
"You didn't answer the question."
"You want an answer?" You shoot back, and he maintains a blank expression in response.
A small "mhm" urges you on.
"That just might be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say." His eyes light up with intrigue. "'Why?' you might ask? Well, baby, too bad for you, 'cause you're stuck with me." A bitter laugh erupts from you, and he cracks a sad smile.
"You're the most lovable, supportive boyfriend I could ever have, and I would never change a single thing about you. There's nothing to even change!" You exclaim in disbelief as you open your arms in expression.
The lightest pink blush dusts his cheeks, and he looks away.
You shift his chin with your index finger so he's looking at you again. "I'm not done."
Biting back a smile at your sassiness, he lets you continue.
"You are love itself. Saying that I love you would be such an embarrassing understatement. I believe heaven belongs with you, my soul entertwined with yours. Fuck, i love you so damn much it hurts, man."
You manage a chuckle out of him, which makes you smile yourself.
When you see his own initiation to speak, you trail a hand down his torso which makes him shut his mouth just as fast as he opened it.
"Will you let me show you?" Your hand stops where both your bodies meet, and you smile in triumph when his breath hitches.
You feel powerful- dominant- and in control of his body, so you lean forward by intention of pressing your lips to his- which caused him to close his eyes, in anticipation of the kiss- but you stop just shy of them.
When you stay there for a couple of seconds, his eyes open to reveal a never-ending darkness of lust and need.
You smirk, and for the first time this evening, his hand shoots to the back of your neck and grabs your nape.
The harsh movement makes your heartbeat skid to a stop, and it's as if he's reminding you who the one in charge here is.
Even though he is quite literally under you, he still manages to steal your breath away.
He replies to your earlier comment, voice scratched and restrained. "Oh yeah?" That alone sends heat barreling down the depths of your sex. "And just how exactly are you going to do that?"
A sardonic smile tips the corners of his lips up as he eyes your own.
You part your lips involuntarily, which causes him to lick his own pink ones. He bites down on his lips with restraint, and the simple action has you so wet you're almost uncomfortable.
But you pay your horniness no mind as you slip from his hands and settle on your knees in front of him, sneakily cupping him through his pants.
"Like this." His lids shutter closed with hitched breathing. He closes his eyes and his breath grows ragged beneath you as he lazily stretches out and spreads his knees further in invitation.
He's sporting a semi as you feel him through the fabric, and you grow impatient.
He eyes your movements as you place your hands on his belt before looking up into his eyes innocently. "May I?"
Your voice comes out so casually; it doesn't even sound like you're on your knees, asking your boyfriend if you can suck his cock.
He looks down at you with a hooded gaze. "Be my guest."
You smile in return.
Finding it unnecessary to waste any more time, you unbuckle his belt before you pull his pants down.
Kissing him through his briefs, you salivate at the little spot of precum leaking from the head of his length.
After pulling those down as well, you're met with the magnificent sight of his cock as it slaps against his abdomen.
"Fuck, I love your cock." And you lick a long stripe up his length before you stroke him sensually.
He chuckles at your comment, his breath cutting short when you kitty lick his tip. Nibbling and kissing lightly, your actions cause him to clench his hands by his sides in effort not to touch you.
"But not as much as I love you."
At that, he groans, which motivates you on to taking him in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his tip reminds you of how familiar this all feels.
His body, his scent, his cock-
Everything about him is to die for.
You tease him as you refuse to take him deeper in your mouth, sucking on his tip to make him grow desperate for your touch- which is exactly the reaction you get to your teasing.
"Stop." The desperation laced into the demanding end of his voice awakens butterflies in your lower belly. "Stop teasing me, y/n."
He's on the verge of begging, but not quite there...yet.
"Hm..." You moan around his cock as you take him deeper, inch by inch, like a "good girl" as he likes to call you.
You stack your fists above each other on the length that doesn't fit in your mouth- he's fucking huge- as the tip nudges the back of your throat.
The gag that you fight to keep down makes your eyes water, and when you look up at him through teary eyes and saliva leaking through your mouth, he's just about done for.
A hitched, breathless- horny- moan rips out of his throat and he throws his head back- afriad he might bust if he looks at you any longer- as his hands fly to your hair.
He holds onto his dear life when you move your head, sucking him dry and stroking what doesn't fit.
A rushed "fuck" blows out of his lips in a breathless plea, your head bobbing up and down his cock while his hands help you.
"You take me so well." He grits out, making your cheeks redden in color as you grow shy.
The irony of your shyness as you suck his dick is immaculate, but he was always one to know just how much you loved praise.
"You gonna take my cum as well?" he's struggling to contain himself as his whole body tenses; he's so close. "yeah? Like the good girl you are?"
You hum around him, and his eyes look down at you only to find yours staring right back up at him.
He groans.
"So fucking beautiful" he thinks.
"Goddamnit, you're so fucking mine." His jaw clenches as his chest rises and falls with uneven heavy breaths, his hands portaying his emotions as he balls your hair up in his fists and pushes you down further.
You can't help but gag, putting every last effort into getting him off, quickening your pace. Your jaw aches- and so does your pussy, pulsing with need- but you put that aside and watch him in all his glory, gazing up at him with innocent teary eyes.
With one last thrust up your throat- and a hushed curse under his breath- Jungkook holds your gaze till the very last second, even as his cum shoots up your throat.
You hold his tip in your between your lips, sucking lightly, and he throws his head back. With his hands keeping your head in place, he's fucking his dick lazily into your mouth until the very last drop.
"Fuck" might be his favorite curse word, and it surely is, as he moans it loudly before his hands disappear from your hair and he slouches back onto the couch; his features showing no signs but pure satisfaction.
You press one last kiss to his cock, a warm goodbye- for now- and help him tuck his spent length back into his briefs.
He looks at you with that after-orgasm glow, and your breaths quicken as your core throbs with need.
You ignore the impulse to jump on his dick and ride it to no remorse, straddling him instead.
You've always loved cuddles after sex, and while he preferred cigarettes, you were nothing but a romantic in bed compared to him.
He holds your jaw in place as he joins your lips to his, his tongue invading your mouth. Just the single thought of him wanting to taste himself throws your senses into overdrive, and you let out a whimper.
Not wanting to tire him out any further, you pull away.
"Come on, let's head to bed." As you try to get up and ready for a good night's sleep, him holding you in place doesn't let you.
You can't budge as he kisses you again and pulls away only to say, "Nuh-uh" rather sassily.
"Yuh-huh." You respond with the same sassy tone he used, which causes him to smile against your lips.
You can physically feel every single part of your body melt into him.
You've always loved when he smiles against your lips, but now that you're horny out of your mind, he's so incredibly hard to resist.
He swallows your moan when he cups your ass and squeezes.
"I love you, Jungkook." You play with his hair.
"I love you more, baby."
"No, you don't." You challenge.
"Yeah? might need to suck me off again for a reminder." The taken-aback expression on your face elicits a proud chuckle from him before he kisses you again.
He just can't get enough of your lips.
Or your body.
Or you.
His lips inch toward your throat as he basically colors your neck with purplish marks.
You shiver before you realize where this is going.
Sly motherfucker. (full of love, like, not in a rude way).
"Jungkook."
A warning and a dare.
He looks at you with hooded, lustful eyes, even though he just came about five minutes ago.
"I'm not done with you yet." His dark tone catches your attention, and you choose wisely not to argue.
"My turn."
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should i make a third part 🙊
@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotz @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell @laylasbunbunny @btsnpniff @olimpiiaa @caro134340lina
818 notes · View notes
edenesth · 19 days
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The Way to His Heart [19]
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Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader
AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)
Word Count: 3.9k
Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.
Part 18 | Fic Masterlist | Part 20
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"What do you mean it will take weeks for me to fully recover? I don't have that kind of time, Yunho. This war isn't over yet." Your husband frowned, his gaze fixed on the physician from his position on the bed.
You sighed, stepping closer to the doctor, your concern evident, "Seonghwa, Physician Jung is doing his best. How can you return to battle if you're not physically strong enough? What good will that do, hm? And remember, you've acknowledged Officer Song's strategic prowess. Perhaps it's time to have a little faith in him for now."
Like magic, your words softened the general's hardened expression as he nodded in defeat, "Fine, I suppose you're right," He offered you a smile before turning back to Yunho, "I trust you've at least written back to Mingi to assure him I'm fine, right?"
"It's done, my lord."
"That's good; things should be stable for now. We dealt a significant blow to the Ruhon forces in our last battle. It's unlikely they'll launch any new attacks soon, considering their diminished numbers. If things continue to go well, this war might conclude sooner than expected." Seonghwa remarked, feeling optimistic.
"I certainly hope so, for everyone's sake. I made sure to inform Officer Song that you'll need a few weeks to recover. If they need you urgently, I'm sure he'll write back promptly," The physician assured, relieved to see your husband immediately agree with him, calming down so quickly with your presence, "Yes, I'm sure he will." Yunho knew for certain that without you there, he would have had a much harder time attempting to soothe the older man's frustration.
Sensing the general's longing gaze toward you, the doctor suppressed a knowing grin. Understanding that he was interrupting your much-needed private moment, he decided it was time to leave you both alone. With a final bow, he excused himself, "Well, that's all from me for now. I'll return tomorrow for your bandage change and medication. Good day, General Park and Lady Park."
After the physician left the room, you approached Seonghwa to ensure his comfort, tucking the comforters snugly around him and adjusting the pillow behind his back. His eyes remained fixed on your face, which he had missed dearly, as you fussed over him, "Is the temperature alright? Let me know if it's too hot or cold," You inquired. He nodded, and you continued, "Are you hungry? You must be. I'll ask the kitchen staff to prepare something for you—"
Before you could step away from his bedside, he grasped your wrist, his expression displaying a small pout, "Stop, my love. I just want you to stay with me, please."
You softened, placing your hand over his and giving it a reassuring squeeze before brushing some of his hair away from his face, "I'm sorry, I was just worried about you. You've been away at war for so long. I wanted to make sure you have everything you need now that you're home before you eventually return to the battlefield."
He smiled, his hold on your wrist tightening slightly, "All I need is you." He murmured, gently pulling you closer into his arms.
Feeling your heart melt at his words, you relaxed into his embrace on the bed as he pulled the comforter over both of you. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you sighed contentedly as he kissed your temple. He felt complete with you so close again, "God, I missed you so much," He confessed, "Out of all the wars I've fought, this has to be the most dreadful one. Not because it was tough, but because I couldn't stop thinking about you throughout it all."
"I missed you too, Seonghwa," You confessed, drawing in a deep breath to savour his familiar scent, "I never thought I could yearn to be near someone this badly."
His eyes instinctively fluttered shut as you nestled closer to him, pressing his nose against your hair, wishing for this moment to last forever. After a moment of comfortable silence, he couldn't resist asking, "I've heard a lot has happened while I was gone. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you through it. Tell me everything, my wife."
Taking a deep breath, you started from the beginning, recounting the events that unfolded after the general had departed for war. You described encountering Jinjoo during your visit to the fabric factory with Hongjoong, the surprise visit from the prince to the estate, and his unexpected invitation to the birthday banquet. You explained how he lied about you representing Seonghwa at the event and your gratitude for Wooyoung and San's help in preparing for it.
As you narrated every little detail that occurred at the supposed royal birthday celebration, your husband's heart swelled with pride and admiration. He listened intently, feeling his love for you grow with each word. Your courage in standing up for yourself and defending him in front of Prince Yeosang filled him with immense gratitude. He realised how fortunate he was to have you by his side.
"I'm so proud of you, my darling Lady Park."
With a light scoff, you teasingly pushed him in the chest, "Are you now, my dearest General Park? I still can't believe the first thing you chose to do after coming back was hurt me and push me away."
Guilt immediately clouded his expression as he drew closer to you, emitting a small whine, "I'm sorry, my love. Truly, I am. Speaking those cruel words hurt me more than this damn wound. I promise I didn't mean any of it. You're not troublesome at all, and I do want you with me for the rest of my days. If anything, you're all I need from now until the end of time."
At that, you could no longer bear to continue making him feel bad. Turning serious, you gently caressed the bandaged area on his abdomen before speaking, "I understand, Hwa. I really do. But I swear, if you ever pull something like that again, I won't hesitate to let Hongjoong loose on you."
His heart skipped a beat at the nickname you used for him, one you had never used before, "What did you just call me? Say it again."
Embarrassed, you blinked rapidly and cleared your throat before repeating softly, "I called you Hwa. It's your name, isn't it?"
He nodded with a cheeky grin, covering your hand with his, "Indeed it is. I love how bold you've become, my love. Now, along with that nickname, tell me you love me again."
You blushed at his request, feeling he deserved to hear it as many times as he wanted now that he'd returned to your side safely. Relenting, you bit your lip and murmured, "I love you, Hwa."
"Again." He demanded, resting his forehead gently against yours.
"I love you, Hwa."
"Again, my love." He whispered, leaning in closer with hooded eyes.
"I love you, Hwa."
"Say it for me just one more time."
"I love you so much, Park Seonghwa."
Intoxicated by your presence, he could no longer resist cupping your face and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You kissed him back fervently, eyes fluttering shut as you relished the sensation of his lips on yours. Both your hearts raced as you made up for lost time, pressing close to one another under the sheets. Your cheeks burned up, realising this was the most intimate moment you'd shared with your husband so far.
Gently pushing him away by the chest, you looked up at him, worry evident in your eyes, "That's enough, Hwa. You're still injured—"
But before you could finish your sentence, he leaned in, capturing your lips in another loving kiss. You gasped in surprise, but your resistance crumbled quickly as he deepened the kiss. Maybe just for a little longer, you thought to yourself, giving in to the moment.
As he savoured the feeling of having you so close, Seonghwa's emotions swirled within him like a tempest. He needed this closeness desperately, especially after the fear he'd felt earlier, thinking he might be close to death. The regret for hurting you with his words gnawed endlessly at him, and he despised the idea of being separated from you again. How could he have ever entertained the thought of you being with another man? The mere thought of Prince Yeosang in his place, holding you, touching you, kissing you, filled him with an uncontrollable jealousy that bordered on madness.
These thoughts fueled a surge of aggression within him as he flipped you around on the bed, trapping you beneath him. He loomed over you, his gaze intense as he whispered, "Mine. You're all mine."
As much as the sudden action flustered you and caused your heart to skip a beat, you frowned at his stubbornness, realising he wouldn't know when to stop unless sternly told off, "Are you out of your mind, Park Seonghwa? Such big movements could affect the wound, you idiot." You scolded, disrupting the intimate moment.
He blinked, momentarily speechless at the abrupt change in tone, protesting, "I'm fine, my wife—"
Before he could continue, the dressmaker barged in with raised brows, "Oh, we're all fine now, aren't we? I guess you're well enough to take a beating then."
The general panicked, hastily laying back in his spot, "Hongjoong, please, it's rude to enter without knocking." He chided.
You snickered when his friend rolled his eyes, "Well, it's also rude to disrespect your wife, but here we are."
"Oh my god, stop reminding me—"
"I'll stop when you learn to grow the hell up."
"Says you?!"
With a deep sigh, you stood up from your husband's bed, "You two fight to your heart's content; I'm going to prepare something to eat for this one." You said, gesturing to Seonghwa, ignoring his silent pleas not to leave him alone with his friend.
Hongjoong grinned at you, "Don't you worry, I'll take good care of him in the meantime."
Oh, I know you will.
"Have we heard from Physician Jung yet?" Mingi inquired as he was being suited up in preparation for the impending attack by the approaching Ruhon men.
"No, sir. It appears we're facing this battle on our own. But with your exceptional strategies, we should manage well even without General Park." One of the soldiers replied, striving to maintain optimism despite the military commander's absence.
"Let us hope so." The strategist muttered, unable to bring himself to reveal that his strategies had been devised with the assumption of having the best warrior in all of Joseon leading the army. Officer Song hadn't seen battlefield action since his promotion, and his combat skills were far from polished. Just why did this have to happen in the general's absence? Mingi feared the responsibility; if they failed in this battle, it would fall on him. The prospect of leading these men to their deaths was enough to make him feel nauseous.
He still couldn't grasp how Ruhon had made such a swift comeback. It seemed implausible given the significant losses they had suffered in the last battle. After all, the enemy nation wasn't known for its strategic prowess; they were often predictable in their actions. Unless... they were intentionally misleading Joseon into underestimating them? If so, the strategist might have played right into their hands as part of their plan.
Oh god, what do I do?
As General Officer Song meticulously went through his preparations for the impending battle, a sense of unease settled over him like a heavy cloak. Even with his efforts to focus solely on the task at hand, his thoughts kept drifting back to Seonghwa. The absence of their commander, his superior, and one of his closest friends weighed heavily on his mind.
With each passing moment, his worry for the general intensified. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that enveloped him, wondering if his friend was safe and well. Had the older man managed to make it home? Had Yunho received his letter, informing him of General Park's condition?
These questions nagged endlessly at him, gnawing at his insides as he grappled with the uncertainty of the situation. Despite his attempts to maintain a facade of confidence for the sake of his fellow soldiers, Mingi couldn't shake the underlying fear that something terrible might have happened to Seonghwa. All he could do now was hope and pray for his friend's safety, even as the spectre of war loomed ever closer.
A sudden wave of fear washed over him, unlike anything he had experienced in a long time. The general's absence felt more profound and impactful than ever before. It was as if the very foundation of his confidence had been shaken, revealing the stark reality that his sense of assurance had always been rooted in the presence and trust of his commanding officer.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the strategist found himself questioning his own abilities and worthiness. Without General Park by his side, his confidence wavered, leaving him feeling unsteady and uncertain. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt such panic in war.
With a heavy heart, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. Doing his best to ignore the doubts that plagued him, he knew he had a duty to fulfil. With trembling hands, he reviewed his strategies once more, desperately seeking reassurance in the plans he had meticulously crafted.
As he waited for the cue to head out and face the enemy, Officer Song resolved to push aside his fears and doubts. He may not have Seonghwa's guidance and leadership at this moment, but he knew he had to stand firm and lead the troops to the best of his abilities. With determination set in his heart, Mingi braced himself, ready to face whatever may come in the battle that awaited him.
Just as he was hoping to receive any updates about the general or word from Physician Jung, a soldier burst into the main tent, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The strategist's heart skipped a beat, looking forward to some semblance of reassurance amid his mounting anxiety. However, instead of providing the updates he had been desperately seeking, the soldier stammered out his words.
"S-sir, I'm afraid it's time we head out and be on standby," The soldier managed to say between breaths, "The Ruhon army should be arriving anytime soon."
Mingi's hands clenched involuntarily, his mind racing with a mix of apprehension and determination. Despite the lack of information about Seonghwa's condition, he knew that duty called and he had to lead his troops into battle. With a firm nod, he suppressed the trembling in his hands and resolved to face the conflict head-on.
"Let's go out and make General Park proud." He declared, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. With resolve burning in his eyes, he led his men out of the tent.
Moments later, Officer Song found himself mounted on a horse, the weight of his armour pressing against his shoulders as he surveyed the Joseon army lined up behind him. They stood at attention, ready for his orders, their anticipation palpable in the air.
As he gazed out at the empty land ahead, where the enemy forces would soon emerge, Mingi could hear nothing but the thundering of his own heart in his ears. His hands tightened around the hilt of his sword, a familiar weight that offered some measure of comfort in the face of uncertainty.
With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus, pushing aside the uncertainties that threatened to overwhelm him. He may not be Park Seonghwa, but he had undergone rigorous training and was a capable fighter in his own right. Reminding himself of his own combat skills, he squared his shoulders and steeled his resolve.
"We stand ready." He declared, his voice carrying across the ranks of soldiers behind him. Despite the nerves gnawing at his insides, he projected an air of confidence, determined to lead his troops with strength and determination.
I hope you're proud of me, hyung-nim.
His breath hitched in his throat as he finally spotted a tiny speck on the horizon, growing larger and more distinct with each passing moment. His heart raced as he realised that these were the enemy soldiers they had been waiting for. With a loud voice, he yelled the order for all soldiers to get into position.
Tensions were high as everyone readied themselves, their nerves stretched taut with fear at the absence of their strongest warrior to lead them. But as the figures drew closer, Officer Song's brow furrowed in confusion.
Something was not right.
Instead of a formidable army, only a few Ruhon soldiers were riding toward them, their arms raised in what appeared to be a gesture of surrender. Mingi's eyes widened in disbelief as he heard their cries.
"Soldiers of Joseon! Please don't attack! We have come to surrender!"
A sense of astonishment rippled through the ranks of the Joseon army as they processed the unexpected turn of events. One of the Ruhon men even went so far as to pull out a white flag, waving it frantically to signal their willingness to concede defeat.
The strategist's grip tightened on his sword as he studied the Ruhon soldiers before him, their faces worn with exhaustion and defeat. Despite their assurances, he couldn't afford to let his guard down yet, not after the treacherous tactics they had previously employed against Seonghwa.
"Hold it right there! How can we believe you're telling the truth?" He demanded, his voice firm and unwavering.
The Ruhon soldiers let out heavy sighs, their arms still raised in a gesture of surrender, "Please, we're telling the truth. Most of our troops have been depleted from the last battle," One of them explained, his voice tinged with desperation, "Our ruler has sent word just this morning to put this war to an immediate stop. A messenger is on the way to your royal palace to convey the message to your King as we speak. We come in peace to relay this message, and that is all. All remaining Ruhon troops will be retreating from our camp after this."
Mingi remained silent for a moment, weighing their words carefully. Finally, he lowered his sword, signalling for his own troops to stand down, "Very well," He said, his voice tinged with caution, "But know that we will be watching closely. Any sign of treachery from you, and we will not hesitate to defend ourselves."
The Ruhon soldiers visibly relaxed at his words, nodding quickly, "You have my word." One of them assured before they turned around and began riding away. The tension dissolved as they disappeared from sight, leaving Officer Song and his men standing in disbelief. Relief washed over them, dispelling the earlier fears. The strategist's expression mirrored the collective sentiment of his troops—a mix of relief and disbelief.
"Well, I guess we should head back to camp and await confirmation then," Mingi said, his voice filled with a hint of exhaustion. His soldiers nodded eagerly, grateful that the tense situation had been resolved peacefully. They began to disperse, their spirits lifted by the unexpected turn of events.
Now, everything fell into place, and the pieces of the puzzle aligned once again. His earlier suspicions about Ruhon's swift recruitment of soldiers now made perfect sense. It was clear that they no longer possessed enough manpower to continue fighting this war.
Returning to the main tent, Mingi was relieved to find a messenger waiting for him, "Officer Song, there you are! You have a letter from Physician Jung Yunho," The messenger announced eagerly. He hurried over to receive the paper, unfolding it with urgency. His eyes scanned the neatly written words at lightning speed, absorbing the contents. Once finished, he released the breath he had been holding, sinking into the seat behind him, "Oh, thank heavens the general is alright." He breathed out, a weight lifted from his shoulders.
The messenger's face immediately brightened at his words, and he quickly left to share the good news with the others. Mingi couldn't help but smile; everything was finally falling into place.
Peace, at last.
But his moment of relief was short-lived as a commotion erupted outside. The strategist frowned and left the tent to see what was happening. He found his soldiers blocking the entry of a woman, which puzzled him. Women weren't allowed in this area.
"Forgive us, ma'am. Women are not permitted here," One of the soldiers explained. Mingi pushed through to hear her response, "Yes, I know that, but you don't understand. I'm here on His Majesty's orders. We received word that General Park has been poisoned, and I've been sent specifically to treat him."
As he caught sight of her petite figure, his eyes widened in recognition. Not because of her uniform, which indicated she was a female royal physician, renowned for their medical expertise, but because she was the one he had been searching for all this time.
I finally found you, my one.
« Preview of Part 20 »
"The audacity of those Ruhon bastards, attempting to poison my strongest warrior. That's nothing short of treachery, isn't it, my Queen?" The King grumbled, his concern for Seonghwa evident in his furrowed brow. He had even dispatched their most skilled female royal physician to the war zone, trusting her to heal him.
Anxiety filled his being as his wife sighed beside him, offering a comforting hand on his back. She had yet to muster any courage to mention the trouble caused by their fourth son during the general's absence, not wanting to add to her husband's worries, "I wish I had an answer for that, Your Majesty." She murmured sympathetically.
Before the royal couple could further drown in their pool of misery, the royal secretary rushed in with a few letters. He hastily performed the formal bow, only to have the King wave it away.
"Forget the formalities, Secretary Choi! Tell us what updates you have this instant!" His Majesty's voice was urgent.
San nodded, swiftly unfolding the papers and reading each one aloud. With each letter, a weight seemed to lift from the room.
"The first letter is from General Park," He began, "He reports he's safely home and receiving treatment from his own doctor."
Relief washed over the King's face.
"And the second?" Her Majesty pressed, her tone hopeful.
San's voice steadied as he continued, "The second is from the ruler of Ruhon. He acknowledges defeat and officially surrenders. He is also requesting an audience to discuss a peace treaty. It would seem the war is over, Your Majesties."
"Oh, thank goodness it's over."
After a moment of everyone digesting the news, His Majesty furrowed his brows in slight confusion, "Wait, General Park is home already, you say?" His voice carried a note of incredulity, "How odd. That would mean he began travelling back before there was even news of the enemy's surrender. Why would he return home all of a sudden? Did something else happen?"
The Queen's heart sank at that. For weeks, she had harboured the hope of shielding Yeosang from his father's potential wrath, but now it seemed fate had other plans.
I'm sorry, my son.
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Woohoo, only the final part is left, and we're done with the main story! Psst, try going over to the Spinoff Masterlist to see if you can spot anything new HEHE🙈
As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! <3
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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.
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hp-hcs · 1 month
Note
OKOKOK SENTENCE 9
maybe theres a party in the slytherin common room and reader gets absolutely shitfaced
so being a flirty drunk they start chatting up a random dude (lets just say cormac bc hes always the bad guy) and boyfie theodore <3 gets jealous nd pulls them into his dorm nd hes all like
"I'll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else."
but reader still being drunk asf is just like :] snd gives him a kith and tells theo how pretty he is
poor baby just cant stay mad
HOW DARE YOU (be so cute?) — yandere! theodore nott x gn! drunk! hufflepuff! cutie patootie! reader
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warnings: underage alcohol consumption, teen partying and drinking, threats of violence, aggression, possessive/obsessive behavior, jealousy, general yandere tendencies
please enjoy my attempts to see how many ridiculous near-rhymes to ‘cormac’ i could come up with
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Yeah, yeah. Gryffindor’s playing Ravenclaw this weekend, you know. Maybe you can come out and…show your support.” The boy you’d been talking to all night leaned in close, resting one hand on your hip and letting the fingers of the other brush over your collarbone.
You honestly couldn’t be bothered to remember the boy’s name when you had a plastic cup of White Wyvern in your hand. It was something dumb, you remember that. Cognac, Corsac…?
“Y/n?” CarMax asked, trying to regain your attention. “You gonna cheer me on, sugar?”
“Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah,” you grinned, taking another sip of your drink. “I’ll get all decked out in red ‘n gold, jus’ for you.”
Tarmac grinned back and tightened his grip on your hip, tugging you a bit closer. “Maybe I oughtta give you my spare jersey to wear to the game then, huh? Wouldn’t you like to have my name across your back, little badger?”
(You shrugged noncommittally at that, not quite sure how to express to Shellac that literally no one wants the name Cornsack written across the back of their shirt.)
“Oh, I see. You want me to be your good luck charm, huh?” You teased, resting a hand on Callback’s forearm.
Rickrack smirked and opened his mouth to reply when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind.
“McLaggen. You’ve got two seconds to get your hands off my partner before I cut them off.”
Trashbag paled, hurriedly snatching his hands back and holding them up in surrender as he whirled around to face the newcomer. “Woah, woah- calm down, Nott,” he chuckled nervously. “We were just talking. No harm, no foul.”
Theodore stared back at him with an unamused, dead-eyed expression.
Hackeysack swallowed nervously. “Uh…yeah. Yeah. Well, I uh…I think I’m gonna get going now, Y/n. See ya at the game.”
Theo interrupted you before you could even respond. “I assure you, they won’t.”
And with that, Theodore wrapped an arm tightly around your shoulders and dragged you away from Radioshack.
~~~
“What the fuck was that?”
“What was what?”
“Don’t play dumb, darling, I’m not in the mood.” Theodore pushed you up against the wall of his dorm, one hand with a possessive death grip on your hip, and the other tightly grasping your jaw to hold it still. “I swear to Salazar, Y/n, I’ll carve out your tongue if it’ll stop you from flirting with anyone else.”
Whatever reaction Theodore was expecting you to have to those threatening words, you drunkenly giggling and kissing the tip of his nose was not one of them.
“You’re so pretty when you’re jelly, baby,” you gave him a dopey grin, reaching out to fix his rumpled shirt collar and smooth your hands across his chest. “You’re always so pretty.”
His heart melted and he let go of your jaw with a sigh, running his fingers through your hair and leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Merlin- what am I going to do with you, love?”
“Cuddle me?” You asked hopefully, a sweet pout on your face.
Theodore whined. “Shit, darlin’- I’m trying to be mad at you right now.”
“But cuddles, Teddybear!” You pouted further, tossing your arms over his shoulders to pull him into a hug. “Why would you wanna be mad when cuddles are an option?”
“I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He conceded slowly, resting both hands on your waist and rubbing small circles into your sides with his thumbs. “Alright, fine. We can cuddle.”
You grin proudly at your incredible drunken convincing skills, disentangling yourself from your boyfriend to clamber onto his bed. “C’mon!”
“Hold on, hold on,” he laughed. “I need to find you something to sleep in that isn’t your party clothes, love. Here,” he tossed something at you as he finished digging through his dresser.
You caught the item, unfolding it to reveal his Slytherin quidditch team captain jersey, complete with NOTT written out in a big bold font. You snorted and glanced up at him.
He gave you an innocent smile as he stripped out of his own clothes and climbed under the covers next to you. You rolled your eyes fondly, changing into his jersey and lying down beside him.
“Goodnight, darling,” he murmured against the top of your head as he wrapped his arms around you.
You grinned into his chest. “G’night, Teddybear.”
You fell asleep cuddling Theo, in Theo’s bed, in Theo’s clothes, with Theo’s name written across your back. And as long as you didn’t think too hard about how your boyfriend was absolutely going to kill Hazmat McLovin tomorrow, then all was quite well in the Slytherin dorms that night.
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guccifrog · 1 month
Text
CAUGHT
⤷matt sturniolo x fem!reader
requested ✉
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📀📀📀
⤷As the sun peeked through the curtains of your shared bedroom, casting a warm, golden light across the floor, you lay there, staring at your phone screen, your eyes scanning each word carefully. The bed sheets beneath you were cool and crisp against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that seemed to be building up inside of you.
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The door suddenly creaked open, and you felt a cool draft of air flowing into the room. You quickly hid your phone under your pillow, as you recognized the familiar silhouette of your boyfriend, Matt, standing in the doorway. He was taking a shower, his hair dripped with water, and a towel wrapped around his slender torso. You bit your lip, trying not to let your excitement show.
"Hi," Matt said casually, as he walked over to the closet to put his towel away. You smiled innocently at him, trying to appear nonchalant as well."How was your shower?" you asked, hoping the playful tone didn't betray your nervousness. He turned to face you, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"It was refreshing," he replied, making his way to your shared closet. You watched as he opened the door, searching for something. "Damn, I think I left my deodorant in the bathroom."
You grinned and sat up, crossing your legs. " I'll get it for you!" You quickly got up and hurried out of the bedroom, You grabbed the deodorant from the vanity and quickly returned to the bedroom, just in time to see Matt sitting on the bed, your phone in hand, looking through its screen with an amused expression.
"Matt!" You gasped, feeling a mixture of panic and embarrassment. You dropped the deodorant and ran as fast as you could to snatch your phone from his hand. But he was quicker. With a playful grin, he raised his arm higher, blocking your reach. "Give it back!" You exclaimed, trying to grab the phone. 
"What an interesting thing to read," He said before glancing at the phone with a smirk as he read" warning this story contains a lot of smut- Wait, is that my name?" Matt raised his eyebrows surprised, giggling as you covered your face with your hands. "Matt sturniolo x reader?" He continued to read with an unreadable expression. "How many of these are there?" He snickered as he looked at you smirking.
He grabbed your hand and tried to remove it away from your face, his grip firm but not painful. You pouted, still trying to hide your face, his hand moved to cradle your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "You're blushing!" He teased, his grin widening. "So, what are you reading about me?" He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as he glanced at the phone continuing to read" He placed his length against her core, making her shiver." 
His hand was now on your waist, and he gently pushed you onto the bed his eyes not leaving your phone"She arches her back, moaning softly as he thrusts deeper. "Oh, Matt..." she whispers, feeling him pressed against her in a way that makes her ache" His eyes widen as his grin grows wider, his eyes now fixed on you as you hide your face again.
He slowly moved closer to you, his breath hot against your neck as he teased you. "Do you want to know what I did next?" he teased.
"stop it " You whispered, your voice shaking slightly as he continued to tease you. You felt his hand move lower, tracing soft circles around your hip, sending shivers down your spine. His other hand held your phone above the bed, still reading, a wicked grin playing on his lips. 
"Fine" You sighed, rolling your eyes, as he looked at you confused.
"I admit it" you huffed avoiding eye contact with him.
"Admit what sweetheart ?" Matt asked, still holding your phone. He leaned closer, his lips inches away from yours.
"That I was reading smut about you" you mumbled, your heart racing as he leaned closer. His lips brushed against yours, and he smiled against them.
"What was that ?" Matt chuckled, as he let your lips go. Smiling teasingly as he watches your lips form a confused frown.
He collapsed on the bed next to you laughing, throwing his head back. "Oh, my god, you're expression was priceless!" he managed to get out between giggles. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye and reached for the phone, but you moved it just out of his reach.
"Hey! Give that back!" he protested, trying to grab it again. You leaned forward, pressing your body against his, and pinned his arms down with your knees. "Nuh-uh," you giggled, shaking your head. He smiled up at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
Matt's chest rose and fell with each breath as he stared up at you, his eyes studying your face." so?" He asked, making you raise an eyebrow" wanna watch porn together?"
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"Matt!" You exclaimed, a blush spreading across your cheeks. But he just grinned wider"I'm just saying" he teased, moving his hands to rest on your hips, his thumbs brushing against your bare skin. "I mean, if you're into it..." He let the words trail off, grinning widely, as you playfully hit him on the chest.
📀📀📀
⤷taglist ☆@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss @braindead4l @sturniolosreads @mattsturnzzz09 @itssophiasstuff @mayhem-72 @b2cute @buckys-celestes @graceciesiels22 @urmom2bitch @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @b2cute @1horrormoviewhore1
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turvi · 8 months
Note
Yo what about just sittin on Rodrick’s lap as he discusses stuff with the band
Thanks for the request
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Rodrick munched on the snacks that he stole borrowed from Greg's secret stash that he shared with his friends as they lounged on the living room couch, Evanescence playing on his tv.
His friend Adam mumbled. "Rodrick, will we get famous like that?" Rodrick looked up at the tv as he finally got time free from munching snacks.
"Adam, I can see it. In 10 years, people will fly from all over the world just to see us perform. We will do actual world tours." His friends looked at him, smiling as he continued.
Rodrick stood on his couch. "We will tour South America, Europe, and Asia." His friends cheered, but a particular cheer caught his attention. He turned around to see his girl Y/n clapping for him. He leapt over the couch, picked her up without effort, and twirled her around. "And you, my sweet girl, will manage our band."
Y/n put her hand on her chest. "It will be an honour, rockstar."
Rodrick couldn't help but blush. He loved it when Y/n would take pride in his music and would talk about it with her friends. He thanked his lucky stars that he found her.
"You got real quiet there. What are you thinking?" Y/n whispered as she fixed his hair.
"I am so lucky that you love me. You have always supported me, always been so kind to me. Although you can get annoying when I don't shower." He cupped her face, dodging her fingers as she tried to tickle him.
"Come on, sit with me, doll. Watch as history happens." Rodrick tugged her to where he was sitting with his friends. They all greeted her with a smile and went back to suggesting titles for their songs. He smirked when she sat on his lap, pecking her cheek as he started discussing song titles with his friends.
................................................................................
Y/n suddenly woke up and realised it had got dark outside. She looked around and realised she was still sitting on Rodrick's lap. She looked up and smiled as her heart was filled with love as she saw him sleeping peacefully.
She started to get up, but Rodrick's grip on her waist tightened. Y/n pinched his nose as a smirk spread on his lips. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Greg is at Rowley's home, and Mom and Dad have taken Manny to Grandma's home. It's just you and me at home right now," he smirked as he wrapped her arms around her waist.
"What are you planning?" Y/n asked as the back of her finger brushed his cheek.
"Just stay with me. We don't have to do anything. I just want to hold you." His chocolate-brown eyes looked at her, pleading for her to stay.
Y/n nodded. "Ok. I'll stay, and you can rant about Greg all you want."
She felt like she fell more in love with him as his face lightened up and he held her closer to him. Y/n heard him taking a deep breath as she laid her head on his chest.
She looked up at him. "Is something bothering you?"
Rodrick's eyes widened. It always took him by surprise how she always took him by surprise how she would know how he really felt. He sighed, trying to find the correct words to say.
"I made pretty big promises in front of my friends. But what if we don't fulfil those promises."
Y/n realised he was getting insecure. "Now, it's not just your dream to do a world tour, Rodrick. It's your goal. It's one of your biggest goals. Take one step at a time. Do your shows locally, get a professional manager, and keep working on your music...there are so many things to do, Rodrick, and you have just started. So please don't give up." she kissed him as she held his hand, letting him know she was there for him.
Rodrick broke the kiss. He needed to see her, to take her beauty in. "I don't deserve you." He breathlessly mumbled against her lips before kissing her again. "I love you so much." he peppered kisses all over her face. He had to let her know how much he loved her.
"And I love you too, rockstar." Y/n kissed him back as a promise to be with him through thick and thin.
A/N: I know I am late sorry. I got busy anyways I hope you like it. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.
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earthtooz · 1 year
Text
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x : I KNOW I LOVE YOU ! :*+゚ all or nothing, i want all of you!:
aka moments that the bllk boys knew they loved you ! ╰┈➤ with nagi, itoshi rin, and reo mikage !
warnings: gn!reader, no pronouns, mentions of food in all three, swearing in rin's + he's kind of mean but like that's just who he is and i don't want to fix him for it <3, fluff for all 3, sickness in nagi's, i think that's all the warnings, lmk otherwise!
a/n: last fic of 2022, i gasped when i saw that photo of beomgyu BYEEEE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH tumblr deserves to see him!!! reblogs appreciated :( the ratio of reblogs to likes is so sad sometimes so pls, if you enjoyed this fic, pls take the time to reblog - no matter how small or big ur blog is!!! rblgs is the best way to motivate ur favourite writers + help their works circulate around this site so always pls consider reblogging!
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NAGI SEISHIRO: knew he loved you when you took care of him when he was sick.
nagi stirs awake with a groan, immediately engulfed by an insufferable warmth that caused him to kick the covers off his body.
as he shuffles to get comfortable again, he registers sounds coming from his kitchen, something he doesn't bother to investigate because he's hit by the dryness of his throat. glancing to his bedside table, there sat a glass of water that was practically calling his name, an offer he couldn't resist as he downed the drink in four seconds.
he then cringes at the stinging of his head.
so the headache still hasn't passed. what a pain.
he wants to go back to bed, to give in to the comfiness of his pillow and return to dreamland where his head wouldn't kill him. but, with the clanging and sizzling coming from the kitchen, it wouldn't hurt to check out what was happening, right?
dawdling out of bed, he slowly but surely makes his way to his door, opening it quietly before heading out into the kitchen, where you stood by the stove.
you were dancing to your playlist that was faintly playing in the background whilst tending to the pans on the stove top. one had eggs and spam, the other was boiling some instant noodles.
what were you doing here?
he's shortly flooded by recollections of what happened hours prior. nagi had invited you over to spend the day with him at his apartment but minutes before you arrived, he felt light-headed and dizzy. when he opened the door for you, he practically collapsed in your arms, and that was where the memory ended.
the fact that you stayed rather than simply going home to let him take care of himself warmed nagi, filling him with a feeling that he forgot long ago.
something like comfort.
"oh my god!" you exclaim, placing a hand to your chest at the sudden sight of a 6'3 man looming at the entrance of the kitchen. "sei, don't do that!"
turning off the fire, you quickly make your way to him, placing the back of your hand against his forehead.
it's still a little warm. he thought he just had a headache, did he have a fever? is that why he collapsed?
he should be grateful that he's not him taking care of himself.
"how do you feel?" you ask, brushing his hair back from his skin. he pouts slightly, leaning into your touch.
"my head is killing me," he murmurs, about to slouch on to you when you abruptly step away to fish for something in a plastic bag on the counter.
at the lack of your touch, he groans to protest, but you show him a small box you bought. painkillers.
did you go out and buy him stuff whilst he was asleep? just how good are you? what did he do to deserve you?
"take two pills and i'll prepare your food for you," you tell him before grabbing a bowl, a plate and chopsticks. nagi simply watches as you plate the goods, his stomach aching for your food whilst you sprinkle some nori over his ramen. the fried spam and eggs smelled divine.
soon enough, you sit him down at his two-person dining table before ambling away to clean up.
he misses you even more when he takes a bite of his food. nagi hasn’t had anyone take care of him in so long, not in the way that mattered at least. sure, he wouldn’t trade the world for reo and all he gives him, and he's thankful to his parents for the funds they've given him, but you take care of him because you want to. there’s no ‘dream’ you’re gaining using him as an asset, everything you've done, you've done for him to feel better.
and when nagi combines all the ingredients together in one bite, he’s filled with the love that homemade food provides, even if its just instant ramen with a little more nutrients. 
it’s more delicious than his ‘win’ yoghurts could ever be and nagi can’t go back now.
when you return, the white-haired beams at you as you take a seat beside him, your chin leaning into your palm as you brush a hand through his tangled locks. 
“how are you feeling, sei?” you question softly.
“amazing.” he says before digging back in. 
his eagerness causes a small laugh to slip and nagi perks up at the delightful sound, watching the way your nose crinkles and your lips part. then, he grabs some noodles and offers them to you, a gift you gladly take, humming at the taste. he does the same for the egg and spam and as he watches you with adoration in his eyes, he can't help but be overfilled with love.
“thank you,” mutters nagi.
“you’re welcome. now eat up and feel better, genius.” 
his words of gratitude have far deeper meaning than you realise, but nagi has a while to show you just how thankful he was for you.
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ITOSHI RIN: knew he loved you when your company was something he didn't get tired of.
at 10 am, there’s a knock on the door to rin’s apartment.
he’s knows who it is before even greeting said person, and when your smiling face appears on the other side of the door, rin can’t help the excitement bubbling in his chest, signified through the small smile he tries to fight down.
“hi rin,” you greet, stepping forward to press a kiss against his cheek. that smile of his widens. 
“hello.” 
the dark-haired opens his arms expectantly and you drop three hoodies on them, all of them were his and freshly washed. he rolls his eyes.
“i wanted a hug,” scoffed rin.
“oh,” you laughed before throwing your arms around his torso, staying there like that for a few moments before separating. “anyhow, i should probably get going. i’ll see you-”
“why aren’t you staying?” he asks, coming off as more of a demand.
“because we didn’t plan for it?” 
“you should stay and watch a movie.” 
“aww does rinnie not have anything else to do?” you say with a mocking tone, but it’s all lighthearted and fun, especially when he pulls you in his apartment and locks the door behind you.
“shut up. go pick a movie.”
approximately ten minutes later, you’re curled up on the couch with rin lying over your body, peacefully splayed with his chest resting on your sternum whilst you absentmindedly play with his hair, too engaged in the movie. 
rin, on the other hand, didn’t find any enjoyment in your choice at all. “why the fuck are we watching ‘it’?” he asked, shuffling a little, causing you to stifle a giggle due to his movements. 
you shrug. “it just popped up. thought you liked horror movies.”
“horror movies that aren’t shit.” 
“touché. now shut up, i want to watch.” 
he grumbles something before relaxing into you again, more focused on the sound of your heartbeat than the events of the movie. eventually, the even beats lulls him into a light slumber, fast asleep despite the way it sometimes speeds in anticipation.
you, on the other hand, realise that he’s fallen asleep due to the slight wheezes he lets out, not loud enough to border a snore, but not peaceful enough to simply be breathing.
when the movie finishes, you shake him lightly to stir him from his sleep and when you meet his slightly hazy gaze, you feel a little bad for waking him. 
“the movie’s done, i should get going now,” you mutter, setting your hands on his shoulders as to push him off, but as soon as you announce your plans of leaving, rin holds on even tighter to your body. “hey! get off!” you try your best to push him away despite your laughter that ripples through the air.
“you should stay for lunch,” suggests your boyfriend, who rests his chin on your sternum. his eyes were practically pleading for you to agree, shining with hope.
he’s lucky you have nothing to do today, and that you were hungry.
when you roll your eyes and put your hands up in mock surrender, rin can’t help but smile a little, giddy at the idea of being able to spend more time with you.
hold on- since when was he happy at the idea of spending more time with anyone?
“shall we eat here or out?” you asked, your hands resuming threading through rin’s hair again. it was so smooth, what did he use in it? smelt nice too. 
“here. too lazy.”
after a few minutes of deciding what to eat, the delivery showed up rather quickly at his apartment. when you both settled down to eat, rin couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander, unable to help but think about how nice it was to be in your company and simply exist. he wants to do this for the rest of his life. 
you seem to have other plans. 
“so,” you begin, plate now empty. “i’m probably going to head home now-”
“wait, what? no.”
“no?” 
“i paid for lunch, you should repay me by keeping me company.”
with a huff, you cross your arms. “okay mr athlete’s salary, i’ll transfer you-”
“-can’t you just stay a little longer?”
“ask nicely.”
“can’t you please just stay a little longer?”
“if you insist,” you sigh dramatically, batting your eyelashes at him jokingly. rin scoffs. “what do you want to do?”
you actually ended up doing nothing for the next few hours, simply scrolling on your phone whilst laid on rin’s lap. he’s resorted to watching some past recorded matches, sometimes of himself, sometimes of other notable soccer athletes. 
the sun was now beginning to set and having been here since 10 am, you were beginning to feel bored out of your mind. 
you were also beginning to feel as if you were burdening rin with your company so, with a yawn, you begin to sit up. the athlete pauses his video and looks at you curiously. 
“i should get going now,” you say, rubbing your eyes.
“what?”
“i said i should get going now,” you repeat.
“no, no, i heard you the first time,” he mutters, a little bite in his tone. “why?”
“cause we’re not doing anything? plus i’m bored out of my mind and need some fresh air.” 
“then we can get fresh air together, you don’t have to leave yet.”
“you’re real insistent on keeping me here, guess you just like me too much, huh?”
rin leans in closer to your shit-eating grin, placing a hand on your cheek to press a fleeting kiss to your lips, one that leaves you wanting more. 
then you find yourself on the rooftop of his apartment complex, one that overlooks the beautiful horizon of tokyo and leaves you breathless as you gaze over the beautiful sight of the sunset colours bleeding together. with itoshi rin by your side, it feels even better.
leaning on his shoulder, you were not aware that your boyfriend’s eyes were admiring you instead of the sunset before you. he takes his time breathing the sight of you in, how beautiful you look with the hues of orange painting your skin. 
it’s funny. rin feels so purposeful with you, like he was made to be by your side and nowhere else.
maybe he should ask you to move in.
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MIKAGE REO: knew he loved you when you cared about him, not his image.
he's not used to this, the feeling of being adored for who he was rather than what he was. you don't like him because he's rich, that he was a spawn of a billionaire, you don't like him because he's a talented soccer player either. you like him because he's funny, unique, generous, and despite his self-centred upbringing, ironically selfless in his own way.
the trained smile and behaviour that reo plasters on every morning crumbles whenever he's around you.
he greets you at the park you agreed to meet up at and you return his wave with a smile, pulling your scarf down from your mouth where you were attempting to warm yourself from the cold.
"hi," you mumble, dancing a little from side to side to shake the jitters of the cold away.
"hi, i didn't keep you waiting too long, did i?" he asks.
you shake your head. "no, i just forgot some extra layers. i thought my gloves were in this coat too but i must have been mistaken."
reo frowns at your ice-bitten demeanour, feeling a sudden urge to wrap you up, give you all his warmth and shield you from the winter weather.
"anyways," your voice breaks his thoughts. "have you eaten yet?"
he widens his eyes a little in shock, taken aback by your question, one clearly asked out of care and affection. you were the one freezing your ass off due to your own negligence yet you had the nerve to ask if he had taken care of himself.
instead of asking about the latest product mikage corporations released- a news segment that was taking the business world by storm, you ask reo if he had eaten.
strange. he feels strange. it's nice.
"no, not since breakfast," he coughs after his mouth had caught up to his mind.
you tug at his arm gently, "then c'mon, there's a nearby 7/11. i hope they have sweet potato, we can get two for the both of us!"
the purple-haired can't fight the smile that tugs on the corners of his mouth, obliging happily with your requests as he allows you to pull him in the direction of the store. before you could leave the park, however, reo skids to a stop, dragging you back to him.
ignoring your curious gaze, he nimbly goes to take the wool gloves off of his hands. when one is off, he swiftly grabs your wrist to thread your fingers through the fabric, all whilst you actively ignore how warm reo's hands are and how soft they are when they encompass your wrist. his fingertips leave trials of fire burning on your skin but you don't jump back from the sensation. instead, you let it happen.
his gloves are a tad bit too big for your hands, but you feel warm immediately. whether that's a direct result of the gloves or not, you don't really want to know.
"this okay?" asks reo, gaze meeting yours. you try to trick yourself into believing that the softness of his expression was because of the wind, and that the snow was playing tricks on your eyes.
swallowing thickly, you nod. "won't you be cold?"
he wriggles his fingers slightly before shrugging.
with a small chuckle, you grab his bare ones and bundle them together with yours, a weak attempt at sharing warmth.
but, reo appreciates it nevertheless, smiling at how focused you seemed to be when caring for him.
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ohimsummer · 2 months
Text
✎ . . .❝NOT GONNA SAY SOMETHING?❞
— minors dni, everyone’s in their early 20s, suggestive, satoru x reader, poly! satosugu verse, bathroom sex if you squint, I got lazy at the end ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Satoru Gojo has went missing, and he's taken you with him.
"He's probably in the bathroom.," Shoko says through her cigarette. With you and Gojo absent, there's no one left to nag her about lung cancer.
Geto stares at the unread texts he's sent to both of you over the span of half an hour. It technically hasn't been that long, but someone like Gojo responds within minutes, if not seconds, so it's definitely strange.
"I'll go check." And off Detective Geto heads in search of the idiot kidnapper and his victim.
The nearest bathroom is right around the corner from the park. It only takes a few minutes to get there, so even if you both had actually ran off for an impromptu bathroom break, should it really be taking this long?
Arriving at the single-stall restrooms, he first knocks on the women's door. "Y/N?" No response. Okay. Geto thumps the men's room door next, feeling a bit off as he listens for any sound of noises inside. At first, there's nothing. And then, the faint sound of a grunt.
"Satoru, are you in there?", he asks.
Silence for a few seconds, before Gojo's muffled voice asks, "Yeah, what is it?"
Geto sighs, exasperated. "Ya know we've been looking all over for you? Where's Y/N?" There's another pause, and Suguru can still hear faint grunts inside. "...What is that?"
"Nothing, look can you gi–" A short break in Gojo's sentence, he’s muttering something under his breath. "–Give me a minute?"
"Why does it sound like you're getting off in there?"
"For fuck's–" A moan interrupts Gojo's complaint, one that's quickly cut off by what Suguru assumes is his hand. A few seconds pass, and Geto swears he hears a light squelching sound inside.
"You're disgusting.," he says. "Couldn't that wait 'til we got home?"
"Just go wait in the fucking park, I'll be there in a sec."
Rolling his eyes, Suguru begins the short trek back to Shoko, only for a large poster displayed in a window to catch his eye. The model shown wears a cute little yellow sundress, one that makes him get lost in thought at the idea of you wearing it.
The sound of a stall door creaking open grabs his attention, and Geto watches in the glass's reflection as his friend comes exiting the bathroom, using his hands to brush his hair down and fix his belt buckle. He holds the door open, and out comes...you. Suguru blinks in shock as you come stumbling out of the stall, smoothing your own clothes down as Gojo throws an arm around your shoulders, grinning as he whispers something in your ear that makes you smack his chest. Both of you freeze in your tracks at the sight of Geto, and he directs his gaze to the model's face to get rid of suspicion.
"You want one of those?," Gojo taunts as the both of you approach, pointing at the sundress. "I think it'd look good on you, Suguru."
"Oooh, it is pretty.,” you say. “I like it.”
They glance at eachother, and before Gojo can even offer, you cut him off. “Put your wallet away, Satoru.”
“I didn’t even get t-“
“Good.”
He frowns down at you and disappears into the department store against your wishes, leaving you and Suguru on the sidewalk alone.
“Sooo,” you bounce back and forward on your heels once Gojo is out of earshot. “Not gonna say something?”
He tilts his head to look at you, feigning ignorance. “Would you like me to say something?”
“...No, I suppose not.”
Geto turns to spot Gojo at the checkout, dress in hand. “Then I won’t say something. Not now, anyway."
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tagz: @anthoosies @staryukis :3
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nyxiswrites1200 · 1 month
Text
𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮'𝓼 𝓒𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 💌
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Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader
Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Cheating (remember cheating isn't cool guys <3), Drinking, Size kink, P in V, Nipple Play
Mentions: Lingerie, Failing marriage
An: Hey babes <3 welcome to the Valentine's collection. I'll be posting a series of spicy and romantic fics this week. I intend to make this a tradition of doing different characters each year.
----
You couldn't believe this! It was Valentine's day and your husband hasn't acknowledged it. He kissed you this morning before he left for work and that was it.
There's no way he forgot because you said it just yesterday, even agreed on plans. But, here it is, almost 7pm and he was still at work according to his text. You couldn't help but sigh as you sat alone in the apartment.
You can't say you didn't see this coming, your relationship has been a little rough. Mostly due to his absence but that's besides the point.
You brush down your carefully picked outfit you'd put on. Feels like it's going to waste now. You get up and step outside of your apartment, maybe you would just go do something on your own. Just for the sake of getting fresh air is what you tell yourself.
Then a stroke of luck, your apartment neighbor walks back from checking his mail. Toji and you were friendly. He was a single man and nice enough, plus you appreciated his honesty sometimes. He also likes the way you make cookies and jello shots, neither your husband appreciated.
"That color looks good on you" Toji chimes in as he notices you, that cocky smirk on his lips. You can't help but smile a little "Well, thanks Toji. I'm glad someone can appreciate it." You scoff, yeah, maybe you were a little bitter.
"Oh? Is he not home yet?" He asks, in reference to your husband "Oh it's worse! He's not here and he's barely acknowledged me all day. Would it kill him to at least send flowers or something?" You pout as you brush a hand over your hair.
Toji scoffed "What a piece of work" he smirks as he looks at you "Why don't you come in for a drink? I'd hate to let such a pretty thing waste away all night on a man who can't appreciate it" he suggested, and you were more than happy to oblige.
Toji let you in, his apartment was cleaner than you thought. He fixed you both a shot while giving you something to chase it with.
You sigh as you down the shot and sip on your chaser to soothe the burn.
Toji downs his shot with ease as he looks over at you "Oh come on, princess. Don't be down...you get to spend the evening with me" he smirks and you can't help but chuckle at how cocky he is. Although, he has every right to be.
Toji is huge, he's tall with muscles for days. He has a dominating aura, he was overwhelming. You liked it, maybe a little more than you should for someone who's married.
You haven't bothered to check your phone. Toji had you laughing, drinking, and forgetting about the shitty day you were having. His hand on your thigh as he rubbed it with his thumb. The simple action had you feeling a pulse in your panties.
"You know, I don't know why you don't have a date tonight" you chuckle "Oh? You think I'm that charming?" He teases "If not charming, then at least a girl would come home to get some action" you add softly.
Toji can't help but let out a deep chuckle "That's fair, princess. But I can't see why your loser husband would miss out on you".
"Why? Would you do different?" You smile as you lean in a bit closer to him. It was probably the alcohol making you this confident.
Toji smirked as he moved his hand to wrap around your waist. "Of course I would, princess. I wouldn't miss the chance to spend time with you...to kiss those pretty lips of yours...to push those pretty lacy panties aside" he says in a low tone, one that has you pressing your thighs together.
"Yeah?..." You respond breathlessly.
"I'm not gonna touch you, princess. I don't want you to hate me" he chuckles "I could never" you lean in close. "Are you drunk?" He asks "No, I promise" you say sternly.
Toji carefully cups your cheek with his strong and large hands. "Please, Toji..." You beg softly, looking up at him.
Toji groans "You're gonna get me in so much trouble, princess".
Toji leans in and kisses you gently, you don't hesitate to kiss him back. He moves his hands to your waist, his big hands practically covering your hips. You tangle your hands into his hair as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip. Toji doesn't hesitate to let your tongue inside, he tastes the alcohol on your tongue and it's addicting.
He picks you up and pulls you into his lap, trying not to break the kiss. He sets you down, right against his cock. You moan into his mouth as you feel his cock press against you through your clothes.
Toji pulls away from the kiss, saliva connecting your lips.
"You're so pretty..." he rasps as his hands slide up under your shirt. You arch into his chest at the feeling of his hands on your skin.
"Thank you, Toji" you speak softly as you feel his hands undo your bra. "Of course, princess." He tossed your bra to the side as his hands cup your breasts, fondling them, and teasing your nipples.
"Mm- Toji~" you moan as he fondles you. "You've got such nice tits, princess. Your nipples get hard so easy...or is that because it's just me?" He teased with a small chuckle.
"Yeah, it feels so good" you moan as you begin to grind your hips into his hard cock. Between the bit of alcohol and lustful haze, you weren't really sure your words made any sense. You just know you wanted Toji to keep touching you.
Toji didn't waste much time, the next moments almost felt like a blur to you. His hands are prying off your clothing as you do the same to him. He lets out unrestrained moans and groans as he stuffs you full of his cock.
"Tojiii~ So...fuckin big" you moan as you're scratching into his back. He grunts in response "You feel so good, princess. You're man is really missing out..." He chuckles breathlessly "I'm so glad that the pretty lingerie you bought didn't go to waste~" he rasps, not missing the lacy set you were wearing when he tugged off your clothes.
It doesn't take long before Toji has you toppling over the edge. His hands leaving marks on your hips as he let you cum all over his cock. Sinful moans and lewd noises filling the room.
As much as he wanted to fill you up, leave his cum dripping out of you when you left to go back to your husband, he settled for pulling out and cumming on your stomach. You whine, you almost sounded disappointed.
Toji chuckled as he leaned in and kissed you "What is it, princess?". You kiss him back but slowly pull away as you look up at him. "You could have finished inside...I'm on the pill" you say softly "Well, I didn't know you wanted to prove such a point to your shitty husband" he chuckled.
You flipped yourself over on the couch, your tits pressing into the sofa with your ass up and soaked pussy on display. "You wanna do it again?" You ask sweetly, looking back at Toji. Toji groaned as he felt his cock immediately get hard again. "You're such a dirty little princess, aren't you?" He smirked.
His hand came up and rubbed along your folds before lightly slapping your pussy. You let out a whiny moan in response.
Toji doesn't hesitate to stuff you full of him again. His cock always hits the deepest and most sensitive parts of you, the ones that have you pulsing around his cock within minutes.
He holds your hands behind your back, his figure easily towering over you. It only takes one of his hands to keep both of yours pinned behind you. You can't help but moan out for him into the apartment, absolutely sure someone must hear this.
"You're so pretty like this...bent over, taking my cock, drooling into the cushions. Nobody has ever fucked you this good, hm?" He teased as he lightly slapped your ass, earning him another needy moan.
"No no, nobody has ever fucked me so good~" you stutter out as you press your hips back into Toji when he slaps your ass.
"Awe, poor thing. Don't worry, you can always come over when you need it" he says lowly, his voice having you tightening around his cock.
"Toji- I'm close" you whine out as you grind back into him. Toji moves his hands so they're both firmly holding your hips. He starts thrusting more roughly into you, pounding against your poor cervix.
The action leaving you a moaning and whiny mess beneath him as you babbled his name into the cushions. Then you practically screamed as you came- no, squirted on his cock. Toji relished the sight of you as he thrust into you a few more times before pressing right against your sweet spot and cumming inside you.
After a few beats, Toji slowly pulls out of you. He flips you over, dragging you into his chest as both of you try to catch your breath.
"Do you wanna take a shower?" He asks softly as he reaches over and cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. "The night is still kind of young, we could get some shitty takeout and have a few more drinks..." He rasps and you can't help but blush a little. "I'd like that..." You smile in return...
The following morning, you return to your apartment with little guilt or shame, considering the fact your husband didn't text you all night.
Maybe you should be looking into divorce papers, Toji seemed like he never wanted you to leave. Maybe he'd welcome you into moving in?
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reiderwriter · 4 months
Note
Hey lovely! Hope you’re doing good! I was listening to bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo and thought it would be a good idea for a Spencer fic, was thinking something something with a little angst, smut and possibly a fluffy ending! ♥️
Ps love your writing 🖤
A/N: Most relatable song released this year, if we're being totally honest with ourselves, right 💀 I hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: (Munch Spencer Truthers, I'm throwing yourself another bone here), Oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (male), slight hand job at the end, penetrative sex, cum play, etc. Minors DNI 18+
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Your fling with Spencer Reid from the BAU ended abruptly when he fell off the face of the earth.
You weren't sure how someone who had described himself as technophobic had managed to perfect the art of ghosting someone, but boy had he, and you were still a little bit angry about it.
Even angrier when you saw him plastered over the local news out on a case, explaining to the people how fake tips to the FBI hindered cases more than helped them.
You were angry because he looked so good. His hair was shorter, displaying his all too pretty features prominently, and pissing you off to no end as you still felt your heart beat out of your chest until he'd disappeared into a crime scene again.
You brushed it off and berated yourself until the text came.
It wasn't much, just a quick hello, but you waited for a few minutes anyway to see if he'd say anything else.
When he didn't, you grew frustrated and text him a response.
“Who is this?”
It was petty, but four months of radio silence deserved less, in all honesty.
You weren't expecting the phone to vibrate out of your hand as you waited for a response, but it lit up with his call and you scrambled to wait enough time to pick it up.
“Hello.”
“Hi. It's Spencer. Spencer Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid, from the Behavioural Analysis Unit, this is Y/N right?”
“Yes, Spencer, it's me. My number didn't change after four months.”
“Okay, that was deserved.”
“Why are you calling Spencer?”
“Because I'm a burnt out child prodigy who didn't cure schizophrenia by age 25 and my friends missed my birthday. And because I really wanted to see you.”
The line went quiet as you contemplated what the hell you would say to that.
“It would be stupid to ask if you remembered my address, right?”
“Y/N, I remember what you taste like, and I'll never forget it.”
“Good. I'm locking the door in half an hour.” You didn't give him time to respond before exiting the call and running to your bathroom.
Maybe it wasn't the best idea entertaining a fling from months ago on a whim at 7pm on a Wednesday evening, but you had nothing else to be doing with your time.
It wasn't illegal for people to reconnect, and you were not going to mention this to any close or mutual friends of yours, so one conversation (or whatever this was) probably wouldn't have any consequences anyway.
Caution blown to the wind, you replaced your work clothes with a comfortable dress, fixed your hair and poured a glass of wine and waited.
As if on queue, 27 minutes later, Spencer was at your door. Or more accurately in your house.
Your threat to lock the doors had obviously spurred him on, and you heard the door handle twist as he stepped into the space.
“Spencer. How lovely, to what do I owe the honor?”
The adrenaline of making sure the door was unlocked had obviously worn off for him, as you saw him shift awkwardly in the doorway of your living room, sat comfortably on your couch, your skirt just riding high enough to distract.
“I was thinking. Well, I suppose the correct term would be overthinking. Emily had to snap me out of it, because I was kicking myself and doubting myself and worrying so much that we almost lost the unsub…”
“What I’m trying to say is I’ve regretted not doing too many things to think coming to beg you to kiss me again is a bad idea. It’s not a bad idea, right?”
“That depends, Spencer.” You replied, setting your glass of wine down and standing up. You took a wobbly step towards him, eager to blame your hesitancy on the wine rather than the things his gaze, his words and his simple presence was doing to your body.
“On if you only want a kiss.” Your hand gingerly slipped up his chest until it was hooked into his hair, exploring the shorter locks as he grabbed you by the waist.
“Or if you aren't satisfied with just that.”
“I can't seem to come up with an answer. Perhaps you should kiss me and it'll jog my memory.”
You finally cracked a smile, and saw his face instantly bloom into ot as well.
“Nu-uh Spencer. I think you have to take that chance this time.”
He hesitated only a second before his hands were cradling your face, tipping your chin up to him as he bent to kiss you. You immediately responded, letting your hands grab fistfuls of his shirt as you pulled each other closer.
It sent you off balance, but you let yourself follow the motion of you tipping backwards, letting him catch you as you began moving in the direction of your bed.
“Not a bad idea,” he mumbled between deep kisses, letting loose a stray moan when your hands trailed down to his belt and below. “Definitely not a bad idea.”
Somehow in the clash of lips and hands, you managed to make it back to your bed, his hands already managing to find themselves under your dress as his lips diverted your attention.
“Four months, Spencer.” You growled the words into his mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. “Four months without this. I thought I'd go insane.”
You felt him smile as he lifted you, and grinned too as you wrapped your legs around him just as he began climbing onto the bed, softly lowering you down until he was on top of you.
His tongue travelled down your neck, making his way back up towards your ear.
“I did go a bit insane, you know?”
His hands flipped up your skirt as he ground his dick against your crotch, pushing it up further until the bottoms of your breasts were peaking out of the scraps of material as well.
“Let me make it up to you?” It was phrased like a question he didn't care about the answer to, as he pushed off of you and completely rid your body of the material that was hindering it completely.
“That's better.” You swore you heard a sigh of contentment as he held your thighs apart and lowered his head, one kiss at a time, to your neglected pussy.
He hooked a ginger under your panties, and pushed them off to the side, but he'd never been the most patient, and he'd already spread your legs. He'd just work around the impediment, you knew.
And he did, starting with a casual flick of the tongue as he looked up at you from his place at your cunt, smiling at you as he began to feast.
You'd never thought of yourself as a pillow princess before Spencer, enjoying giving love as much as receiving but he gave you the perfect royal treatment, and enjoying it so much it was impossible to deny.
After getting so spoiled, it was a wonder that you even knew how to adapt to life without him, nothing compared to the care and attention he showed you in bed.
Your thoughts blended together as he pressed a finger into you, already sneaked with his spit and your wetness, collected from between his lips and your soaked cunt. His pace was steady, repetitive, and driving you fucking insane.
Never a demanding lover, before you would have simply let him enjoy his time between your legs, enjoying just how much he enjoyed it himself as he lapped up all of your juices.
But four months clean from your addiction to Spencer Reid and you were snapping.
Your hands gripped at his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt than he'd been before, enjoying the muffled moans and the sound of his tongue generously lapping up all you had to offer.
You started humping his mouth, holding his head still as you used him as a tool to get yourself off, finally cumming on his mouth with a shudder and an unfiltered moan.
It would've been embarrassing if it wa anyone else, just how loud you'd been for your ex-boyfriend.
“You taste the same.” He said, wiping the remainders of your cum from his lips as he stroked himself, having loosed his cock from his pants sometime between you moaning like a wanton whore and using his face as a sex toy.
A single glance at him over you pleasuring himself was enough to get you ready for round two.
He had sat up on his knees, head and torso tilted slightly back to give you a better view of his cock being pumped hard and fast.
“Spencer Reid, don't you dare make yourself cum.” You thought the words were joking, light even but even you were shocked by the sheer lust dripping from your throat.
Wrapping your legs around him again, you pulled yourself up into his lap, holding yourself still as you quickly unfastened each of his shirt buttons, pushing it away and chucking it so far that he wouldn't be able to use it to cover up anything else.
It took you a minute more to properly situate yourself, but soon you were sinking down onto his cock and allowing the stretch to rule your mind and movements for a minute.
You gently started riding him, letting each gasp and moan reach your ears and spur you on, not holding back on your side either, telling him just how good it felt to have him in you raw once again.
Your stamina wasn't great though especially after having had one powerful orgasm already, and your movements soon became sloppy.
He kissed you softly on the lips, and you let go of the tension in your body as he pushed you onto your back, made sure you were comfortable, and started beating his cock into you with such a force that you were sure the bed was going to break.
It was this intensity that you craved, this complete change from his insistence on putting you first so to speak, and then using you as a human sexton when it suited him, allowing his cock to push you to your limits and beyond.
It wasn't like you could protest anyway, mouth hanging limply open in a scream of pleasure as sparks shot up your spine.
Entertaining Spencer Reid was never a bad idea. You decided then and there that if he left you again for whatever reason, you'd hunt him to the ends of the earth and beg for another chance at this feeling of pleasure.
You came again, of course, not sure if it was his cock or his exploring hands that was tethering you to the moment as you died a little death.
His own orgasm wasn't far behind your own, but he'd always been a bit messy. You weren't surprised when he gave a small panicked moan, pulling out at the last second as his cum spurted out. You helped him ride it out, wrapping a hand around him to stroke him until his dick was drained, the contents sprayed across your chest and breasts, a single drop even making it to the side of your mouth, but that was quickly lapped up.
His aftercare was almost as good as his foreplay, as he took pains to wash you diligently, even as all you wished to do was sleep well into the night directly after feeling his hot cum pour onto you.
He'd gathered a wash cloth, fresh set of pyjamas and an extra blanket to cocoon you both in before you could even lift a finger, and climbed into bed before you could even think of asking if he was staying the night.
With the satisfaction of multiple orgasms finally catching you, you fell asleep in his arms, a grin plastered on your lips, his hands possessively surrounding you.
Needless to say, when you woke in the morning, he was still there.
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glitch-karma · 13 days
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✧Tldr: Chuuya notices you seem overworked, so he gives you princess treatment
✧One Shot, bath time
✧Cw/Content: Overworked/burnt out reader, implied nakedness (duh), whipped Chuuya lol, Fluffy fluff, Established relationship, Pet names
✧Here's that bath time fic I promised awhile back <\3
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"Mhm..." Chuuya's eyes wandered over to your figure laying face down on the other end of the couch as you let out a groan. Chuuya had noticed the signs. You'd been together nearly 6 years now, he could tell just by the look you gave him that morning. You were stressed, unmotivated, exhausted even.
Your eyes didn't have that sparkly look he loved even when you did your favorite things. Your hair wasn't as healthy or shiny as it used to be. You just seemed unmotivated to do almost anything after work.
He sighed gently, shutting the book of poems he was previously reading. He gently scooted over to you, brushing a bit of hair out of your eyes. "Doll?" He spoke gently, rubbing your shoulder lightly. You glanced up at him, forcing a smile as you snuggled into his gloved hand. "Hi Chu." You whispered up to him.
Chuuya's eyes softened as he leaned down, placing a kiss on your forehead. "You doin' okay?" He asked, trying his best to mask his concern. You nodded lightly with a sigh. "I'm alright, don't worry about me hun." You chuckled lightly. Chuuya knew well enough to know your words weren't the truth. But he also knew better than to push further. He smiled lightly, sneaking a hand under your chin and gently kissing your lips.
"I'm gonna go run an errand, I'll be back in a bit alright?" His hand held your cheek carefully as you nodded. He smiled lightly, standing up and walking to the front door, placing his coat over his shoulders and quietly leaving. You let out a sigh, rolling over and facing the back of the couch, mind numbing itself.
As you heard the door unlock, you sat yourself up, looking to the door as it opened. There Chuuya stood, a confident smirk plastered on his face as he carried multiple store bags along with a fairly large take out bag. You stood up at the realization, walking over to him. "Awe babe, I could have helped you carry stuff in," you smiled guiltily.
He let out a small "psh", as he waved your helpful hands away. "No need, these weigh nothing to me." He set the take out bag onto the counter top, moving a few of the other bags into his opposite hand. "Go ahead and turn whatever you want on the tv, I bought your favorite so we can just have a calm, easy night here." He smiled sweetly at you as he carried away the other bags. You stood there for a second before finally your shoulders relaxed for the first time that day. You smiled genuinely, grabbing the take out bag and taking it into the living room.
After turning something on Chuuya joined you once again, taking out the containers of food and arranging the spread on the coffee table. As you both settled on the couch, Chuuya couldn't help but notice the faint smile that graced your lips while watching TV. He sat beside you, his arm casually draped around your shoulders, pulling you a bit closer.
As the last bites were taken and the plates were cleared, Chuuya leaned back, stretching his arms. "Feeling a bit better, Doll?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You nodded, a genuine smile gracing your features. "Yeah, thanks to you," you admitted, appreciating his effort to bring comfort. He chuckled, leaning over and gently kissing your cheek. "Wait here, alright? I got a couple more cards up my sleeve tonight."
Chuuya stood up, letting the Tv continue to play as he made his way down your shared hallway out of sight. You hummed, laying back and waiting for him to fix up whatever it was he was doing. It took awhile but after a bit Chuuya snuck back in the living room.
He chuckled as you sat up looking up at him. He walked over, sneaking one arm under your legs and placing another behind your back, picking you up with ease. As you wrapped your arms around his neck he let out a confident chuckle, making his way to your master bathroom towards the back end of the house. "Ya ready?" He taunted you a bit. You nodded slightly excited, he then gently kicked the slightly open bathroom door. The sight before you was endearing to say the least.
The bathroom was littered with flower petals, separate arrangements of flowers placed in different areas, a few small candles were lit on the bathroom counter, and the bath was filled up with some kind of bubble bath. You let out a small gasp of excitement as you looked around the room. Chuuya couldn't help but chuckle smugly at his great idea. "Vanilla bubble bath, bath salts, and all at the correct temperature. And I bought you a new robe to wear afterwards, and some skin care products I caught you eyeing the other day." He said, kissing your cheek before setting you down on the ground.
You looked around in awe as Chuuya chuckled at your excitement. Chuuya turned on the jets in the bath, before making his way back over to you. He gently placed a gloved hand on your shoulder, "May I remove this?" He asked for permission as he found the bottom of your shirt. You nodded, lifting your arms above your head and allowing Chuuya to help remove the rest of your clothes.
As you crawled into the warm water, you could feel the muscles in your back slowly untense you rested your head against the side of the tub as you felt the jets spit out fresh warm water. "Feels good huh?" Chuuya asked, removing one of his gloves and running a hand along your back slowly. You nodded lightly as you leaned into his touch.
Chuuya felt the knots in your back, releasing a hum as he lifted his other hand to his mouth, using his teeth to remove the other glove before giving your back a proper massage. "A little tense there aren't we?" He quietly spoke, moving his way to your shoulders and neck. His hands were gentle, but still firm enough to help release the tension you'd been building these past days.
You hummed lightly as you sinked a bit further into the water. You'd been so busy with everything lately you hadn't really had time to pamper yourself like this. It was nice to have Chuuya home to do things like this for you.
After awhile of his hands massaging every rough spot of your body, he then ran a hand over your hair, taking in the slightly messy dirty look of it. "You really 'outta take better care of your hair love. It's too gorgeous to let get all greasy." He whispered, kissing your forehead gently.
Chuuya reached over you, grabbing your bottle of shampoo and squeezing a bit into your hair. Using his fingers to gently scrub it into your scalp. Relaxing you even more as he massaged it all throughout your head, cleaning every part of it. After rinsing your hair, he then put a small amount of conditioner, playing with your hair as he rubbed it all throughout. You giggled softly as you leaned into his gentle touch.
Chuuya chuckled lightly, leaning down and kissing your lips lightly. As he rinsed your hair, you felt comfort that you desperately had needed for awhile now. After he finished with your hair, he pulled his hand out, causing you to pout at him. He chuckled lightly as his hand went back, holding your cheek softly.
"What is it doll? I thought you might want some alone time in here." You shook your head as you leaned into his touch. "Nope." You said as you popped the P.
"Your company is what I want.." you smiled. Chuuya laughed lightly at your clinginess, shaking his head lightly. "I guess if that's what you want." He kissed your forehead again. "It very much is."
You two basked in each others company, your eyes lazily closed as Chuuya admired everything about you quietly. As you looked over you couldn't help but notice the light sadness in his eyes that he thought you couldn't see.
"What's up Chu?" You quietly whispered. Chuuya blinked a few times at you before he sighed lightly. "I was just a little worried about you is all." You hummed lightly at him. "It's the first time I've seen you relaxed in days. Which is good but.. I just missed this. Your smile." Chuuya smiled at you, running a hand softly on your face.
You smiled sadly at him. "I'm sorry Chuuya.. I know you worry. But I'm okay now. Honestly." You reached out and caressed his cheek as well. It was hard to remember sometimes that Chuuya really is a worried person. Especially when it comes to you.
Chuuya sighed contently as he gently grabbed your hand, kissing it softly. "As long as you're happy.." he smiled at you.
After a while Chuuya stood up slightly, shaking the slight dampness from his hands. "Alright, let's get you out of there, huh? Any longer and you'll be a prune." He chuckled. You chuckled back as you looked down at your hands. "I guess I am starting to look a bit prune like huh?" You showed your hand to him as he turned off the jets. "Yeesh, perfect timing I guess." He smiled as he opened the door, disappearing into the hallway.
You sat up in the tub, clicking the drain button down and watching as the water slowly went down. After a few seconds, Chuuya returned with a fluffy white towel in one hand, the robe he'd previously mentioned in the other. "I threw em both in the dryer so they'd be warm for ya." He smiled. You excitedly smiled, slowly standing up from the bath.
Chuuya immediately wrapped you up in the towel, setting the robe down and grabbing another one. "Alright, sit on the edge of the counter top so I can dry your hair." He pointed. You complied, sitting down facing the mirror. He wrapped your hair up in the towel, gently rubbing and drying it. You hummed contently as he was careful not to pull or yank at it.
"Anddd there ya go." He finished pulling off the towel and throwing it into the dirty bin across the bathroom, running a hand through your hair just a tad as you giggled lightly.
You yawned lightly as you stretched lightly, causing a chuckle to escape Chuuya's lips. "Alright, let's get you into the robe then head to sleep. You clearly need it." He spoke softly, picking you up from the counter and placing you back on the floor as you nodded.
Chuuya looked at you as he held a hand on your towel, waiting for a second. You smiled at him sincerely. "You don't have to ask to remove the towel Chu, you're only doing it to put on the robe." "It's still polite, common courtesy is important. Especially when it's you." He sighed at you as he gently took off the towel, not staring as he quickly slipped the robe on you, still warm from the dryer.
"So warmmmm." You smiled at him softly. Chuuya carefully picked you up with a light laugh, carrying you to your shared bedroom. Gently placing you on the bed, he pushed back your hair, kissing you on the forehead.
"Get comfy, I'll change into some pajamas and crawl in with you." You nodded up at him as he walked to his closet. You pushed the plush blankets down, pulling them back over yourself and getting comfortable. After a few minutes, Chuuya returned back. Walking to his side of the bed and crawling in, he immediately wrapped his arms around you pulling you close to his chest.
Chuuya pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his breath warm against your skin. "I love you.." he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.
"Hmhm.. love you too," you murmured back. The two of your breaths synced up as the night warmth overtook you both. After only a few minutes, you were both fast asleep in one another's arms.
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sunraies · 11 months
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The Shoes
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Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader
Warnings- Pregnant Reader, Fluff, crying
Rafe finds a solution for a shoe problem, the day of midsummers
Not sure about this one, just a fluff idea that popped into my head and quickly wrote
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You had everything planned. The dress, the bag and shoes. Even the way you wanted to style your hair with flowers.
The midsummers was one of the biggest formal events on The Figure Eight. You went every year, but this was the first year you were seven months pregnant by the time the event came around.
Rafe had booked you in to have your hair and makeup done, and you had messaged him to say you loved it. So it was a surprise and shock when he came home and found you sat sobbing on the bed.
"Shit, baby. You ok? What happened?" He dropped to his knees in front of you. His eyes checked you over before his hands cupped your cheeks. "Are you hurt? Is it the baby?"
You shook your head and tried to fix your breathing.
"Please tell me, pretty girl," He said softly "your freakin me out."
"They don't fit," You muttered as you gave him a pitiful look. "My feet are too fucking big"
"You don't have big feet, baby." Rafe said gently as he smoothed your hair.
"I do! They're too fucking swollen" You looked down at you feet before pointing at the heels you'd thrown across the room. "The beautiful shoes you got me, don't fit. Everything was perfect and now its ruined"
"Hey, now. Not ruined." His thumbs brushed away your tears, careful not to smudge your makeup. "Just wear your sneakers. No one will care"
You laughed coldly. "Rafe, have you met the people that live here. I'll be the gossip until Christmas"
"Fuck em, you are having our baby girl. You could wear a trash bag and be the most beautiful there" Rafe kissed your nose, cheeks and then lips before resting his hands on your bump and kissing it. "You look amazing in this dress. Wear comfortable shoes"
You ran your fingers through his hair. "You are too sweet" You smiled.
"Only for you, my pretty girl" Rafe smiled up at you.
"I have none that will go with this dress" You sighed but were a lot happier than before. You'd been through your whole wardrobe as Rafe got ready.
"Hold on, baby." He suddenly grabbed his phone with a look in his eyes that he always got when he had an idea. "I'll be right back. We won't be too late, I promise"
You raised an eyebrow as he gave you a quick kiss before hurrying out of the house.
He was back about an hour later, with a green shoe box. He seemed a little nervous as he gave it to you.
"If you hate them, we won't go. Order in pizza. I want my girl to be happy"
You nodded and opened the box, pulling out white crocs with a pearl chain. You couldn't help the smile that spend across your face.
"Oh my god. Rafe" You got up as quickly as you could and flung your arms around him. You kissed him before laughing. "They are worse, and I love them! They match my dress perfectly!"
"I do try." He smiled and kissed you again before helping your step into them.
"Hey, don't take all the credit," Sarah appeared in the doorway. "I helped"
"Of course you did." You smiled and hurried over to give her a hug.
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dark-night-hero · 1 year
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i love the imagine u wrote where zhongli would give us up for the world 🥹🥹 and it got me thinking:
what if the reader gets incarnated to the current timeline we have and meets zhongli again? they don’t have the past memories but somehow zhongli feels familiar for them. Z thinks this era is the right time for him to take back the past and do things right so he spends time w them but he somehow finds out that reader has a lover (maybe another playable character). Z begins to asks questions abt their lover and idk how their convo would play out but I just imagine where reader gets a question where they answer with “i would give up the world for them (their lover)” and zhong is just hit with past memories and regrets wishing how he could have done things differently idk i j imagine it rly angsty 😭😭
Sorry to disturb but this has been on my mind i cant stop thinking abt it and i wanted to share 😭😭 Anyways, i look forward to more of ur works!! keep up the good work ur doing great 🥺🫶
: following zhongli (world > you)
Imagine how had Mor- Zhongli tried to get close to you, you who obviously was rather uncomfortable with his presence. And the only key to it was the traveller, the same old traveller that had help Liyue and Monstand and is now away on their venture in Inazuma. That being said, nowadays he had been keeping you company.
"You've been off since the departure of the Traveller." Zhongli spoke as he stand right beside you in the harbor.
"Really? I didn't notice." You have him a small smile.
"But I guess you're right, I've been missing the traveller so bad nowadays." You chuckle.
Imagine, at that very moment, Zhongli hoped he didn't not see you. Not when you're looking like that. Not when you're looking so soft, so lovely, obviously longing for someone, someone who definitely wasn't him.
Imagine the way his heart dropped to his stomach. The way his hand clenched around nothing before realising it. And after a few moments of silence.
"Do you.. Perhaps have feelings for the traveller?"
Imagine the way his voice shaken, obviously did go unnoticed by you. The way his amber iris were shaking, hoping and trying to deny reality as best as he can. He had hope for a chance. He knew this time, nothing can go wrong with the two of you. So he approached you, he tried to get close to you, he really did. But perhaps it was already too late, or was it? Did he even had a chance in this new persona he now possess?
"Honestly, I'm not sure myself." You chuckle.
"Or so I thought before the traveller left. Did you know? The traveller confessed to me, but Traveller also told me that they had so many things going on at the moment so.." As you look beyond the sea, you smile genuinely.
"I was wondering that in the world was the Traveller even thinking confessing and leaving me just like that, but now that I think about it. Its wasn't so bad."
Imagine the way you smile, the way your brush back your hair, trying to fix it upon the harsh breeze that have been messing with your hair earlier.
"If the world wants me dead, if the world see me as a threat, what would you do?"
"Huh?"
"What was the question that suddenly came into mind as soon as te Traveller confessed."
"What was the Traveller reply?"
Imagine the way you laugh, the way you smile genuinely as you recall the answer of that silly, adventurous, kind Traveller reply.
Imagine the way Zhongli kept staring at you, you who looked all refesh and happy, bright as you were before. Oh how much it hurts him he was no longer the reason why.
"How about a new world?"
"What?"
"I'll just have to take you to a new world. As you are already aware I wasn't from this world. All we have to do is to escape and find a new world where no one can take you away from me. Although my twin always somes first, I cannot afford to loose you, you know?"
"..." "(First name)? Are you o-?" "Pfff.."
"Did I say something funny?" "No.. hehe, I'm just.. I don't know." Was it relief that you felt?
Imagine the way you let out a sigh. Thinking about the Traveller only makes you miss them more. Perhaps you should have given the Traveller a reply back then but both of you agreed to put more thought into it and give them a reply upon coming back.
"Escape." It was just one word.
"I see." Zhongli replied, this time he looked away from you.
"If you don't mind me asking." "What is it?"
"If it's for the sake of the world, would you be willing to kill them?"
Imagine the way you once again let out a sigh, as you went quite only for a few moments, you face him and tug his sleeve.
"If that person meant the world for you, isn't that enough reason to be selfish?" You chuckle.
"Isn't a world without your beloved would only felt like a living hell?" You added as you never once look away from him.
"It goes on without saying that it's them over the world. That's how much they matter to me, that's how much I love them."
Imagine the way Zhongli chuckle and the way his lips form a bitter smile afterwards nevertheless, he agreed to you and eventually excuse himself. Leaving you all alone in the harbor, all waiting for the Traveller and not him. But it's alright, one way or another, he deserves this.
Imagine as Zhongli walks away from you, you stare at him and as you do so. He looks so lonely. But then you blink as a harsh breeze passes by, turning your look into the horizon, the sun was peacefully setting. How beautiful yet it left a bitter taste in your mouth in which you soon ignore.
"Escape huh."
Imagine, it's not like he did not think about it. But back then, the best choice was to kill you. But after hearing what you said, he starts to doubt if he did perhaps made a mistake, leaving regrets behind. After all, you were right. A world were he couldn't embrace you when you were right in front of him was like a living hell.
Imagine the way it was making him wonder if he was only a little bit selfish, if only he did not listen to the pleads of his people, his friends. If only he tried to find another way. If only he choses the other way. Would the two of you be happy and still together like you were back then?
He doesn't know, after all, those were the choices he didn't take. And this was the consequence he had to face.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°
: I think I strayed away from what was asked. Crap, did I do this right?
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