#// i have no self control so i'm posting this as soon as i finished editing it

[chezlalune]

I HEAR THE SUNSPOT ひだまりが聴こえる (2024) EPISODE 02

[makeyoumine69]

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].

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.'

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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!

[linka-from-captain-planet]

WIP I'll Probably Never Finish Wednesday

sometime in October, I posted a list of kinktober concepts I'd write if my brain weren't soup. I picked at a couple here and there, but none really went anywhere except "Neve and Rana once got sex pollened while working a case together and that's why they act so weird about each other." I wrote the fun part (the lead-up and Neve in full ಠ_ಠ dying mad mode over her lack of control over the situation) and don't feel like writing the boring part (actually banging) or adapting it to suit canon better (re: Brom and such; I wrote most of this pre-release) but I had fun writing it, so I'm posting what I have for funsies

Fun fact: one of Neve's codex entries about the wisps mentions they avoid her notes on "the Opal Rose case" for an unknown reason and I thought that sounded juicy, so I stole it for this fic

Somehow this managed to be a rambling and barely edited 2800 words and I would issue a warning about dubious consent because of the nature of the trope and Neve finding the arousal variably unwelcome, but there is no sex below the cut

The Opal Rose. Western fringe between Docktown and the lower market district. Well past midnight.

The reputation is good enough—but also bad enough that the rumors already seemed credible even before she began her investigation and found a few people willing to speak up. 

Unusually urgent arousal. Erratic behavior. Reckless spending, of course, in desperation to scratch the itch. Someone—something—has Docktown bewitched, and Neve is no prude, but who or whatever is taking advantage of her neighbors won’t get away with it.

Of course, she’s too well-recognized as a gumshoe to simply waltz in the front door; she wouldn’t make it past the bar before the perp wiped all the evidence. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard to track down a disgruntled former employee, who was more than happy to lead them to the back entrance of a back entrance in exchange for a little coin. 

Them, being herself and Templar Rana Savas.

She doesn’t quite buy that this place is harboring a desire demon, as the most dramatic version of the rumor holds… but she doesn’t quite not buy it, and in that case, it’d be risky for anyone to try and face it alone, let alone a mage. She needed backup, someone she could trust—and specifically, someone she could trust possessed enough self-control to resist enthrallment. 

Tightly wound as she is, as contained and orderly as her pristine braid, Rana fit the bill.

Rana left her heavy Templar plate in the barracks and instead donned her lighter—quieter—leather set; fortunately so, as the back passage of this place is so tight that her well-built shoulders already nearly scrape the walls, and she has to hold onto her sword to keep it from bouncing off her shapely ass and clattering against—

Neve stops short, abruptly aware of a sweet, heady humidity and an unnatural warmth wafting down the corridor.

Magic.

Suddenly close enough for Neve to smell the beeswax and mint of her lip balm, Rana leans in and whispers, “What’s wrong?” In the low red lamplight, the full apples of her cheeks are dusted in a far-too-pretty faux flush, and her lips look plump and rosy, as if freshly bitten and sucked by an eager lover.

Tearing herself away, Neve signals for Rana to be quiet so she can re-focus. With each step she guides them closer to the other end, the hallway only grows warmer and the air within it, more charged.

And, with each step, a small shock reverberates up Neve’s legs and settles between them, setting her lightly abuzz and her teeth on edge.

There have been few times in her life when Neve really resented being a mage, but she’ll surely chalk this up as one before it’s all over. Being attuned to the subtle thrum of magic in the air means she can feel it thrumming, all too well, while Rana remains oblivious and collected just an arm’s length away.

If there’s any luck left in her, they’ll finish soon. 

With the investigation. With luck, they’ll be finished soon, with the investigation.

Teeth grit, Neve continues to lead them forward. It’s hardly a minute before they come to a triple-padlocked door, but by the time they reach it, Neve is almost panting and definitely sweating underneath her ascot and coat.

Whatever this is, whatever’s doing this to her—it’s behind that door.

She nods at Rana, who in turn touches her gently on the waist—despite herself, Neve’s skin screams for the contact even through her thick layers—and guides her aside. She listens through the door for a few moments, then fishes a Templar skeleton key from her pocket. Enchanted to open any lock in Minrathous so long as it’s pursuant to orders, it makes quick work of it.

Rana then wraps one long-fingered, dextrous hand around the doorhandle, and the other around the hilt of her sword; her strong shoulder, she braces against the door, preparing to break through if need be. Neve blinks and readies her staff as well as she can with shaking fingers. But when the door swings in, the hardly-more-than-a-closet room is empty save for a workbench laden with jars, boxes, scales, and distillery equipment.

Alchemy, then.

“Love potions” may be the stuff of fairytale, but aphrodisiacs? Feel-good stuff that keeps the hips pumping and the inhibitions lowered far longer than the flesh—and purse—would ordinarily permit? Certainly not unheard of, and needless to say, an illegal use of magic. Neve knows no such brew offhand, but a handy sheet of paper pinned to the wall illuminates the simplicity of the scheme: the active ingredient is some kind of pollen that can be distilled into a spray. Spritz a bit into a room before the client enters, and it’s practically money in a bottle.

Neve would have preferred the demon. Now they’ll have to track down the suppliers, too.

At least they’ll probably be done here soon, and she’ll be able to abscond to her apartment and, well, blow off some steam.

Sighing, Neve steels her nerves and begins to look for a ledger while Rana barricades the door behind them.

The small room is stuffy and over-warm, far worse than the hallway with its proximity to the cookstation and lack of airflow. Dried bits of caked-on gunk on the workbench reveal the cook to be an amateur or at least a slob, and Neve internally curses their clumsy hand. Within minutes, her clothing comes to feel far too heavy and her skin, far too tight; she longs desperately to shed at least her outer layer and accessories, but she has more than a hunch that if she were to start to undress, it’d be difficult to stop at just one layer.

She resents Rana's freedom from the effect again; finished with the door, she joins Neve at the bench completely unawares, yet her close presence makes the effect even more pronounced. She reaches to examine the supplies, and Neve shivers and curses under her breath as a crystal-clear image of those sword-callused but meticulously-manicured hands gliding over her slick skin flashes across her mind’s eye.

It’s not—entirely new. It’s not that Rana isn’t attractive and Neve has never idly entertained the thought of them, well. But—she shakes her head, turning away, but catches another glimpse of Rana in the reflection of a glass flask, and her whole body shudders—there’s a big difference between checking someone out from time to time, and imagining one of their strong hands holding her down—she’d play at resisting, of course, but Rana is simply so much stronger—while the other—

As if on cue, Rana pulls a fist-sized drawstring pouch from a small chest and rolls it between her hands, hefting its fullness curiously before slipping two fingers into its tight velvet opening, stretching it wide open and—

Far too late, the alchemical symbol for volatile stamped all over the pouch registers through the haze in Neve’s mind. She doesn’t even have time to cover her mouth and nose before Rana, recoiling from the puff of fine pollen that surges out of the pouch and hits her in the face, drops it onto the bench with an ominous thunk and a white-hot, shimmering cloud overtakes the small room.

The wash of it is so intense that Neve reflexively touches her eyebrows and lashes to make sure they hadn’t been burnt off; to her relief, they’re intact, as is her skin even though it feels like it’s prickling with heat like a sunburn. 

But the heat is internal, and Neve swiftly realizes that she’s flushing intensely, and then the effects she’d already been bothered by slam over her like a wave: her skin tingles, her stomach flutters, her skin blooms over with sweat, her heart races…

And a pang of desire hits her like a brick to the gut, so hard it staggers her. 

She scrambles to catch the edge of the workbench to keep from crumpling to the floor, but a jittering hand grabs her by the elbow and steadies her first. Even through layers of leather and silk, the touch is searing; and even though it’s hardly an erogenous zone, the sheer pleasure of being touched at all when she needs so badly makes a humiliating squeak of a moan tumble through her lips before Neve can clap a hand over her mouth and stifle it.

Rana snatches her own hand back like she’d been bitten, the pupils of her wide eyes dilating so fast that they turn her cool green irises nearly black. She may not be brushed up on her alchemical symbols, but she at least seems to understand what she’s done; despite her deep flush—real this time, not a trick of light—she looks absolutely ashen, and scrambles away into the corner farthest as possible from Neve to hastily blow her nose into her sleeve and spit on the floor. 

That’s how Neve knows this job has really, truly gone shit-sideways. In anything even close to resembling her right mind, Templar Rana Savas would absolutely never. 

“It’s well into your system already, I’m afraid,” Neve warns through grit teeth, her grip on the bench white-knuckled. Nothing she’d gleaned from perusing the documentation strewn about indicates this stuff is harmful—nor would it make sense to maim the clientele, anyway—but, in its concentrated and unprocessed state… this experience is guaranteed to be unpleasant, to put it delicately, but precisely how or how much remains to be seen.

“Well, what else can we do?” Rana snaps over her shoulder, and Neve shudders as one explicit, tantalizing answer flashes across her mind immediately.

She should not entertain the thought—will only make it worse, surely—but. Standing just beyond her reach, Rana’s breathing is labored, rushing in and out of Neve’s ears just as it does her lungs, stretching her stiff leather jacket tight across her fit back. Neve can imagine the moment when even this trivial restriction becomes overwhelming, and could hardly blame Rana for clawing at it, her deft fingers working feverishly to free herself. Neve can’t actually see them with Rana’s back turned, but she can imagine them, and in turn, her cunt clenches so hard around nothing—empty, excruciating nothing—that it honest-to-the-Maker hurts.

It properly knocks the wind out of her, and for that Neve’s actually grateful, because it keeps her from even the remote possibility of opening her mouth to suggest…

Distress and arousal alike flood her system, raising her heart rate to a sickly, shallow race and filling her mind with static. With her every nerve peeled raw and her every sense aflame, Neve couldn’t miss the discontent rumble from the other side of the room, despite Rana’s apparent attempt to shrink enough to disappear. Neve risks the glance, and finds Rana nearly doubled-over, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her red face pressed against the cool block walls. Her attempts to cool off by removing her jacket, obviously, failed; she’s already sweated through her linen undershirt such that it clings to the muscles underneath and Neve can watch them roll, one by one, with her every breath and fidget.

Unable to bear it any longer—and besides, Rana started it (both, this mess—why did she have to fondle the damn bag!—and the undressing)—Neve finally lets herself whip off her fascinator, ascot, and leather gauntlets. Her overcoat, she wrenches open with such clumsy urgency that one of its studded buttons pops off and plinks across the floor, a tiny tinny sound that may as well have been a gaatlok explosion to her harried senses.

Rana’s nerves must be fried, too, or at least this situation hasn’t dampened her usual level of vigilance; she turns around briskly at the clatter, hand hovering over her sword, in just enough time to watch Neve also yank open her high collar and top buttons, exposing the slick column of her throat, the notch of her collarbone, and the hint of the swell of her breasts clinging to the plane of her chest.

Her stare is so intense that Neve can feel it needling her skin like a tattoo, following the exact path of a drop of sweat that meanders down from her throat to the underside of her breast with a hawk’s focus. Rana’s full lips lull open, panting; and then she grimaces, and her legs seem to tremble with the effort of holding herself up, or… perhaps. Back. 

It’s enough of a foothold for Neve’s overwhelming need to seize control, overriding her better judgment and shattering the remainder of her hope that she may escape this excursion with her dignity intact.

“Rana,” she breathes cautiously, her voice so thick with desire that she hardly recognizes herself. Perhaps that’s for the better. “We—,” she starts, and grimaces through another painful throb, this one even more urgent than the last, “—I think we can make this more… bearable.” 

“You can reverse it?” Rana asks, through great effort tearing her gaze off Neve’s tits to look her in the eye, her voice raspy but hopeful. She looks on the verge of collapse, leaning heavily into the wall. Fidgeting, seemingly desperate to do anything with her hands but what her own addled mind is undoubtedly suggesting, she pushes her sleeves up to the elbow, rubbing absently at her own skin. From the heat, or perhaps from how hard she’d been clutching them, the muscles and veins or her hands and forearms all have popped under her skin, glowing with a light dew of sweat.

After an embarrassingly long pause, during which Neve realizes she’d been leering—and salivating—rather than answering, Neve manages to reply, “No. Sorry.” 

Rana groans, and it’s no different than her usual complaining, but it sounds so good that Neve fears she might actually be going insane. Rushing ahead of her self-consciousness, she continues, “But, I think if we… It might be over with faster, if we… got it out of our systems.”

The roundabout suggestion isn’t lost on Rana; her jaw drops, scandalized, and crosses her arms defensively. “If we—I’m working!” 

As grave and humiliating as the overall situation feels, Neve can’t help but chuckle and, half-horrified to have said it before she’s even finished saying it, teases, “Oh, and you never think about throwing me up against a wall whenever we work together?”

Quick as a whip, Rana retorts, “Sure, Neve, and you spend half the time investigating my ass because you like my pants.”

Judging by the way her eyes widen in disbelief and her ears turn fully red, the quip slipped past her self-control just like Neve’s did hers. In any ordinary circumstance, Neve would be mortified—maybe she slightly undersold ‘checking someone out from time to time’ mentally, but surely she’s not that careless!—but in this bizarre one, she finds the callout… thrilling. 

[What would have happened next: 

Having accidentally acknowledged that they ordinarily are attracted to each other, the energy shifts slightly. 

A pang of arousal staggers Rana, and this time Neve catches her. The contact gives them both such relief + a feeling of light euphoria that becomes clear Neve was right, and that it’s the way to stop the agony.

Rana tries to rationalize everything like “they can still be professional after” and blah blah but Neve pushes her against the wall and kisses her to cut her off (classic)

They finger or grind or whatever

As soon as they’re both done, they feel weird about it but Neve can’t quite find it in her to regret it

They agree to pretend it never happened even though it's clear neither of them are quite satisfied with that conclusion (pro move) 

Back in her apartment, Neve can’t help but write up some notes on “the Opal Rose case” in her journal but tells herself it’s just any other case and pretends she doesn’t feel Some Type of Way about it]

[anam3ii]

-1bitHeart-

Nov, 28,2023,

Hi, I'm new here. I've been wanting to create a blog for a long time now. I wasn't sure how to start a blog, what exactly should I share. I meaan...I have a lot to share but I was thinking to my self..should I just be consistent and stick to one thing or would it be ok to do a little bit of everthing?? Well I guess we'll see since I'm kinda..winging it. lol

Today I'd like to share with you what I've been up to recently. I decided to give youtube a try. I love to game and thought why not..it might be fun. I recently finished a game and posted the short series. I still have a lot to learn about editing so it's not great to be honest but the good thing is I've learned a lot for my first time.Oh yes..from the many mistakes. It was not so fun starting over a lot, I'll tell you that ,yet I hope the next series is much better and maybe I'll even have some commentary.

The game I recently completed and posted on youtube is called 1bitHeart. It is created by, not a very well known, developer Miwashiba. This Japanese dev is from Fukuoka and has illustrated and created various cute and interesting RPG games. Miwashiba is known for creating their own pixel adventure games Alicemare, LiEat series,1bitHeart and the sequel 1BeatHeart.I just found out, while doing some research, that pool of creativity has not run dry just yet. In fact,there is a game in production right now by the name of The Faceless Double. You can find all of the games on steam; all but one,1BeatHeart.The game is available and you can find it here on this link.I have yet to give the game a try but so far the big difference I see between them is the more dull or muted colors and maybe less cuteness? It doesn't seem to be going on steam anytime soon so I'm a little hesitant to give it a go.

So far, all of the games that are available on steam are also published under the same publisher, PLAYISM. They publish a variety of genres. From story-focused games to Horror to strategy etc.

Now, I'll be honest, I didn't dive too much into the dev or the publisher so sorry I have no idea if there is any juicy gossip lol. I do though, want to tell you a little bit more about the game,1bitHeart. As far as I know, the game was released on steam back in 2017. The game is set in Japan, in the near future, where technology has progressed to the point that I'd say it's somewhat similar to now in our lives; it is used pretty much everyday, everywhere. It dominates the lives of everyone.

In the game, we play a young guy by the name of Nanashi, who spends most of his time indoors. He is very intelligent but a bit socially awkward. He meets a young girl by the name of Misane. While out making friends and solving mysteries, he learns of a frightening plot to take control of people via hacking. Together they set out to stop the people behind this evil plot.

I have yet to play the other games myself but I can tell you that this game, compared to the others, it's a 2D side scroller instead of using the top down perspective the others used.This allows for larger side view portraits of the game's many characters which lets the game to emphasize Miwashiba's incredible skill at designing cute characters and more detailed during dialogue. The game doesn't have turn based battles like LiEat, according to some other reviews, and also isn't solely based on exploration like Alicemare.The game has it's own systems. The hints being one, that helped me, which you get to chose to have them on or off in the very beginning. When you come across hackers and they attempt to hack the player, you defend yourself by directional inputs; which are basic. Still, the game is fun when you have to play detective and have the subsequent confrontations. You also progress the story by solving the various cases through the chapters during which you need to gather information and evidence.

Stardew Valley is a game I have played, but not finished but I can tell you that in the same way that you are able to give gifts to the characters that hang around the town in 1bitHeart you do the same. You'll trigger scenes once you become better friends with them but you are not able to romance any of the characters like in SV. This leads to one of the most impressive parts: there are actually about 48 characters in all that are spread across the town. Each with their own story, personality and style. The end goal, depending on what end you want, is of course, for these characters to become the main character's friend. You can see the amount of love and effort that was put into the game. In a review I read that the backgrounds during character's dialogue could use a little work. They probably could but I think it was done that way so the characters and their dialogue was the main focus.

Like I mentioned earlier, you need to give gifts to the characters in order to be friends but you need money or bits to buy gifts. You get bits by playing tetris-type minigames but it'll take A LOT of grinding=time to get enough bits to befriend everyone. Fortunately, the dev was aware of this flaw, as there is a secret in the game to acquire endless bits=endless gifts.

Honestly, I enjoyed the soundtrack. It's ok. One of my favorites its the opening theme.

The biggest gripe I have with the game is that I didn't see the option for borderless windowed or something to prevent the game from minimizing. The game would minimize each and every time I clicked out of the game. It was very frustrating and annoying. Honestly, it's one of the reasons why I'm hesitant to play them to record them.

I wonder if streaming would be easier in this case?? I don't want to totally give up.Anyway..If you made it this far, THANK YOU for taking the time to read my blog today. Let me know what your thoughts are...til next time!

-A

[holofoiltowercard]

The Journey of The Tarot Haiku

XV: The Devil - Bound, Unbound

It's kind of funny that we have gone from me talking about the practical aspects of the book project in earlier posts, to entering a world of abstracts and states of mind later on, but it honestly reflects super well on how the Major Arcana itself goes from the more tangible to the abstract and beyond. Today's post is also in this more abstract domain, because there are aspects of this process that stuff like Tarot or self-publishing guides won't cover, such as how it feels to genuinely release something into the wild, out of your hands, how hard it can be to grapple for control in an environment that you have little to no control over, and how much effort it takes to let go of the urge or compulsion to do everything by yourself.

First, the release of the finished work. I actually did not have as much trouble with this one as I thought I might, but I'm a perfectionist at heart and I bet there are perfectionists out there who keep holding onto their finished manuscripts, tweaking the smallest things day by day desperate on making it all perfect and in the process only growing more anxious and wanting to hold onto it until it is practically gathering dust because... what if it's not good enough? What if you are not good enough? That is basically what's at the heart of it. We can be too hard on ourselves and nitpick ourselves to pieces where others might simply take a deep breath and let go. So to everyone who is holding onto something they know in their heart is finished and waiting to be shared: go for it. You know you have put enough care and careful consideration into it already. Have faith. Pull a Tarot card if you have to.

Second, the online world is vast and you do not have control over the grander processes and especially other people. Even when you follow the advice of the successful and advertise the "right" way in the "right" places, build up your brand and your presence and sell your soul on social media or whatever else is expected of us, you have no control over whether people will actually give you a chance, let alone give you money. And if you're like me and feel desperate because life has been hard enough, maybe you're sat there anxious and thinking, if I just make one more post, if I edit one more image and do this and that and the other thing minute by minute, maybe something will budge. Not to be cheeky and referential here, but that is literally the Devil talking. You don't have nearly as much control as you think, and trying to micromanage everything when the macro processes are nigh untouchable will drive you insane.

So, you have to let go somehow. And this is where I have been desperate enough once again to just give a listen to anything that could get me there. I found the following things helpful.

1) Joe Dispenza's book and meditation Breaking The Habit Of Being Yourself. I have already read most of the book a while ago, but now I tried the meditation, and it felt really liberating. Basically he talks about really sitting with bad habits like worrying, letting anger or resentment stagnate, identifying what these feel like in your body, and then consciously replacing these habits with a strong feeling or gratitude. It gave me a lot of food for thought and made me conscious of how I can help my body get out of panic mode.

2) The question "What if?" I got this from Sheevaun Moran. As soon as you start worrying about say, worst case scenarios, and I worried about those quite a lot, ask yourself, "But what if..." and put a positive in there - because the thing is, you don't know yet what is coming, nothing has happened yet, so channeling your focus towards a positive outcome not only feels better but lessens the anxiety. Example - "They might hate the book or not care at all..." "But what if they love it so much they want to do an interview about it?"

3) Drawing a daily Tarot card to take action. This one is from Leeza Robertson, she suggested that when you draw a daily Tarot card, you should sit with that card for longer and think of three actions you could do today based on that card's message. I used to do daily draws, but most of the questions suggested for it, such as "What do I need to know about today?" or "What is the energy of today?" simply didn't compute to me, so they weren't helpful to me personally. This one however, gave better direction and I want to keep doing it.

4) Literally just look at new things. Listen to a new video, try something different. You never know where inspiration or useful tips will come from. Not all of it will be useful, don't expect every new thing to bring you tremendous insight and enlightenment, but give different things a chance to see how they resonate. Keep an open mind, because open minds embrace freedom. This way you're also not just sitting there desperately waiting for developments, you are engaging with the world and enriching your soul.

5) Trust the universe. This is part of that meditation I mentioned, too. Remember that you are one person, and you don't have to do everything by yourself. Leave some of that background work to the universe. Do your little steps every day and allow the energy to work for you and move things for you. Trust that there is love in this world and that there is a Source that loves you dearly and wants you to succeed, and keep fostering that feeling of gratitude that also helps you cement the idea that there are good things happening right now, and there will be more. Trust the universe and let it do the things you cannot touch and control by yourself. If you can get to this point, it literally feels like weight coming off your shoulders.

Love you all. Take care. Be free.

Buy the ebook

Buy the paperback

Buy the hardcover

[braveblackbutterfly]

The Heart Bleeds Water for the WIP Asks!

I'm so happy you sent me an ask Rarka about this novel!!

It's the second novel I ever finished writing. But (thankfully) I never tried to self-published it (very prematurely) like I did Supernaturally Human. Being that I never published it, I hope maybe one day I will come back to it and have it publish properly one day...after doing some major editing.

But yeah, back to what's it about:

This is a (new?) adult romance novel I wrote about two princesses, one a human (Kim) and one a mermaid (Raven). This is kinda a queer/extended version of the little mermaid story.

Instead of the mermaid princess wishing she was on land, saves a human prince, falls in love with the prince, gets transformed into a human, marries the prince and live happily ever after...

(insert this poor synopsis I wrote back in 2015)

Princess Kimberley Ivy Nanette Greenland (or Kim as she prefers to be called) appears to have an enchanting life to her devoted people in the great kingdom of Lexington.  Secretly, the princess dreams of a life outside the palace walls, specifically in the sea she loves more than anything else on earth as her twenty-first birthday looms closer and closer where she is destined to marry a prince and one day rule the land.  Kim’s whole world is shaken when she is saved by a beautiful mermaid named Raven.  They form an immediate bond, meeting in secret as the princess finds herself engaged to the intoxicating and cunning Prince Mauricio Alejandro Ignatius Núñez the Third of Rexington.  Just when all hope seems lost, Raven makes a life-changing offer to the human princess.  Kim happily accepts Raven’s offer and soon finds herself engaged to the mermaid’s handsome brother, Auburn.  But as the wedding draws near, the human princess begins to realize her forbidden feelings for the newly transformed Raven that could jeopardize all of their lives if Kim’s father, the controlling King of Lexington was to discover the twin flames’ forbidden affair.             

Dang, now I want to work on this novel after making this post.

[sleepyrouge]

imagining dilf!kirishima (part two) word count: 5.6k pairing: kirishima eijirou x f!reader content warnings: age gap (reader is early twenties, kirishima is early thirties), kinda sugar daddy/baby dynamics but only if you squint, f!reader, reader is kind of a nervous brat, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex (but mentions of taking pill-form birth control), use of petnames, spanking (kinda?), creampie, choking, praise. also the prose in this is non-existent and the format is trash and if anyone sees any y'alls that i forgot to edit out...just.......let it rock. 18+ mdni (and no blank blogs) or you will get blocked. authors note: not me thinking about this post i made the other day for the t h o u s a n d t h time but just there's so much more to imagine, like:

it's before noon on a thursday and you have a final presentation for an elective american lit class in a few hours and you're about to climb a wall because you've practiced your presentation in your mirror so much that you can't stand the sight of your own face anymore so you end up calling kirishima. your stomach flips when you hear his voice on the other end of the line, all deep and sweet and cheery.

"hey, sweet girl! don't you have a final today?" he teases and your stomach is about to flip straight out of your body at the fact that he remembered.

"yeah, i'm really nervous about it." you chew on your lip.

"why don't you come over to the agency and practice in front of me? i don't have patrol until this afternoon." he suggests and you feel a little dumb for not thinking to suggest that yourself.

"are you sure? it won't be...weird?"

"'course not. you're my girlfriend and besides, it's my agency." kirishima continues but your brain gets all staticky after the first part of his sentence.

"i'm your girlfriend." you state slowly, goofy smile on your face that eijirou physically can't see but you can hear him chuckle on his end of the phone. it was the first time that he had called you that outright.

"i mean, i hope so, or pouring my heart out in front of that mcdonald's would have been kinda embarrassing." he jests. you cradle your phone between your shoulder and your ear as you grab your laptop and your notes from around your room and shove them in your schoolbag.

"definitely your girlfriend, eiji." you say with a broad grin on your face as your pick up your apartment keys and head out the door. "also i'm on my way." you finish up your conversation with kirishima as you bound down the stairs and onto the sidewalk.

the walk to his building isn't terribly long and is made even shorter by reciting the facts of your presentation over and over again in your head. you ride the elevator up to the floor that he texted you that he was on and just before the doors slide open, you're hit by a wave of anxiety. you know that kirishima has sidekicks that he employs at his agency that are around your age and you wonder agitatedly what they'll think of you.

too soon, the doors are opening and you hold your breath, expecting the worst but everything is relatively...mundane. like a magnet, your eyes find the door with kirishima's name on the front and you set a quick course for the door. you don't know why you did it, not really, but you slide through his door quickly, not even bothering to knock. you accidentally interrupt a phonecall he was having.

"what's she getting a degree in, anyways? learning how to tie her shoes? reciting the alphabet?" your face heats up at the sound of the man eijirou has on the other end of the line. he swivels in his chair, scrambling to cut the call short.

"goodbye, bakugou." kirishima scowls pointedly at the phone before fixing his face and looking up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. "hey there, sweet thing," he grins and you shake off the self-doubt trying to make itself at home in your body. "i'm so ready to see your presentation." he goes on. his office is modest, a medium oak desk with a shiny black chair and an exquisite view of the city. you take a few steps around, admiring the pictures of him in his hero costume and some with his hero friends.

silently, kirishima cups his hands dutifully on his desk as he waits expectantly for you to start your presentation but you're caught off guard by how handsome and powerful he looks sitting there, hair laying flat against his head and dress shirt unbuttoned just enough at the top to make you want to undo the rest of the buttons. it's like kirishima can read your thoughts because he starts smirking at you and it flusters you just enough to startle you out of your reverie. you pull your laptop out of your schoolbag and click around, opening up the powerpoint and sitting it where the red-head can see it. you take a deep breath and crack your knuckles before launching into your speech about the impact of the beat poet movement, specifically allen ginsberg, and the murky history of that part of american literature. by the time you were done, kirishima was leaning forward, listening intently, and the tips of your ears were practically on fire from all of the attention he was paying you. he didn't look bored in the slightest. that had to account for something, right? kirishima clapped his hands enthusiastically as you shuffled your index cards back into the correct order and shut your laptop.

"that was so informative, baby! i didn't know any of that stuff!" he encouraged, standing up to step around his desk and pull you into his broad chest. you inhaled his cologne that you loved so much and it made you a little dizzy. you wrapped your arms around his sides and tried to fight the bashful grin on your face even though he couldn't see it.

"you really think so?" your voice is muffled by his chest.

"'course i do. you're the smartest person i know." kirishima backs away a step and hooks his index finger under your chin to make you look up at him. he pecks your lips quickly and all of your nerves momentarily disappear. "can't wait to take you on a real date tonight, either." he grins and you almost balk at forgetting the previously planned engagement.

"are you sure you still wanna go out with me? are you sure you wouldn't rather go out with your friends or...anyone else?" you hated being so insecure, but more than anything, you hated the idea of being an inconvenience. kirishima tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. you nuzzled your face against his hand.

"i've been planning tonight for an entire month. there's nowhere else i'd rather be than with you this evening after my patrol." he smiles reassuringly at you and your heart swells. he was so good to you.

"thank you. y'know, for waiting for me and everything." you hope your words convey your feelings. there comes a knock at the door. a sidekick around your age, already dressed out in their gear, sticks their head through the door.

"it's almost time to go, mr. riot." the sidekick's eyes dart between you and kirishima. eijirou lets out a good-natured sigh.

"i've already told you, it's okay to just use my name." the sidekick nods dutifully.

"of course, mr. riot! i'll be waiting for you downstairs." he casts another quick glance between the two of you before retreating and shutting the door. there's a dusting of color on kirishima's cheeks when you look up at him. you grin like a lovesick puppy up at him, having never seen him interact with his colleagues before. you pull him into an easy hug.

"they just don't listen to me," he mumbles into your hair and you giggle before checking your watch. your eyes grow wide seeing the time.

"shit, i gotta go!" you exclaim-the moment over and jump over to kirishima's desk. you pack your laptop away quickly. you throw your bag over your shoulder and bound for the door, stop to think for a moment, turn around, and give eijirou a quick kiss before exiting.

hours later, you're back in your tiny apartment after finishing your presentation on campus and running errands and you're just relaxing for a minute before you start getting ready for your date (!!!) with kirishima. you're lounging on your bed in a robe and a soothing face mask when your phone chirps on your nightstand with a reminder that you have an extra credit quiz due at five. the notification sends you into overdrive because it's already four and you had a whole extensive hours-long get ready routine planned for your date and you didn't even really need to take the extra credit quiz, but what was the point in being so uptight about your education if you weren't going to take every option available to you?

so you start racing around and grab your class notes and your laptop and zoom through your quiz and manage to elaborate and remember all the facts for the essay questions better than you thought you did!! you manage to turn your quiz in just in time and you take a deep breath and start laying out your outfit for your date that consists of stuff that kirishima helped you pick out when y’all were shopping together. he wanted to take you out to a nice restaurant (much better than the one you worked at) because that “was the respectable thing to do." you finally are able to shower and do your hair and makeup and the whole process is really relaxing which really helps with your nerves, but it's also a good way to pamper yourself after the stress of finals.

too quickly, the time comes and kirishima is knocking on your door and you’re trying to run to answer the door and put your heels on at the same time and you end up falling over onto your washing machine and making a huge crashing sound and when you go to open the door, kirishima is standing there with a look of concern on his face and you’re just like “p l e a s e just give me five minutes” and he smirks like the absolute little rascal that he is and follows you into your apartment and he looks around at everything while you finish getting ready without tearing the whole place down. kirishima takes note that you have a ton of plants in your kitchen placed on the window sills and on the kitchen sink and he thinks it's really cute but he notices some of the plant leaves are ~crispy~ and the soil is kinda dry so he takes a cup and starts watering them while he waits for you.

finally, after about ten minutes, he hears your bedroom door open and you come out and see him watering your plants and you're just standing there with heart eyes (also because he looks fucking good with his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows). then he turns to look at you and he's also mega heart eyes and he tells you that you look pretty as he dusts soil off of his hands and goes over to greet you properly and give you a warm kiss on the cheek.

after that, he drives the two of you to dinner through the crowded nighttime streets and he holds your hand the whole time and there isn't much conversation on the ride there but you just can't take your eyes off of your intertwined fingers. you thought your heart might have been ready to bust when he rubbed his thumb over the tops of your fingers.

when you get to the restaurant, the hostess goes to seat the two of you and you pull kirishima along behind you by the hand and it's such a small thing that you do but he loves it for some reason. dinner passes all too quickly between eating and talking about your respective days and you end up accidentally going too far in-depth about beatniks and abie hoffman and yippies and the effect that guerilla theatre had on the american counterculture movement (which are all points you didn't have time to hit on in your presentation) but kirishima doesn't mind even though he can't focus all that well on what you're talking about because he's too busy congratulating himself on buying you an outfit that looks that good on you.

but then kirishima's feeling a little guilty because you're asking him if he's ever read "howl" since it's a masterpiece even though you're inwardly cringing at how annoying you sound but you're only doing it to get your mind off of kissing kirishima and running your hands through his stupid hair.

after dinner, eijirou drops you back off at your apartment and walks you to the door because honestly it's kind of a sketchy part of town and he's a gentleman. he kisses you goodnight and then a second time and then a third time and before you know it-before your mind has time to catch up with your tongue-you're inviting him in for ice cream. you don't know what you're doing, not exactly, but you don't have time to think anything through before you're standing in front of your coffee table with him sprawled out on the couch behind you. you're desperately trying to get your tv to work to no avail. honestly, the little tv you had was well past its prime and on its last legs, but it had been with you since freshman year and even though the stand it sat on was broken and even though the roku attachment you had for it only worked some of the time, you were attached to it. you didn't see the point in replacing something as long as it still worked well enough. eijirou chuckled behind you.

"just let me buy you a new one." as soon as he spoke, the screen sprang to life playing the last show that you were watching.

"there's no need for that! it works just fine." you grinned down at him, handed him the remote, and placed your phone on the table before going back into the kitchen to get the ice cream that you weren't even hungry for. you just wanted eijirou to hang around for a little longer.

you dug around in your freezer and found the ice cream that you had squirreled away. deciding against bowls, you were scrounging around in your silverware drawer for two clean spoons when you heard your phone ringing from the coffee table.

"hey, can you see who that is?" you called over your shoulder to eijirou as you slid the drawer closed with your hip. the ringing stopped, and too late, you realized what time it was. you watched in mild horror as kirishima cleared his throat and held the phone closer to his face.

"the notification says 'don't forget to take your birth control, you dumb hormonal bitch.'" he pauses to look over at you from the couch, a look of amusement on his face. you're only slightly mortified. "do you want me to snooze that?"

"yeah." you disappear momentarily into your bedroom and take your medicine. you reappear quickly and grab your snack and waltz over to the couch, hoping that the embarrassing interlude will soon be forgotten. you put the ice cream and spoons down on the table and feel eijirou pulling at your hand. you turn around slightly to see what he wants and he pulls you down.

you straddle his lap and his arms wrap around your waist wantonly. you feel your heartbeat quicken when he looks up at you with a lazy smirk on his face.

"i, uh, like your phone lock screen." he lets out a full chuckle then and you wonder briefly if there are any large rocks around for you to hide under.

"i was gonna change it," you pout and start to lean back to grab your phone. eijirou pulls you closer to him instead.

"don't. i like it. that was one of my first magazine covers." his lips flutter against your jaw.

"i know." you gush. "you were really handsome."

"were?" he fakes being taken aback.

"you know what i mean, eiji." your crimson nails come to scrape lightly over his hard chest passively and kirishima grabs your fingers lightly, looking at your nails in the soft glow of the television light. a little smile flashes over his face.

“when’d you get your nails done?”

“today, after my final,” you answer, recalling how you had picked the color, thinking of it as a small, unobtrusive way to show that you were his.

“i like them.” he presses light kisses to the pads of your fingers and your eyes flutter shut, humming at the simple affection.

“it’s a little dumb.” you blush and you feel kirishima’s thumb on your chin, pulling your head down to look at him.

“i don’t think so.” he says with nothing but sincerity in his eyes and if you weren’t already completely smitten beforehand, that was enough to do it.

instead of responding to him verbally, you reach down to kiss him. kirishima’s head is lazily propped up on the back of the couch. his hands tangle in your hair and your lips start to move against him more fervently. the kisses are full of heat and saliva but you’re so entranced by it and the feeling of your chest closely pressed to his that it’s a complete surprise when you feel kirishima’s sharp teeth biting down on your bottom lip. when you open your mouth involuntarily, his tongue slides into your mouth and you revel in the way it makes your stomach knot up nicely.

your hands slide down easily over his torso and through the fabric of his shirt, you can feel his defined abs constricting underneath your touch. you inhale sharply against his mouth and fight the meek feeling that comes over you when eijirou smirks against your lips. he follows your lead and traces a finger down from your jaw to the deep neckline of the dress that you wore. he ran his finger over the length of the seam until he reached one of your shoulders and pulled downwards until the whole expanse of skin was exposed. eijirou cranes his neck forward to place feather light kisses against your skin and your breath hitches in your throat at the contact. he sits back to look at you and your run your fingers through the front of his hair. he doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls your dress down all the way to your waist, exposing your bra to him. you can't tell if your skin prickles from the cool air or his hungry gaze.

eijirou's warm hands ghost over your shoulders and chest. in the space of a blink, your back is pressed against the couch and he's sliding your dress down your legs and tossing it to the side. he takes a moment to caress up and down your smooth skin and there's no room to be self-conscious under his gaze any longer. he settles down against the cradle of your body, one strong arm holding him up by your head, and then he's lavishing every inch of your skin with searing kisses that you think might mark you for all to see. not that you would mind. as he works, you busy yourself with undoing the buttons of his shirt. it's not a hard task by any means, but it's hard to focus with all the attention that he's giving you. finally, you unbutton enough of his shirt to where your hands are only centimeters away from the top of his slacks and you start tugging to free the fabric tucked into his pants. eijirou adjusts himself to assist you in tugging his shirt off and when he does, your hand brushes only slightly against his length. how hard he is doesn't surprise you, not really, but what does is the amount. your lips part slightly in awe as you rub the flat palm of your hand up and down his cock. his forehead falls against your shoulder. his free hand moves between your two bodies to pull your hand away from him.

"you gotta stop that, baby." he growls against the shell of your ear and then he's nipping at your earlobe.

"why?" you're all innocence, looking at him with wide eyes.

"you're gonna make me cum in my pants." your heart skips a beat at the way he says it and then your eyebrows knit together in concentration as your hand moves down his body again. you hear him suck in a breath as he bites at your skin in warning.

"gonna cum for me so easy, big guy?" you pout your lips at eijirou to mock him, but your insides are all twisted up from the surge of power you feel. you can feel your own arousal starting to stick to your underwear. you hear a strained, impatient growl against your neck once more and then his hands are yanking yours away with force. a giggle bubbles out of your throat and is blotted out quickly by your panties being pushed to the side and his finger coming to circle roughly around your clit. your back arches, pressing you further into his touch, and it's eijirou's turn to chuckle now. with his free hand, he paws at one of your breasts through your bra.

"are we gonna do...this...with jurassic park playing in the background?" you whisper, a little amused and a little breathless, against eijirou's lips.

"it's actually the second one. the dinosaurs are cooler." he grins, showing off his sharp teeth and that's all it takes for you to pull him into a kiss again. jurassic park or not, you needed this man worse than anything. he pulls his hand out of your underwear and admires how your slick catches the light from the screen a few feet away. he sits up, popping his fingers into his mouth and starts unbuttoning his pants. you moan at the sight and scoot up so you're resting against the arm rest of the couch. eijirou removes his fingers from his mouth and stands up. he's dressed only in his boxers now and if you really wanted to, you could drool at the sight of him.

"come on, now." he bends over you, scooping you up with his arms circling around your waist and he pulls upwards. understanding, you wrap your legs around his middle and he bounces your body up against yours to situate you closer to him. he kisses you gently, lips molding to the shape of yours. you lose yourself in the embrace momentarily and wrap your legs tighter around him, intoxicated by the way eijirou's body feels against yours. he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. both of you breath heavily. he treks around the edge of the couch and into the kitchen and you're leaving butterfly kisses against the planes of his face. abruptly, he stumbles and you clutch onto him harder, eyes shut and ready to feel the both of you crash into the floor, but instead, you just end up pressed roughly into the refrigerator.

"oops." there comes a consoling kiss at your lips. then one against the smooth, sensitive skin of your neck. then one right above where your heart is. one of eijirou's hands is travelling up your back to the clasp of your bra and undoing it. you pull the straps down your arms and toss it away. he bows his head lower and licks along the swell of your breasts until he can pull a nipple into his mouth. he rolls the sensitive skin gently between his teeth and kneads the other one with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. your head lolls back as far as it can. you can feel eijirou's length pressed hard against you as he explores. you roll your hips down into him. his breath stutters against your skin. you feel him moving your panties to the side with the hand currently situated against your ass. you squirm. he peers at you with a dark gaze, too close to your face to be friendly.

"wanna fuck you right here." he begs.

"think of all the sauces that'll give their lives that i might get laid if you break my fridge."

"fine." he huffs patiently. you tighten your hold around him and press a sloppy kiss against his neck as eijirou continues on the pilgrimage to your bedroom.

he tosses you gently onto your bed and you lay on your stomach, pulling him to you with an outstretched hand. no words transpire between the two of you as you tug him close to stand at the foot of your bed. your hands dip into his boxers and the first thing that you feel isn't him, but the heat radiating off of his cock. you swallow thickly and wrap your hand around his length, slowly freeing him from the fabric. precum leaks from the head of his impossibly hard cock. you run the very tip of your finger over his slit and he shudders. you scoot up, bringing your head forward.

“oh fuck, that’s my good girl.” kirishima groans, hand guiding your head when you first try to take him all in your mouth. you’re only about half of the way down his shaft and his cock is already pressing against the back of your throat and you stay there for a second, willing yourself to take more of him. letting out a huff through your nose, you pull off of his shaft with a pop and start giving kitten licks to his head again before sinking your mouth back down again, this time being able to take his dick a little farther before you’re absolutely gagging. eijirou’s grip on your hair tightens and you wrap one of your hands around the base of him and stroke in time with your mouth. your gaze fixates on him from your laid-out position on your bed and you revel in the view of him with his head rolled back and the vein in his jaw twitching. you wiggle your hips side to side subtly and try to gain some relief from the desire that you feel puddling between your legs. you can feel his cock twitching in your mouth. you take him far down your throat again and he whines out, looking back down and meeting your darkened eyes.

"makin' me feel so good, goddamn." eijirou swears and notices you wiggling your hips and bends forward slightly to grab onto the fat of your ass. he palms the flesh there once, twice, before becoming so enthralled with the sight that he loses control of himself and is pressing harder down your throat than you can handle, causing you to choke a bit and startle him back to reality. he pulls back, grinning at you sheepishly, and swats at your asscheek lovingly. you whimper at the barely-there sting. he pulls back from your mouth. you sit up, cross your legs, and almost pout. all you want is skin to skin contact-to have eijirou fill you full. he notices your displeased look and the crease between your brow. it’s hard not to purr at the sight of him standing there, lazily fisting his cock.

“what’s wrong?“ his eyes are barely open and his breathing isn’t even when your hand replaces his, slowly stroking up and down. he’s so thick that your hand can barely wrap around his girth and your mouth waters.

“want you to fuck me now.” you bite down on your bottom lip nervously.

“i was gettin’ there.” he smiles and runs a finger down the side of your face.

“no.” you find your voice and put some backbone into it. “want you to fuck me right now.” eijirou’s eyes widen at the urgency in your tone. “needed it for so long.” you add on almost in a whisper.

“i thought you wanted for us to wait until the semester was over?” he recalls an earlier conversation the two of you had weeks earlier when making out had almost gotten too heavy.

“i did and now it’s over and now i need you, eiji.” you’re almost in tears at the desire and emotions running through you. you looked up into his cherry eyes and saw a lovesick mountain of a man looking back down at you. your hand stilled against his length and came to rest in your lap. you fought the violent urge to run your index finger through the slick pooling between your legs.

"so that's why you're bein' so hard to get along with, huh?" he coos. you feel his sturdy hands pushing you back into the smooth surface of your comforter and eijirou’s body covers your own. he left searing kisses down your jaw and the slight curve of your neck. you wrap your legs around him and play with the stray hairs at the nape of his neck in response. the contact is charged, laced with need and want. you're realizing at that moment that it's not enough. the lingering taste of him on your tongue is enough to motivate you into wiggling out from underneath him. he turns on his side, head coming to rest on his hand and stare at you in amusement. your sudden inability to be satisfied is amusing to him.

you push at his upper body and he follows where you lead him until he's laying flat on his back and staring up at you with lust filled eyes. you swing a leg over his waist so you're straddling him and you roll your slit against his length.

"fuck," you pant out and he grips your hips hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises. eijirou cants his hips up to meet yours. you brace your arms against his chest and arch your back and momentarily chase your own high. you know that he's doing the same exact thing as he works his boxers the rest of the way down his legs. he pulls your torso down until it's flush against his and he has easy access to whisper in your ear.

"you still sure you want it this bad?" you nod against his forehead. he pulls your panties to the side.

eijirou has a hold of your hips as you line him up with your entrance. slowly, you start to lower yourself onto him and you hiss out as his cock journeys through your folds and pushes into you. eijirou cups your face in his hands and pushes your hair out your face. you can feel his breathing growing ragged underneath you. you lower yourself imperceptibly lower onto him. your breath catches in your throat. the stretch is almost too much.

you pause a moment and try to gather yourself. having eijirou filling you this full already felt so good but there was also the pain coupled with it. you try to push through it and manage to work yourself down about halfway before his thumb is circling your clit and his free hand is guiding you up and down. you can't even think, the feeling is so heavy and pervasive, but you're sure that nothing had ever felt as good as this. you tune into eijirou's pants and heavy breathing underneath you. gently, he's rocking his hips up to meet yours and it feels exponentially, if that was even possible, better than what you were doing. your arms turn to jelly and give out and you collapse onto his broad chest.

"wan' you to do it, feels better that way." you mumble into the empty space in the crook of his neck. his arm wrap tighter around your middle and you feel his dick twitch against your fluttering walls. if it feels this good now, you dare not even imagine what cumming feels like with him buried in you.

"gonna make you feel so good, baby." his hand strokes down your neck and he rolls his hips gently but slips further inside of you. you cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that hasn't ever been touched before. you babble out something incoherent and he repeats the action. your crimson fingernails curl violently into his chest and you register his sharp intake of breath but you just don't care as he keeps hitting the same spot inside of you over and over again. you feel like something inside of you is on the verge of breaking.

all you're capable of focusing on is the heavy drag of his cock in and out of your walls as he pounds up into you with little mercy. little white, twinkling spots are coating your vision as you nip harshly at the skin of his neck. abruptly, you're arching your back and calling out eijirou's name as a thick wave of warmth floods over you. his thrusts stutter briefly as you clamp down hard on his cock but then he's drilling into even faster and harder than before and you're only able to screw your eyes shut and babble his name over and over again at the new sensation you're feeling.

it might have been minutes or seconds that passed, but eijirou finally, mercilessly, buries himself to the hilt inside of you and lets out a deep groan. you feel him coating your insides with thick and hot spurts of his cum and you let out a squeak at the feeling. his hips finally still and you both lay there, panting, with eijirou still hard and buried deep in you. he kisses your cheek sweetly and leaves a stripe of sweat on your temple from his forehead.

"wanna do more of that." you have trouble speaking, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.

"well, lucky for you, we have all summer until you go to grad school."

[wildelydawn]

I'm waiting for your bittersweet chocolate 90% . Will you update it? Or are you leaving it? Please answer this.🥺

Hello there! Thank you for checking in about Bittersweet Chocolate, 90%. I am not leaving it, but I am not sure when I will update it.

I don't talk about myself a lot on this blog, and I know you're not really asking about me, and perhaps the following will be way too much information and will make you and other feels really uncomfortable, but since a few people have asked about BSC90, I just want to clarify a few things.

tl;dr: I'm sad. I'll start writing and updating again soon.

I have very severe depression. And I do mean severe: the kind that where I don't get out of bed for anything, the kind that leaves my hair uncombed and unwashed for days, the kind that destroys any creative ray of sunshine in my life, the kind that worries people IRL. I zone out for hours. I have no concept of time when I do zone out. I get up out of bed when I have to, physically go to work, and immediately come back to bed when I am home. I open up my phone, muster the strength to reply to a few people, then go to Google Docs, and stare at an empty document until my phone locks. I fall asleep and repeat that cycle over and over and over again. I don't leave my apartment for anything besides work; last week was the first time I left my house in months and that was by sheer force (bless my partner for that) and I have no plans on leaving my apartment again because I simply have no will to do so. If it wasn't for my cat, I would absolutely never leave my bed. If I could, I would, and want to, just rot away in bed, and talk to no one. And I am sure many people who talk to me on here, Discord, etc. have noticed that I am taking longer and longer to reply. (In fact, I am neglecting to respond to The Woman right now, and she is someone I prioritize, always.) I could go on and on about how heavy this illness and its roots dig into me and weigh me down, and usually, I have a handle on it, and for the most part, I did! This last year These last six months have been really terrible in terms of IRL stuff, but writing, whether it's creative, or journaling, or academic, has always helped. It's always been my escape.

So you can imagine why I felt incredibly lucky to come across KinnPorsche: the Series because it does spark a lot of creativity in me. I can't believe I've written 200K words for a single fandom, let alone 150k+ words on KimChay. I spent May through November using KP and other media and writing fics to navigate my depression. I spent the last few weeks developing what I would call close friendships with people when earlier this year, I had no one to talk to. Hell, I have all the inspiration at my finger tips. I literally have projects in development with really amazing artists on here. People send me prompts and ideas and I watch my list grow and I think of how lucky I must be to be inspired. I made friends with people on Twitter. Twitter! And it's winter time, my favorite season, and I'm looking forward to the snow, the walks in cold air, my trench coats and sweater vests. And I've been updating YLTTL (which is a finished fic, but still need heavy editing.) According to the math, I should be good; I should be in a place where I can write BSC90 and update. And I should be happy.

But I am not. Right now, I am in a really bad place, and if I have the will to write, it comes in flashes that dim out rather quickly. I am frustrated. I am exercising immense self control when the urge to delete everything I've ever written and run away overtakes my head. I write things, and I delete them because nothing feels good anymore. Nothing I write feels good enough to post either. And I've never written for anyone: as in, I write for me and my health, even though BSC90 is literally for someone. But it really sucks when your own brain is telling you, "Hey! Everyone's lying to you! You're not really a good writer, and if you were, you would push past all these terrible feelings and write like you always do." And I do that often, but that methodology is not working right now because of the severity of my feelings.

Now, I am not saying that this is anyone's fault or that you or anyone who asks about my fics is a bad person or anything. I promise you that's not where I am coming from. I promise you that I appreciate every reader I have, including you. I promise you my intention with this response isn't to make you or anyone feel bad or to solicit pity or sympathy. But I do need to say something because:

1) I think people deserve honesty, no matter what.

2) I've given the "Haha I've just been really busy!" excuse over the last month and that hasn't been enough and

3) I'm beginning to feel like I'm letting people down, which I know really isn't the case, but my flickering brain is trying to convince me that I am, and my chest tells me the same thing.

I promise when I come back, Chapter 6 of BSC90 will be, I hope, worth the wait. And that despite everything I've written here, I do appreciate you asking about the story and I appreciate your patience. So please don't feel bad or some type of way if you (or anyone else) is reading this. I just want to be honest.

Thank you for reading. 🖤

[fearofahumanplanet]

Karma Killer (WIP Intro... Kind Of)

Sooo... the reason I say "kind of" is because I've technically fully finished this one and am trying to get it published, however! I am planning on making intro posts for ALL three of my WIPs and as I have yet to find an agent I feel inclined to include this one!

Basic Info

Genre: Psychological Horror / Slasher

Word Count: 86,844 (217 pages, 14 chapters)

Started: April 2021

Finished: June 2022

Music Genre: Post-punk (think Talking Heads, The Cure, Have a Nice Life, Joy Division, Interpol, Wipers, The Chameleons, etc)

Available to Beta Read? Yes! I use LibreOffice, so I'll need a Discord or email to send it to you, but DM me if you're interested! Note: 18+ content, lots of it! Also, as this work is pretty finished, I likely won't be able to change much on this one (unlike my other two WIPs), but I appreciate any feedback nonetheless!

CW (for novel, only vaguely referenced in this post, and all fictional): Gore, SA (referenced, not shown), su*c*de, self-harm, bullying, abusive family, school shootings, homophobia, drowning, death, abusive relationships/power dynamics, homelessness, cannibalism (referenced, not shown), religious trauma, food (I'm sorry if I missed anything please lmk and I'll edit)

Taglist: If you're interested, ask to be added to the taglist! In the replies, or DMs, via ask, however! Just let me know which book it's for (and if I don't answer after a couple days, please remind me). As this work is finished, I doubt I'll be using a taglist for it too much, but if I get an agent and a publisher for this, it'll mean you guys are the first to know :)

Plot

In the fictional mountain town of Lake Leer, Colorado, a bullied high schooler named Kora Lynch becomes the latest in a long line of the town's tragic killers when she ends up drowning herself to escape her persecution. Rescued from her own fate by a goddess of mysterious whims who calls herself Ira, Kora is offered a choice - to die alone and wither away forever, or to become a "Vision of Vengeance" and do away with evildoers.

Choosing to become Ira's latest slasher, Kora is given a weathered kabuki mask and the ability to see anyone's every sin with a mere glance. Eager to seek revenge on those who drove her to die in the first place, Kora takes the name of "Karma" and begins slaughtering her classmates in a misguided attempt at justice - one inspired by her favorite slasher movies. As she further disconnects from the real world and loses grip of her moral compass, the woman that tormented her begins to gather her own little army, and the ensuing conflict tugs the entire town into the carnage.

Major Characters

Kora Lynch / Karma - A 16yo junior that becomes one of the deadliest killers in history after she receives Ira's gifts. She has a reserved and awkward personality that becomes much more malicious and sadistically gleeful when she's wearing the kabuki mask, something that grows more and more prominent as the "Karma" persona begins to take more and more control (NOTE: Not meant to be a representation of DID, merely dissociative trauma responses). She has a rather distinctive look, being unnaturally tall and having short, wild silver hair - paired with her mask, she is instantly recognizable. She makes ample use of axes and crossbows.

Laurie Thompson - An 18yo senior that headed the pack of bullies that made Kora's life a living hell. She starts out cruel and selfish, eager to throw anyone under a bus to get what she wants, but this soon changes as her friends begin dropping like flies around her and she becomes Karma's "final girl". Surviving numerous encounters with Karma, she soon grows quite competent on her own and leads the town into open rebellion against her nemesis.

Violet Vance - A 17yo junior that is rescued by Karma in one of her earliest massacres, having been dubbed "innocent". A shy, intelligent and cunning girl desperate for attachment, she soon starts to develop a growing admiration for the murderer that saved her life, even as Karma's standards grow ever looser.

Mabel Alexander - A 17yo senior who starts dating Kora shortly after her resurrection, unaware of her girlfriend's nightly habits. Friendly, compassionate, and easy to talk to, she quickly finds herself spiraling as she grows more and more suspicious of the killer stalking her town.

Skyler Simmons - An 18yo senior and Laurie's latest flame. Guilty of his complacency that led to Karma in the first place, he is one of the first to rise up to stop her, despite his lack of bravery or combat skill.

Captain Lumis - A police captain that is traumatized by his encounter with another one of Ira's killers, the Bleeding Bear, years ago. He soon makes it his priority to capture the next kabuki-masked killer when Karma emerges, even as the rest of the force struggles to keep up.

Ira - A mysterious crimson-haired goddess from a world beyond our own who rescues Kora from her grisly fate and warps her into a killer. Mysterious and short-tempered, she nonetheless begins to find herself as a motherly figure for Karma, despite clearly having her own hidden ambitions.

Themes & Things

Karma Killer started out for two big reasons - firstly, it was the first of my majorly political works, a direction I decided to keep on with my later novels. The book was inspired by the abundance of mass shootings, especially school shootings, that I have had to hear about on a seemingly weekly basis living in America. It is an effort to narrow down what causes these things, a character study on a killer's psyche with a horror framework.

While this is obviously not an accurate representation of reality, Karma Killer primarily explores a lot of those themes - what makes a mass killer like that, why they think the way they do, what goes on in their head, the self-destructive depression that comes with it. Despite her sympathetic tale and the story being told from her perspective, Karma was always meant to be a proper villain protagonist - do not go into this thinking that I am an advocate for these kinds of criminals. I merely wanted to explore the circumstances and mindset that leads to such crimes.

Secondly, it was meant to be a way to purge a lot of the trauma that lingered with me after high school - and for that, it has largely succeeded. It has functioned as some sort of catharsis for all the horrible things other people put me through as someone struggling with BPD and a broken home and all sorts of things at school. The abuse I received in that time was extraordinary and I needed to let it all out. That led to the initial genesis of the idea - "what if there was a slasher from the villain's perspective, and she was just a bullied teen who snapped after being pushed too far?" Of course, this idea ended up going to its logical conclusion, and that's how the heavy political influence came into play.

Taglist

@aohendo, @literary-artist, @impaledlotus, @athenswrites, @bardic-tales, @carefulpyro, @marinesocks, @writingpotato07, @hey-its-quill, @bpdgotmelike, @j-1173, @lockejhaven, @theimperiumchronicles (ask to be added!)

[chibi-mushroom]

Hey everyone! Finally get to post my piece for the memory of promises zine! check out the link here if you want to grab one of your own copies in the leftover sale! I was so happy to be able to join in on this zine, and I hope you guys enjoy all the work that went into it! (Also keep in mind this was written before MoM.)

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Namine rubbed her temples and looked at the clock. Midnight already. DiZ was not going to like this. The next time he came into the white room would bring on some lecture or punishment of some kind. She had been working furiously all afternoon trying to get past this one section of memory, but there was something that was keeping her back. Her pulse began to race. She was feeling sick. The door to the white room opened and with a squeak, Namine ducked under the table, fearing the familiar stride of the man in red.

"It's okay, it's just me. You can come out now." A soft voice sounded in her ears. "You're safe. DiZ said he needed to run an errand and wouldn't be back for a couple of days."

Slowly looking up, Namine could see the outstretched hand of the only comfort she had in this lonely place. "Riku. You're back."

She took his offering and stood up. He hadn't let go of her hand just yet, blindfold still covering those beautiful blue green eyes he had. She was glad it stopped him from seeing things like her girlish blush. He was only offering his hand as a friend. Besides, it was wrong for her to want to be with him- nobodies weren't supposed to feel anything. So why did she?

"You're shaking." Riku stated simply. "Have you eaten anything today?"

So he could even feel the slight tremor in her hands. "No, not exactly."

"Do you want me to get something for you? I think there are some leftovers in the fridge."

"No, I'm alright. I have to get back to work." Namine tried to take her hand from his, but he held onto it all the tighter, leaning down a little to be at eye level with her. 

"You were working when I left, and I can tell you haven't gotten any sleep. How are you expecting to take care of Sora when you can't take care of yourself?"

Right. Namine thought. He's just like DiZ. All he cares about is getting Sora restored. You're just a tool.

Still, she couldn't help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat as his blinded eyes sunk to meet her tired ones. Maybe she should take a small break. All of this stress was making her read too much into small gestures.

Namine simply nodded, and Riku left to warm her up some food. Sensing that going back to Sora's memories would be futile, she grabbed her sketch pad and turned it to the very last page. This was her secret page, covered in things she thought about. Mindless doodles she drew when she was waiting for the computer to check on Sora’s physical well-being.

The sketch pad was not necessary for her magic to work. She could rearrange memories- crush the hearts of her poor unsuspecting victims- without it. She used it though to help her concentrate. By visualizing the memories, she was able to make a more convincing edit or capture the feelings that were hiding beneath the surface. So many times she had drawn Sora, Riku and Kairi together. And sure there were strong feelings of both love and jealousy, but had she not had her sketch pad, she might have missed Sora's emotions of gratitude for two stalwart best friends, confusion about school topics they had recently studied, and hope that Kairi would want to go with him to the first school dance, even though he knew they would just go together and bail early to hang out on the play island like they always did whenever the school had some social.

"Here you go. It's nothing special, but it's better than nothing." Riku interrupted her thoughts with a plate of food.

With a gasp, Namine hurried to cover her sketch pad. Even though she knew he couldn't see it, he moved so gracefully that she sometimes wondered if he really was blind. Although those first couple of days made the mansion quite a bit louder with his cries of annoyance as he bumped into furniture. He even fell into the secret compartment that hid the computer lab, but luckily managed to land safely.

"Drawing something you don't want anyone to see?" Riku smirked. 

"No!" Namine replied a bit sharper than she thought. "Maybe."

Riku laughed as he set their plates down and pulled a chair over. "I'm only kidding. You don't have to be working on Sora nonstop. If you want to take a moment for yourself, then do it."

"No, I need to be working on Sora. It was my fault he's like this in the first place. I want to keep my promise." Namine picked up the white plastic fork. For once would it hurt to have some color around here?

With a sigh, Riku held his hand out for her to hold. "We've been over this, Nam. What happened wasn't your fault. You were being used." Softly Riku muttered "you still are."

Namine looked at him for a moment and then looked down at her food. She picked at it for a few moments before softly sliding her hand in his and taking a couple of bites. She ate in a comfortable silence, simply feeling the pressure that came from the gentle touch. This sort of thing wasn't unusual for them. They could usually be found in silence with their hands connected. But the mountain of pressure from the recent block in memories and lack of self care was threatening to squish Namine with its enormous weight.

"How's the restoration going?" Riku asked.

Namine's stomach began to twist around itself. "I'm….not sure." 

Riku squeezed her hand, urging her to explain. Namine sighed, unsure of how to continue. Would he get mad if she told the truth? He had slowly been becoming more like DiZ, after all. He used to be there with her when she was getting told off. These days, Riku was never usually in the white room for more than five minutes unless it was late at night.

"You remember what Sora's mom used to tell him all the time, right?"  Riku recalled.

"Never talk to strangers on the play island?"

Riku chuckled, remembering a secret promise. "A problem shared is a problem halved. If you tell me, it might relieve some of the pressure on you."

There was no avoiding it, not as long as he held her hand. 

 "It's just that, well-" Namine fumbled for the words. "There's been a bit of a roadblock. I've been doing my best to sort it out, tracing the connections, but it's like the memories slip away as soon as I think I have a grasp on them. I may have gone through half a notebook trying to find a solid piece."

There was a pause, as if Riku were considering what to say. 

"I'll go get you a new notebook tomorrow, then. As for the memories, we'll get it figured out. You need to take a break, anyway."

"No!" Namine swallowed back further emotion. Maybe she really did need some sleep. She was being more irrational than she expected. "No, it's fine. I'm sure I'm doing something wrong."

"Don't say stuff like that. If there's anyone who can make this situation right, it's you. Please, just take a few hours to rest tomorrow, okay?" Riku squeezed her hand again.

"I don't really have a choice here, do I?" Namine sighed.

"You always have a choice. I'm just asking you as someone who cares a lot about you."

Someone who cares? Namine thought. She slowly nodded in reply. Maybe a break was exactly what she needed.

"Thank you, Riku."

One Year Later

Again Riku tried to beat Marluxia, and again he was defeated. He only had this last battle to finish, having started against the organization members he recognized or had personally fought against. Which, admittedly wasn't many, but after several attempts, he was down to the last. It frustrated him that he still wasn't quite used to the keyboard controls, and Sora's moves were much less based in strength and relied much more on magic. Riku had never been very good with magic, focusing on perfecting his cure and dark firaga spells instead of learning the large array of magic that his friends had mastered. 

Some keyblade master I turned out to be. Riku thought, sitting back in his seat and folding his arms. I can't even stop my two best friends from leaving me again. This is just like back then…

His mind began to drift away with thoughts of Castle Oblivion and Twilight Town. He heard the door open and gentle footsteps move toward him.

"Hey Aerith. We can work on that scarf in a minute. I have to get some more ethers for data Sora first."

"I take it the fight didn't go well then?" A soft voice walked closer.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Not Aerith. 

"Hey Namine. How could you tell?"

Namine placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "You're really tense. Besides, I could feel your frustration from a block away."

What anger and annoyance had once plagued Riku's mind had since washed away. All he could register was how reassuring Namine's hand on his shoulder felt. She smelled nice, too. A faint blush warmed his cheeks. Ever since Kairi had insisted on going to sleep and Terra had left for the dark realm with Aqua and Ven, Namine was the only person Riku shared everything with. She had heard him vent several times, and she had been helping Aerith teach him how to knit. It was her delicate fingers that had lead him through the steps of a cable.

"I guess I need a little bit of a break." Riku said with a sigh. "Wanna go get some ice cream or something?"

"Sure." Namine smiled, stepping back so he could get up and stretch. They began to talk as they walked to their usual ice cream shop. 

Since Scrooge, Huey and Dewey had returned home, the ice cream shop had been manned by one of the local citizens. He usually gave Riku a discount, so Riku usually put some munny in the tip jar. It had become routine over the past year to go whenever Namine came to visit from Twilight Town.

"How is everything going with Roxas and Xion?" Riku asked, sitting down and unwrapping his fruit bar.

"Slow." Namine replied, taking a small lick from her chocolate cherry ice cream cone. She wanted to try all of the flavors, and this was the last one. "Not too bad, but I think I preferred the strawberry cheesecake the best."

"That was a flavor Kairi always liked." Riku smiled softly. 

When he saw the way Namine looked for just the hair of a second, he realized that was probably the wrong thing to say. He inwardly cursed himself and his inability to be the suave guy all the girls had thought he was growing up. Kairi and Namine didn't get much of a chance to talk after she got her replica body, as Kairi had almost immediately asked to be put under. Riku wondered what it was like living inside a heart of pure light. Just like Castle Oblivion, she didn't talk about it much.

"We should get some for her when she wakes up." Namine continued to eat her cone. There was an uncomfortable silence for just a moment before Namine spoke up again. "Who were you fighting when I came in?"

"Marluxia. He was the head of the castle, right?"

Namine nodded.

"I never really got to meet him as I was down in the basement back then. I'm sorry you had to deal with a guy like him."

"It's alright. I...had some support. There was Sora and Donald and Goofy. And despite everything I did to him, there was your replica, too." Namine spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. "But don't feel bad. He made his decisions, like everyone else."

This time, it was Riku's turn to nod in agreement, taking a bite from his treat.

"After the data battles are all said and done, what happens next?" Namine asked softly.

"I...don't know. All I know is that I've been having these weird dreams lately."

"I wondered. You look tired." Namine grabbed on to Riku's hand, intertwining their fingers.

Maybe it was a reflex, maybe it was a force of habit, like how they used to sit back in the old mansion. Either way, the touch on its own was enough to pull Riku away from the dark thoughts that usually sat at the horizon of his mind. He squeezed her hand in response.

"Don't hesitate to call me if you ever need someone to talk to. I miss our little midnight chats." Namine admitted.

"I do too." Riku smiled softly. "They really helped clear my mind back then."

"A problem shared is a problem halved, remember?" Namine was glad she could actually see his eyes as she recalled back to his words that helped her through her time at the old mansion. "Care to share anything?"

Riku paused. He sighed before starting to speak. After he told her of the recurring dream he'd been having with the buildings and the feeling of being watched, he also admitted to the weight that had been pinned on his shoulders. 

"I know it might sound silly, but I can't help but wonder if these dreams are connected to Sora somehow. I just wish I could understand it more." Riku finished his bar and set the popsicle stick on the bench beside him.

Namine had just finished her ice cream as well, wiping her face with the napkin. "Maybe it's time you take another journey."

"With the data battle still to fight and Kairi still asleep? I can't leave now."

"Maybe not now, but after the last battle is won." Namine gently pulled his hand close to her and began massaging it. "But that means I can't follow you. Will you be alright on your own? Maybe you can check Kairi's dreams."

"I...don't know. I haven't used my dream eater powers in a long time and the process is still kind of fuzzy for me." He could feel his muscles relax as she worked at his weary hand.

Doubt was rising in his chest. Maybe she was right. Who was he kidding? He wasn't ready for this kind of thing. He wasn't like Sora or Kairi who could follow their hearts at a moment's notice. He couldn't always feel the way it was trying to lead him.

But as he saw Namine patiently working on his hands, the stiff muscles being brought to relax against her fingers, a light shone through the storm of his doubt. How he hadn't realized it before was a mystery. Ever since they had met, she had been the light in the dark, just as he had provided shade for her in the brightest situations. As she finished the massage, she tenderly squeezed his hands, reassuring him that she was there and willing to help. Surely that was love.

He felt love for her, no question. But with Sora and Kairi gone and asleep, there never seemed to be a good moment to tell her what his heart really wanted to say. 

"We...we should be getting back." Namine sighed. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"No, but then, I'm not really all that sure of anything anymore."

"If there's anything I know, it's that things will get better. We'll find Sora. I don't know how or when, but we will." Namine took his hand again, standing before him.

Namine took a quick breath and then leaned over, placing a quick kiss atop his head. Ordinarily, she wouldn't be able to reach, but since he was sitting down, she could offer a small token of her affection and confidence in his abilities.

She and Riku's faces filled with blush, although a smile tugged at her lips. Namine didn't have enough courage to kiss him on the lips like she had wanted to for so long, but this was safe. He couldn't spurn her for a harmless kiss to the head. After all, what was some reassurance between friends?

"Thank you, Namine." Riku had a hard time looking at this angel of a woman without his heartbeat increasing.

To think she was willing to be by his side after all this. He decided there and then that he would listen to his heart and tell her of his feelings...after they set everything right. Once Sora and Kairi were home and together, then they could sort out their own relationship. It would give him yet another reason to bring his best friend home. 

He could still feel the kiss on his forehead, and it brought a genuine smile to his face. He stood up and began walking away from Merlin's house.

"Don't feel like you have to stop working on the data battles on my account. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright." Namine stopped for a second.

"We can get back to those soon enough. I need a little longer before I get back into it." He took his trash and threw it into a nearby can. "There are some fountains that are really pretty this time of day nearby if you want to check them out with me."

A smile formed on Namine's lips. "I'd love to, Riku."

[snarkwrites]

13 | gangsta ; sweetpea

NOTES:

It's been a while. I've had these two chapters written for a while now but I haven't had time to sit down, edit them a little better and post them. Since I have time now, I thought I'd go ahead and do that, whether you guys asked for these next two chapters or not.

Sorry this took forever! Sorry I'm so slow, I've been settling into a new house and taking care of some IRL stuff / taking a little break. I swear, I'm going to update everything sooner or later. >.>

I love you guys.

WARNINGS:

NON/ LOOSE CANON COMPLIANCE - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. ANGST & SLOW BURN, HEAVY SEXUAL TENSIONSTARTING NOW, ACTUALLY - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. VIOLENCE / SWEARING & FIGHTING, POSSIBLE UNDERAGE DRINKING AND OTHER SHENANIGANS- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…EVENTUAL SEXUAL CONTENT / A VIRGIN ORIGINAL CHARACTER- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. STALKER TW - this chapter marks the true appearance of Alyssa's ex, Dave Novak. It's hinted heavily that he's a gross asshole who likes to play mind games. ATTEMPTED KIDNAPPING TW - This chapter contains an attempted kidnapping. If this is gonna bother you you're best off not reading it.

If you're under 18+, probably not a good or wise idea to continue reading this series. Because there are going to be a few dark and adult themes within. I'll warn here, of course, but you need to understand that I don't control you. If you continue to read after having read the warnings and you're upset or don't like something... Totally on you, friend.

PAIRING:

Andrews!Sibling OFC x Sweet Pea.

TAGGING:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you want to be added, the link to do so is below.

OTHER PARTS:

ONE - TWO - THREE - FOUR - FIVE - SIX - SEVEN - EIGHT - NINE - TEN- ELEVEN - TWELVE - soundtrack

OTHER STUFF:

[ about my writing - tag list doc ]

THIRTEEN.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Quiet sleepy little town you’ve got here. I can see the appeal, scarlet.

[773 - 589 - 7956] I saw you last night. If I didn’t know what a treacherous bitch you were, I’d say you look more beautiful than ever.

[773 - 589 - 7956] Have you shown that new boytoy of yours all the dirty little photos you were sending me? I bet he’d fucking love to see that… Or did you actually let him see the real thing?

[773 - 589 - 7956] You can say what you want to the cops, scarlet. You and I both know you enjoyed sending me those dirty little pictures. Do your parents know what a teasing whore their daughter really is? I know mommy wasn’t too thrilled when you went running to her to snitch just because things got a little too real for you…

[773 - 589 - 7956] I’ll see you soon. It’s like I said, scarlet. You owe me. I intend to collect. You think this is a game? You can just promise things and then betray me like that? That’s not how this works, scarlet.

The second my phone was powered on again after school, it immediately started to go insane. The texts came in a flood. They were so disgusting and scary that I dropped my phone because my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t hold it. I quickly picked up the phone and took a few deep breaths, attempting to pull myself together.

,, I can’t keep this to myself. I have to tell someone what’s going on.” the thought nagged at me for the thousandth time in two weeks and I decided that as soon as I finished my tutoring session for the day, I was going to go to the construction site and show my father the texts. Tell him that somehow, Dave was out of prison and apparently, he was here in Riverdale.

My stomach was churning and a bitter taste filled my mouth at the thought. I felt like a dead girl walking. How could I have been so fucking stupid? I should’ve told my father the first time Dave texted me. I should’ve done something.

I felt anger at the situation too. I came here to get away from everything, to put it behind me. I just wanted to forget any of it happened. How dare he show up and ruin everything? He was supposed to be in jail right now, not walking free!

It wasn’t fair.

I knew I’d never be brave enough, but I found myself thinking that if I did see him again, I wanted to strangle him. To give him a reason to be afraid of me for once instead of the other way around. To get even for the hell he put me through in Chicago.

I stepped out into the parking lot, taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Leaning against the brick wall beside the doors that lead into the building. Waiting. Trying to pull myself together. Half hoping that my brother was still here, still in wrestling practice.

Then I remembered that he didn’t have it tonight and that he’d left earlier with Veronica, Betty and Jughead.

Cheryl and Toni were already gone too. I’d stayed over because I was tutoring some kids in the grade below me. I didn’t think it’d take as long as it did. When I realized just how late it had gotten and that I’d be walking home alone in the dark, I’d panicked.

I could always call my dad.

That’s what I wound up doing. About halfway across the parking lot and just as my father’s phone went to voicemail , Dave stepped out and grabbed me, clamping his hand over my mouth before I could do anything other than scream.

My phone fell out of my hands and hit the pavement . I fought him off, managed to get out of his grasp and took off at a run. He caught up to me and grabbed me, trying to drag me towards his Chevelle that was parked nearby, idling. I fought tooth and nail, making as much noise as I could. Grabbing hold of anything I could to try and wrench myself free from his grasp.

I spotted Sweet Pea walking towards the school and I screamed louder. Fought harder.

“Sweet Pea!” I screamed his name, biting at any exposed skin I could get my mouth on Dave’s body. Clawing and scratching. Determined not to go quietly or without a fight. Sweet Pea disappeared from sight for a few seconds in the scuffle between Dave and I, and I was fighting so hard that Dave was struggling to keep a good firm grip on me…

XXX

He’d come back to school because normally, Alyssa was done and at Pop’s within thirty minutes, an hour tops. It had almost been two. Something felt off. Sweet Pea tried to tell himself the entire walk across town to Riverdale High that he was just being paranoid or overprotective. By the time the school was in view, he almost had himself convinced that he was just being a paranoid idiot.

Until he heard her screaming.

Sweet Pea took off at a run in the direction her scream came from, watching as a guy grabbed Alyssa and started trying to pull her towards an idling Chevelle nearby. He locked eyes with Alyssa before slipping out of sight. Getting himself into a position where he could slip up on the guy from behind and hopefully, distract him enough that Alyssa could get away.

The second she managed to smash her head into the guy’s nose hard enough that he dropped her, Sweet Pea spoke up. Firmly. “Run, Cherry. Don’t stop running.”

“No.” I stubbornly refused to leave. I wasn’t going to leave him to fight Dave off on his own. Not when this was my mess to begin with, my own stupidity coming back to bite me in my ass.

“Damn it, woman. Fucking go!” Sweet Pea practically growled as he lunged for the guy in front of him, spearing him against the side of his own car. The fight took to the ground, the two rolling around. For a second or two, Dave had the upper hand because he managed to get his hand on Sweet Pea’s throat. Sweet Pea used his legs, flipping them so that he was on top, swinging his fists with no real thought other than the sheer rage he felt about the guy trying to grab Alyssa. Dave managed to get the upper hand again, holding Sweet Pea against the concrete, Sweet Pea’s hand wrapped around his throat as he tried to squeeze harder.

Sweet Pea swore in frustration when he saw Alyssa slipping over to the open rear door. She emerged with a baseball bat, making her way over to the fight.

“What the fuck do you think you were gonna do, man?” Sweet Pea snarled in anger as he got in a few hard and fast punches.

“I was gonna get my hands on that little bitch you call a girlfriend and teach her a lesson.” Dave grunted out the words as Sweet Pea’s hand closed around his throat tighter and he managed to get Dave on his back again.

“The only one who’s going to learn a lesson tonight is you, asshole. Don’t fucking touch her.” Sweet Pea got the upper hand again, holding Dave against the concrete, smashing his head against Dave’s head as he sneered, “I’m gonna fuckin kill you, putting your hands on my girl.” and really tightened his grip.

Dave managed to shove him off and stood, the two of them fighting. Alyssa swung the bat at Dave’s lower back, almost connecting with it but Dave stepped out of the way at the last minute, making a grab for her.

“Cherry, I told you to run, damn it!” Sweet Pea growled as he lunged at Dave, sending Alyssa stumbling back, barely managing to keep herself from falling on her butt on the pavement. The two were rolling around on the ground again, punching and choking wildly and Alyssa spotted her cell phone and she dove for it, dialing 911.

Just as she was about to hit call, Sweet Pea choked Dave out and grabbed for the rope that had fallen out of Dave’s jacket pocket, tying his arms together while he was down. Then he rushed over to her, checking her over in concern, wincing at the pavement burn on her cheeks and the few scrapes.

“What the fuck happened to run, huh?” Sweet Pea asked, trying to catch his breath.

“I wasn’t leaving you here with him.” Alyssa panted. Sweet Pea took her cell phone and hit call, keeping his foot on Dave’s head to keep him down as he made the call.

Two minutes later, a cop car came racing around the corner and pulled to a stop behind the idling Chevelle.

The cop got out and wandered over. Glancing from Sweet Pea to Dave.

Alyssa spoke up.

“Sweet Pea was trying to save me, officer.”

“I’m going to need you two to come to the station and make statements.” the cop informed them after getting Dave into the back of the cop car. Alyssa nodded, hugging herself against Sweet Pea’s side. Sweet Pea slipped out of his leather jacket,draping it around her, because at some point during her fight with Dave, her shirt had gotten torn down the front.

The cop left, leaving the two of them alone.

Sweet Pea took a few deep breaths, pulling her against him. Squeezing her tight. Holding her in place. “Thank God I decided to come by here. If something would’ve happened…” he muttered against her hair quietly.

She pulled away to look up at him and he locked eyes with her, leaning in closer…

XXX

My heart was still hammering away at my chest. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and I was starting to panic a little as I began to realize what almost happened to me. How close I came to disappearing, having God knows what would be done to me by Dave.

I wasn’t thinking about how awkward me kissing him would be. I wasn’t thinking about anything if you want the truth. I rose up on my toes, grabbing hold of the front of Sweet Pea’s t-shirt, pulling myself up. My mouth brushed against the corner of his gingerly, trying to avoid the portion of his lower lip that was busted and bloody because it had to hurt like hell. His hands dug into my hips and he growled quietly, his mouth latching onto mine just as I went to pull away, stop myself before I went for it and kissed him in the heat of the moment.

The kiss deepened and I raised my arms, wrapping them around his neck. Dragging my fingers through his hair. My back met the side of the Chevelle with a soft smack and he pressed himself into me more firmly. His mouth continuing to hungrily devour mine.

The kiss broke a few seconds later, we pulled apart breathlessly and stared at one another in a daze. Sweet Pea wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and cleared his throat. Going quiet again.

All I could do was melt into him and try to wrap my head around what almost happened and what had just actually happened. He curled his fingers under my chin, tilting my face so that I had to look up at him.

“Who was that? Wait.. was that your ex?”

My jaw dropped. I blinked at him and then I nodded quietly. He swore under his breath and held on a little tighter. Pulling away again, his hands on my upper arms as he stared down at me. “I should’ve fucking killed him.”

“H-how’d you know about Dave? Did my brother tell you?”

“And Jughead. I don’t know everything. I just know that I told myself if I ever actually saw the asshole, I was going to kill him.” Sweet Pea answered quietly. Taking a few deep breaths and then adding a few seconds later, “We need to get to the station.”

I nodded in agreement. Sweet Pea scooped me up when he saw me take a step and wince, then try it again with the same outcome.

“I can walk.” I protested weakly.

“You fell. You probably twisted your ankle. Just… let me carry you, Cherry.” he muttered quietly, his voice a soft and concerned whisper as he gazed down at me.

All I could do was nod. Lean my head against the space between his neck and shoulder.

As we worked our way towards the police station, it poured out of me. Every single thing I’d gone through with Dave in Chicago. I grimaced as I told Sweet Pea exactly what had gone down and why I thought Dave had come to town and tried to grab me tonight and Sweet Pea’s jaw set firm.

I could tell that hearing it bothered him. And at one point, he muttered quietly, “If you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to…”

“No, I need to get it out. I shouldn’t have kept the fact that the asshole was texting me to myself. Blocking his number obviously didn’t work because he reached out with a new one. I thought if I just ignored him, he’d lose interest. I thought it was just him, trying to scare me. I didn’t think he’d be stupid or brave enough to show up here.” I muttered, shaking my head at how stupid that sounded now that I was really stopping to think about it.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, okay? I’m going to make sure he doesn’t.” Sweet Pea muttered after a few seconds, just as we stepped into the station and made our way over to a sitting area to wait.

“You need to call your dad.” Sweet Pea spoke up after a few seconds that felt like hours.

I nodded. Taking my phone back from Sweet Pea, I dialed my dad’s number and I could hear the relief in his voice when he answered.

Static crackled and popped on his end of the line so I strained to hear.

“I’ve been riding around town looking for you for over an hour, tiny. What the hell happened?” my dad asked in a rush.

“Dave was waiting outside of the school tonight when I came out… If Sweet Pea hadn’t gotten there when he did I… he tried to grab me tonight, Dad.” I grimaced as I said it, bracing myself for all the questions and the lecture I knew I’d be getting because I hadn’t told anyone the second all this started.

,, to be fair, I definitely deserve it.” the thought came and I let myself have it. Leaning back in the chair, resting against Sweet Pea’s side slightly. Taking a few deep breaths.

My dad swore and I heard him punching at something, probably the dashboard of his truck. After a second or two, he spoke up. “Where are you two? I’m on my way, tiny. Right now.”

“We’re at the station giving a statement.” I explained.

“Thank god. So Novak got arrested? That’s good. I’m going to be sure to find out what I can do to make sure that little prick stays in a cell this time.” my dad responded as I heard him rev the engine on his truck.

The call ended and I leaned my head against Sweet Pea’s shoulder. He slipped an arm around me and took a few more breaths as if he were trying to calm himself down again because he was still angry and tense.

The cop who made the arrest found us and ushered us back to his workspace and we sat down. Telling the cop every single detail of what happened tonight. The cop let me finish and then spoke up.

“We’re holding him for Chicago. He apparently escaped. Attacked another girl… A Claire Watson… Then he came here. But everything you’ve told me will help keep him behind bars, Alyssa. Do you have a parent you can call?”

I nodded.

“She already called him.” Sweet Pea answered calmly as he folded his arms over his chest and glared at the cop suspiciously.

The cop eyed him, nodding. Managing a cordial smile. “That was quick thinking on your part tonight kid. Also stupid as hell. If he’d had a weapon, that could’ve gone wrong. Next time, call the station.”

“And do what? Let an asshole make off with my girl? Yeah, no thanks. I’m good. I’ve seen how fast you assholes respond to any call you get from the South side.”

“Not all of us are bad, kid.” the cop pointed out in a calm and even tone.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t going to stand there and let him take my girl either. I did what I had to do.” Sweet Pea took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. Calming himself back down.

I spotted my father and Archie coming into the station, heading right for us and I let out a ragged breath. Squeezing my dad so tight he almost couldn’t breathe when they got over to where we were sitting in the back.

My father spoke up, addressing the cop. “We will be pressing charges. So, whatever I need in order to do that, just tell me and you’ve got it.”

Sweet Pea cleared his throat.

“If it helps, here’s her phone.” Sweet Pea held my phone out to the policeman and he took it, nodding. “If there’s anything on here, that’ll help. If you’ll come with me, Mr. Andrews, we’ll get that paperwork drawn up to start the proceedings.”

My dad gave me another hug and stopped in front of Sweet Pea. “If you hadn’t been there tonight, kid… Thank you.”

“I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to her, sir.” Sweet Pea muttered, awkwardly letting my dad hug him too.

My dad made his way to an office with the policeman who’d taken our statements and I glanced up at Sweet Pea, grimacing at the bruises and scraped starting to form on his face and neck. The black eye and the busted lip.

“Archie, can you go get some ice or a soda can? His lips really swelling up..” I muttered. My brother nodded, taking some change from me to go do it. And this left Sweet Pea and I alone again.

“About that kiss.. I’m sorry, I.. the last thing I wanted to do was make anything awkward. I just got caught up in the moment and I can’t keep fighting the way I feel and I… Sorry.” I spoke up quietly. Prepared to give him an out. Afraid that I’d gone way over the line.

“Yeah, about that… I’ve been wanting to do it for a while.” Sweet Pea admitted quietly. Making me look up at him as he chuckled quietly. “You wanna repeat any of what you just said?”

I felt my cheeks burning. I pouted up at him and gave him a dirty look.

He smirked in response and spoke up. “I’m being serious. You were doing that mumble and babbling thing again.”

“You heard me.” I answered, biting my lip as I looked up at him.

“A little, yeah… But maybe I wanna hear it again, cherry.” he pulled me close and gazed down at me for a few seconds.

“Wait.. you wanted to kiss me?” I realized what he’d admitted. Gazing up at him, a little shocked.

“You’re trying to change the subject now?” he questioned, slipping his arms around me. I gave a soft laugh and muttered quietly, “Maybe a little.”

“When you say you can’t ignore the way you feel.. What’s that mean?” he questioned again, making me look up at him. I took a deep breath and toyed with the front of his shirt, trying to figure out the best way to put it to words.

The truth. Simple and direct.

“I care about you a lot. I lo--” I started to say that I loved him, but Archie cleared his throat behind us, holding out the soda can to me. Then promptly excusing himself again to go find our dad. I gently guided Sweet Pea down into a chair and sank down to sit on his knees. Gingerly pressing the cold soda can against his lip. And after a second or two, I finally got myself to say it again. “I love you, okay?”

He chuckled quietly. Locking eyes with me. Lowering the soda can to ask quietly, “Like a best friend or something.. Right?”

I shook my head. “More than, actually. Since that day at the car wash when I drenched you with the hose, I’ve… It’s been hard to make myself not look for you in a crowd. Yes, yes.. I know this is mushy and you don’t do mushy, I..” his mouth crashing against mine cut off the flow of my words and he muttered in a daze, “Say it again. Tell me you love me, Cherry.”

“I love you.” I managed to get the words out breathlessly. His mouth was latching onto mine all over again. The kiss deepening. His arms enveloping me tighter. Squeezing til I thought I’d get lightheaded between the deep and heavy onslaught of kisses and the way he was holding me.

“I love you too.” he mumbled quietly. Gazing down at me. Panting for his next breath as the kiss broke yet again.

“Okay, are you two done with whatever yet? Because dad told me to get Al back home. You can come with us if you want.” Archie surprised me by inviting Sweet Pea. Sweet Pea eyed him and nodded, standing after I’d finally managed to pry myself away from him.

As we walked out of the station, he slipped his hand down between us, lacing his fingers between mine. Giving my hand a squeeze as he glanced down at me.

[cosmicbash]

Thinking about an AU where Kelly runs a podcast/radio show reviewing and discussing new music/artists in the hiphop/rap game.

He still writes and produces his own music and is a huge Eminem fan but their beef hasn't ever happened in this universe.

When he gets a call from Paul asking if he'd like to interview Em about his newest album he all but faints right there on the spot. It's like a dream come true and he actually has Rook pinch him after they've ended the call and scheduled a phone in spot on next Friday's program. Sure he's not getting to meet his idol face to face but just getting to talk to him one on one is already a huge win in Kelly's book so he's over the moon.

Paul didn't tell him to keep it a secret so of course that means the upcoming interview is all Kelly can talk about in the days leading up to it. Every episode he records has the topic somehow sidetracking over to Em by the end. It gets to the point where even his fans are rolling their eyes and calling him a fanboy but Kelly doesn't care. He's just too excited.

When Friday rolls around Kelly is all but dancing into the studio, a starbucks cup in hand and his face stuck on a permanent smile. Ready to start his early prep work and sort our his questions for the 50th time while he waits for Em's call. (It took an extreme amount of self control for him not to abuse the fact Paul gave him Em's cell number)

Em's album is bumping at max volume in the headphones on his ears when he shoulder bumps his way through the studio door. His lips wrapped tight around the straw of his drink when his eyes land on the brunette casually reclining in his chair. A few of the assorted knickknacks he leaves decorating his desk twirling between the man's hands.

Kelly actually chokes on his drink.

By the time he's done loudly coughing and gasping for air the poor host is left praying that he didn't somehow spit coffee straight across the room at Em. He's feeling humilated enough by the fact that the first time they meet he almost kills himself with an iced coffee. The last thing he needs is to ruin the guys shoes or outfit ontop of it all.

When Em laughs the blonde is honestly tore between wanting to run and hide or melt. Everyone who's even heard of Em is aware of how rare it is to catch the rapper smiling, but that's exactly what he's doing. Kelly's idol is full on snickering at him and swiveling back and forth in his chair like his poor attempt at suicide by starbucks is the funniest thing he's seen in a long time. It's so mesmerizing Kelly almost completely misses the casual "You okay there kid?"

But there's no way he could actually miss it. Not a direct question from Eminem. His clumsy introduction has somehow earned him the mans undivided attention and Kelly is sure as shit going to embrace that whole heartedly.

It takes a few too quick motions before his headphones are dropped back around his neck and his feet are stable enough to carry him closer. Mouth rambling a mile a minute as he reaches out to shake his guests hand and apologize. "What? Y-yeah. Great. Never been better. That uh, sorry about- you know, I- I don't choke like that usually. I'm pretty good at...n-not choking-"

Em's eyebrows are rising and Kelly honestly doesn't think his face can get any redder than it is but he continues nonetheless.

"You're really here though! Paul- uh, P-Paul said we'd be doing a phone interview? I didn't realize we'd switched it-"

"Yeah, I'm not really big on doing this kinda shit over the phone. Is this a problem? Cuz we can just call it all off if you-"

Just the mere suggestion they cancel it has Kelly near screaming in the rapper's face. His fingers clamping onto Em's hand like a vice. "What? No! No! This is perfect! So much better-"

Em's mouth is quirking up at the edges in another smile and Kelly can't help but feel even more flustered. He's definitely making a fool of himself.

"I think so too." Em's other hand claps down over his and Kelly swears he's hallucinating an affectionate brush of thumb over his knuckles. Just being this close to his idol and touching hands has every nerve in his body feeling overloaded as it is.

Another full minute must pass with them just staring at eachother before Kelly's brain finishes rebooting and he regains enough common sense to end the moment, his cheeks still feeling like theyre on fire while he stutters his way through the rest of an introduction and the rough time line of the episode. It's not until he's settling down into the chair opposite of the other man that he realizes they're going to have to switch positions. A request he's not exactly confident on making but luckily avoids all together because as soon as he's finished explaining Em brings it up himself.

"So are we both going to share the guest chair today, or do you wanna switch? I'm down to just let you climb up on my lap too if that works-"

It's borderline flirting and Kelly almost finds himself choking again on his nervous sip of coffee.

Kelly has no idea how he's going to survive a few hours alone in the studio with the rapper, let alone record a whole podcast without the audience comparing him to a tomato.

((And then Em flirts with Kelly so much throughout the first recording that they actually have to scrap the whole session and start over. No amount of editing able to cover up the blondes flustered responses or Em's downright lewd jokes and teasing. Paul is pissed and Kelly's fans are questioning why the episode is being post poned another day. But Em makes it up to him with a dinner invitation and the promise that Paul's going to have Denaun sit in on the next session tomorrow to keep him in line. Cuz Em's a horny bastard who took one look at Kelly's cute rambling on the leadup to their interview and couldn't resist showing up in person to try and seduce the poor guy))

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Hello! I just wanted to tell you that I really LOVE your writing. I read your short stories and I'm in awe that is a few words you create such amazing story. I hope to read more of you soon :)

Do you have an ao3 account?

Hello there! Thank you so, so much!!! I’m working on 100 days of one-word prompts, so more to come very soon! <3

I do have an AO3 account! I am fearfully_beautifully_made over there. Currently all of my works on AO3 are Johnlock, though. I do have 4 novel length Drarry fics that I’m working on at the moment (I have no self control), but they’re not posted yet, they still need a bit more finishing and editing. If you’d like, I’d be glad to let you know when I start posting them, though. :) 

[honeyrose-tea]

this has been a strange start to the new year for sure. how are you doing? what did you think of the situation in the capitol? any thoughts or worries about the rest of the month? I'm curious to hear your thoughts on everything. -🌙

thank you so much for the ask💞 almost every day I check my inbox anticipating the next time I'll hear from you. just knowing that someone cares.... it really does a lot for my self-esteem. I don't have many friends right now and the few I do are very busy and have a lot of things they would rather do than talk to me. thank you for making time to listen to me and ask me how I'm doing. you wouldn't believe how many people don't. I haven't always been the most consistent presence for you and I'm sorry. I'm trying to do better and be less selfish because I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of that. thank you for always being kind to me, pen pal.

there is a lot I want to say regarding the capitol and the situation in the country in general. as a social science student (and hopefully one day a professor!) these situations are of great academic interest to me. as a bisexual woman and an informed US citizen who cares about my rights I am also very personally vested in American issues. but first I would like to tackle your question regarding how I'm doing:)

I'm doing pretty good. classes have started back up but most of mine are online. I'm thinking of switching to online exclusively because of how much emotional (and sometimes physical) labor in-person classes are, and also for the sake of my health and my parents'. it's funny how so many things we did with ease before the pandemic seem so burdensome now. even small interactions are anxiety-inducing now, and I find myself having a hard time socializing even casually. like a muscle that has atrophied without use, my social skills are awful now. on a happier note, my productivity and creativity are both at all-time highs since social interactions aren't using up all my energy anymore. I brought my record player to my dorm room and I've been listening to a bunch of music, I've also been writing and recording some music of my own. I have a couple of demos and if you or anyone else is interested, I'll post them on here. once I record and edit full band versions I'll put them up on my soundcloud. I've tried sharing some of my stuff with some friends but none of them really care and I don't want to annoy them. besides, it's more for myself anyway. I wang to prove to myself that I can make music and that I can say something worth saying. a lot of my struggle over the past 6 months has been that I feel as though nothing I do or say can change anything, that none of my actions matter. I struggle a lot with control and I've been working on it for years, but it's still really hard for me. anyway. I'm enjoying class and what I do outside of it. I've been in my element living alone again (in my dorm) and feeling free to wear/do/say what I want, when I want. I wash my dishes and sing to myself and manage my time and drink lots of artificially sweetened and heavily flavored coffee without anyone around to judge me. and I get to cry and masturbate when I want, both of which are helpful in regulating my moods. I don't know. it's not like I'm doing anything exciting, but I am doing each thing I do well and with a happy heart. I feel like this portion of my life is something of a hibernation- the winter seasons combined with the pandemic have me in a cozy little daydream, reading and self-reflecting and getting back in tune with myself and my passions. I have a feeling that the spring and summer will be very vibrant bustling months so I am trying to enjoy my rest and soak in as much knowledge about myself and the world around me as I can. it's hard for me to live in the present and not get antsy (connected to control issues, I think) but I'm getting better at it. on the subject of the future, I've also been using this time to look into grad school and prepare for the GRE (a standardized test required for most grad school applications, similar to the ACT/SAT). I'm learning a lot that I didn't know since neither of my parents went further than undergrad, and I'm getting excited. I'm really looking forward to doing research. I've already been collecting some thesis ideas for an undergraduate-level thesis that I have to complete next year for the honors college, and hopefully I can turn that into a masters and/or PHD thesis when the time comes. now, on to more important matters than my silly little life.

I have very complicated feelings about america. I do have some attachment to some of the original ideas that are at the foundation- "bring me your huddled masses...", "all men are created equal", the general spirit of democracy, etc.- all of these are valid and worth keeping (in some form) to me. I think a lot of good people and ideas exist around us and I believe that we must be as empathetic and kind as possible to one another in order to navigate the current climate and preserve the good that we do have. that said, america was also founded on some pretty terrible, bigoted principles and our history- as well as our present- is marred by injustices. our society has become highly individualistic because of capitalism, and it has resulted in considerable division on every level. the competition that fuels capitalism is like an invasive species of plant, it does not only exist within our economy but it slithers out into our social world and the way we relate to others. I think capitalism coupled with our post-enlightenment founding is the source of most all of our problems as a country. capitalism has taken root in america in a way more malicious and all-consuming than in any other culture, because it was there at the beginning of our country and all of our social norms have grown out of it. many other cultures have existed long before capitalism and though it has modified their culture, it has not altogether become it. because america was founded on capitalism, we have no cultural identity outside of it. america is, itself, capitalism. that is precisely why america is experiencing all of the best and worst parts of capitalism at their most extreme. it is why, as I mentioned previously, we are perhaps the most divisive and competitive society in the modern world, and probably in history. we are the richest and most powerful country but we have the largest wealth gap and incarceration rate, among many other extremes.

all of this is to say that the rise of Trump and fascism in this country has been a long time coming, and unmistakably inevitable. to defeat it we will have to break america down to its fundamentals, throw out everything that is unethical and unjust, and rebuild our entire society from there. this is radical and hard to imagine, it will also be very difficult to execute, but I strongly believe that much of our societal systems just cannot be reformed, they must be thrown out and replaced.

the capitol riots were inexcusable and sickening but decidedly inevitable. this has been steadily building for america's entire existence. I think it will get worse before it gets better, as there are already plans for bigger and more numerous protests across the country in the following weeks. that said, I feel hopeful as I see the anti-fascist movement grow in the wake of fascism, I am hopeful as I see many people being radicalized and awakened to the realities of this country's failings. I don't know how exactly we will even begin to rid ourselves of the biases, prejudices, and downright hatred that plagues our country. I don't know how we will relate on an individual level to those with such deeply-ingrained hate in their hearts. I don't know how we will change our systems of government and economy to reflect new cultural values that we begin to build together. I am not sure what the future will hold. I do believe, however, that we will triumph over this moment and that the future will be better. I think that the only way to radically change and unite so many vastly different people and remove the blinders from their eyes is through a terrible, historic awakening like the one we are having now. the situation itself is awful, but I am hopeful that out of this mess we become a nation more committed to justice and to some of the ideals which we have falsely claimed to be emulating for our entire history.

so yes, I am worried about the next few weeks, months, and even years. there is no end to the pursuit of a just society, and I think every informed citizen is always a bit apprehensive about certain aspects of their culture. there will always be problems to combat and injustices to rectify, but I think that we will soon be moving to a better place, that we will remember these moments and say, "never again". I am hopeful, despite seeing some of the worst of humanity in recent days, that these atrocities will bring positive change.

I know that was long and instead of discussing issues about the capitol, or even just current political issues, I expanded the scope considerably and dragged in a lot of things from history and grander sociopolitical theories. still, I think it is hard to talk about the insurrection attempt without talking about a lot more. thank you for reading my takes and caring about them. I spend a lot of time thinking about these things, and it feels nice to share them with someone other than my annoyed professors who want me to shut up so they can finish the lecture and stick to their semester schedule.

I hope you're well and that you're staying safe and healthy. are you in school now too? have you or your family had the virus? thank you for coming to talk to me, I always enjoy it. I'll talk to you again soon💞

[crowsy]

(((Edit: you may need to click for better quality, it looks a bit grainy to me)))

I found the post that @askjevildeltarune and a few other really cool peeps made about jevil in a dress, and I felt like making my own version.

I did a gender bent version, not because I dont respect original jev in a dress but I just skcjtiejt F e ma l e. And I have no self control, so.

I'm happy with how it turned out. It's my first finished piece in a while, but I've got sooo many w.i.p.s right now. I'm trying. I've got doc & da content, I'm trying to motivate myself on some turnaround sheets, and I'm still working on a larger comic for my deltarune ask blog, which will hopefully be up soon.

[a-kookie-with-my-tae]

Kitten: Teaser

Pairing: jimin x hybrid!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut

Summary: You are a hybrid. You were abandoned on the street when a boy comes across you in a dark alley in your kitten form. Jimin was not in the best place when he found you, but taking care of you seemed to brighten up even his darkest thoughts. You are his saviour, his angel, his calico cat.

Warnings: mentioned!abuse, kidnapping, depression, hybrid!trafficking, starvation, dehydration, wounds.

Notes: Hey, so this is the edited teaser. I promised a while ago the edited chapters, and here's the beginning. I love you all and hope you have an amazing day❤❤❤

Masterlist

Next>

Black.

That was the only word that could describe the feeling that this place gives me.

Pain.

Suffering.

Darkness.

Loneliness.

Hopelessness.

All could be combined into this one word.

Black.

The large chains barely hold my abused legs as my capture leaves the room. I know what will come today. Today I am going to be sold. The fact that the someone will use me as he pleases in ways I don't ever want to imagine is 100% probable. I won't even be a person as soon as they take me away from this place. At least here, I have some semblance of freedom, no matter how little. But out there, I have no control over what will happen to me. 

Like I would ever let that happen.

I pause my breath momentarily, shifting my ears to hear outside my cell. After a few moments of eerie whispers of the breeze and no signs of human life, I sigh a breath of relief. Now is my chance, and it might be the only one I get. I must find a way to escape no matter what. Before they come for me. 

I tug as hard as I can at the chains surrounded my bony ankles. The weight I have lost in the time spent here is unimaginable. I feel like a mere shell of my past self. But, right now, the fact that I have lost so much has aided in my escape. My captures neglected to think to tighten my cuffs as I slowly deteriorated. Their ignorance is to my benefit now. 

After a few minutes of rubbing my ankles raw with the metal, I finally manage to slip free of them. I quickly rub at the torn skin, trying to sooth the pain quickly before pushing it down, ignoring it so I can finally escape. I will not let any amount of physical pain stop me from escaping this hell I am about to be thrust into. 

I stand on wobbly legs for the first time in... I don't even know how long. Time doesn't seem to work here. Hours pass into days, days into weeks, until everything is just a blur. I hold the wall with my cuffed hands to keep my balance as my unsteady legs try to hold my weight after so long. The muscles of my body try to fail me from underuse, but I still won't let them fail me now. 

My head is throbbing and my vision blurry from standing upright after being sat down for so long. The blood rushes to my head and limbs at such a fast rate that I almost collapse on the spot. 

Staring down at my wrists, I wonder if I should take off the cuffs or if the pain is worth it. I only have a limited window of time before they come to get me, and I am mobile enough to escape without taking them off. But, will the inhibit my chances of escape, or slow me down once I'm out? Or, even more of a possibility, stop me from fighting if anyone does come?

The only thing keeping my sane was the singular window shedding a small bit of light into my cell. My only means of escaping this place. I decide against taking off the cuffs, I can climb out and run without it. I look up at the windowpane before pushing with all of my might. After a few moments, the creaking gets louder and the rust causes the bars to weaken. The wooden frame crashes into the alleyway with a loud bang, causing me to freeze in place. I turn my ears, listening for humans an any signs that I alerted them. 

I hear some guards mutter amongst each other, heading in the direction of my cell. My heart beat races as I quickly scamper out of the window, managing to cut myself in many places along the way. 

The small slices sting in the wind as I finish crawling out of the window. Before being able to stand up, my shirt gets caught in a screw in the window. I tug it free just in time to see the guards. Their eyes widen as the see me. Everything becomes a panicked blur as the try to unlock my cell and scream for the boss and other guards to help them. I quickly turn my back on the window to the warehouse just as they get the key in the lock. 

And for the first time in forever... I run.

Posted: 20.03.22 18:02