#AND MR BURNS! almost forgot mr burns

[sofhtie]

hi! can we get uhh favourite plays?

HIII great question. i love so many and also hate so many. current favs id say much ado (always) and liz duffy adams born with teeth and an illaid. honorable mentions to susan lori parks red letter plays (read these for class this year), spanish tragedy (i just want to see someone try to stage this So badly) and luis alfaro’s electricidad

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

There's Eddie and then there's you, who has moved into the trailer park. Eddie discovers this one morning and proceeds to make an ass of himself. Features cute and flirty Eddie.

Or alternatively Eddie spots you while he's rushing to get to his van for school and nearly knocks himself out.

Eddie has no game but he tries, sweet Eddie.

🖤

Eddie doesn't pay much attention to the new family moving into the trailer park. He's too focused on getting a song prepared for Saturday at The Hideout, alternating that with writing in his notebook, poring over ideas for a new Hellfire campaign.

Wayne pokes his head out of the trailer door, he's clutching cups of coffee for them both. Eddie's coffee is in his favourite mug- the Garfield one that Wayne bought for him when he first moved in with him many moons ago.

He gulps the coffee down, almost burns his tongue at the scalding temperature then swears when he realises what time it is. Shit shit shit. He's already late for school, he's determined to graduate this year so no skipping any boring shit no matter how much he wants to.

It's when he's climbing inside his van that he realises he's forgotten his essay for Mrs O'Donnell's class, it took him long enough to write the shit. If this was about D&D or metal music or any one of the fantasy novels he loves then he'd ace it, but it's not and he's not interested in another fucking love story.

Honestly, he wouldn't put it past the old dragon to fail him if he forgot the essay and he can't use the excuse that a dog ate it- that got him a week's detention last time.

It's then that he sees the trailer door open that's not far from Mayfield's house and he's not seen who's moved into the new trailer so sue him, he's curious and looks over.

You can imagine his surprise when he catches a hint of a cheerleading uniform then you peer up at him, the momentum as he runs or if he's being honest tries to strut and the fact he's gawking at you causes him to trip over his feet and he nearly knocks himself out on his van door and sprawls on the ground.

"Jesus h Christ" he growls and he cringes that he almost knocked himself out because he was hawking at a pretty lady. Smooth Munson. Real smooth.

"Are you alright?" Suddenly you're beside him, kneeling in the grass and peering over him anxiously. He thinks he might have died and he's now in heaven because your fingers are in his hair and you murmur that you're checking for blood.

"Beautiful" he thinks to himself but then he realised he said it out loud and a pink blush coats his cheeks. You bite your lip and a sweet smile blooms on your face.

"Okay, I think you've definitely hit your head" You grin at him and his heart is fluttering, racing like a hummingbird's wings. Fuck, he has no game when it comes to women, usually he tries to make them laugh or makes an overdramatic fool of himself.

But this right now with you? this stumps him and makes him nervous. Eddie was rarely nervous, perfecting a don't give a fuck demeanour over the years but one look from you and he's putty. Feels shy and tongue-tied, he can't remember the last time he was ever tongue-tied.

Trying very carefully not to make an ass of himself he gets up and takes a bow which makes you giggle. "Eddie Munson at your service princess"

"I know. Your reputation precedes you, Eddie, though you're nothing that I thought you'd be like" he smiles impishly, knows exactly what you mean.

"Mmm, mean, scary and is known to make Jason Carver piss his pants" You snort and nod, eyes lighting up and he's eager to hear your sweet laugh again.

Maybe you have some jock boyfriend who would kick his ass for flirting or talking to his girl but at this moment he could not give a shit.

"Yeah and I didn't expect you to almost knock yourself out just because you looked at me" there's a shyness to your tone and he shrugs.

"It's not often that I'm graced with someone who is so enchanting Milady" he teases but it's the truth at the same time and you

"Enchanting? I've never been called that before" you seem surprised that someone could think that about you and that pisses Eddie off. If you did have a boyfriend then he was the biggest jackass in the world if he didn't show you how special you were.

And he never thought there would ever be a bigger jackass than Jason Carver.

"I've never made a complete ass of myself and nearly gave myself a concussion in front of a girl before sweetheart, guess there are firsts for everything" he hides his smile with a lock of his hair, his heart rate spiking again at the look on your face.

"Should probably get going, I'd offer you a ride but uh I'm sure your boyfriend would kick my ass if I did that and you know you're from the dark side and Hellfire would lose their shit" he's disappointed he can't talk to you more but at least you live close, maybe you would speak again.

It's only when he realises that you've walked past him and you're waiting at the van door that he comes out of his reverie.

"The dark side? We're not in Star Wars and if I was I'd be Leia and kick the dark side's ass. Also it's good that I don't have a boyfriend so you can drive me huh Munson?" You wink at him and his brain short circuits.

No boyfriend. You just winked at him. He feels like a deer in headlights then promptly snaps out of it. Feels like he's the cock of the walk as he struts to his van.

He absolutely does not nearly trip over his own feet again trying to impress you with his suave strut. Absolutely not.

He does.

[makeyoumine69]

i would love to see more jealous patrick ❤️😫

Hello, dear anon!💗

Ohhh, jealous Patrick is a thing!

In the middle of dinner with Bateman's family in Dorsia, the reservation Patrick had been trying to get all week, you needed a moment to powder your nose. On your way back to your table, you were playing with the ring Patrick had gifted you a week ago—a huge gem shone on it whenever you rolled it between your fingers—but when you were distracted by the waiter, you accidentally dropped the ring, and if the stranger hadn't caught it, it would have rolled across the floor to God only knew where.

"Oh, thank you so much!" You beamed and smiled as the unfamiliar but handsome man returned the ring.

"It's nothing, really." He replied, examining you curiously from head to toe.

Such attention made you embarrassed, but then you felt a burning sensation between your shoulders. When you turned around, you locked your confused gaze with Bateman's, his hazel eyes piercing through yours like sharp daggers.

"Uh, thanks again! But I have to go!" With these words you walked away from the stranger before he could tell you something else.

Sheepishly you approached the table where Patrick, his parents and his brother Sean with his date were waiting for you. And even though Bateman's face was devoid of emotion, the moment you took your seat, his large palm found its way to your inner thigh in the blink of an eye.

"So, who was that guy?" He whispered in your ear, leaning closer so only you could hear. "And why was he touching you?"

You let out a shaky breath and smiled politely over Mrs. Bateman's comment that she was glad you were finally back. "What?" You asked bewilderedly without looking at the man next to you. "I just dropped my ring."

"You dropped the ring?" Patrick almost chuckled, his hand diving deeper between your legs under the table, forcing you to grab it to keep him from going any further. "Forgot how to wear a ring, sunshine?" The man took the opportunity to nip at your neck while everyone at the table was busy with each other. "When we get home, I'll remind you… I'll remind you of everything."

His skillful fingers reached beneath your skirt no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Now, they were brazenly playing with the lace of your panties and perfectly hiding beneath the soft material of your dress.

"Patrick," you gasped, gripping the table to stifle a moan as Bateman pressed his thumb against your blushing clit. "Please," your pathetic pleas only brought a broad grin to his smug face. "Stop."

And then Patrick's mother asked you a question you couldn't even hear as your whole body was focused on the rising tension in your lower abdomen as the man was relentless in his intentions to work you up.

"Excuse me…could you please repeat your question? You asked, completely awkward.

Patrick smirked arrogantly and leaned back in his chair. "She asked if you liked the food," he muttered mockingly, before shoving his two digits into your oozing pussy. "Believe me, Mother, she is enjoying the evening. Am I right, honey?"

Paralyzed, you were about to explode at how shamelessly Bateman was behaving, literally fingering you in front of his family. Biting your lower lip for a second, you tried to take a sip of mineral water, but the man wouldn't let you as he intensified his ministrations, curling his fingers to stimulate that spongy spot inside you that made you grip the surface of the table once again.

"Yes…everything is perfect," you managed to blurt out, sensing the cool metal of his Rolex gliding along your hot skin, the contrast only heightening the pleasure. "Thank you, Patrick."

"You're welcome, darling," the man chirped, leaning closer to peck your cheek in an affectionate, pretending way, only to purr into your ear. "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name." And with that, Bateman sat back, looking cheeky as ever, as he felt your inner walls contracting around his fingers once he began to rub your little bud with his thumb.

Mrs. Bateman couldn't help but smile. "Oh, you two are so adorable! Such a loving couple."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick grinned in pure delight. "Thank you. We really are."

Bastard.

[astralis-ortus]

gummy bears

✱ college student!hj x gn!reader

— art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

w.count → 1.8k genre → fluff...? warning → mild cussing, as per usual♡ a.n → hi!! i'm back with a new face addition to the page! hahah honestly i thought it would be either minho or seungmin first but ngl hyunnie has been tugging on my hearstrings lately he's such a silly little mandu i love him sm :( hope you guys find the story as enjoyable as chris' side of the blog, and also if anyone is interested for a commission there are slots available still♡ ⋆ see masterlist

has it always been this… weird?

your attention should’ve been sealed at the projected slides once the professor started the countdown on his infamous ‘how-long-can-i-yap-before-my-students-fall-asleep’ course, but holy smokes—even breathing seemed like a major task when you could barely peel your thoughts off the boy sitting a few rows in front of you.

hyunjin has always been the main attention-grabber wherever he went—and that includes yours.

it’s not like you denying it either. he is gorgeous, and even the heavens know you couldn’t help but glance in his direction whenever he’s in the room. hell, even a few of your initial sketches for last semester’s projects were inspired by hyunjin. it’s as if he had slowly solidified his spot as your muse—but what is this odd feeling gently fluttering between the rows of your ribcage?

a buzz from the pocket of your pants startled you out of your trance, and while you thanked the gods for sending you down here with a habit of putting your phone on constant silent, you peeked at the notification patiently perched on the screen of your phone—one nearly causing you a minor heart attack on the spot.

hyunjin: spot next to me is empty, you know

right—you forgot your position from a mere classmate-slash-secret-admirer has been upgraded to an actual acquaintance-slash-almost-friends of hyunjin’s, all thanks to that one final project from art history 101 class last semester.

you: being at the back is peaceful, thanks hyunjin: says the one who rushed for a front spot for literally any other class lol hyunjin: cmon, saved the spot for you

lord—now you’re genuinely glad you decided to wear that crusty baseball cap of yours today, or literally everyone would’ve noticed the way your cheeks had burned up into a bright shade of crimson.

you: geez hyunjin: cmoooon hyunjin: or i’ll literally ask mr. kang to move you here

the way your head snapped to find hyunjin’s playful yet determined gaze headed straight at you was not something you would’ve ever thought to add to your bingo board.

ever.

you: no you won’t hyunjin: try me

your eyes nearly doubled in size when you returned your line of sight in hyunjin’s direction, only to see the slow, comical way the long-haired guy is raising his hand while keeping his eyes on you, lips tipped up into a masked grin.

“yes, mr. hwang?”

fuck.

you scrambled on your phone while mr. kang—as well as the rest of the attendees of the class, fixed their eyes on hyunjin, quietly wondering what would come out of those lips of his.

“oh, i’m just wondering if—"

you: FINE I’M MOVING you: JUST SHUT UP you: PLEASE

And you swore you could see the way his lips turned into a victorious grin through the back of his head.

“if?” mr. kang repeated, seemingly a little impatient at hyunjin’s antics. to be fair, you actually felt the same way.

“if you have any movie or documentaries related to the topics you will be teaching this semester,” hyunjin’s voice rang loud and clear—as if the question had been his initial motive all along, and you’re simply a victim of his little magic trick.

“personally i do learn better through those mediums, mr. kang,” hyunjin perfected his question, smile as innocent as a puppy, and as he looked around the hall, scanning the dozens of nodding heads to his statement,

hyunjin made sure to lock eyes with you for a second longer.

“and i think my friends agree with me.”

“you’re an ass,” you hissed as soon as you secured the seat next to hyunjin, shooting daggers out of your eyes while the latter chuckled. given, hyunjin’s question did made your move less suspicious since mr. kang actually took a liking to the idea and decided to substitute one of the assignments into this movie presentation group project, but still—you were so close to losing your dignity in front of dozens of your peers, on the first day of the new semester.

“would’ve been easier had you listened the first time,” he playfully retorted, remnants of victory still glimmered in his eyes, “and now you know i’m a man of my words. win-win situation for both of us.”

“as if,” you groaned in annoyance despite failing to even make a dent to hyunjin’s victorious grin. “you are the only one benefiting from this, mr. hwang. i’m merely a victim in this scheme of yours.”

“ouch—mr. hwang? really now?” hyunjin placed a hand over his heart, pretending as if he has been shot despite the wicked smile plastered across his face, “do you really want to hurt me like that?”

if you were to be honest, you do enjoy your playful bickers with hyunjin. it made him less of a muse and more of a… human. a regular college boy, who just so happened to be blessed by the goddess of beauty herself and sent here with an exceptional heart of gold.

like he’s just a boy.

“seemed fair enough,” instead, you replied with a mischievous grin while greeting a couple of hyunjin’s friends joining your little group.

“1-1, mr. hwang.”

the massive numbers displayed on your phone screen further validates the exhaustion you felt looming over your shoulders. it’s only the first week of the new semester and you’re already held up on campus way past your classes—how are you supposed to survive the rest of the school year?

to be fair, you really do love what you’re studying right now. it’s what you’ve always wanted to be since you were a child, and to be able to live out your inner child’s dream is one of your prides—but god, it did not make things easier to actually do.

just as you slipped your screen away, sparing yourself from a bunch of exhausting thoughts as your footsteps led you to your bus stop, a pack of gummy bear suddenly popped out of thin air in front of your eyes, causing you to stumble backwards onto the—

warm surface?

“i’m not a gummy sharing type of person, but i think you need this more than i do.”

pushing yourself off the other’s figure, you didn’t need to turn around to figure out the person’s identity—but you did anyway.

“gee, thanks mr. hwang,” you playfully snickered, snatching the bag of gummy and popped one unfortunate strawberry flavored bear in your mouth, “didn’t know you’re so kind.”

over the past week, you found out that you surprisingly have quite a lot of classes together with hyunjin and a few of his friends. you’re thankful he dropped the ‘i saved you a seat’ act by the third class you shared and let you actually sit amongst your friends, but in ways you don’t even understand, you somehow kept getting sorted in the same groups as hyunjin. well, at least now you no longer freeze up while hyunjin’s around.

“oh, can you drop that already,” hyunjin groaned, lips pursing into a subtle pout, “the others are starting to call me mr. hwang too thanks to you, you know.”

you couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past your lips to hyunjin’s protest, already with a picture in your head about the whining he would’ve done once his closest friends started to pick up hyunjin’s objection to the nickname and used the name against him. how adorable he would’ve—

wait.

adorable?

hyunjin’s supposed to be simply your muse—maybe a fried at best! you don’t call your friends adorable, do you?

“you started it!” shaking your head in an attempt to rid the word from the nooks and crannies of your brain, you instead defended yourself while offering hyunjin the pack of gummies at the same time.

“what do you mean i started it!” hyunjin groaned, still popping a gummy in his mouth in the process, “i was just simply requesting your presence at the spot I have reserved for you!”

“and threatened to embarrass me if i didn’t move!” you deflected, playfully glaring at the latter. “don’t you dare omit that part, you sneaky weasel! i thought I was going to have to drop the class due to embarrassment!”

the crease between hyunjin’s brows grew thicker when he realized he couldn’t counter your protest, resulting in another pout to form on his lips, now clearer than before. it made you feel a little guilty—did you go a little too far? was he offended by the—

“i just wanted to get closer to you.”

…wait.

wait—what?

“i know it’s a lame excuse,” hyunjin’s groans turn muffled as he hid his face behind the palms of his hands, “it’s just—i don’t know, i find you fun? i know we just started talking after that group project but i like talking about stuff with you and even after the group project ended i just kept finding myself wanting to talk to you? i just—”

“whoa whoa—slow down!” you instinctively grabbed hyunjin’s shoulders; not too hard to shake him off, just enough to gently ground him back from his rambles. “breathe, you don’t need to explain anything to me, hyunjin. just breathe.”

well, frankly you do need an explanation—just… not from this adorably frantic hyunjin.

no, scratch that—just frantic.

not adorably.

just frantic.

hyunjin’s face was nearly the shade of the gummy bear packet you still had on your hand, and as much as you didn’t want to embarrass him more than he’s already feeling, your lips seemed to have their own plans when they curled up into a grin.

“don’t even say anything,” he warned, fingers now pointing at the rapidly growing grin on your face. “just don’t.”

you would honestly love to comply to hyunjin’s wishes, really—after all, you’re the type to honor and respect your friend’s wishes…

but is he just a friend?

“I’m not!” you stated, but despite throwing your hands up in a sign of defeat, hyunjin knew better when he noticed the constant degree of smile etched across your face,

“I just never would have thought that the campus crush,” you emphasized, trails of laughter already slipping past your lips in harmony to hyunjin’s exasperated sigh, “the mr. hwang hyunjin himself, is quite clumsy at making new friends.”

hyunjin was genuinely dumbfounded at your accusation.

“no i’m not!” he protested, subconsciously following your footstep as you got ready to catch your nearing bus, “it’s not that i’m bad at making friends, i just—”

hyunjin’s explanation were cut short when your bus finally arrived, prompting another frown to appear on his face when you hopped on without sparing him another glance. dejected, hyunjin turned around and—

“hyunjin!”

the speed at how quickly hyunjin turned on his heels at your voice nearly made you giggle. from one of the opened windows from the back of the bus, you locked eyes with hyunjin and smiled.

“text me your excuses and we’ll see if you’re actually good at making friends!” you shouted as the bus began to drove away, only allowing you to witness a faint ‘okay!’ along with an excited wave before hyunjin disappeared behind the curve of the crossroad.

well, maybe hyunjin is adorable after all.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[steveseddie]

sweet as pumpkin pie

steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,1 k | cw: none | tags: dustin & steve, dustin & eddie, eddie knows how to bake, steve has a crush, getting together, first kiss, steve pov

for @steddie-spooktober day twenty-four, prompt “pumpkin” 

read on ao3

Pounding at the door has Steve scrambling to his feet and hurtling towards the front door. He glances at Eddie on the couch and is relieved to find he’s still napping soundly, unbothered by the noise. 

Steve doesn’t want him to wake up, not when Eddie showed up an hour earlier looking exhausted after nightmares kept him up all night. The last thing Steve wants is for Eddie to lose any more sleep because whoever is at the door grows impatient and knocks harder. 

So he fumbles with the lock and swings the door open to reveal–

“Dustin?”  

“Steve, we have an emergency!” Henderson shrieks, his loud volume making Steve flinch.

His annoyance is immediately replaced by worry as the kid’s words register. His body tenses up, his fingers itch for his nail bat. “An Upside Down emergency?” 

“Worse!” Dustin says. Steve’s stomach churns and he feels sick. He tries to think what could be worse than an Upside Down emergency– “A baking emergency!” He finishes before Steve can spiral. 

He blinks at him. “A baking–” he starts in incredulity. “Henderson! Jesus fucking Christ, man.” He reaches over and flicks his stupid Thinking Cap. 

“What?” Dustin protests, swatting Steve’s hand away.

“That’s not worse than an Upside Down emergency! Nothing is worse than an Upside Down emergency!”

“Fine, but it’s up there,” Dustin argues stubbornly.

“Whatever,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wishes Eddie was awake so that they could share an exasperated look. “What’s the matter, shithead?”

“You know my mom isn’t home this week, right?”

“Yeah, she’s visiting family or something.” She told Steve as much when she called and asked him to keep an eye on her Dusty. 

“Right, well, the science club is in charge of the baking sale this week and she volunteered to bring something, but she forgot it was this week!” 

Steve blinks at him, failing to see what the problem is. “So? She left you money, right? Just buy some cupcakes at Melvald’s and bring those.”

Dustin gasps, affronted. “Steve, it’s a bake sale! Not a store-bought sale!”

“Things at stores were baked at some point too, butthead,” Steve argues, but Dustin keeps looking at him like he’s being stupid. “Geez, fine, what do you want me to do about it anyway?”

“I need you to bake me something, duh.”

Steve snorts. “Sure, yeah, I’d love to, except I don’t know how to bake.”

Dustin frowns. “Bullshit! You cook for us all the time!”

“Yeah, cook like actual food, not pies and shit,” he says, crossing his arms and leaning against the door.

“It’s the same thing!”

Steve thinks back on the time he tried to bake brownies for Nancy and how he almost burned his house down in the process. “It’s so not,” he says in a bitchy tone. 

Dustin groans, scrubbing his hands down his face. “But Steve, I need a pie!”

“Sorry, kid, you’re gonna have to ask someone else. Maybe Mrs. Wheeler or–”

“I can do it.”

Both of their heads snap towards the living room entrance where Eddie stands, rubbing his eyes sleepily. 

Christ, he’s cute, Steve thinks, and immediately feels his cheeks heat up. He hopes Eddie is still too groggy from sleep to notice. “Do what, Eds?” 

“Make Henderson a pie,” Eddie says, waving his hand at the kid. 

Dustin blinks at him with wide eyes. “You know how to bake a pie?” 

“Yup.”

Steve finds himself asking, “How?” 

Eddie snorts amusedly. “We have ovens in the trailer park too, rich boy,” he snarks but his words lack any heat. “Though I might have to borrow yours for this, ours hasn’t worked since the turkey incident of ‘84.”

Dustin and Steve exchange a look, equally shocked by what they’re hearing. 

“So,” Eddie goes on, clapping his hands together. “What kind of pie do you need, Henderson?” He asks as slides his Reeboks on, which he left by Steve’s door when he showed up. “Cherry, pumpkin, apple?”

“Uh, pumpkin?”

Eddie flashes him a dimpled grin. “My favorite,” he says, grabbing his car keys from the table at the entrance. “Let’s go then, shrimp.”

“I thought you were gonna make it here,” Steve says, confused by Eddie leaving.

“Gotta go shopping first, Stevie,” Eddie explains, van keys spinning around his finger. “And I gotta dust off the old recipe, it’s been a while since I used it.”

“Ugh, but I hate grocery shopping!” Dustin whines, earning a smack on the back of his head from Eddie.

“It’s your pie, Henderson. Suck it up.” 

Dustin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie turns to Steve, batting his long eyelashes at him. “You mind cleaning the oven for me in the meantime, sweetheart?”

Steve should protest that he didn’t agree to help, but with Eddie’s big doe eyes staring at him like that and him calling him sweetheart, all he can muster is a weak, “Yeah, okay.”

Eddie grins, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he grabs the back of Dustin’s neck and pushes him towards his van. “Be back in a few, honey!” He calls back to Steve. “And then we’re baking a pie!”

Steve watches them go and closes the door once the pair gets in the van. 

He’s in the kitchen, ready to clean his oven for Eddie when his words register in Steve’s brain.

“Wait– we?”

***

Eddie and Dustin come back an hour later, carrying everything they need. 

Dustin dumps his bags on the counter and immediately tries to retreat to the living room but Eddie moves faster. He grabs onto the handle of his backpack, pulling him to an abrupt stop, Dustin’s limbs flailing like a puppet on strings. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, tugging Henderson back into the kitchen. “I told you, it’s your pie so you’re helping.”

“But my mom never forces me to help!” He protests, trying to shrug off his backpack to escape. 

Eddie wraps an arm around his neck instead. 

“Yeah, well. Your mom is a saint, I’m not,” he says, letting him go once Dustin stops struggling and handing him a whisk and a list of ingredients for him to mix. 

Begrudgingly, Dustin accepts them and sets off to work on making the filling while Eddie and Steve work on the crust. 

Steve has to focus really hard on following Eddie’s instructions correctly. Not because the instructions are particularly complicated or anything, mostly it’s just ‘add this’ or ‘measure that’ or ‘hand me those’. It’s because Eddie is very distracting like this– with his hair tied in a messy bun, the sleeves of his flannel rolled over his forearms, flour smeared on his face.

And then there’s the familiarity with which he moves around Steve’s kitchen after spending so much time here, helping Steve cook or just keeping him company. And the confidence with which he measures, mixes, and adds ingredients, or tells Steve to do it. 

Steve always had a thing for competence. It’s why he was so attracted to Nancy, whether she was getting all of her chemistry flashcard questions right or shooting monsters in the face. It’s why he started crushing on Robin after she cracked that Russian code. Steve knows that if he had been there when Eddie played the most metal concert ever, and he had seen him shredding his guitar the way Dustin describes it, he would’ve been too busy drooling over him to fight Vecna. 

Eddie knowing how to make a pumpkin pie from scratch is no different– and if it weren’t for Dustin, Steve probably would’ve already pinned Eddie against the kitchen counter to sloppily make out with him. 

For now, Steve tries his best to pay attention to what Eddie asks him to do and not get distracted by thoughts of kissing him or dragging him upstairs or–

He realizes he fails when Eddie has to smear flour on his nose to get his attention. 

“Hey,” Steve protests weakly, going cross-eyed trying to stare at the white powder on his nose.

Eddie chuckles. “There you are, I’ve been talking to you for like, five minutes.” 

“Oh.” Steve must’ve gotten distracted staring at Eddie’s arms as he expertly kneaded the dough and rolled it into balls. He glances down at the counter and realizes he’s done already. Then he glances around the kitchen and notices it’s just the two of them. 

“Where’s Henderson?”

“Well, the filling is ready and we have to leave these babies in the fridge for two hours,” he says, holding up one of the dough balls. “So I sent him to pick a movie for us to watch in the meantime.”

“Oh, okay,” Steve says, wondering how he could’ve been so deep in thought that he missed all of that happening. He grabs one of the dough balls while Eddie grabs the other one, following him to the fridge. “Do we need this much pie crust?” He asks as Eddie opens the door. 

“I thought we could make two pies so I doubled the recipe. Henderson can take one and we can have the other,” Eddie says, sticking the dough in the fridge. “That way you can try it and I can take some back to Wayne. I don’t think we’ve had any homemade pumpkin pie since my mom died.”

Steve hums. “Is this her recipe?”

The smile Eddie gives Steve over his shoulder is a little sad. “Yeah, she taught me how to make it years ago.”

“I can’t wait to try it,” Steve says softly, knocking their shoulders together. 

Eddie spins on his heels, leaning back against the fridge. “I just hope I didn’t fuck it up, it’s been a while,” he chuckles, hanging a hand from his neck. 

Steve shrugs. “You can always blame me. Or Dustin.”

Eddie throws his head back, laughing. There’s a streak of flour on his neck and Steve has to fight the urge to clean it up with his tongue. “Nah, Stevie, you two are doing a great job,” Eddie says with a dimpled grin, “even the kid with his fucking attitude.”

Steve huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right? You’d think he’s doing us a favor.”

“Entitled little shit,” Eddie mutters, but the corners of his mouth tick up.

From the living room, Dustin yells at them, his voice dripping with annoyance. “You guys are gonna watch the movie or what?” 

Steve and Eddie share a look and start laughing. 

***

Two hours later the two of them are back in the kitchen, rolling out the pie crust. 

Or at least, Eddie is. Steve keeps messing it up. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as he screws it up again. “You know what? You do it.”

“Come on, Stevie, it’s not that hard,” Eddie says, knocking his bony hip against Steve’s. 

Whatever protest Steve is about to make dies in his throat when Eddie leaves his perfectly rolled-out pie crust and moves to stand behind him, pressing his body against Steve and Steve’s body against the counter, his arms wrapping around him so he can guide his hands on the rolling pin. 

“You gotta start at the center and work outwards,” Eddie says, speaking into Steve’s ear as he shows him how to do it. Steve can barely focus on anything that isn’t the entire length of Eddie’s body pressed against him. “Yeah, just like that.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters. Eddie’s words whispered lowly into his ear are making Steve’s head swim with all kinds of ideas. It’s a good thing that Eddie seems oblivious to it. 

“Now you do it,” Eddie says, letting go of Steve’s hands and holding Steve’s waist instead. 

Steve’s movements are a little jerky, but he manages to finish rolling out the pie crust successfully, even with Eddie standing behind him the entire time. 

“Great job, Stevie,” Eddie says, hooking his chin on Steve’s shoulder to look down at the counter. 

Steve makes the mistake of turning his head, leaving their faces only a few inches away from each other. Steve’s breath hitches and his heart starts jackhammering against his ribcage. It feels like it might explode out of his chest when he notices Eddie’s eyes unmistakably flicker down to his lips. 

And of course, that’s when Dustin comes barreling into the kitchen. 

“Are you guys done?” He asks, his arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. 

Steve drops the rolling pin and Eddie jumps back a few steps. Dustin’s eyes dart curiously between the two. 

Eddie clears his throat. “We’d be done sooner if you helped us,” he says, his voice coming out a little strangled. 

Dustin gives them an innocent look, eyes wide like he’s never done anything wrong in his life. “But you're doing such a great job, Eddie.” 

Eddie doesn’t fall for it. He snorts, throwing a kitchen cloth at his face. “Shoo, you gremlin!”

He doesn’t wait for Eddie to tell him twice, hurtling towards the living room. Steve watches in silence as Eddie carefully places the pie crust on the pan and pours the filling Dustin made.

“Now we wait?” Steve asks once both pies are inside the preheated oven. 

“Now we wait,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve. His eyes catch on something and then he reaches out to wipe flour from Steve’s cheek, his thumb lingering on his cheekbone for a second too long. 

His eyes flicker to Steve’s lips one last time before he goes to join Dustin in the living room. 

***

“I present to you," Eddie starts, spinning around on his heels, holding the pie in his hands, “your pumpkin pie, my good sir.”

Dustin grins, letting out something between a laugh and a snort. “Dude, it looks so good!”

“I told you I could bake,” Eddie says, grinning smugly. 

“Hey, we helped,” Steve says with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Eddie sets the pie down on the counter so he can crowd Steve against it. “Oh, I know, baby, I could never have done it without you.”

Heat builds up in Steve’s cheeks. It’s a good thing that Eddie gets distracted by Dustin rounding the counter and wrapping his arms around his middle in an unexpected hug. “Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie ruffles Dustin’s curls. “You’re welcome, kid.”

Before Steve can protest once again that he helped, thank you very much, Dustin lets go of Eddie and hugs Steve too. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Of course, buddy.”

“I’ll tell Mom to have you both over for dinner when she comes back,” he says, adjusting his Thinking Cap. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says, licking his lips like he’s already tasting Mrs. Henderson’s cooking. “You just earned yourself a drive home, mister.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, no way I’m letting you ruin my–” Steve clears his throat, “ our pie by taking it home on your bike.” He grabs Dustin’s shoulders, and once the kid grabs the pie, he steers him in the direction of the front door. “I’ll come back to help you clean up,” he tells Steve over his shoulder. 

“You better.”

With a wink, they disappear through the kitchen archway, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts. 

And he can’t help but think about Eddie– his eyes on Steve’s lips, his thumb softly brushing over Steve’s cheekbone, his chest pressed against Steve’s back. 

He forces himself to start cleaning up, just so he can stay busy and not drive himself crazy thinking about what might happen when Eddie comes back, now that Dustin won’t be here. 

He’s elbow-deep in rinsing water when he hears the front door open, followed by Eddie’s whistling as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he says, waltzing in, “I told you I’d help!” 

Without turning around, Steve shrugs. “Grab a cloth, you can help me dry.”

He hears a cabinet open and close as Eddie presumably looks for a clean kitchen cloth but when he appears next to Steve, he’s got a plate with a slice of pumpkin pie on it. 

Steve purses his lips. “That’s not a kitchen towel,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“Nope, but I couldn’t wait to try it,” he says, leaning back on the counter, facing Steve. 

Steve gives the slice of pie a pointed look. “Well?”

Eddie grabs a forkful of pie and shoves it into his mouth while Steve stares expectantly at him, waiting for his reaction. It comes in the way of a sinful moan that makes Steve want to shove his head into the water to stop the heat from creeping up his cheeks. 

“I- uh,” he clears his throat, “I take it we didn’t fuck it up?”

Eddie licks his lips, and Steve’s hands tighten around the bowl he was rinsing. “Nop, it’s perfect. Just like my mama used to make it.”

Steve smiles at Eddie’s smug little tilt of his head as he shoves another forkful into his mouth. 

“Hey, I wanna try it too,” he says, nudging Eddie’s side with his elbow. 

He expects Eddie to feed him some pie since his hands are still under the rinsing water and it’s probably what Eddie intends to do, he scoops some pie up with his fork–

But then he hesitates.

His eyes dart over Stece’s face, searching for something. He either finds it or gives up, dropping the fork back onto the plate and placing it on the counter next to him. 

Steve cocks his head, puppy-like, but before he can get a word out, Eddie grabs his cheeks and kisses Steve square on the lips. 

He instinctively kisses back– or does his best to do so considering his hands are still in the water. He moves his lips against Eddie’s and when Eddie laps at his bottom lip, Steve opens his mouth, letting Eddie’s tongue slide inside. 

He tastes like pumpkin pie, is Steve’s first coherent thought, followed by– holy shit, I’m kissing Eddie.

It’s that realization that makes Steve retrieve his hands from the sink, dripping water all over the floor, to wrap his arms around Eddie’s shoulders. He kisses him more deeply, chasing after that taste of pumpkin pie, and smoke, and cinnamon, and Eddie. 

They pull back when they finally need to come up for air but stay wrapped up in each other. 

Steve’s eyes dip down to Eddie’s lips, red and slick with spit. He hears them moving but realizes he didn’t hear whatever Eddie said from the blood still rushing through his ears. 

“Sorry, what?” 

Eddie chuckles a little breathlessly. “I said, what did you think of the pie?” 

“Oh, um. Good, it’s–” Steve licks his lips. “It’s good.” 

Eddie’s mouth twitches with a hint of a smirk. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm but, uh, I think I need– I need to give it another try, you know?” Steve stammers out, watching as Eddie’s eyes go a little dark at that. He licks his lips and Steve does his best not to let out a whine. 

“Come here then, pumpkin,” Eddie says, pulling Steve forward, mashing their lips together. 

Neither of them points out it would be easier for Steve to grab a forkful of pie– they’re too busy chasing after the taste of it on each other’s mouths to even try. 

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: IV

Photo credit to @thebluemage. Edit mine.

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Finally! Date Number Threeeeee!

This is a follow up to Part III

Word count: 3.5 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This is the final part! (For now) I think that this is one that I will definitely write in answer to asks. I just love these two so so much! Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. SMUT!!!! The end of the Slow burn, now it's burning very fast 😅. Cursing, flirting, jealousy, apologies, Bucky cooking (a warning!), kissing, dry humping, dirty talk in both English and Romanian, voice kink, oral sex (m and f receiving), protected sex (yay Bucky!) And these two are so fucking fluffy. I'm scared, y'all. I want it to be good enough for the build up.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

As soon as he entered the Brownsville Arts and Culture Center, James Bucky Barnes was hot. Blood was rushing to his ears and he needed a drink. He wasn’t sick; his symptoms were all due to you.

The black dress that adorned your body contained all of his hopes and dreams, but you seemed to be flirting with another man, twirling for him and then giving him a hug. To add insult to injury, you had the nerve to laugh and smile with the punk. 

You in that black dress was everything in the world that Bucky could want, except maybe you out of that black dress. As his eyes traced down your form, he noticed the 5 inch red bottoms that you had on. Yes. You, out of that dress with just the red bottoms. That was what he needed in his life.

But first, he had to take care of that other man.

—-

“Benson’s work emphasizes the subjects’ spiritual essence over their physical appearance, don’t you think?”

You turned around at the sound of the deep baritone. 

“Well hello, Mr. Rogers. How are you today? Delivering an art analysis given to you by AI? Oh. I forgot. You are an ‘art dealer.’ An art dealer who goes to Soul Cycle in Brownsville all of a sudden?”

Steve clutched his heart.

“Ah. I’m hurt, Y/N. I thought we were cool. But I guess I deserved the air quotes.  I do actually love art. I took some art classes when I was a kid and I still love to sketch.”

“Hmmmph. Okay. I’ll give you that. But how is it that you popped up in my Soul Cycle class? Don’t play me, Steven.”

Steve raised his eyebrow at you and grinned. He understood why Buckiy was so drawn to you. Not only were you gorgeous, you were a spitfire. That was hot.

“I would never try to play you, Y/N. I also actually love Soul Cycle. Used to teach a class in Park Slope.”

“I guess you can’t judge a book by its cover, can you?”

Steve’s eyes slid over you appraisingly.

“Speaking of. You look very, very nice today.”

You twirled for him, feeling as safe as you would your brother.

“Nice. Okay, listen. I’m sorry about the other day. I was just trying to protect my friend. And you.”

Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’ve never seen Bucky like this. He’s never been this smitten with someone before and let them into his life. But I get it now.”

Steve’s blue eyes were almost as beautiful as Bucky’s.

“Bucky is my family. Since we were kids. He’s always taken care of me. And I will do anything for him.”

He raised his eyebrow at you.

“I can see now that means that I will do anything for you, because I have a feeling that you’re gonna be around a lot. So do you forgive me?”

You considered Steve. He was not too different from his best friend, and you couldn’t hold a grudge. Not after Bucky laid it all out to you last night You opened your arms.

“Let’s hug it out.”

Steve chuckled and gathered you into his warm embrace. You pulled back and giggled, grinning at him.

“So what makes you think I’m gonna be hanging around?”

“Well, judging from the look on Bucky’s face, he’s serious about you.”

Steve nodded behind you, toward the door. You looked that way and saw James Bucky Barnes headed straight for you. 

And he didn’t look happy.

—--

“Good morning, Frumoasă. You look stunning today. The exhibit is amazing, the space looks great and it seems that the right people are in the building.”

Bucky came up and placed his hand on the small of your back as he spoke to you, ignoring Steve. His blue eyes were storm clouds at the moment, and his touch was electric.

“Thank you, James. You’re so observant, I appreciate that. And you look very handsome today.”

You looked him up and down and bit your lip, meeting his gaze and the way he kept eye contact as he inclined his head in response. 

Bucky was attractive as hell in his black on black shirt, blazer and slacks. You noticed that his collar was unbuttoned; the medallion hanging on his chest made you want to take it between your teeth. You stared at it for a moment, imagining such a scenario where that could happen and then met his eyes again, prompting desire to roll through you as Bucky licked his lips. He was right there with you.

You smiled at him in a way that you didn’t smile at Steve. Who was Steve Rogers, anyway? You could hardly remember meeting him as your mind went to the feel of being in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

You sensed an air of proprietariness as Bucky took your hand and kissed it, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Possessive Bucky Barnes felt like a sin you wanted to indulge in. You cleared your throat and looked at Steve, as if surprised to find him still standing there, watching the show.

“Well, I see some board members over there, I’m going to go do my job. Talk to you later, boys.”

You walked away and gave them a wink over your shoulder, and you caught both of them looking at your ass. You shook your head and chuckled as you went on your way.

“You trying to steal my girl?”

Everyone stopped when Steve laughed, his deep boom a distraction. Bucky still wasn’t amused.

“Oh. So you’re in love.”

“What?”

“You’ve never worried about me taking your leftovers or vice versa before. Hell, we’ve even shared–”

“Shut your fucking mouth.”

Bucky snapped at Steve who put his hands up.

“Whoa, there. Just yanking your chain, buddy; I know she’s special. I wouldn’t dream of making a move on her. Not that she knows I’m alive. When you walked up, I thought I was going to have to take off my jacket so you two could fuck on the floor.”

Bucky was barely listening to Steve as his eyes followed you around the room. One thing Steve said was echoing in his mind: “So you’re in love.”

—-

You floated through the rest of the day on a cloud. The exhibit was a smashing success with the 

Board of Directors in attendance. Securing Howard Benson’s penultimate work from Rebirth was the feather in your cap. 

And you had Bucky to thank for it.

Bucky’s visit was also a hit; he and Steve charmed the board members with the help of Sam and Nat, who arrived later. They all made amends for what occurred that week and you were left very impressed with James Barnes.

After a couple of hours at the event, Bucky came over to let you know he was leaving.

“I will see you later, Frumoasă. I have much to prepare for tonight. Nico will pick you up at 7:30.”

“See you soon, James.”

He kissed your hand again.

“See you soon, Y/N.”

—---

“It is actually insanely attractive how you handled yourself in the kitchen.”

You were seated with Bucky on his couch in his living room, looking over the New York skyline from his Brooklyn penthouse. The dessert had been delicious and the wine in your hand was spectacular. 

“I was sure you’d order something in and just play it off. But I watched you create a meal in front of me, and I should have known that if you said you were going to cook, that you would do just that.”

Bucky’s heart beat double time at what you were saying. He wanted so much for tonight, but most of all, he wanted it to flow naturally. He saw that you were relaxed and open to him, which pleased him immensely.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Frumoasă. I enjoy cooking for my friends and family. Cooking for a beautiful woman is a treat.”

Bucky’s eyes slid over your form. You had changed to jeans and a color block sweater that just put your cleavage out there for the world, which was Bucky Barnes, to see. You also wore the same red bottoms from that day, and Bucky was beginning to think he had a foot fetish as you took them off at his entryway.

You took a sip of wine.

“How often do you do that? Cook for a woman?”

You barely hid your curiosity.

Bucky smiled and drained his glass, reaching over to refill it.

“Not as often as you’d think. Never had any other woman over here. Food is not usually the top priority with them.”

You pouted, which was so cute. Your spark of jealousy inspired Bucky.

“But I don’t want to talk about anyone else. Tonight is about me and you.”

Any uncertainty that arose was quelled by his assertion. You grew warm, so you finished your wine and rose to go to the window. 

“This is the most gorgeous view I’ve ever seen.”

“Absolutely agree.”

You looked behind you and Bucky was still sitting on the couch, hands spread out on the back of it, checking you out. You gave him one of your adorable smiles and he came to stand behind you, and took you in his arms. 

“I want you to know that you deserve everything, Y/N. To be cheered on and protected every day. And thoroughly ruined every night.”

You turned around and his hands went to your hips. It was the perfect moment.

“James?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

Bucky’s eyes dilated, and he moved his hand to your cheek. He licked his lips as he looked deep into your eyes.

“Ah, Frumoasă. I thought you’d never ask.”

His first movement was a subtle brush of your lips. He pulled back to assess the situation, and you didn’t know why, but that made your nipples tighten into stiff peaks. You gasped as Bucky watched you hungrily. 

The air seemed to change around you, and you shivered. He lowered his head so his lips could meet yours again, and this time his mouth was gentle but demanding. You gasped at the spike of electricity that flared between you and Bucky took the opportunity to dip his tongue into your mouth, scorching your lips and soul. With a low groan, he shifted your angle, bending you backward a little to kiss you deeper and ripping a moan from you as you melted against him. 

Good lord, could the man kiss. 

At that point, he was holding you up, one hand on your hip and one hand on the back of your head as you molded yourself against him. Bucky’s fingers dug into you, sure to leave bruises the next day. You relished the thought as you moaned into his mouth again, giving him the opportunity to continue destroying your soul. 

Bucky dragged his lips from yours reluctantly and stared at you, eyes almost black with desire. He brought his thumb up and wiped the moisture from your bottom lip. Motivated, you captured his digit, drawing it into the hot wetness of your mouth. He stared at you, mouth open, as you looked him straight in the eye and started sucking.

Bucky moaned as he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth, and walked you back to the couch. He extracted his finger, watching the show your lips put on as he pulled it out, leaving them in a delectable pout. 

“More,” Bucky demanded as he crouched down and took your head in both hands as he kissed you again. 

His hands wound up in your hair, tugging gently, then on your back, then your ass as you arched your back to fill his palms. Bucky picked you up, then deposited you on his lap as he sat down on the couch, and you felt how aroused he was. His thick length was where you needed him most.

“Fuck! That feels good.”

Bucky was watching you grind on him like it was the best show on earth. Then he looked up at you.

“Yes, yes it does.”

He leaned forward and captured your bottom lip between his teeth, a preview of how rough he wanted to be with you. Then, he went in for another kiss. That continued for a good five minutes until he pulled away to stare at your swollen lips, and down to your cleavage, which was practically in his face.

When his eyes met yours, you were entranced.

“You good? You want this to happen?”

You nodded and took his hands in yours, guiding them up to your breasts, squeezing yourself with his hands. You rolled your hips, causing his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Like you said, James. More.”

You continued to grind on him, causing him to just gape at your body moving on his.

“I’ve dreamed of this so many times…”

“Yes? Tell me about your dreams, Baby.”

His hands moved to find your nipples through the lace of your bra and the wool of your sweater. He found them in no time, and pinched them lightly, then more roughly when you moaned.

“Mmmmnnnn. So fucking hot.”

Bucky kissed you again and then pulled away as he stared you down and tortured you. 

“I dream about marking you up,” he kissed your neck under your chin, “to your clavicle,” a kiss there, “and all over this beautiful flesh until I get to your nipples.” 

He looked at you for any signs of discomfort as he slipped his hands under your sweater to find the thin lace there. He found your hard peaks again and started rolling them both in his fingers.

“Then I want to kiss and suck them until you come in my arms.”

“Holy god, Jamie….”

Bucky’s eyes rolled at the second pet name you called him and continued.

“Wake up so fucking hard every morning since I met you. Then, I daydream about how wet and tight you will be after I made you cum, and how good it would feel to… to give you my cock. Do y’like that idea, Frumoasă?”

“Y-yesssss!”

“O să te fac să vii pe penisul meu iar și iar, Frumoasă.”

You almost came right then.

“D-don’t know what you said, but yes to whatever you just suggested.”

Bucky pulled you to him, and then chuckled into your ear.

“It means that I want to make you cum over and over again on my cock.”

You were already making a mess in your jeans, but you knew he could feel you soaking them at the moment.

“Please. Give it to me?”

Bucky groaned and kissed you again, this time encircling your waist in his grip and pressing you down on his bulge. 

“You know I can’t deny you anything. Are you certain?”

“Yes, James. Please…”

He lifted you easily, kissing you as he walked you down the hall to his bedroom, depositing you on his bed. 

“Y’look so fucking good.”

He crawled toward you on the bed and settled between your thighs as you hitched your leg over his. You pressed your core against his bulge and it had you muttering.

“Too many clothes.”

Bucky leaned up and you were fumbling with his button and he with yours. You looked up and laughed. 

“Maybe faster the other way.”

“Agreed.”

You two made quick work of your own garments, flinging them around the room between frenzied kisses. The way your eyes widened when Bucky got naked made his chest swell. He wanted you to always look at him like that.

“Wow…,” you said as your eyes roamed his physique.

His cock seemed massive as it slapped him on the abs.

“Wow, indeed,” replied Bucky as he took you in hungrily.

Your white lace underwear looked amazing against your skin and against your cunt it served to make him hungry.

He moved toward you again, kissing up your leg until he got to the edge of your panties and nudged his nose there, making you squirm.

“Smell so good, look so good…”

Bucky kissed at the edge of your underwear,

“I just know you’re gonna taste good too..”

He moved to the center of you, placing a kiss over your lace-covered sodden slit. Then, he looked up at you and smirked before he leaned down and licked you over your panties. 

“Fuck.”

He pulled your panties to the side and gazed at you there. 

Those blue eyes threatened to steal your soul as he gazed at you and confessed, “This is the most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen,” and proceeded to lick a rude stripe up the center of you after he tore your panties away.

“Oh my god, James.”

You rolled your hips again and reached down to feel Bucky’s soft hair. He pulled your hips closer and his lips suckled you with more pressure, adding one finger, then two to stretch you out. 

“Gotta get you ready for me, my love.” 

Your eyes rolled back into your head as you moaned through Bucky thrusting his tongue inside you, then pulling back to focus on your clit.

“I c-can’t.. I–”

“Give me my cum, Frumoasă!”

You locked eyes with him as he buried his face in your cunt and shook against him as you came embarrassingly fast, pulling on his messed up curls.

“So fucking delicious. Taste.”

He took your head in both hands and kissed you deeply, and you responded by sucking your essence off of his tongue. You reached down and started stroking his cock, overjoyed and a little bit scared that your fingers didn’t meet around him as he unclasped your bra.

Bucky whimpered as your thumb came up and stroked his sensitive head, spreading his precum over the wide, mushroom cap.

“You’re so fucking huge, Bucky…”

Bucky pulled you toward him as he reached into his bedside drawer for a condom and a bottle.

“And you’re so wet, Furmoasa. We will make this work. Believe me…”

You continued to stroke and watched him as he brought the wrapper to his teeth and him tearing it open was about the hottest act of sexual protection you’d ever seen. Somehow, your mouth ended up sucking his tip as you watched his eyes roll back into his skull.

“That beautiful mouth…”

Bucky put his hand on your head as you tasted him experimentally, wondering if you’d ever be able to take it all. He seemed to read your mind as he spoke next.

“Don’t worry, I plan on us having a lot of practice with this later, but if you don’t let me put this condom on, I’m gonna cum all over your face, Frumoasă…”

You looked up at him and grinned as his cock jumped in your mouth, but you finally pulled off of him with a pop.

“I need to feel you around me when I cum love. S’all I’ve been dreaming of all week.”

Now his chest was heaving as he rolled the condom on, and he pushed you back onto the bed as his hand went to your core once again. You were even wetter than before and Bucky smiled at you, lining up and kissing you on the forehead as he began to breach your folds.

When he slid inside, your fingernails curled into his shoulders and your eyes grew wide. Bucky stopped, concentrating while his cock pumped, barely inside you.

“There is nothing. In the world. Like being inside your soft, wet, cunt.”

“Fuckkkkk!” 

You became even wetter and he slid fully inside you. There, Bucky waited for you to get adjusted around him.

“So fucking tight. And hot. Just like I knew you would be.”

“More, Jamie!”

Smiling, Bucky started moving and you gripped him as he stroked in and out.

“Please don’t stop. Harder!”

Bucky grabbed the headboard and gave you what you wanted. His other hand pulled your hair and his strokes became more intense.

“Wanted to last longer, but I can’t, Baby. So beautiful. Pussy made for me. Cuming soon, but later… O să te fac să vii pe penisul meu iar și iar, Frumoasă. I never make a promise I can’t keep.”

You orgasm whited out your vision and your throat burned as you screamed. Bucky roared, filling the condom with copious amounts of cum. Your cunt was milking him and he hoped it would hold. He stayed sunk into you as long as he could before he had to get up and rid himself of the prophylactic.

He was only in the en suite for a few minutes as you floated in and out of sleep, lust drunk and exhausted.

Bucky climbed back into bed and got both of you situated under the covers, whispering in your ear.

“Stay tonight.”

“Of course. That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

Both of you chuckled, because you knew it was true. Bucky kissed your ear and waited for your breath to even out. When he thought you were asleep, he whispered again.

“I’m going to be a better man for you, Frumoasă.”

“You are exactly who you need to be, James Barnes. Just keep moving forward. Tomorrow is another day to do that.”

After a few more minutes, you spoke again.

“Tomorrow will only be a week that we’ve known each other. Imagine that.” 

Bucky buried his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Guess I better wait until tomorrow to ask you to marry me.”

You laughed a sleepy laugh.

“You got jokes.”

“You know me, Frumoasă. A professional comedian.”

But somewhere in the dark of Bucky Barnes’ closet, a diamond found some light and sparkled.

——

The next morning is here ;)

Please, please! Let me know!

[demusewriter]

I Loved You Too Early

Summary: You've been admiring the captain of the prominent football team in your school, whom you secretly admiring from afar. You thought he was out of your reach until you saw him studying in your brother's room. Genre: brother's best friend, slow-burn Pairing: Non-idol! Jungwon x Fem! Reader Word count: Part I: 11,432k; Part II: 14,297k (Overall: 26,179k) Chapters: 10 (Completed) (divided in two parts) Warnings: This is heavily inspired by the Chinese drama 'Hidden Love' so there's a big resemblance, age gap (5 years difference), unrequited love, a little bit of sprinkle of angst, fluff, time skip, just a teeny-weeny bit of fist fighting (but not too much!), and not solid proof-read because its too long (╥﹏╥). Author's Note: I apologize for being gone for a year (⭑•͈ 𓎟 •͈ ). While working on this, I suddenly became so busy with college that I decided to put it on hold. Now that I've graduated and started working in corporate, my responsibilities have doubled or even tripled, and I completely forgot to continue this. (◞‸ ◟) However, in the past few days, I've been motivated to finally finish it. ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- This was supposed to be in a longer format, but I decided to divide it into two parts so you can take breaks without missing where you left off. Thank you all for patiently waiting! I hope you'll enjoy this one as well. Enjoy!

PART I PART II

Chapter One

You don't know exactly when your dull world was invaded by an unexpected rhythm that made your whole world sway in unending swirling motions.

When did your pulse start to waltz to the beat of an unknown tune, or when did your heart seem to pound louder than before, like a drum heralding the arrival of a marching band.

At first, these sensations frighten you, as you thought you were experiencing early symptoms of heart disease since your heart was not beating normally.

But this unfamiliar heartbeat, the strong and powerful thump of your heart, doesn't hurt; instead, it is sweet, pleasant, and almost comforting.

Then it hit you like an epiphany.

The erratic rhythm of your heart wasn't a medical heart disease at all, but an emotional one.

The strange heartbeat wasn't a signal of a heart condition—it was the throbbing pulse of attraction, of affection, of something you had never felt before:

Love.

A feeling that is often described as an intense, affectionate concern for another individual or object. It is one of humanity's most profound emotions, embedded in both our psyche and our essence.

They said that love's profound complexity underscores its paradoxical nature; you have to—

'pay attention'

—pay attention to recognize it as an emotion that deserves—

'Y/N'

—respect, care and openne—

"Nishimura Y/N!"

Your eyes immediately snapped open when you heard the scream of your name, making you bolt upright from your productive daydreaming.

You quickly blink your eyes to adjust your vision from the blurriness brought on by your deep slumber.

As you tried to shake off the sleepiness, your eyes settled on the person standing in front of the blackboard, brows furrowed, glaring at you with irritation.

You immediately stood up like a soldier from your chair, making a loud screeching noise from the abrupt motion.

"You're not paying attention in my class, Ms. Y/N." Your math teacher pointed out the obvious when she got you caught slacking off in her subject.

Your face burned hotter than a thousand suns, and your ears tingled with embarrassment. The usual supportive wall of the classroom felt like it bows inward, ready to collapse on you.

"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. K-kim" You bowed as you stammered an apology, voice barely audible.

You kept your head down, feeling the sudden shame creep in your body when you saw everyone in the class watching you.

Their interest was now directed from the perplexing equations on the board to the scene unfolding at the back.

"I expect all of you to respect the time I put into preparing lessons and the class itself. If you have issues staying awake in my class, especially you, Ms. Nishimura," you flinched at the mention of your family name.

"I suggest you try to figure out the equation for resolving that issue before you start learning about algebra," she continued, her gaze firmly locked with yours while her face was void of any emotion.

The snickers from your classmates were almost as unbearable as the chasing glare from Mrs. Kim. She let out a disappointed sigh before deciding to continue the discussion.

You slowly sat back on your chair, still red with embarrassment, knowing that this unforgettable scene would become classroom lore, a tale that would inevitably follow you through the rest of your middle school year.

"Someone stayed up all night reading manga again." Chunso, one of your bestfriend, teases you after the math class ends.

"Is it my fault that her voice sounds like a lullaby?" You pouted while putting all your things in your bag.

Well, it's true.

Mrs. Kim, who had been teaching for thirty good years, had a voice with a subdued resonance, softer than silk yet harder than rock.

It was a perfect lullaby for you when the math equations emerged with her voice, creating a hypnotic sonata of numbers.

"Really?" He deadpanned. "You're going to blame her voice when your thick eyebags already speak for you that you haven't had enough sleep?" he playfully flicked your forehead, making you whine. "You're lucky she didn't put you in detention."

You continued to pursed your lips and decided not to comment on anything since it was really your fault for spending the rest of your night reading Shounen manga until dawn, leaving you only 4 hours of sleep.

And so you thought of sneakily using the time in math class to take a short nap, but that short snooze took you to dreamland, completely sweeping you off from reality.

Then you get caught.

If only the first letter in Chunso's last name is closer to yours, then there's a big chance he'll be your seatmate, which will help you prevent getting caught.

But you were so unlucky, as he was in the front row while you were in the last.

"Oh, what happened to her?" your other bestfriend, Eunhee, asked when she saw you sulking while clinging to Chunso's arm.

Unfortunately, she's not in the same class as you and Chunso, so you all just meet in the hallway every lunch break.

"Got caught sleeping." You hide your face behind Chunso's arm when you feel another wave of embarrassment hit you. You also expected a row of teasing words from her, but instead, you were embraced by a warm arm around your shoulder with a gentle rub on your arm.

"Did you get detention?" You looked up to her and shook your head in response.

"Then there's nothing to be worried about," she consoled, offering you a comforting smile that wipes your shame away.

You let go of Chunso's arm and cling your arms around her.

You wanted the rest of your high school journey to be quiet and unnoticed, your presence a mere ripple in the grand ocean of faces. But, as luck would have it, today you were scolded in front of 35 students.

"Aigoo, my little sister had a rough day." She coos while patting your head gently. Even though she was only four months older than you, she always considered you her younger sibling, as she never had one.

"Yah! Did you tease her about it?" Eunhee's soft voice was quickly replaced with a loud, arrogant one when her attention went back to Chunso.

"I didn't!" Chunso defended, his eyes suddenly finding the floor interesting as he tried to avoid the scrutinizing eyes of his friend.

You felt Eunhee's hand stop patting your head when she sensed that he was lying. Suddenly, Chunso yelped in pain. You looked up and saw her pulling the boy's poor hair.

You let out a giggle at your two friends acting like they were going to make each other bald by snatching each other's hair.

You take hold of their arms and gently remove their holds on both of their hair.

"It's okay, I'm good now," you assured them while softly fixing their messy hair. You might get teased about what happened earlier, but at least it leaves you with a lesson to learn to balance your time to avoid getting sleepy in class.

Your genuine smile partnered with the softness in your eyes removes their worries.

Ever since your friendship bloomed after you helped the two treat their wounds after the incident in your PE class in 4th grade, they have always stuck with you and considered you their precious little sister that they needed to protect.

So, the thought that you might get teased about the humiliating situation concerns them.

"Let's have lunch!" You excitedly exclaim and drag them with you as you cling to their arms.

Chunso and Eunhee shared a look while they let you yank them to the cafeteria, a silent agreement that your lunch is on them to brighten the rest of your day.

After the delightful lunch break that you have with your friends, which they surprise you with a once-a-month sale of bacon croque monsieur in the cafeteria along with a legendary chocolate mousse that makes you jump from happiness, you shortly parted ways with them as you are instructed by your teacher to get some books from the library that will be used in your class activity.

As you walk through the empty hallways, with the crisp pages and musty scent of the books accompanying you, something catches your peripheral vision.

Across the dusty path to your next class, you saw a spectacle unfolding on the bustling football field.

Captivated by the sudden burst of energy from the loud cheering, you rubbed your eyes and squinted through your glasses, pausing your hurried steps.

From your point in the hallway, you can see a group of people energetically playing football, and the scene looks like a small showdown.

You were never the biggest football fan, but you could at least appreciate the smooth precision of their passes.

With a further inspection from your spot, you could make out why a handful of spectators and students are basking in the afternoon sun when you see some of the players wearing the most famous navy blue and white striped jersey.

The group that clad themselves in that jersey were not just average students; they were the revered football team of your school.

The Nightball Team.

Ever since the establishment of the Nightball Team, it has consistently reigned supreme, its renown spreading far beyond the city.

The team is born out of a unique blend of teamwork, discipline, ambition, and a fierce drive for continuous development.

Making them act as an emblem representing not just the school but the principles its students stand for.

Every time the name of your school is mentioned, the Nightball Team is always the first thing that comes to everyone's mind.

That's how famous they are.

Amidst the navy blue and white-soaked jerseys, a certain person caught your attention. His physique was chiseled, his movements defying time as he led the team with an innate confidence that was as charming as it was stirring.

His jersey number 04, clung to his athletic body as he ran, skillfully dodging the opponents while carrying the ball that was tucked in his arm. Each tactical maneuver, every calculated move, displayed an enchanting dance of dominance and tenacity.

Then it happened—Nightball Team scored, erupting a loud cheer from the crowd.

As the dust settled around him, he looked up, his face breaking into a humble, triumphant grin that lit up his eyes.

It was as if the Earth rotated a little slower, distorted only by the increased pace of your heart.

Ah, now you remember when did your heart started to act out like a drum roll, jumping to the beat like a fool.

It was when he humbly acknowledged a job well done, his genuine joy for the game, and the soft crinkles around his eyes as he gently smiled while everyone praised him for scoring the goal.

That was the moment when you felt it for the first time—your stomach fluttering like there was a swarm of butterflies lodged in there, and your heart skipped a beat—for the first time, not for the new volume of Shounen Manga

but for someone else.

A peculiar sensation that only happens because of him.

Only because of him.

Chapter Two

As everyone in the class attempts to pay attention, the warm sunlight flowing through the classroom window did little to improve the class' concentration.

The monotone voice of your teacher talking about some dead men who died in a fight hundreds of years ago slowly puts everyone to sleep.

It was another ordinary Wednesday for the rest of the students, but for you, it was unimaginably extraordinary.

Before, there was no particular day that seemed special for you.

It was all just ordinary that you have to get through—well, except for Sunday, since that's the scheduled release for each chapter of the manga you are currently binge-reading.

However, after you learned that every Wednesday was the Nightball Team's practice in the field, it became a day that you always looked forward to.

The day when you can only see him.

It's unexplainable how his humble smile, which makes his dimples dig deeper into his natural rosy cheeks while his eyes form a crescent moon, can catch not only your attention but also your very young heart.

Maybe you were simply mesmerized by a man who wore the number 04 jersey, even though you didn't know his name.

You tried everything you could to know his name; you tried to dig through the old school newspapers that you sometimes kept to solve the sudoku part and re-read the sports section in the hope his name would be mentioned.

You also tried to go to your school's website, searching for him by using the Nightball Team's name in the search engine, which is always a hot topic on the website, but surprisingly, you were still left wondering what his name was.

The two options that you chose to know who is the mysterious jersey number 04 are the best choices that you could have since that's all you can do.

However, you still have one good option left.

The best option that will surely secure the chance of knowing his name.

But no matter how great this option was, you would rather get embarrassed again in the class than choosing it.

Asking your brother.

Your brother, Ni-ki Nishimura, who is part of the baseball team, is the best option to ask anything about sports, as he has been athletic and very knowledgeable in that area ever since you were both children.

He is a born sports prodigy.

Besides being part of the sports club at your school, he also has a huge number of friends, not only on his team but especially on the football team.

You don't know why, because the last time you checked, baseball and football are different sports, but your brother appears to be much closer to the members of the Nightball Team than his.

He really is the best choice to finally name the one you are admiring if he is not only a pain in the ass.

Despite your family's crowning him a prodigy and naturally talented, he is always the annoying and bloody irritating brother in your eyes.

He will literally make fun of your desperate mission of knowing the name of a particular person on the football team.

Heck, he might give you the wrong name just for fun.

However, that is not the worst thing that might happen if you ask him something that will give him a hint that you have developed a sudden interest in someone, especially if that someone is the opposite gender from you.

He will explode.

Your brother, who is five years older than you, has the tendency to become very protective when it comes to you.

He might be an obnoxious and nosy brother, but he has a soft spot for you that he cannot admit.

He will do everything to protect you, especially your heart, from men.

Therefore, if he finds out that you are growing admiration for someone, especially in the Nightball Team, he will literally ban you from going to the football field.

You sigh as you scribble his jersey number in your notebook while the boring class continues.

The bell signaling the end of the class of the day rang, making your mood reach the ceiling of happiness. The usual fidgeting in your seat to the rhythm of the clock turned into a wild scramble as you packed up your textbooks and pencil case into your bag.

You rush out of the classroom with thoughts of finally watching a football practice occupying your mind.

But before you could fully get out of the room, you felt a tug on your bag forcefully stop you in your tracks.

"What's with the rush?" Chunso asked still holding your bag.

"I-I'm going to the l-library!" You exclaim as you stumble over your words. Your friend's eyes immediately narrowed into slits when he sense you are making excuses.

"What will you do there?" he interrogates, as it was unusual for you to go to the library after class since you were always eager to go back home to spend the rest of your day reading manga.

"To study, o-of course," you said, forcing a smile in the hopes he would buy your alibi. However, it just proved his suspicion that you are hiding some information that you don't want him to know.

"Hmm." Your smile slowly faded when you realized he didn't believe you. You sigh in defeat.

"I promise that I'm not doing anything bad." You raised your pinky at him as an assurance to ease his worries.

Chunso was still observing you, looking for any hint of lying. He then let out a sigh, seeing the sincere look behind your words.

"You promise to message me and Eunhee when you get home," he said, raising his pinky. A big smile made its way into your face, brightening your mood.

Even though Chunso is not entirely convinced to let you go since you didn't tell him the real reason why you don't want to go home yet, he still trusts you that you're not doing anything behind their back that will make them worried.

You tightly cling your pinky to his, sealing it with both of your thumbs touching.

"I promise!"

After saying goodbye to Chunso, you immediately skip your way to the football field with so much giddiness. Each step you take intensifies your excitement as you are finally able to watch the practice match of the Nightball Team without using the view from the hallway.

You spot an empty seat that is secluded from the rest of the bleachers, although it is far away from the field where the players play, it is still enough for you to cheerfully cheer for your jersey number 04 without being noticed.

The crowd suddenly screamed with excitement when the players of the Nightball team showed up on the field. Your eyes started to scan the players, finding the specific person who always filled your sketchbook and slowly became your favorite muse.

It was as if your world had suddenly slipped into slow motion, and all the noises were muted when you saw him walking with confidence in the field—everything but him and his bright smile faded away.

You held your chest when you felt your heart skip again in a beat that only he could make.

Each time he ran across the field, swinging the ball with finesse, you would do a small victory dance in your heart. You watched every move, every goal, every mistake he made, and still supported him while your hand was busy sketching every movement he made and leaving small comments of amazement beside your sketch.

You would also offer whispers of encouragement, muffled applause, and silent woohoo with your heart thumped in silent cheer.

As the sun went down and the practice match ended, you found a sense of fulfillment you had rarely felt before. You hadn't elbowed your way through the fanatic crowd or screamed your lungs out, but something told you that you cheered the loudest.

It feels like you were bewitched by his enchanting display of professionalism and respect for the game, that you always find yourself in the same seat every week, watching him with full admiration in your eyes.

Your heart fluttered as you headed home while reminiscing the practice match you watched earlier, already dreaming of the next Wednesday when you could watch your jersey number 04 playing on the field again.

"Practice match?" Your mom spoke once you entered the house.

She's the only one who knows that you always watch the football practice, as you can never lie to her. Somehow it makes you guilty because your mom thought you were just growing a fascination with that sport, not knowing you're only there for a certain person.

"Yep!" You sneakily grab a slice of fruit in a bowl that your mom passionately peeled and cut into pieces. "But I went to Eunhee's house to do our assignments."

The football match ended much earlier than usual; sometimes it takes two to three hours, but today they concluded the practice for an hour, giving you time to drop by Eunhee's house when she invited you and Chunso to do your homework there, although you three only ended up watching movies instead of doing it.

You were about to get another slice of fruit when your mother gently slapped your hand, stopping you from getting more.

"You're going to be full before you can get dinner. Go to your room to wash up and call your brother; we will have dinner in a minute." She ushered as you pouted and sulkingly went upstairs, making your mom shake her head at your sillyness.

Then she remembered something.

"Ah, bring down your brother's friend as well!!" she yelled from downstairs, muffling her voice in the process as you entered your room, making you not hear the rest of her words.

"Nii-san, we're going to eat" You called outside your brother's room, clad in your blue Cinnamoroll print pajamas after you wash up. 

"Riki-niisan!" You knock on his door repeatedly when he doesn't respond, making your cheeks puff in annoyance. 

"I'm going to your room if you don't come out," you threatened, knowing your brother doesn't like you setting foot in his room. 

You rolled your eyes and barged into his room, kicking the door open.

"Nii-chan! What's taking you so long!?" You screamed at the top of your lungs with both of your hands resting on your hips.

You expect to see him playing PlayStation while wearing his headphones, the reason he couldn't hear you calling because of the noises in the game, but instead, you are greeted with a familiar pair of Boba eyes staring at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, squinting your eyes in the process to get a better look at the person sitting on the chair, as you forgot to wear your glasses.

He's definitely not your brother, as his eyes were sharper, contrasting to the softer eyes of this person in front of you.

You take a step closer to see his face, which is still blurry in your vision.

On the other hand, the boy suddenly felt amused at how you tried to scrutinize him. He couldn't help but chuckle when you got even closer.

You were taken aback when he suddenly let out a soft laugh. His dimples appeared on his left cheek with his eyes turning to a crescent moon.

Your eyes slowly went wide when you finally got familiar with those traits that make your heart do summersaults.

You suddenly felt frozen in your position when it slowly registered to you, who were occupying the study table of your brother, surrounded by papers and textbooks that were neatly organized on top of the desk.

You stumbled aback.

How on earth did your nameless jersey number 4 end up in your brother's room?!

Chapter Three

When God decided to create you, he probably accidentally poured too much embarrassment into your basin of personality, or when heaven decided to shower humiliation, you caught all of it as it became a frequent situation that always happened to you.

What's worse is that it happens in front of a person for whom you are developing intense admiration!

You dove into your bed, your face buried deep in your pillow. You gave a mighty inhale and unleashed a deafening scream into its soft embrace while your feet kicked with frustration.

You can bear to get embarrassed again in front of your classmates while your raging teacher scolds you, but not in front of your jersey number 4!

Your first encounter with him wasn't imagined this way; in fact, you didn't have a plan to talk to or be involved with him because you only wanted to admire him from afar.

Still! You had expected to meet him more decently, not while scrutinizing him with squinted eyes in your printed pajamas!

God! You can't imagine how unpleasant you look with your eyes squinting to make your vision clearer with your nose crunching in the process!

"Y/n-chan" You suddenly stop your antics when you hear your brother calling you outside your room. You stay buried in your pillow waiting for him to speak again.

"I'm hungry. Let's go downstairs to eat." Normally, you would straight-up come out of your room and sprint down the stairs, racing your brother ahead to prevent him from getting most of the food that your mother had prepared.

But now, you just want to stay in your room and pray for it to disappear.

"I'm not hungry," you said with a tinge of lack of enthusiasm in your voice.

Although your voice is quite muffled by your pillow, your brother on the other side of the door can clearly sense that you're not in your usual mood.

His brows furrowed.

Ni-ki's sure that he heard you earlier screaming his name at the top of your lungs while he was in the shower, certainly ready to annoy him again. But now, you're acting like your energy suddenly got sucked out of your whole body.

"Really? Mom cooked Oyakodon." He made sure that you heard the last part, knowing that it was your favorite and that it would be hard for you to refuse not to eat. "If you don't come down at any moment, I'm going to eat all of it."

Ni-ki expected the door to burst open and you to rush down the stairs to prevent him from hogging all the meals for himself; however, he was greeted by a different response.

"Hmm, okay" Your muffled hum is his cue to storm inside your room.

"Okay, what's going on with you, brat?" he demandingly asked. Ni-ki might sound annoyed at your unusual antics, but in reality, he was worried and now started racking his head if he did something that made you upset.

He snatches the pillow where your head is buried when you don't reply to his question, making you groan and kick your feet in annoyance.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" Ni-ki slightly cringed when his voice suddenly sounded soft, wishing you hadn't heard it.

He proceeded to touch your forehead, checking your temperature to see if you had gotten sick, to which you only whined and smacked his hand away. Your brother sighed.

"If you have no plan to eat, at least tell mom. She even made an effort to make a big serving of your favorite dish just for you."

Your body went still at what your brother softly said.

Since childhood, your parents have always reminded you of the importance of being grateful for all aspects of life, especially the food that graces your table.

Having been born and raised in Japan, you've been instilled with a deep reverence for food to express your appreciation for the hard work of the farmers and the dedication of those who prepare your meals.

Out of guilt, you found yourself sitting at the dining table savoring your favorite Oyakodon while trying to resist stealing glances at the person seated across from you, right beside your brother.

If it were any ordinary day, you'd likely be devouring your meal with gusto, prompting your mother's gentle reminders to slow down.

But today was different.

The presence of the boy who made your heart race like a runaway train transformed your mealtime into a royal feast, leaving your brother to cast perplexed glances your way, baffled by your another uncharacteristic behavior.

"Did you like the food, Y/n-chan?" your father asked when he also noticed that you weren't eating as usual. You wanted to scold your father for mentioning your name, as you felt all the eyes, including the adorable boba eyes, looking at you.

You wanted to say something, but you were afraid that when you spoke, his eyes would linger on you, making you feel another wave of shame. So, you nodded in response without lifting your head and continued looking at your food.

Your parents looked at each other with worry in their eyes, wondering what had happened to their precious, bubbly daughter.

You felt a hand gently rubbing against your back, making you look at your mother, who was beside you.

"Go finish your food so you can have a rest. I'm going to make you green tea later to help you feel better, hmm?" You felt your eyes slightly water as your mom gently cared for you.

Your guilt increased as they thought you were feeling under the weather when, in fact, you were just shy and embarrassed because your jersey no. 4 was on the same table as you.

"How about you, Jungwon? Did you like the food?" Your ears perked up as you looked in his direction when your mother called his name.

His name is Jungwon?

Your heart pounded in your chest, and a mix of excitement and giddiness coursed through your veins. The name resonated with you in a way you couldn't understand.

His name could be translated to "garden," a fitting name that perfectly describes the feeling you experience every time you see him.

Comfort.

"It always tastes good, Mrs. Nishimura. Thank you so much for the wonderful meal." He replied genuinely with a smile.

'Always? This isn't his first time here?' You unconsciously frowned.

Jungwon looked your way, making your eyes widen due to the unexpected eye contact. You quickly looked down at your plate to avoid his gaze, feeling your cheeks burn, with a lasting redness that stayed through the end of dinner.

You weren't sure whether you would be happy to return to your room and continue to privately revel in your embarrassment or disappointed that dinner had passed so quickly.

As you helped your mom with the dishes, you overheard Jungwon expressing his gratitude to your father for inviting him to dinner as they arranged the table.

A sign that he was about to leave.

"Can you send Jungwon to the door, Y/n-chan?" Your mother's request caught you slightly off guard. You had the urge to decline and come up with an excuse, but the guilt of lying to your mother again held you back.

Reluctantly, you found yourself nodding and accepting the request.

A sigh of relief washed over you when your brother also joined you in sending Jungwon off. However, your relief quickly faded when your brother jokingly rushed out the door, leaving Jungwon behind and you alone with him in the genkan as he put on his shoes.

As you stood by the front door, an awkward silence hung between the two of you. You avoided making eye contact, and as Jungwon prepared to leave, you muttered a shy goodbye.

Throughout dinner, Jungwon had been bothered by your quietness and avoidance of eye contact. It led him to believe that he had made you uncomfortable, especially after your encounter with him in Ni-ki's room that made you dash out of your brother's room.

Ni-ki's comment about you acting unusually and not being in the mood for dinner further supported his belief that he had made you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight," he softly said, his voice tinged with worry, making your brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry if I laughed earlier; I didn't mean it in a bad way," Jungwon continued as he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He thought that his chuckles over your actions were the reason why you got uncomfortable.

Your heart sank when you realized that your actions during dinner had made him think that you were offended by him and that his presence made you uncomfortable.

You quickly shook your head, desperately wanting him to understand the truth. "No, no, there's nothing to apologize for! I assure you, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm just naturally shy."

Relief washed over his face as he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Really? I thought I made you upset."

"Not at all. I just felt embarrassed because I didn't know Ni-chan had a guest, and I didn't greet them properly." You couldn't help but puff your cheeks when you felt another wave of shyness as you looked down at your fiddling fingers.

A smile crept onto Jungwon's face, making his eyes soften. "It's okay, I know you were just surprised. No need to get embarrassed."

A surge of warm feelings engulfed your heart when you heard his gentle reassurance. You really wanted to look at him, but you were afraid that he'd see the redness in your cheeks that reflected your true feelings for him.

Your thoughts were cut off when you saw his hand offered towards you. You try to swallow your fears and find a courage to slowly looked up from his hand to his face.

You could almost hear your heart pound with fervor, like a wild drumbeat in harmony with your emotions, when you saw him closely with a soft expression paired with a gentle smile, making his dimple make another appearance.

"Hello, I'm Yang Jungwon, your brother's friend." Your eyes almost welled up when you realized that he was making you forget the embarrassing first encounter by redoing it as if you had just met each other.

You softly smiled and took his hand in a handshake. You felt a sudden spark of electricity shroud your body because of the contact.

"I'm Nishimura Y/n, Riki-nii's sister." Jungwon's eyes formed into crescent moons when you accepted his gesture of starting over. Although he already knew a little about you because of your brother, it was still nice to finally meet his friend's sister whom the latter always talked about adorably.

"Nice meeting you, Y/n." He started shaking both of your hands as if sealing a deal, making you giggle.

"Nice meeting you too, Jungwon nii-san."

Chapter Four

You thought that your feelings for Jungwon wouldn't blossom any further, but you were proven wrong when you found yourself researching nutritious foods appropriate for a football player that can boost his energy during practice games, instead of focusing on your homework.

Never in your life did you imagine that there would be a day when it's your turn to give someone a gift to show your appreciation, just like your schoolmates in 6th grade used to do for their crushes—a gesture you often found cringy before.

Yet now, you're going to do it as well.

Football season is just around the corner, making the Nightball Team busier with their practice. Hence, you see this as an opportunity to support Jungwon by providing snacks and bottles of energy drinks anonymously.

You know how intensely athletes practice during the game season, as you've witnessed it to your brother.

To help their bodies keep up with the rigorous training, nutritious foods are very essential.

As you stroll around the convenience store with a basket in hand already full of nutritious foods and energy drinks, a colorful message cards and envelopes caught your eyes.

The intricate design of each card and envelopes make your eyes twinkle in delight.

You've been also a fan of stationery items, developing a fascination for collecting envelopes and colored papers that pave the way for another passion—creating a journal with these elegant items.

If not for manga, the excess in your allowance is spent on stationery items.

As you eye the items, a sudden thought crosses your mind, making your heart beat to a now familiar tune that you are slowly getting used to.

You nibble the side of your cheek, contemplating whether it would be worth it.

You close your eyes, slowly taking deep breaths and gathering the confidence to do it.

Now full of determination, you took the cards and envelopes and proceeded to the counter to check out the items.

Your entire night was spent carefully preparing small packages, filling them with nutritious snacks and energy drinks. Along these, you include heartfelt and motivational notes crafted on small cards that you've intricately designed.

The following morning, you found yourself navigating the empty hallway in an unusual early hour while clutching the gift in your trembling hands, your heart pounding with each step.

Reaching Jungwon's locker, you hesitated for a moment, your mind replaying scenarios of what could happen next.

Would someone appear out of nowhere? Would Jungwon catch a glimpse of you?

With a last scanned around the hallway to make sure no one is around, you took a deep breath, reassuring yourself that the early morning cloak of silence was on your side.

Swiftly, you slipped your gift along with the letter into his locker, your hands moving with a kind of precision that only nervous anticipation could bring.

As you put the gifts gently, you feel a rush of adrenaline, a mixture of satisfaction and nervous energy coursing through your veins.

With the deed done, you retraced your steps, leaving behind the token of your affection. The school began to stir with the arrival of students, and you blended seamlessly into the crowd, keeping your secret hidden behind a casual smile.

You wanted to wait and witness Jungwon's reaction to your gift, but fear taking ahead of you as you pondered the possibility that his response might not align with your expectations.

Ultimately, you chose not to proceed and continued on your way to class.

Later in the afternoon, you found yourself on the same bench you sat, watching the practice game just as you always done. The field was buzzing with energy as the players warmed up, their determination evident in every stride they took.

Amongst them, Jungwon stood out like a star.

As the game began, you found yourself entranced once again by Jungwon's performance. He darted across the field, effortlessly evading opponents with his nimble footwork. His passes were precise and his shots were powerful.

He commanded the field with an air of confidence that made your heart swell with pride.

His performance today was exceptionally good compared to the previous practice games. Not that he wasn't good before—he truly was—but today, it felt like he was in his zone.

Every move he made was so powerful. You couldn't help but wonder if the pressure of the upcoming football season was driving him to new heights.

However, it wasn't just Jungwon's skill that impressed you; it was the pure sheer joy he exude while playing that you always like to see.

His face lit up with a radiant smile every time he made a good play or celebrated a victory. It was clear the football was more than just a game to him; it was a passion that ignited and fueled his determination.

A soft and gentle smile made its way to your face as you held your hands close to your chest, feeling the crazy beat of your heart as you admired Jungwon from afar.

A whistle blew across the field, signaling that the first half of the practice game had just ended, making the players come back to the dugout to take a break. As the players made their way, your eyes only remained and followed Jungwon.

As he talked to one of the players, you saw him reach out for something among the water bottles and energy drinks. He twisted the cup and chugged its contents, making his Adam's apple bob with every gulp. The afternoon sun struck his skin, making it glow like honey and accentuating his chiseled jaw.

You catch your breath in a small gasp, not because of how attractive he looks but because the bottle he is holding is slowly becoming familiar.

It's the energy drink that you brought for him!

You know that it was yours because you made sure that the energy drink that you brought was different from the energy drink that they always drink every day, plus you can see the bright yellow sticker message that contained your motivational pun attached to the bottle!

You suddenly felt like you were not breathing when he noticed the sticker; his furrowed brows made you nervous as he read the message. You almost wanted to leave the field, thinking he didn't like what was written there, when all of a sudden he burst into laughter, making the other players look his way.

His teammates wanted to see what made him laugh, but Jungwon held the bottle close to his chest and refused to let anybody know.

Your cheeks suddenly flamed with redness; you don't know if it was from embarrassment or because of the overwhelming feeling of seeing his positive reaction to your motivational pun.

Jungwon looked at the sticker on the bottle once again and let out a chuckle while shaking his head in amusement. His smile and bright eyes didn't leave until the end of the practice game, making you feel a new sense of fulfillment knowing the small act of affection had reached him.

You guess the "Kick some Asparag-ass

(૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭" somehow made his day.

Seeing Jungwon's positive impact of your secret gesture fueled a newfound motivation deep within your soul.

Especially when you saw his soft smile upon discovering the rest of the gift you had left in his locker, a moment for which you had finally summoned the courage to witness his reaction.

Due to this, you can't help but ponder what else you could do—or another motivational pun to put— to bring him happiness and encouragement without revealing your true identity.

With each passing day, you continued to surprise Jungwon with small anonymous gifts, each carefully selected to brighten his practice session and show your support.

Noticing Jungwon excelled in his games and his skills shone even brighter with added encouragement, made your heart swell with pride each time you witnessed his growth, even though he remained unaware of your involvement.

You planned to spend your whole day today coming up with different ideas to keep Jungwon motivated, but since it was Sunday—meaning today was the scheduled release of a new chapter of the manga you were reading—you got distracted and ended up lying down lazily on the couch in the leaving room with an iPad hovering over your face.

You giggled when the supporting character thought that the protagonist was a love child of a known superhero in the story.

As you continued scrolling the pages, you heard the front door open.

Since the iPad completely covered your vision of the door, you didn't see who entered the house; you didn't mind and didn't bother to look who it was and continued reading, thinking it was only your brother since your dog, Bisco, immediately ran to the door with enthusiasm.

"Hey, make me some snacks." The voice of your irritating brother demanded—you guessed it right—it was your brother, which made your eyes immediately roll.

"Make your own," you grumbled, your eyes remaining on the screen.

"I'm going to study," he retorted, earning a scoff from you. 'Study my ass'

You remained unmoved, pretending not to hear him. However, your brother was relentless about getting you to make him snacks, resorting to tickling your foot.

You squirmed and kicked his hands away, still avoiding eye contact, thinking that ignoring him would make him leave you alone.

But the more you resisted, the more persistent your brother became.

Ni-ki decided to take it a step further and removed the socks you were wearing, continuing to tickle your bare foot.

You dramatically squirm around as if you were being possessed, earning a hearty laugh from your brother.

You got up and lodged a smack on your brother's arm when you had enough of his annoyance.

The sound of it resonated through the living room, proving how strong it was. You were ready to give him another one when you noticed another presence in the room.

Your fist hung mid-air, and your body froze as you saw Jungwon smiling at you.

"Hi, Y/n"

You immediately straightened your posture and quickly tucked your messy hair behind your ears.

"H-hello, Jungwon n-nii-san," you stammered while simply trying to fix your clothes, in which you are clad in your usual pajamas with pompompurin designs. You chew the side of your cheek.

Why is it that every time you look at your worst, Jungwon always shows up?

"Nii-san?" Your brother questioned, making you look at him. His brows furrowed like he couldn't believe what he had heard.

"We've been living here in South Korea for 5 years; it should be Oppa now."

Your fist suddenly feels itchy to punch your brother at the moment.

He knows that you're not yet comfortable using those honorifics because you're still adjusting to their culture; you're still slowly trying to fit in. 

Your fist has already collided with his arm; if not, your jersey no. 4 is not here.

"O-opp—" You gulp, looking down at your feet, trying your best to find the courage to say it. Wanting to put a good impression in front of the person you are admiring, you will try to say it.

"O-opp—"

"—ah"

"O-op—" 

"It's okay, Y/n" You immediately stopped when you heard a reassuring voice. You looked up, and your eyes immediately softened when you saw Jungwon looking at you with gentleness.

"I'm fine with Nii-san; you don't have to force yourself." You felt a warm glow of reassurance spread through your body, thawing the icy grip of fear that had taken hold of you.

"Nah, man. She can say i—" Before your brother could finish his words, Jungwon's fist already collided with Ni-ki's back, playfully smacking his friend.

"Let's have your sister do what makes her comfortable. Respect her decision, dude." Your brother quickly returns the punch to his friend, which only makes the latter laugh.

As Jungwon and Ni-ki were laughing and playfully bickering at each other, you stood there watching as if your world stood still, leaving you with the feeling of a crushing wave of warmth washing over you.

In the quiet corners of your heart, a warm ember began to glow.

It flickered gently at first, timidly reaching out to the cool, untouched spaces within.

Jungwon's gentle smile, the softness of his eyes, and his kindness made the ember grow, its flames dancing in harmony with the newfound rhythm of your heartbeat that you didn't know suddenly changed into something more.

'Uh, oh, you're falling in love'

The fluttering of your heart becomes more frequent and pronounced that every time Jungwon appears in your line of sight, you experience this peculiar feeling.

These little flutters seemed to build into a crescendo, filling your heart with a strange yet amazing feeling.

Every word that Jungwon says to you always shows how pure and kind his soul was, making the beat of your heart grow louder as if announcing to the cosmos the love that is blossoming within you.

Slowly, your heart was no longer fluttering; it was soaring.

'Oh no, you're falling in love'

You had always believed in love because of your parents, but you had never truly understood its power until now.

You realized that love was more than a fleeting connection; it was the awakening of your soul.

It was a feeling that washed over you like a gentle wave, leaving you breathless and craving for more.

As you look at Jungwon, a new, profound, warm sensation spreads through your chest, gradually seeping into every corner of your being.

It was a sensation of love, softening your edges and illuminating your soul.

It was a feeling that found solace in vulnerability and flourished in the light of trust.

'Oh, you're falling in love.'

Chapter Five

The newfound realization made your heart skip a beat and sent a rush of nervous energy through your veins.

You can't believe it, you have fallen in love.

With such a simple word, its complexities were unraveling before you, leaving you both exhilarated and terrified.

At a young age, you already found yourself entangled in a web of emotions that you had never encountered.

It was your first taste of this intoxicating elixir, and you were utterly unprepared for its effects.

With this newfound love came a wave of shyness that seemed to wash over you whenever you were in Jungwon's presence, making you tongue-tied like every word you wanted to say remained locked behind closed lips.

You couldn't even bring yourself to meet his gaze when you brought snacks to your brother's room while they were studying.

As you thought they were both studying.

Because upon handling their snack, you realized that only your brother was engrossed in his studies, while Jungwon was actively helping and guiding him, almost like a dedicated tutor.

This observation lingered in your thoughts, making you seek clarification from your mother about it.

"Oh, Jungwon?" Your mother started "his tutoring your brother on some of his subjects for weeks now." She continued while chopping some vegetables for dinner.

While this information seemed like a casual detail to your mother, for you, it was a revelation that left your eyes widening in shock.

How had you not noticed him doing this earlier, especially considering he had been tutoring your brother in his room for several days now?

What surprised you even more was how he managed to balance this commitment with the intensity of their practice games.

"But why? He's an athlete like Riki-nisan; wouldn't it be exhausting to do both?" Your curiosity compelled you to ask.

The chopping abruptly ceased. Your mother gently set down the knife, her gaze softening as she looked at you.

"You see, Jungwon has been struggling to pay off all of his school expenses—" You saw how the sad smile made its way to your mother's face.

"—despite working part-time, it hasn't been enough. Your brother offered financial assistance, but he always refused. Your brother was determined to help, so he proposed the idea of Jungwon tutoring your brother in subjects he was struggling with," your mother explained, continuing to chop vegetables as you listened attentively.

"That young boy is such a genuine friend to your brother. Despite his financial struggles, he consistently rejects any money from your brother's pocket. If only his mother hadn't fallen ill, he would have also declined your brother's offer."

The weight of the revelation made your heart sink.

While you admired Jungwon for his skills and charm, little did you know about the silent battles he faced. Yet, he remained a compassionate soul willing to endure hardships to support his family.

"So, if your friends are also struggling with their studies, let me know so we can recommend Jungwon to them, okay?" Your mother said with a hopeful smile on her face, also wanting to extend her help to her son's friend.

You nodded and agreed without hesitation, though deep down, a secret plan was forming in your mind.

You were the one who would be getting the tutoring sessions with Jungwon.

If Ni-ki was naturally a sports prodigy, you on the other hand were a naturally gifted student, excelling in all subjects effortlessly.

Despite being smart and not needing any help with your studies, you plan to take on the role of a struggling student to help Jungwon to support him financially.

With that plan, you were more determined to help Jungwon rather than get closer to him.

You were pacing back and forth, your heart pounding with anticipation. It was the day of your tutoring session with the person who only can make your heart do crazy act like this.

When you brought up the topic of needing a tutor during dinner, your parents were taken aback, nearly choking on their food.

It seemed incomprehensible to them that their academically successful daughter, particularly excelling in physics, would require assistance in any subject.

Fortunately, you are gifted an understanding parents who acknowledge that even bright students face challenges. Consequently, they graciously granted your request for a tutor, specifically Jungwon as your tutor in the subject where you usually excel the most—physics.

You will literally rot in hell for lying too much to your parents.

Back in your brother's room—which is the place you have requested to use for your tutor session—your mind swirling with thoughts of how the session would go.

You meticulously organized your study materials, ensuring they were arranged perfectly on your desk. You adjusted your hair, clothes, and everything in an attempt to look decent.

When the knock finally came at the door, your heart felt like leaped into your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts, before answering it. There stood Jungwon, clad in a fresh fluffy gray hoodie with a shy smile playing on his lips.

"Hey, Y/n. How are you today?" He casually asks as he enters your brother's room, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on you.

"I-I'm g-good, thank y-you." You cleared your throat, trying to cover your stuttered response. You felt your face immediately flush from embarrassment.

Jungwon smiled gently, sensing your nervousness. "Great! Let's start our lesson then," he said, pulling out a chair for you. "Remember, there's no need to be nervous. We're here to learn together, and I'm here to help."

From his assurance, you felt again the familiar melody in your heart that you can slowly put into a song, and it swelled every time he spoke with kindness.

Whenever you feel embarrassed or in trouble speaking your mind, Jungwon always catches you with soothing words, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was as if he knew exactly what to say to make you feel validated and loved.

His kind words seemed to have a power of their own, melting away your doubts and worries.

It wasn't just the words, though. It was the way Jungwon said them, the gentle sincerity in his voice. His words were not empty promises or shallow compliments; they held a genuine warmth that touched your heart.

Each day, his kind words reaffirmed your belief that your heart made the right choice in loving him.

"I hear you were having trouble in advanced physics?" You sheepishly nodded, crossing your fingers under the table, invoking a protective power to mitigate the bad consequences that will come to you for lying too much.

"Well, it's not your fault for finding this subject challenging. Teaching this level of physics in 7th grade is a bit advanced for young minds. I only started learning it last year in the 11th grade," Jungwon said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Our school's curriculum isn't the best, is it?" he added with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, earning a giggle from you.

He smiled, sensing that you were getting more comfortable, and began to slowly proceed with tutoring you.

As the session went on, Jungwon always been patient with you, eager to make you comfortable around him and create an environment wherein you could truly "learn."

But you've got to admit, the tips he is providing to help you understand the concept better are much easier to grasp than the way your teacher teaches.

As you spent more time with Jungwon, diving into deeper topics week after week, your feelings for him grew stronger. The way he explained things made you admire and like him more.

In those quite study moments, he made the subject matter feel like a beautiful melody, resonating not just in your head but also in your heart.

Falling for Jungwon was like a slow waterfall, this gentle descent into a realm where every drop carried a piece of your heart, cascading softly into the pool of emotions that brought a sense of calmness to your soul.

As the weeks pass, not only your feelings blossom but also your friendship with Jungwon.

Jungwon is an easygoing person, conversations with him flowed like a gentle stream, unhurried and reassuring. 

Before you start to study, he will ask about how your day went, and he will also share his with you.

Whenever you take a break from the study session, he will offer an icebreaker, such as playing a little bit of brain games or letting you rumble about the manga you were reading while he listens attentively.

One of the things you always look forward to in your study sessions is his thoughtful gifts, given as a reward every time you ace the study exercises or tests and quizzes in physics.

Sometimes, he surprises you with snacks, sharing his favorite jelly, and there's that one thing you can't forget: gifting you the latest volume of the manga you were reading.

"Since you ace the exam last time," Jungwon declared with a mischievous glint in his eye, "I think my student deserves this reward." The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, as he reached for his bag and pulled out a paper bag and handed it to you.

Curiosity piqued, you eagerly open the bag to reveal the latest volume of your favorite manga series.

Your eyes immediately widened in surprise, a delightful smile spreading across your face. "Jungwon nii-san, you remembered!" You exclaimed, flipping through the pages with excitement. " I can't believe you got this for me!"

Jungwon softly grinned, his own excitement mirrored in his eyes. "Of course, I remembered. You've been talking about this series non-stop, so I thought you'd appreciate having the next volume"

You couldn't count how many time you have been grateful for Jungwon's kindness, the kindness that always feels so warm and welcoming.

However, as you observed the way he interacted with others, you realized that his kindness and warmth were extended to all.

You're not as special to him as you thought.

You felt a bittersweet pang in your chest, acknowledging that he only saw you as his student, a friend, and nothing more.

Much worse, as his little sister.

In the bustling football stadium, under the warm glow of the stadium lights, you found yourself once again in your usual seat, holding your breath as the football game were in full swing. The players of Nightball team sprinted across the field, their feet grazing the perfectly manicured grass.

Suddenly, your heart skipped a beat as Jungwon miraculously spotted you amidst the crowd.

A wide smile spread across Jungwon's face, and he waved at you with unreserved excitement. Your heart fluttered, surprised that he had noticed your presence among the large supporters. You waved back, returning his infectious smile.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with Jungwon, knowing that after all months of unwavering support for him, he was finally aware of it.

In a brief pause between play, Jungwon jog on your way to quickly thank you for cheering for him, as he talks to you, another talented football player, Jake, approached him, curiosity and amusement evident on is face.

He nudged him and teasingly asked, "Who's this girl you're waving at, man? Do we have a secret fan club now?"

Jungwon simply chuckled, "This is Ni-ki's little sister, Y/n." he look down at you with a softness in his eyes as he gently patted your head, "She's like my little sister too."

You felt a pang in your chest as disappointment washed over you, slowly realizing your position in Jungwon's life.

While your heart crazily beat of full affection for him, his was platonically calm for you.

Despite all of that, you swallowed the hurtful truth and softly smiled, accepting the role of being his only little sister.

From then on, you made a choice to embrace the only friendship you have with Jungwon without demanding more.

You continue to fill the pages of your heart with cherished moments, etching them with love and gratitude.

With each passing day, you learn the true essence of selflessness and acceptance.

Despite the unrequited love that lingered in the depths of your soul, you found solace in the knowledge that the friendship you shared with Jungwon was a treasure you could forever hold dear.

Although you acknowledge already the fact that your relationship with Jungwon will only stay as friends, it didn't stop you to continue sending him gifts and letters still anonymously.

You were happily skipping your way through the school hallway as the morning sun shone brightly, clutching yet again a beautifully wrapped gift along with a heartfelt letter of encouragement for his upcoming football game, and also discreetly thanking him for showing kindness and his help in tutoring you.

But as you approached Jungwon's locker, you noticed him standing there with his group of friends.

Startled, you quickly ducked behind a nearby row of lockers.

Seeing him still engrossed in conversation with his friends and seems like they have no plans to leave the lockers at any moment, you decided to retreat and come back later when they were gone.

With a small and hopeful smile, you turned around and began walking away. But just as you were about to go to your class, something caught your attention.

"Man, you remember the gift that Jungwon received last Friday?" an unfamiliar voice of a boy started, piquing your interest, especially since you knew you had gifted Jungwon that day.

"The design looks so damn childish like it was made by an elementary schooler for their art project." The boy snickered, "And all of the things, a freaking garden design mug as a gift?" he mockingly remarked with a chuckle, causing the others to burst into laughter.

You felt like someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head when you overheard their conversations. It felt as though an icy hand wrapped itself around your heart, squeezing it with an unbearable heaviness.

You in fact, gifted him a mug with a garden design, thinking he will like it because it reminds you of him and his name upon seeing it on the store.

With tears slowly well up in your eyes, you look down at your gift, which is wrapped in Tamama design gift wrappers with a cute bow ribbon.

Well, maybe they were right, your choice of gifts was childish.

But you had put so much thought and effort into those gifts, believing that Jungwon would appreciate them. However, it seemed like your gesture had become the subject of ridicule.

You felt as if the world crumbling around you, your heart sinking even deeper as if it had shattered into countless fragments. The thought that Jungwon might be also laughing at your "childish" designs only added to the weight of despair.

Unable to face the humiliation, you quickly turned in your heels and retreated, your footsteps echoing the emptiness in your heart.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon, in fact, stood in silence, his usual smile faltered, a hint of offense flickering in his eyes.

"Hey, guys," he spoke up, his voice filled with a strength his friends never heard before. "That gift is special to me. It's different, sure, but it's unique. The person who gifted it to me probably has a reason for choosing a mug, and I appreciate it. It's the thought behind it that counts. So, please, show some respect."

His friends fell silent, stunned by the defense he had just given. Jungwon understood that his friends might not comprehend the deeper meaning behind someone's gift, but he couldn't let them belittle their efforts, especially since how those gifts consistently brightened his day.

You who are still unaware of Jungwon's defense, spent the rest of your day lost in your gloomy thoughts. Your heartache enveloped you like a tight cage, leaving you feeling isolated and alone.

You replayed the scene in your mind over and over, the sting of humiliation and embarrassment refused to subside.

You don't know how you will face Jungwon after all those words.

The idea of facing him, of looking into his eyes and pretending to be casual while those words in the back of your head kept stabbing you like a broken record was unbearable.

As you grappled with your own emotions, the glow of your phone screen caught your attention, announcing the arrival of a new message.

'Hi, Y/n! I might be a little bit late for our study session because of a team meeting ╥ ╥ , but I'll make sure to be there before 6:30 pm so we can have more time to study!'

'As an apology, I'll be bringing snacks~~'

The message from Jungwon illuminated your phone screen, and a mixture of conflicting emotions surged through you.

On the surface, the excitement of an incoming study session and the promise of snacks brought a fleeting smile to your face. However, deep within, a pang of heartache tugged at your insides.

The knot in your stomach tightened, and a lump formed in your throat. Jungwon's innocence, and his kindness, clashed violently with the echoes of humiliation and embarrassment that still pound within you.

The vivid memories of his friends' mockery haunted you, turning the joyous act of giving into a painful reminder of vulnerability.

With a heavy heart, you fabricated an excuse about feeling unwell and unable to attend the tutoring session that day.

It was a lie, one that marked the beginning of a pattern.

The tutor sessions turned into missed opportunities to see him, and the football games became distant scene you chose to avoid.

Jungwon, puzzled by your sudden change in behavior, continued to inquire about your well-being.

Each message from him tugged at your heart, but the walls you created held firm.

His concern was met with vague responses, masking the turmoil within you. The more he reached out, the deeper you delved into your cocoon of self-inflicted solitude.

The peak of this emotional turmoil came when Jungwon sensing your distance.

"Are you okay, Y/n?"

"Is there something wrong?"

"Are you mad at me?"

The lies you spun become more elaborate, the excuses more intricate. You assured him that everything is fine and your not mad at him, that you were just busy, that life had taken unexpected turns.

Jungwon, the patient soul he was, accepted your explanations with a grace that only deepened the ache in your chest.

When he extended an invitation to his high school graduation ceremony, offering you a ticket and a chance to be part of his celebration, you hesitated.

The battle within you raged—the desire to reconnect, to salvage what was left, clashed with the fear of facing the unspoken truths.

In the end, you declined, citing other commitments and responsibilities that seemed to multiply in your made-up reality.

You both slowly grew apart, especially as he moved to another city to pursue his dreams at a different university.

It was a bittersweet decision but for now, you resigned yourself to the knowledge that some chapters must end before new ones can begin.

And though your story with Jungwon may have concluded on a sour note, you refused to close the book entirely, holding on to the faint glimmer of hope that perhaps, someday, your path would cross once more.

©2024 Demuse Writer. All Right Reserved.

[moonsaver]

Iris family!reader back at it again! Here's part 2 of this, which was VERY incomplete because tumblr decided to bust on me and upload it while i was still drafting!! I think this part might be more confusing, so feel free to ask about it right away!

Taglist is at the end of the fic hehe

-

Aventurine has an eye for craftsmanship. And very good ears.

You recall vividly. That's the first thing he mentioned about himself when he first introduced himself to you.

You know it's not a coincidence he's reaching out to you. Especially after a meeting with Mr. Sunday, which is his direct, formal contact with the Oak Family. You, on the other hand, were a direct, informal contact. The fact you were barely a notable singer in the plethora of talents Penacony held wasn't what mattered to Aventurine. Neither did it matter that you were from the Iris Family. Because to him, you were a one-way ticket to Sunday's mind. 

It's also no coincidence he's decided to drop by after he sees the wide open door of your room.

“I've heard well about your station, friend.”

He makes himself comfortable on the stiff couch of the hotel room, the fabric wrinkling and the frame creaking from the shift in weight.

“I.. don't need your help. I’m fine.”

“Can't hurt to always have connections, keeps you afloat, birdie.”

“Don't tell me that. I don't need any more. I've had enough.”

Aventurine smiles, and leans back into the couch, one of his arms lazily resting on the couch's and the finger of his hand tapping the top of his knee.

“Your earrings are the talk of the town, y'know?”

Your hand instinctively shoots up, and your fingers ghost the lobe of your ear. You're not wearing any at the moment.

“Is that so..?”

Your body language is jittery. Your hands keep fidgeting. Your lips hurt from the constant chewing, your finger rubs your earlobe.

Aventurine fiddles with his own, and gets up. He walks over to you with slow, easing steps.

“There's a cute little section in a few tabloids about those earrings. There's also a little fact that your ears burn red when you lie.”

Aventurine stands in front of you.

“That can't be right. It's totally bullshit.”

He chuckles at your response. He leans in, slowly, his breath ghosts the shell of your ears. The oddly sweet scent of expensive, exotic wine line his cool breath over your skin.

“There's also been that whole buzz about The Watchmaker's Legacy.”

The close proximity renders you paralyzed – many thoughts run through your head; should you push him away? Should you step away instead? Snap back at him?

You feel his gloved finger busy itself with your ear. A snap resounds loudly through your ear, and his hand retracts. So does he.

Your agitated gaze lingers on his smug face, and wanders over to his ears. They're red.

“I'll give you some advice – you should try and take advantage of chaos.”

His hand raises slightly, and his fingers barely kiss the skin of your elbows. It snaps something in you, and you immediately move to step back.

His other hand shoots up and grabs your arm in response.

“We can help each other, can't we, little sparrow? A glimpse of that man's mind is enough for me. I'll help you keep your family all safe and sound.”

“I– don't care what you have to offer. I am not taking that risk! This crap about The Watchmaker, I'm not having it! Find someone else to bother!”

Aventurine's smile widens, his eyes stare down at you. The concentric colours are almost hypnotising.

“Relax. The game's only started, I'm sure there's enough time for you to analyse the situation and pick a side. And things will fall into place all in due time.”

A knock.

Both you and Aventurine snap your heads to the source. The door creaks open.

Sunday stands, composed. His knuckles linger on the polished wood of the door for a few more seconds, before his hand falls to his side. His other hand holds a black, velvet bag.

You forgot to take that back.

“It seems we meet again.”

Aventurine hums.

‐

“Are you perhaps.. unhappy with your current circumstances?”

“No, I'm.. quite pleased with it. Please, don't take anything to heart. I was fervently denying all of his offers.”

Sunday chuckles softly.

“I understand. Please, be at ease.”

-

Sunday knew what lied in store for him when he became a part of the Family.

As their long-burdened history, all of them were to join and form an impenetrable force, decorating the Dreamscape lavishly for those who had the privilege to deny reality. 

Which was ironic.

It was comically ironic.

Such was their torment.

As eagles rip and gnaw the liver of human emotion, such was the painful symbolization of human strive. And this was a neverending story. A neverending performance of a traitor, prisoners and a false dream. A Death that surely extracts the price for all that has been done. A price that grows thick over the bones of each generation, for daring to dream together, for daring to yearn for freedom.

Some knew of this history. Most were not privy to it.

Sunday tells you in passing, as his gloved fingers gently drop the velvet bag in your hand. You suppose it was simple small talk.

A beat of silence passes.

“Ah, I may have fed a false fact to that Tabloid.”

You look up at Sunday.

“Im sorry?”

“I wasn't aware of whether or not your ears turn red. They were eager for a harmless fact, and I conjured up something on the spot.”

“Oh, they.. approached you directly?”

“They first approached Robin, to be exact. I arrived just in time to answer a small question. My apologies for making a hasty decision at a presented opportunity.”

You blink a few times.

“Ah, well.. not like it can be helped now but.. please be careful. One thing tends to lead to another.”

“I've taken note of that.” his eyes focus on the lobe of your ear.

What's he looking at..?

Your hand cautiously reaches up to your ear. Aventurine's earring?

“Oh, um.”

You break out in a sweat, and your shaky hands immediately remove it. You look at the flashy, teal accessory. Then you look at Sunday, gauging his reaction.

He smiles. Perhaps that fact wasn't false.

“I suggest not striking a deal with Aventurine. I can assure your family's security.”

“Oh, I know I just–”

“The Family does not take dealings with the IPC lightly.”

You stay silent.

He sighs, and his gaze seems to soften for a moment. His gloved hand reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Apologies. The Charmony festival is coming soon. Extra measures have been established. Please, approach me instead.”

His voice softens at the end.

“I.. understand.”

‐

Sunday thinks a change of your career is in order.

A brand new start, a better title, a better colleague.

Somewhere along the way, most of Penacony's more enthusiastic visitors were in the know about you. Your popularity settled comfortably on event lists, and Sunday was steadfast in his promise.

However, there's now an increase in work. Particularly, working late at night with Sunday.

Your job now had strict parameters you didn't have in your former station. Deadlines, reports, even hearsay playing an important role. Although, for once your rusty luck has come into play, and Sunday is much more fair to you than any other manager that you could have been working under, if it weren't for your decision to become a singer.

That being said, the public now saw less of you, which instead soared rumours about you and increased your popularity more. You aren't sure how to thank Sunday – he only gives you a closed eye smile whenever you decide to at least verbalise your gratitude.

‐

“Ah, you should take a look at this.”

Sunday beckons you to come closer, pointing and curling his index finger towards you. You oblige wordlessly, and with a few swift clicks of your shoes, you stand right beside Sunday, leaning a bit to take a better look.

His finger points to several figures in the document, and you hum, eyes scanning through the neatly organised words.

“Does this mean I'll get significantly busier?”

“You best prepare, as per my suggestion.”

You sigh, a bit dramatically, and Sunday chuckles.

“My apologies. I know I've already asked for a lot from your end. I shall support you equally.”

“That's.. well, alright. I was just worried about something else.”

You avoid his eyes, discomfort creeping up on you, as those rumours swirl in your head. 

“Be at ease, tell me.”

“It's.. the rumours surrounding me. They're not serious but, recently they've taken a strange turn of events.”

Sunday hums. He gets up, and walks towards a bookshelf, his fingers slide over their spines, and stop at a specific book. You continue,

“It's– um.. quite strange.”

Sunday pulls out the book, and opens it, sifting through the pages with familiarity.

“It was just about the earrings at first but they took a bit of a bizarre turn.. they–”

Sunday snaps the book shut,

“About us. Yes. I've heard.”

You blink a few times.

“They're..”

His fingers trace over the book's cover, before sliding it back into its place.

“Rumoured relationships between us, the debate about work ethics, and the whole lot. Yes, I'm well-informed.”

He turns to you. His all too familiar smile still on his face. His golden eyes seem much more intimidating than they used to.

“They'll die down. I can assure you they are of no importance. However, it helps with your exposure doesn't it?”

He turns his back to you, continuing to look at you over his shoulder.

“They will fizzle out in due time.”

You suppose Sunday is familiar with rumours. But this time, it is only particularly because he created them.

‐

The robin chirps and twits inside its golden cage.

“What's this?”

You smile, a finger gently tapping a bar of the delicate cage,

“It's a robin. I hoped it would guide you during practice.”

You chuckle, and Sunday smiles, both of your eyes fixated on the bird that's chirping and curiously tilting its head at you.

Sunday's encouraged you to practice singing more often inside the office. You've gotten off of your formal duties very late, and as of recent you've scarcely had time to practice. Sunday's insistence led to you often humming and practicing in front of your dressing table. It took a while, but you eased into it fairly well. 

Sunday, on the other hand, enjoys your singing more than he lets on. He finds himself humming to your tune every so often, once you've left and no other ambience fills the room. Perhaps that's also one of the reasons he's brought a robin bird to you.

You sing a simple tune, and the robin follows. It chirps happily, and you giggle at its strange antics. And thus, whenever you aren't present, the bird sings in your stead.

It's not soon before the robin loses its vitality, however. A gilded cage is a cage nonetheless.

Your voice was dampened that day. But Sunday had a plethora of ideas rush to his head.

‐

Something's been wrong with your voice as of recent.

You've avoided any strange drinks, even foregoing any kinds of juices, only opting for water. You avoid even spicy foods, settling for blander dishes. Sunday assures you it's nothing to worry about – even Robin faces challenges with her voice sometimes.

You're at your best, only in Sunday's office.

Everytime you sing, your voice flows smoothly, and you hit every note perfectly. It's wonderful, if it weren't for the fact your voice didn't seem to hold this effect outside of his office. You came to this realisation late at night when you tried singing in the bathroom to yourself, your voice kept tapering, and even stopped at some points. The doctors all assured you things were fine, and at best only prescribed some throat medicine. You wonder what's been going wrong.

Sunday isn't ignorant of your recent concerns, either. He seems to be taking it in stride.

The golden cage is on your dressing table, empty. You stare at it, thoughts swirling in your head. What went wrong? Where? Why? What did you do? 

Sunday's familiar gloved hands place themselves upon your shoulders again. It's a shame. He says. What is a robin without its voice? He says. It echoes in your mind for days. 

“Take a break.” one of his gloved hands make it's way to yours, folded in your lap. He brings your knuckles up to his lips, whispering assurances into it.

“It'll be fine. I'll take care of it.” He kisses between the valley of your knuckles,

“Don't worry. Help me out with the rest of the documents, and we can take a look at your voice after.”

You don't say anything. Maybe because you can't.

-

“Hmm.. your voice tapers too much at the chorus.”

You sigh. You've lost count of how many times you've had to repeat this song, your voice simply cannot seem to hold true to the chorus that's planned. Sunday flips another page of a long-winded document, and sets it down gently on the table, looking up at you when you sigh and only hold onto the mic with disappointment glazing your eyes.

“Have a seat. Perhaps a break may help you.”

You hesitantly oblige, but sigh again, deeply, as the muscles of your throat ache with the strain and relaxation. You sit down at the makeshift dressing table Sunday managed to prepare for you. His courtesy, of course.

You shuffle around it – your dressing table isn't actually much different than Sunday's office desk. It's littered with event planners, schedules, and all sorts of graphs and figures. Your hands lazily pick up a sheet and scan over it, choosing to at least distract yourself while you give your raw throat a rest.

You hear a muffled creak behind you, followed by a few, small footsteps. Sunday stands behind you in the reflection. His hands gently come up to your hair, fingers running through it and fixing it.

“Some members of the Family – particularly the Nightingale Family, wanted to extend their gratitude to you. You've been arduously managing the crowd and shifting their gazes away from the construction work.”

You hum slightly, your eyes unfocused on the words. Sunday's touch seems to leave you dazed, or rather conflicted, these days. 

His fingers leave your hair, and rest on your shoulders. He leans down, his lips graze the shell of your ear. His soft breath tickles your skin, and forms goosebumps.

“And I am.. personally grateful to have you working alongside me.”

Your eyes wander on your table. They avoid his gaze through the mirror's reflection.

“I also.. intend to help you, further than before.”

His voice grows softer and lower, descending into a whisper. One of his hands move from your should to the middle of your collarbone, a lone finger drags up to the middle of your neck. Your breath hitches.

“Mr. Sunday..?”

“It's alright. We needn't be so formal.”

Suddenly, a splotch of colours blur your vision from the corners. You hiss, and groan, immediately burying your head into your hands, striking pain pulses through your head. You close your eyes in efforts to relieve yourself, but it doesn't cease.

“Perfect Harmony.. Order.. it doesn't come easily. Allow me to assist you in reaching that.”

You breathe heavily, the pulsing ache in your head slowly subsides, but the colours remain persistent.

“Sunday..?”

“My dear, let us rejoice. A new chapter of your life has begun. Your family can find ease. We- no, I, can take care of them. Of you.”

You swallow thickly, dread pooling in your stomach. The finger on your neck trails up your neck and pushes your chin upwards, forcing you to face your reflection. The side of Sunday's face is pressed to yours, your eyes are dazed, but his have never been so clear, and bright.

“Just do as you've always done. This is simply to bolt your loyalty, my dear.”

Sunday kisses your cheek, his wings gently flutter on the other side of your face. You close your eyes. The pain subsides into something more blissful, calming. Your body relaxes almost against your will.

‐

Your voice has been perfect as of late. As long as you don't sing for anyone.

Which is to say – you're rendered useless in the grand scheme of Penacony. This terrifies you.

Your family has never been more vulnerable.

What is a robin without her voice? It echoes irrevocably in your mind, the question awaiting an answer. Nothing responds. Nothing, responds.

Empty ballads accompany the marble walls of the hallway leading to Sunday's office. His back is turned to you, his fingers sifting through the spines of familiar books on his shelf. His wings slightly flutter every time your voice hits a high note. Your voice was pitch perfect whenever you sang in his office. Anywhere else? It was a bust. Robin also tried her hand at comforting you, but the tapering edge of her voice only concerned you. An emanator of harmony relied completely on just that to sustain her voice. She'd lost it completely otherwise.

Your lips are raw from the constant biting. Your family tries assuring you they can also pull together scraps and bits to keep themselves afloat; that you've worked hard enough, and you need your rest. Sunday assures their security as always. He's stopped commenting on your concerns with your voice.

“Sunday, my voice..”

“Perfect, my dear.”

He's grown more familiar with using pet names instead of your name. You don't remember exactly when the transition took place.

“No, it's.. I can't sing anymore. I can't perform.”

“Ah, is that so?”

Sunday's deft fingers write something down on a scrap of paper, holding the book open in another hand.

“Not to fret, darling. The public awaits your performance in due time. Take a break for now, and focus on paperwork.”

It does more to discourage you, really.

“I don't know.”

“I know.”

Sunday places the book down gently on his table. He looks at your seated figure, illuminated by the warm light of his office.

Sunday wanted the best for Penacony. But when it came to you, he couldn't help but be greedy. Your voice was beautiful to him. He feels bad, raining on your parade like this. But there's endless amounts of performers who can take your place. There's only one of you who can catch his eye, however.

An empty cage is reminiscent of a happy bird. But a chirping robin is reminiscent of a happy man. Your lost voice still echoes well through the halls, resounding through the marble structures.

A gilded cage is a cage nonetheless. A happier bird is one that does not realise its cage. Sing to your heart's desire in it, he thinks. 

Your head falls to your hands again, blurring splotches of colour blaze through your vision and head again – a familiar, aching pulse resonates in your head. Your voice feels trapped. Sunday walks to you, and places a hand on your back, rubbing gently to soothe you. The colours disappear, leaving you in a daze. Sunday leans down to kiss your forehead, relaxing your furrowed brows.

It's true. You've proven it. A bird that does not realise it's true confines. You may be unhappy, but you sing your throat raw, and Sunday is your only audience. Parameters will only get stricter, but it's for your own good. He assures you endlessly, leaving out that one piece of information.

A robin without a voice is nothing but a dull bird. You, without yours, are just his.

-

Taglist: @sharkiethrts @sarcastic-cookie

[lizardboiii]

At The Tone ┃ DCU

Barry Allen x Spider-Woman!Reader

┃ Summary: Sometimes bad things happen to good people - and that’s where the Justice League comes in. Too bad you weren’t interested.

“Think I forgot how to be happy Something I'm not, but something I can be" Billie Eilish, "What Was I Made For?"

│cw: SFW, alcohol abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief, hurt/comfort, violent themes

│wc: 3.9k

│chapters: One shot

│notes: This fic has been sitting unfinished (with 2k words!!) in my drafts for a WHILE. randomly decided it needed to see the light of day ig. was gonna make it nsfw but i low key hate it and just wanted too move on oops. enjoy <3

・❥・

│One Shot: At The Tone

You have five new messages.

“Good afternoon, Spider-Woman this is Cla-”

You heard a throat clear.

“It’s Superman. I see you still aren’t picking up any of the team’s calls,” He swallowed thickly, “I understand your recent loss was… hard. Something none of us would have wished for anybody.”

You could feel the tension in his voice.

“Please take all the time you need. The league is more than capable of taking care of New York in your absence for the time being.”

The sound of a pen clicking disrupted the message every so often, “But at least give us some indication you're alive…and well. The team cares about you,” He chuckled warmly, “Even “Mr. I Work Alone” Batman himself.”

His laugh dropped abruptly with a soft sigh, “Call me back when you can.”

Beep

You crawled out of bed slowly, dragging your duvet behind you like a cloak. The plush cotton laid heavy on your shoulders. You wondered if this was how Big Blue felt every morning - the weight of knowing everything depending on him once he bore his iconic red cape. 

You knew what that weight felt like, and you knew what it felt like to have it all come crashing down.

You have four new messages 

“How’s it hanging, Spidy? Haha, you get it?” A dramatic sigh escaped the machine, “Sorry, poor timing.”

He took a moment to regroup, “It's Green Lantern, just calling to check in. Headquarters has been depressing without you. I mean even Martian Manhunter is down in the dumps. It's a total bummer.”

Another sigh, “Listen you don't have to call me back if you don’t want to, but at least let Flash know you're still alive. He needs you more than he lets on.”

Beep

You groaned at the shrill ring of the answering machine. The outdated tech was too cherished to be discarded but the pulsing headaches you received from it almost outweighed the fond memories of Aunt May.

Thoroughly woken up, you entered your kitchenette. Your eyes shifted between the week old coffee pot on your stove to the half empty Hennessy bottle next to it. 

Maybe this time you would make the right choice. A sober evening is a good evening. However, the battle was always rigged to begin with and the winner already predetermined.

The Hennessy felt burdensome in your hand as you took a long swig. It burned violently down your throat, eating at your skin, before finally settling warmly in your stomach. Though you hated to admit it, it satisfied you more than any pot of coffee could.

Staggering to your couch, courtesy of one of New York’s finest sidewalks, you flopped down. The cushions were well used and musty. But who were you to pass up a free couch?

You have three new messages

“Spider-Woman.”

There was a lengthy pause.

“Your recent inactivity has caused some concerns regarding your whereabouts. The league seems to be having a hard time focusing on missions with your absence.”

Bats’ uncertainty leaked through the phone as he thought of his next sentence, “You have my condolences, Webs. However, the league cannot continue to work with this distraction. Please report to the Hall of Justice immediately.”

He hesitated, “We are worried.”

Beep

An involuntary snort escaped you. Bats’ attempt at comfort was interesting to say the least. He was surprisingly awkward for a leader of the Justice League. Though you supposed dark and brooding was his brand.

You have two new message

“Greetings, Spider-Woman, Wonder Woman speaking.”

You could hear muffled arguing in the background.

“Batman may have been a bit…straightforward in that last voicemail,” She attempted a fake laugh, “Please do not mind his bluntness, he is merely just as concerned as the rest of us. In his own way at least.”

A loud slam made her curse under her breath.

“I apologize I must go, the “children” are fighting again. Don’t hesitate to call back. See you soon, Webs.”

Beep

Lifting the liquor to your lips, your brows creased when only a drop hit your tongue. Out already?

You let out an exaggerated sigh before placing the empty bottle on your coffee table. A quick glance at your barren pantry told you everything you needed to know. You’d have to go out and get some more. You felt your face scrunch. That means you have to go out in public.

You weighed your options. 

You could stay inside and continue to peacefully hide from the world, but you're guaranteed to sober up eventually.

Or you could make a quick trip to the convenience store down the road and pray the minimum wage employee can’t smell the alcohol on you from a mile away. 

You hummed thoughtfully. Though, now that you think about it, there’s a off chance you might run into the supe that’s covering your city for the time being. Then again, there’s a very high chance it’s not someone from the Justice League, a member from The Team at best. 

Massaging your forehead, you tried to remember the last time a Justice League member took a leave of absence. A blonde goatee flashed in your mind.

That’s right. Green Arrow was out for a while when he got busted up pretty bad. His protégé, Speedy, ended up babysitting Star City in his absence. You bit your lip. 

But you didn’t have one of those anymore.

You have one new message

“Hey Webs! Sent me to voicemail again, huh?”

An awkward laugh made the machine crackle.

“Just calling to check up on you. How are you doing? Feeling alright? Just say the word and I can grab you anything from anywhere. I mean literally anywhere. They don’t call me the fastest man alive for nothing!”

You could practically hear the large smile embedded on his face.

A large sigh passed through the speaker, “It’s been a month now. The team misses you…I miss you. A lot actually.”

He paused.

“Just call me back alright? I need to know if you're okay.”

Beep

Your hand paused over your front door handle. Flash’s deep voice was like a siren's call, beckoning you in. 

What you’d give to turn around. What you'd do to call him back. It took everything in you to force yourself away from his voice.

Your best friend. 

Your confidant. 

Your everything. 

You have zero new messages

・❥・

You weaved through the bustling sidewalk with a slight wobble, managing to dodge a third of the people you almost crashed into. Night was quickly approaching. That meant the streets were only going to get busier. 

More people = More crime = More superheroes.

Fumbling into a dimly lit alley, you avoided Main Street completely. It was too risky. Even in your civilian disguise there was no guarantee your voice wouldn’t be recognized - mainly by your teammates but especially by… Flash.

You recalled how often you sought each other out in the Hall of Justice. Whether it was meddling in the business of others, or simply enjoying the company of one another.

His hand always seemed to find its way to the small of your back. Gently resting. While his thumb delicately circled the thin fabric of your suit. 

He leaned in closer than he should. The dull smell of his cologne inevitably picked up by your heightened senses. 

It wasn't how friends should behave - but that's all you ever were. Friends.

Thwack!

You slammed yourself against one of the side walls in surprise, extinguishing your mind of complex thoughts. Creeping closer, you cursed in your head when harsh thumps and muffled grunting filled the air. 

“Where’s my money, Huey?”

Crack!

“I-I don’t know! Please!”

Whack!

You recognized the tell-tale sound of blood splattering against the ground, akin to paint splashing. The sound made you nauseous. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you thought of your next move. 

Now, on any normal occasion you’d swing in all heroic and save the day. But today was different. You were different. 

Excuses flooded your brain as you tried to explain to yourself why you felt little desire to help the abused man. 

Your suit was at home crammed somewhere in between an ugly Christmas sweater and a latex bodysuit you practically begged Cat Woman not to give you. 

Even if you had the energy, you were still considered MIA to the league. You’d basically be spoon feeding them your location. 

Your internal dilemma didn’t last long as the pummeling swiftly came to an end. Peaking around the corner, you watched the assistants retreat into an adjacent alley. They moved lazily. Clearly they didn’t expect to be caught.

You could still catch them.

You found yourself making an internal description. Two Caucasian males both wearing black beanies and disgustingly outdated puffer jackets. The taller one sported purple and green. While the shorter preferred yellow. 

Your foot shifted before you felt yourself hesitate. Maybe you shouldn’t. They’d probably be caught soon enough anyways. 

If anything, the supe covering your city would swoop in and haul their asses to the local jail. Especially when you called an ambulance for the man who was passed out on the ground. It would put this area on tonight's map. You sighed and finally allowed yourself to relax. 

This was fine. 

Everything was fine. 

Shifting your eyes to the ground, you located the poor soul who suffered the attack. His breathing was ragged and wet. You were quick to put two fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. A wave of relief crashed through you when you felt a steady beating.

Pulling out your phone, you immediately dialed 911 and requested an ambulance, anonymously of course. You stayed with the man until you could hear loud sirens growing closer. Your sign to leave. 

Exiting the alleyway, you reached the small convenience store in record time. The adrenaline in your system was starting to make quick work of the alcohol in your bloodstream. 

You could feel your senses beginning to come back. Eyes clearer. Ears sharper. You could practically hear the heartbeats of everyone in the store. 

Groaning at your misfortune, you beelined for the alcohol section in the back. My god was it beautiful. Itching to return home, you grabbed a random bottle that had the highest percentage. Taste didn’t matter. Only the effect.

Glancing at your selection you choked on your own spit. 30 dollars?? The glass bottle was swiftly put back as you grabbed the cheapest one you could find. Tucking the Shitty K under your arm, you turned to walk to the register.

“PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP, OLD MAN.”

You froze. Extending your neck out, you caught a glimpse of the register. 

Purple, green, and yellow.

You had to be fucking kidding.

You watched as the two assailants from the alley held the elderly cashier at gunpoint. His form shook like a leaf. 

“Please! Just take the money and leave!”

You caught his eyes as he begged for his life. Tear filled and shaking. You could have prevented this. If you would have just stopped them when you had the chance none of this would have happened.

You could have saved the man in the alley. Saved the poor cashier.

You could have saved Uncle Ben too. 

Your eyes watered. Fucking pathetic mistake. What the hell were you doing? You weren’t a teenager anymore. You were a grown adult who should have learned from your mistakes by now.

Shifting your eyes from the vodka to him, you pressed your lips in a thin line. You didn’t know what hurt more. The fact that you were repeating past mistakes or the fact that you wanted to take the more expensive alcohol and leave unnoticed.

When did you become this? 

No wonder you let Spider-Girl die.

You needed a drink. Desperately.

Abruptly, a whiplash of red and yellow snatched you from your daydream. The streaking shape blew over the newspaper stand before spinning around the starstruck perpetrators. You knew those McDonald's colors from anywhere. 

Kid Flash.

Like any speedster, he removed the gun in milliseconds before tying up the confused robbers. They stood no chance against the meta-human.

Dusting off his hands, Kid Flash smiled smugly at the dumbfounded duo, “Guns aren’t currency, you know?”

The man in yellow thrashed violently, “What the hell-Kid Flash!? Why are you in New York? Spidey taking a break or something?”

You cringed.

Kid Flash’s boyish voice laughed awkwardly, “Something like that.”

You need to get out of here. Now.

Slowly backing into the aisle, you clenched your teeth when your elbow hit the shelf. The bottles tinked in a symphony, altering everyone in the store of your presence. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Instantly, you snatched your coat hood and covered your face and hair. Staring into the grime covered tiles, you prayed Kid Flash wouldn’t think too much of it.

“Hello?”

Of course. The one time he’s actually thorough.

“Are you alright?”

Bright yellow boots came into your vision as you tried to conceal yourself further. You hunched into yourself with clenched fists. Mistaking your actions for something else, Kid Flash placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey it’s okay! You don’t have to be sacred!”

You bite into your lip eager to escape the conversation, “I’m not. Please let go.”

Kid Flash laughed, sounding a little too similar to Flash in your opinion. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he stood next to you with his hands on his hips. 

“Then why are you hiding?” A red glove entered your vision. It was headed straight for your hood.

You slapped his hand away, “Didn’t your parents tell you not to talk to strangers.”

He shrugged, “That rule doesn’t really apply to superheroes.”

You couldn’t contain the breathy laugh that left your throat. You hate to admit it but you actually really missed the kid. 

However, you failed to realize your mistake. If anyone knew your laugh it was Kid Flash. You spent way too much time around him and Flash for him not too.

There was a long pause. 

“…Webs?”

You flinched hard, “Wrong person.” You internally cursed at yourself for the obvious slur in your voice.

“Are you drunk?”

“…No.”

His hand grabbed your upper arm tightly, “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

You gently pulled against his hold, attempting to break free without force, “I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t,” Kid Flash raised his hand to his ear piece, “Just let me notify Flash-”

“NO!”

Your arm flew up to the communicator without thought. Taking advantage of his surprise, you were able to snatch the high tech earpiece from his loosen grip.

“Hey!” 

Kid Flash grabbed at you. His lanky limbs attempting to reclaim his lost device, “Let go!”

“You let go!” You shoved his face away with the palm of your hand. 

Kid Flash merely continued to grab at the air around you, “Never!”

If this was any other situation you would have laughed. The pair of you looked like children fighting over the last dessert.  

However, this wasn't just any situation. This situation involved Flash. 

“Listen to your elders you brat!” Finally, after a well fought struggle, you managed to hold the device out of arm's reach. A much needed success after the month you've had- 

“Webs?”

You halted in your tracks.

The small communicator in your hand blinked on and off, identifying an unstable signal. 

“Webs is that you?” Flash was urgent, “Wait there! I'm coming-”

You crushed the device in your hand. Terrified.

Small fragments engraved themselves into your skin, dotting your hand red. What have you done? 

“Batman’s gonna kill you for that, you know?” Kid Flash laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

You frowned, uninterested in entertaining him. Kid Flash merely smiled awkwardly. It was evident the boy was taken aback by your unusually serious demeanor. 

The thought didn't take up much space in your mind. You could only think of one thing. When would Flash decide to appear out of thin air?

As if conjuring the hero, a red bolt flew through the mostly empty convenience store. The glass doors shook from the force. While newspapers scattered through the air, Vogue landed atop the cashier's head. 

Though he moved faster than the speed of light, he stood before you still. Unmoving. It was as if you might fade away if he got too close. 

“Webs,” His voice was laced with reverence. 

Your mouth went dry, “Flash.”

The tension between the two of you was thick enough to cut with a knife, suffocating you. Maybe this was how Flash planned to get back at you for ignoring him. Slowly killing you with hypoxia. A metaphorical death pertaining to how he felt during your absence. 

“Woah, this just got really awkward.” 

Kid Flash’s voice suddenly reminded you of his presence. He swayed uncomfortably. Trapped between you and Flash.

The younger male pointed his thumbs at the door, “Should I leave…or?”

“Yes.” 

Startled at your synchronous voices, Kid Flash quickly shuffled toward the door, “Alright. See you later?”

Flash nodded his head in response, ushering his protégé away. Kid Flash couldn't leave fast enough. Magazines, once again disturbed, twirled around the ground from where he left.

You stared at the loose paper. Preferring the sight of perfume ads then whatever expression Flash held. From the corner of your eye you should see him shift. He moved with unease. Your mouth curled slightly. He never was able to stop moving for long. 

“Webs, I-”

You cut him off, “I’m sorry.”

Flash furrowed his brows in confusion, “You don’t need to apologize. It's not your fault.”

“But it is,” You clenched your teeth in frustration, “It's always been my fault.”

The taller male crossed the space between you hesitantly. You flinched when he placed his large hands on your shoulders, completely engulfing them. 

“It wasn't your fault, Webs. Nobody could have known.”

“I could have saved her,” you finally met his gaze, “I was right there.”

You saw his eyes widen slightly, clearly used to your masked form more than your real face. 

Your name spilled from his lips. 

Not just Webs - your name.

You took a shaky breath, “Barry.”

The name was foreign on your tongue. You had tried to keep your personal life separate from hero work. Though that only lasted a year. Barry managed to weasel his way into your home life before you knew it.

You wouldn't have it any other way.

Barry’s hands slid from your shoulders down to your hands, caressing them softly. “Believe me when I say this,” He took a deep breath, “I’ve been in your position before. We all have.”

Breaking eye contact, your stare bore into the wall of cheap booze, “I know.”

“And I know,” He cupped your cheek, “That drinking away your problems won’t help. It only makes it worse.”

You bit your lip, “I just want to forget.”

“I know. God, I know. I want to go back and change that day every time I open my eyes,” He placed his head in the crook of your neck, “But I've been down that road before. And it's not sustainable.”

Your eyes felt hot, your throat dry, “I don’t know what to do.”

Barry pulled your smaller frame into his arms, “No one does.”

You sunk into his embrace, inhaling his scent.

“Let me take you home, Webs.”

“Okay.”

・❥・

You held tightly onto Barry, arms circling his neck, as he brought you home. You had barely enough time to blink before you were standing in front of your apartment’s door.

Barry hesitantly let you down from his hold. Though his arm stayed wrapped around your waist for support. You gave him a gentle smile as a thank you. 

Unlocking your door, you were immediately reminded of the state of your apartment. Dirty laundry and loose items scattered the floor. 

Shame crept up your neck. The uncaring attitude towards your humble abode seemingly disappeared.

Barry entered slowly, taking in the messy state. His eyes were quickly drawn to the empty bottles strewn about your floor. Unsurprisingly, he began to pick one up. Then another. And another. You snapped when he started to replace your trash bag.

“Barry.”

His head whipped toward you, only focusing on you.

“That's enough,” You tried grabbing the bag from him, “You don’t need to.”

Barry held onto the plastic tightly, “I want to.”

You shook your head, “It's my mess. Leave it.”

“No.”

You jolted in surprise at his commanding tone, “Why?”

He tossed the bag to the side, “Why?” 

Laughing dryly, he shook his head, “Why not? Why wouldn't I take care of you?”

You averted your gaze, “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“But you do,” his voice was imbued with desperation, “If you didn’t, I wouldn't have spent a month doing everything in my power to find you!”

Your face felt hot, “I didn't ask you too!”

Barry closed in the space between you, “You didn't have too!”

You weren't sure when the tears began to pour down your cheeks, “I never wanted you too! I just want to be alone! Why can’t you let me be?”

“Because I can't let you be!” Barry’s hand slammed down on your tiny island counter, “You're all I think about! From the moment I wake up to the time I go to sleep, all I know is you. I would rather you hate me for the rest of my life just to see you for a moment than ever ignore you.”

You felt like a deer in headlights, “What?”

“That day when Spider-Girl died,” He gripped the counter, slightly cracking it under the force, “I felt like I lost a piece of you too. And I could bear it.”

You felt like you lost your breath when Barry met your gaze again. His eyes were laced with anguish. Bloodshot rims already forming.

“I know you're hurting. I know what I am experiencing is nothing compared to what you are going through,” He searched your eyes, “But I'm in love with you! And I have been for as long as I can remember.” 

The start of a cry made his voice waver, “And this is definitely poor timing for a confession, but I can’t lose you-”

You weren't exactly sure which one of your muscles was still intact enough for you to move. However, the feeling of plush lips against your own thwarted any other thought.

Barry stood rigid for a moment. Hands clenched at his sides. Then, he dominated the kiss like his life depended on it. His hands held onto your waist tightly, before slowly making their way to your face. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this happy.

Pulling away, you took shallow breaths, “I love you.”

Barry smiled and swiped a loose teardrop from your cheek, “I love you too.”

The warm moment didn't last long. Your mind was quick to remind you that there was a reason Barry had to confess in a messy studio apartment rather than someplace special. That reason was because you were broken.

You pressed you mouth into a thin line, “Do you still want me even if-”

“I want you no matter what,” Barry didn’t allow you to get another word in, “We can go through this together.”

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “You're not alone, Webs. You never were.”

You swallowed hard, “Together?”

"Together."

・❥・

[bitterrfruit]

already FERALLL at this assistant concept more please

omg...... i'm so sorry for this. can you tell i'm ovulating? somebody sedate me please

[he wants a word with you]

Your boss is a prick and a cunthound. You need this job. here's [part 1] for some John POV Executive John Price x EA f!Reader 18+ mdni - 2.5k words - cw: degradation, free use, maybe dubcon?

You follow Mr Price down the stuffy corporate corridor, with your swollen heart in your throat. 

What did you do wrong this time?

Was there an email you failed to send? A meeting you forgot to book? Maybe you saved a document in the wrong place. Maybe you missed one of your many deadlines. 

You watch his besuited back, broad and tall, the billow of his open jacket as he marches ahead of you with long and aggravated strides. The back of his neck burns hot and red, he digs white-knuckled fingers into the angry skin as he rubs it vigorously. 

You pass the incoming traffic of other colleagues, and you see the concern in their glare when they look at Mr Price and then at you. An unspoken apology for your imminent castigation. A silent yikes.

Fuck, he’s going to fire you. Whatever you’ve done must have been catastrophic. Did you cost him profits? Did you humiliate him in front of a client?

“Did I do something wrong?” You anxiously chirp, fearful of being too loud but not wanting him to mishear you over the sheer volume of his fury. 

He doesn’t answer you. 

Instead he comes to a sudden stop, and you almost slam into him with the keen velocity of your pursuit. 

He gestures into the open door on his left, his other hand hooked on his hip under his jacket. 

“I don’t-”

“In,” he grits, lips pursed into an admonishing line, and you do not disobey him. 

With a skip you enter the room, heart thundering in your ears, and he storms in behind you. 

The stationery supply room; cupboards and shelves, full of paper and writing utensils. Atop the counter sits a guillotine cutter, open reams of white A4, a few stray cuttings littered about. On the one bare wall is a hip-height printer, one that most often fails to work. The air is dry and powdery, thick with the clinical scent of fresh paper and ink. 

Mr Price leaves the door ajar, and he wipes down his face with an open and rigid palm. 

“What is wrong with you?” He suddenly blurts, his interrogative glare shoots straight through you. 

His eyes are wide and angry, and you shuffle on your feet, fidget with your fingers. “What did I do?” 

He only steams ahead with his reprimand - closing in on you, heavy step by heavy step, you stagger backwards on instinct. “Slobbering all over that fuckin’ pen. Christ. Are you trying to drive me crazy?” 

Your back hits the wall behind you, it pushes a puff of nervous air from your open lips. Eyes fluttering between his, you choke on any words you think to offer him. 

“I - I don’t - pen? - I didn’t-”

“What more can I do?” He growls, cranes his head to close the distance, “How far away do I have to put you?” 

You suck deep a quivering breath as you blink up at him, his head a foot above yours and his body all but trapping you where you stand. 

“I don’t understand,” you whimper. “What am I doing wrong?”

He huffs like a bull. “You’re fuckin’ killing me, love.” 

You feel your mouth water when he calls you that. It makes your cheeks glow strawberry red. 

“What can - what do you want me to do?” You ask timidly, sweetly - you want so desperately to please him. You can’t lose this job. You can’t have him disappointed in you. 

He rubs his jaw with a straining hand, his murky eyes rake from your lips and linger on the faintest bit of cleavage in the collar of your button down. 

“I want you to turn around.”

His order is uttered dark and hoarse, so low that you feel the vibrations of his voice from where you stand. 

Your lips part gently, bottom lip trembling as you swallow under his heated glower. 

But you do as you’re told. You’re a good listener, you can show him that.  You spin around awkwardly in the tight space between his heaving body and the wall, until you’re met with the cold white drywall against your nose. 

You hear his breathing turn ragged and animal, almost growling, it makes you sweat. You lift your arms cautiously, placing both palms flat on the wall, and stand on the very tips of your toes. 

His hands are on you, then, hasty bear claws comb over your ass and clutch the meat of your hips like you might slither away from him. He tugs you backwards and you rock on your toes, arch your back to meet his pelvis with your behind. 

You feel it, hard as iron and heavy as tungsten behind his straining trousers; he grinds his rigid cock against you, warning you with it, letting you feel the weight of it. He hunches forward, you feel his wiry beard against your cheek and his warm lips against your ear. 

“You proud o’ yourself?” He snarls, a bestial gurgle deep in his chest. “Proud of what you do to me?” 

Your heart buzzes with such speed that it makes you dizzy, turns you stupid. 

“I’m - uh - I’m not-”

You want to smack yourself for your inability to form a single sentence, a single word, as you feel his harsh fingers claw up the back of your thigh, catching in the sheer black nylon that clings to your feverish skin. 

“Nothing to say for yourself?” He gnars into your skin, you feel his teeth as he speaks. “‘Course not. You’re a fuckin’ airhead, aren’t you?” 

His wide paw reaches the hem of your pencil skirt, the fabric too taut to be pulled up with ease - so he clutches the back of it with both hands, grips either side of the stiff kick pleat. 

You yelp as you feel him rip your skirt apart by the seam, the tear of the fabric shrill and ear-splitting. Your head urgently spins on your neck as you shoot a glance at the open door - muted voices of others in the office travel through the gap, blissfully unaware of your indiscretion. 

“Someone might-”

Bitten off by a gasp, his angry fists grasp at your stockings where they meet at a seam that runs down the cleft of your ass. He rips that, too, hurried and ravenous; he stretches a wide hole in the thin nylon that runs in a ladder between your legs. 

“Someone might come in.” You finally find the words, moan them out in a hasty breath like he might cut you off before you can warn him. 

He hisses; “I don’t care.”

His hand forms a blade, slicing between your legs and hooking under the gusset of your knickers; you hold your breath, sucking your lip between your teeth and biting down hard enough to draw blood. His thick fingers run along your slit, goading and mean, triggering a pathetic little whimper from your throat when you don’t have the words to plead. 

They push past your lips, dipping between your sodden folds like he’s checking the temperature before venturing any deeper. You feel him grin against your neck, beard abrasive against your sensitive skin, as he lets out a low, cruel chuff of laughter. 

“Fu-hu-huck,” he chortles, mocking, and you only let out a stifled cry as he coaxes your opening with the tips of greedy fingers. “Like being told off, do you?” 

He kisses the side of your neck in a hungry and messy suck, shivering gooseflesh crawls from his bite and down your spine. He plays with your syrup between his fingers, marvelling at the quantity, the slipperiness. 

You squeak as a single finger presses against the ring of muscle at your entrance, and pushes past it - he hooks it, drags it against your slick inner wall with a pressure that makes you grind against his hand to force it further. 

“Answer me.” 

You whine in complaint before you reply as instructed. “Yes,” you croon, writhing and eager.

He obliges you and stuffs his finger deeper, two knuckles deep, and his palm is flush with your cunt.

“Mh. You do. Fuckin’ soaked, aren’t you?” He hums deeply, hoarsely, pleased. 

He pulls his finger out of you, then, and you groan in frustrated defeat. 

“Don’t fuss, love,” he grumbles. “You’ll get your fill.” 

With your head over your shoulder, you watch in your periphery as he smears his glistening fingers down his lips, under his nose - sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean like he might savour the taste. 

“Mh,” he rasps, grins, letting the scent and flavour of your cunt fill his mouth and sinuses until it turns his shark eyes black and hungry. “Fuckin’ good.” 

You hear the leathery clinking of his belt buckle as he undoes it, the strident rip of his fly as he tears it down. A shuffle, a grunt, and his heavy cock lands against your lower back with a thump. 

You gasp, turn rigid - he runs a firm hand down your spine, rests it in the dip of your back, pushes a deeper curve in the arch. Grasps your hip and yanks it back, rams your body against his, angles your pelvis just right. 

He grabs his cock in a fist, smacks its solid against your ass like it’s a burden. 

Holds his fingers to his lips and hucks up a lump of spit, crude and dirty, you feel him smear it against your cunt as pulls your panties to the side. 

He gives no warning as he feeds his length through the hole he tore in your stockings, slides the blunt and fleshy head along your slit to coat it in the amalgam of fluids that drip from you. His tip finds its sheath, nestling between your folds and rutting against your tight opening as if to taunt you. 

With a hoarse growl he bucks his hips, his cock breaks through your entrance and rams deep into your cunt with a single thrust. It forces a wet and mewling cry from your throat, forgetting that the door to the room is open and freely accessible to anybody you work with. 

“Shh-sh-sh,” he hisses, he undoes his tie with a single hand as the other keeps your hips tight against him. 

He ruts again, somehow deeper still, and you let out a sore yelp - but he shuts you up, stifles your crying as he packs his steel-blue tie into your open mouth. Stuffs the silk fabric behind your teeth until no more will fit, and your saccharine noises are dampened into muffled whimpers. 

“Tha’s better. Fuck,” he curses through teeth. “Can barely fuckin’ fit in that little cunt of yours.”

His hand holds your throat, then, and the other controls your hip with vicious strength - and he fucks you in earnest. Fucks you hard and hostile, the round head of his cock hammers your aching cervix as if he could fuck past it. Fucks you like he’s angry, like he has been eagerly waiting for each forceful thrust - pent up since he met you, fuel only added to the flame every day that you came to work. 

The tie in your mouth is sopping wet with your keening saliva, your eyes well with tears of some twisted rapture - you want to tell him it hurts, but not to tell him to stop. 

“You take it good, don’t you? Found one fuckin’ thing you’re good at, eh?”

You whimper. You like him mean, don’t you? You like him angry. 

You spilled that tea on purpose. You deliberately missed that deadline. You talk loudly because you know it frustrates him. You suckle on that pen because you know he wishes it were his cock. 

His heavy hand clutches your wrist and pins it to the wall in front of you, and you feel light on your feet. The hole in your stockings only tears bigger with each thrust, you can hear the fabric of your pinstripe skirt rip further up the back; likewise, your cunt stretches to fit him to the hilt, the delicate skin threatening to tear as he splits you open. 

With a final rut, pounding hard into your womb, he bites down on the tendinous flesh of your neck and growls into your skin, chuffs out of his nose like a grizzly; “Fuck.”

You feel his cock twitch and surge as he pumps his come deep into you, it overflows - it dribbles down the cleft of your cunt, down your thighs, soaks into the sheer polyester of your stockings. Didn’t think, or didn’t bother to ask if you were on birth control - it doesn’t matter to him. Your cunt is as much his as your livelihood, and he’ll fill it with his come if he pleases. 

He leans his weight against you as he recharges, panting and spent, he rests his forehead against the back of your head. 

“Mh,” he huffs, “fuckin’ needed that.” 

You exhale all the air you had been holding in a breathy whine, cunt still aching and fluttering around the cock stuffed inside it, clit swollen and eager for any ounce of attention. He pays it none - only came to take, no time or interest in giving. 

He pulls his tie out of your mouth in one long rope, it drags a string of glistening saliva with it. 

“I’m-” you breathe furtively, mouth free, “I’m glad I could help.”

He pants out a laugh, deep and gravelly, places a drained kiss into your hair. 

“Help you did,” he assures you, amused and sated. “Next time I want to see all of you. Hear me?” 

“Next time?” You ask timidly. 

He pulls his cock out of you, and the spate of hot come he plugged inside comes out in a gush and soaks your already damp knickers. 

“Aye,” he grunts, tucking his semi-hard cock back into his boxers, insouciantly doing up his belt. “You’d like that, eh?”

You swallow a weary breath, push yourself from the wall and try to shimmy down what’s left of your skirt to conceal the mess he made underneath. 

“I - um,” you hesitate, embarrassed, you tuck a piece of hair that had been fucked astray behind your ear. “I would.” 

A devilish grin stretches in his lips, sharp teeth, as he loops his wet tie under his collar and does it up neatly - as neatly as he can, while it’s covered in the damp splotches of your spit. 

“‘Atta girl.” With a domineering hand he grabs your jaw, tugs your head upward and meets your lips with a single hard kiss. Smiles at you with praise. “Knew you were a slut.”

“I’m n-”

“Head home for the day, will you, love,” he orders rakishly, smoothing out his pale blue button down. “Important meeting. Can’t have any more distractions. Understood?” 

“Yes,” you comply with a simple nod. 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Mr Price.”

“Tha’s my girl.”

[simpingforheros]

Bring Me To Life

Pairing: Arkham Knight!Jason Todd x Female! Reader

Summary: Destroy the Batman and get his companion back? Jason almost didn't believe Slade until... Warnings: Usage of female pronouns, Nudity (NO smut), Swearing, Character Death, Angst, Resurrection, Infantization ( I didn't know how to better describe this), Unhealthy relationship dynamics, Kinda Dark/Obsessive! Jason, Mentions Electroshock therapy, Implied Brainwashing, Slade being a creep, Mentions of Drug Abuse, Mentions of Child Neglect, Mentions of Child Homelessness and unsafe situations, SPOILERS for Death in the Family (Comic 1988) and Arkham Knight.

Author's Note: Hiya Everyone, This is the first fanfic I've written in a while and the christianing fic for this account. I may start a casual little series with this, but I don't know yet. Also any comic and game inaccuracies are either because I forgot or I adjusted it to fit the story.

Also while this post is mostly safe for work, MINORS DNF AND PLEASE READ WARNINGS. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE ANYONE TO STEAL MY WORK OR REPOST IT ON OTHER SITES.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was supposed to be him...

Those dark nights he had spent alone on the streets as a child didn't seem so bad looking back on it. Jason understood struggle even when he had lived with his parents who spent grocery money on alcohol and drugs. Living on the streets didn't feel so much worse, especially since he had... "Jason, Mr. Accetta gave me some scraps from dinner rush today! There's even a whole pizza in here!"

Her. His one friend had since he was thrown into this harsh world. She was the only person he knew at the time to never stop smiling or finding a positive outlook on things. He couldn't even remember when they met, but he could hardly remember them being apart.

Whether he was stealing or fighting, she was there as a faithful lookout or a willing accomplice. She taught him how to take tires off of cars like her granddad taught her and he taught her how to throw a punch like his dad used to throw. An unstoppable duo who ran the alley as well as two 11-year-olds could.

The harsh winter nights they spent crowding together were his favorite memories from that time. Even with the bite of Gotham's winds at their toes, his partner would never falter to talk about anything and everything as he listened. She would talk about her dead grandparents a lot and all the stories she had with them before they passed away, but his mind couldn't recall them at all. He just remembers the constant dream that she told him every night.

"One day, Jay, I'm gonna have enough money and get an apartment in Old Gotham..." Jason's nose turns up as he listens to his friend as he bites on his food. "Why Old Gotham? Isn't it just falling apart?"

She giggles as she pulls the oversized coat closer to her shivering body. The jacket was from a relative but the fabric lost those memories as its fibers were now bones. She still had it even after she left the streets...

"Because it's the most beautiful place in the world...I will get an apartment someday and you and I will live there. We can even get like a cat or something."

The familiar burn on Jason's face blooms as he asks, "Why would you want me there?"

"Because it wouldn't be my dream home unless you're there with me."

He wouldn't find out until a few years later that her grandparents used to live in Old Gotham until her grandfather died and her grandmother had to move as she would unknowingly follow her husband not even a year later...

Those nights in the streets melted into nights spent in the warmth of Wayne manor. As the two thieves became kings after a faithful night with the Batmobile, Jason was brought into the world of crime fighting along with his closest friend. As they trained and donned their capes, She would show a new side of herself to Jason. The overly happy young girl from the streets became an anxious teenager as he became angerier.

"Jason..." Her voice woke him up in the darkest of nights. His body ached from the nightly fights from the previous day as he turned to see a familiar sight.

A now 14-year-old Y/N standing in the crack of the door. Her fidgeting figure indicated all he needed to know before he raised his blanket as she scurried to get in the bed. This was a ritual that started when they moved in. Both would grow anxious at night as they went from the open streets to a large, confining manor. Alfred almost had given up on trying to scold the teens as they were found sharing a bed more times than being separated.

As she curled into his side as much as she could without hurting him, he could practically hear her mind tinkering as her E/C eyes stared into his chest.

There wasn't the need to discuss what was on her mind. At least not right now. She was concerned about the growing tension between Bruce and Jason. He was becoming reckless and Bruce was having none of it with her often getting dragged into the middle of the fights.

He hated that he never tried more...

It shouldn't have surprised him when all the conflict had finally caused a break in the family. Especially when Jason began looking for his birth mother. Y/N tried to be supportive of him as he investigated his leads. Those leads eventually led to Jason reuniting with Bruce as he investigated a possible arms trade in Lebanon. The reconciliation and the prospect of finding his mother left him blind to any form of common sense, but what kind of common sense could a fifteen-year-old make in the life they lived?

He should have listened to her concerns when they finally found Sheila Haywood, his real mother. Y/N had a bad feeling from the start but he dismissed her worries. Jason had no clue that the night he was supposed to meet with Sheila was gonna end up being one of the worst nights of his life....

"Jason, maybe you should wait for Bruce to be here so he can come with you." She suggested softly.

His eyes roll as he adjusts his costume. "Because it's none of his business. I'm just meeting with my mom and talking out some stuff..."

He didn't tell her about the blackmailing he witnessed earlier that day between his mother and the Joker. But, he would find out later that she already knew about it through Bruce.

Her hand reaches for his shoulder and pulls him around to face her. "I'm serious. You shouldn't meet with a woman you barely know in some fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere!"

Jason can remember the hurt he felt when he heard her snap at him, Oh, how angry he got with her when all she wanted was to protect him. He remembers yelling at her the worst thing he thought he could say to her.

Why the fuck did he ever say that to her?

"I'm sorry your parents didn't want anything to fucking do with you, but I'm not gonna let your bitter ass ruin my shot to be with mine."

He remembers the hurt that filled her eyes and the string of regret pooling in his gut. With a fake smile on her face and tears pooling in her eyes, Y/N says softly,

"Okay...I'm sorry," The sharp sting in his neck as she pressed the vial of sedatives Bruce gave her into his veins. "I'm sorry to do this, Jason, but Bruce said you wouldn't go down that easily."

Jason couldn't remember what he said after the spark of betrayal hit him, but he hated himself that the last time he saw those eyes they were clouded with the tears he caused....

"Y/N! Please talk to me!" Jason begs into the coms as he rod on the back of the motorbike with Bruce.

He should have known. Her instincts are never wrong and he doubted her.

When Bruce found him unconscious and told him about how Joker was involved in all of this, Jason should have known that it was all a trap. His mother wasn't a poor blackmailed soul, she was a conniving bitch who profitted.

He also should have known that Y/N was gonna go meet with Sheila instead of him. Where the Joker was waiting for her.

"Y/N, please. Please be okay...." He begged to the coms as he can only think about what he said to her the last time they spoke.

"J...Jason...."

"Y/N!" Relief washed over him like a wave as he heard her voice. Her broken pained moaned of his voice made him sick as he tried to at least rationalized that at least she was alive. "Don't worry, honey. We know where you are and we're coming to help you."

He didn't know that she was laying battered and broken against the locked door as she stared at the bomb that was ticking away on the wall. Her labored breaths blocked out the ticking on the comms as she whispers out.

00:12

"Do you remember the apartment?..."

"What apartment? The one you talked about in the alley? Why are you-?"

She interupts him, he can hear the familiar curl of her smile in her pained voice as she whispered,

"I wanted it to have a window facing the east end...the stars always looked pretty over there..."

00:10

"Y/N, what are you-"

"I wanted one of those Tabby-looking cats like the ones we saw in the alleyway outside of Mr. Accetta's restaurant...Name it Frank after that old Italian fucker...I was hoping we could go back and actually buy dinner in that restaurant someday..."

00:08

"Are you okay? Why are you talking like this? We are almost there. I can see the building! We are almost here. I'M COMING TO SAVE YOU."

Jason's desperation was palpable as he heard his beloved talk like she was on her deathbed. His panic causes Bruce to drive faster as the Batcycle inches closer to the warehouse. "Jason"

00:04

"Jason, I love you...I have since I was 13..." She admits as her voice trembles. "I used to dream we would become the family we always wanted with each other...Thank you for being in my life and I'm sorry I let you down..."

00:03

"Y/N, I -"

00:02

"Wait!"

00:01

"Goodbye, Jason..."

.

.

.

It should have been him who died that night... It was supposed to be him. NOT HER.

Jason blamed himself for her death as soon as he helped pull her broken corpse out of the rubble. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't her. This wasn't his Batgirl. Not his best friend who would run around the manor with him or help him pickpocket pedo freaks on the street. This broken little girl that was in his adoptive father's arms wasn't his first love. She was a bright, kind light who protected her loved ones, not this broken shell who wore her skin...

But, it was her...

He blamed Bruce for it too. He was the one gave her the orders to keep Jason away from the warehouse. He had to have known that she was gonna go instead. Bruce should have known she was because she wanted to be wrong about Sheila so Jason could be happy...

He also blamed the Joker. He wanted that Clown dead... His opportunity presents itself after he tracks Joker down to an abandoned wing of Arkham trying to flee from blowing up a children's hospital.

Blinded by his rage and bloodlust, Jason went in alone and without any communication. Y/N would scold him in her grave as he fell for the trap, sealing him in a cycle of hell for a year.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"What if I could?"

"Do what?"

"Bring her back. Would you be willing to work for Crane if I could bring back the little Batgirl?"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He knew it was bullshit.

Bringing back someone from the dead was impossible.

Jason would have been satisfied if his pseudo-partner/ prisoner, Deathstroke, just told him that he would be able to kill the Batman and wipe the hell hole that is Gotham off the face of the earth. He already dedicated a full year after his escape from Arkham to building his army.

His only regret during this time was not killing Joker himself. Even after all the torture and pain that clown did to him, he regretted not bashing the Joker's skull in after their last encounter as Slade helped him escape. It wouldn't have mattered to him at the time that Slade would have killed him because it wouldn't have been revenge for his own torture.

it would have been for Y/N. For the hell she faced that night. After a few months in Arkham, Jason almost accepted his torture as punishment for not dying that day for her because he experienced everything she felt. Every day he experienced everything she had to feel those short agonizing hours for an entire year. She must have been so scared and Jason couldn't save her.

The only thing that kept him from giving up was the memories he had of her and the burning hatred for those who caused her light to be snuffed out too soon.

He just wanted to feel that warmth again...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"If you can do that, then I'll burn the whole world to the ground for that fucking lunatic."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Please Jason. Let us help you!" Barbara Gordan begged from her cell as Jason snaps at her.

"THERE IS NO HELPING! I CAN FIX IT!"

Jason was manic. His men were being tugged around like dog toys by Batman and Slade had left him hours ago to attend some matter he didn't care to ask about. His time was running thin and he knows he needs to end this soon. It didn't help that those he didn't want involved are here as well like Barbara.

"Sir..." A militia soldier says as he nervously walks into the room. HIs men were already aware how stupid it was to come near him when he's in a crazed anger. Jason's head whipped at him like a feral man as he grits out.

"What is it?"

"Deathstroke is here...and he uh..."

Impatience reaches a boiling point as Jason raises his gun and shoots the militia solider in the head as Barbara shrieks. The red puddle of death fills the sterile room with lead as Deathstroke walts in. Jason turns his back towards him as places his helmet back into place.

"My, what a mess you made." Deathstroke mockingly scolds. The hidden smirk almost causes Jason to snap again.

"Where have you been? Batman is out there taking down my tanks faster than my men can repair them. You told m-!"

The Arkham Knight's monologue was intruppted as he turns to scold Slade by his heart dropping to his stomach at the sight before him. He swore that if he didn't hear Barbara's gasp and the whisper of fate's name, he would have woken up back in that dreaded wing of Arkham Asylum.

Slade chuckles as he rattles the chain in his hand as he says coyly, "What? Am I not allowed to go fetch your payment?"

Standing behind Deathstroke was a naked woman. Her tangled up (H/C) hair ran down her shoulders as her wide innocent eyes shined through the now white tendrils framing her face. Her body seemed more mature but all muscle mass she had was faded. Her face seemed aged but he recognized the curve of her nose and those lips he imagined smiling at him through his darkest moments.

"Y/N?" He helplessly calls out to her as he feels himself pulled towards her like a magnet.

If it wasn't for the stark white streak and gnarly, painful-looking scars on her body, Jason would have thought this was Scarecrow's fear toxin. It couldn't be possible, right? She was dead. He knew she was because he held her body. He felt how cold she was and watched how her lifeless eyes looked up to the ash ridden sky.

Those eyes now looked at him with no familiarity, but a childlike wonder as she naively smiles at him.

"How?" Was all the Arkham Knight could muster as he reaches to grab her. To pull her into his arms and never let her leave.

Deathstroke grabs the collar that was wrapped around her neck and yanks her back behind him as she chokes on her breath. He chuckles as he looks back into Jason's voiceless mask.

"The Lazarus Pit brought back her body." He explains as he hauntingly twirls the chain in his hand. "Of course, after you agreed to work with Crane, I brought her back immediately. Unfortunately, the poor thing suffered from Pit Madness."

A cruel smirk appears on Deathstrokes lips as he pushes the girl's hair back to reveal circular scars on her temples. Jason felt rage bubbling up in his throat as he recognized what those scars were.

Prolonged Electroshock Therapy

"You sick!" Before Jason could throw a punch, Slade places his gun on Y/N's forehead as he chuckles. The woman didn't even sense the danger as she continued to observe everyone with a curious eye. Jason immediately backs off as Slade continues.

"Of course. Her treatment did cause her to be cured of the madness but at the cost of her memories. She barely remembers how to take care of herself so you make it like that. Especially when you want to fuck her."

Jason was thankful for his mask as he would have killed him from his glare. To imply that she was just a potential fucktoy made him itch to bury this man in the deepest bowels of hell. As he quietly glares at him, Slade finally offers him the chain. The Arkham Knight accepts the chain as the assassin warns him,

"Now since you got your payment. You better keep your end of the deal..." His voice becomes threatening as he says.

"Because I can easily kill her just as I brought her back.'"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

AN: I was gonna write more, but I got exhausted so this is all I got. Let me know if it's a vibe or not.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT AUTHORIZE THE COPYING, STEALING, OR REPOSTING OF MY WORKS ON OTHER WEBSITES WITHOUT CREDIT.

[thelasttime]

surprise songs - eras tour

3/17 - glendale, arizona : “mirrorball” and “tim mcgraw”

3/18 - glendale, arizona: “this is me trying” and “state of grace”

3/24 - las vegas, nevada: “our song” and “snow on the beach”

3/25 - las vegas, nevada: “cowboy like me” and “white horse”

3/31 - arlington, texas: “sad beautiful tragic” and “ours”

4/1 - arlington, texas: “death by a thousand cuts” and “clean”

4/2 - arlington, texas: “jump then fall” and “the lucky one”

4/13 - tampa, florida: “speak now” and “treacherous”

4/14 - tampa, florida: “the great war” and “you’re on your own kid”

4/15 - tampa, florida: “mad woman” and “mean”

4/21 - houston, texas: “wonderland” and “you’re not sorry”

4/22 - houston, texas: “a place in this world” and “today was a fairytale”

4/23 - houston, texas: “begin again” and “cold as you”

4/28 - atlanta, georgia: “the other side of the door” and “coney island”

4/29 - atlanta, georgia: “high infidelity” and “gorgeous”

4/30 - atlanta, georgia: “i bet you think about me” and “how you get the girl”

5/5 - nashville, tennessee: “sparks fly” and “teardrops on my guitar”

5/6 - nashville, tennessee: “out of the woods” and “fifteen”

5/7 - nashville, tennessee: “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” and “mine”

5/12 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “gold rush” and “come back…be here”

5/13 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “forever & always” and “this love”

5/14 - philadelphia, pennsylvania: “hey stephen” and “the best day”

5/19 - foxborough, massachusetts: “should’ve said no” and “better man”

5/20 - foxborough, massachusetts: “…question?” and “invisible”

5/21 - foxborough, massachusetts: “i think he knows” and “red”

5/26 - east rutherford, new jersey: "getaway car" and "maroon"

5/27 - east rutherford, new jersey: “holy ground” and “false god”

5/28 - east rutherford, new jersey: "welcome to new york" and "clean"

6/2 - chicago, illinois: "i wish you would" and "the lakes"

6/3 - chicago, illinois: "you all over me" and "i don't wanna live forever"

6/4 - chicago, illinois: “hits different” and “the moment i knew”

6/9 - detroit, michigan: "haunted" and "i almost do"

6/10 - detroit, michigan: "all you had to do was stay" and "breathe"

6/16 - pittsburgh, pennsylvania: "mr. perfectly fine" and "the last time"

6/17 - pittsburgh, pennsylvania: "seven" and "the story of us"

6/23 - minneapolis, minnesota: “paper rings” and “if this was a movie”

6/24 - minneapolis, minnesota: “dear john” and “daylight”

6/30 - cincinnati, ohio: "i'm only me when i'm with you" and "evermore"

7/1 - cincinnati, ohio: “ivy,” “i miss you, i’m sorry,” and “call it what you want”

7/7 - kansas city, missouri: “never grow up” and “when emma falls in love”

7/8 - kansas city, missouri: “last kiss” and “dorothea”

7/14 - denver, colorado: “picture to burn” and “timeless”

7/15 - denver, colorado: “starlight” and “back to december”

7/22 - seattle, washington: “this is why we can’t have nice things” and “everything has changed”

7/23 - seattle, washington: "tied together with a smile" and "message in a bottle"

7/28 - santa clara, california: “right where you left me” and “castles crumbling”

7/29 - santa clara, california: “stay stay stay” and “all of the girls you loved before”

8/3 - los angeles, california: "i can see you" and "maroon"

8/4 - los angeles, california: "our song" and "you are in love"

8/5 - los angeles, california: “death by a thousand cuts” and “you’re on your own kid”

8/6 - los angeles, california: "i know places" and "king of my heart"

8/7 - los angeles, california: "new romantics" and "new year's day"

8/24 - mexico city, mexico: "i forgot that you existed" and "sweet nothing"

8/25 - mexico city, mexico: "tell me why" and "snow on the beach"

[tojisbbg]

𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚

❝call out my name when i kiss you so gently.❞  

♡ uzui tengen ♡ 

a/n: first demon slayer piece!! i picked up the anime after a long time and i forgot how horrendously down bad i was for this man. 

a/n (cont.): also! my apologies if tengen’s a bit out of character, i tried my best lol. this writing piece is very long because i don’t believe in porn without plot, i need plot and context. word count is stated below!

word count: 12.2k

content: uzui tengen x fem!reader, tengen isn’t married, reader is one of the hashiras, enemies to lovers, minor plot (if you squint), spoilers (sorry), lots of teasing and bickering, smut smut smut!!, all acts are consensual, not edited for grammatical errors.

...

“god, i hate these uniforms.” you groaned in annoyance, shuddering as the soft skin of mitsuri’s fingers grazed your chest while she helped you button up. the girl giggled at your daily complaint. 

it was true, you truly hated these god awful uniforms that were provided to you by the demon slayer corps. the shirts were so tight, you’d think that the manufacturers forgot how human anatomy works and that everyone’s body isn’t the same. 

needless to say, the shirt didn’t fit your chest, so you’d had to go with the mitsuri-style of wearing your uniform. 

“hm, well, now whose fault is it for having these huge tits?” she shamelessly asked, poking your boobs jokingly, which made your cheeks burn. 

“hey! it’s not like i personally asked the gods to give me them. besides, you have them too!” you defended, averting from her teasing eyes. 

“yeah, but i’m proud of having these babies. anyways, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. they sit so nice and pretty, if i was a guy, i think i would purposely hug you face first on your chest.” mitsuri smirked, making you gasp as you playfully landed a smack on her upper arm. 

“mitsuri! geez, you’re such a little perv.” you said as you squished her cheeks, making her laugh as the sound was contagious enough to make you crack a smile.  

you love mitsuri with all your heart, she’s the ball of sunshine in your life that you needed. you’ve been a hashira for about two years now and she was your first friend and now your best friend. 

it’s important to mention that you were very disliked in the demon slayer corps at first. the other hashiras, such as sanemi, obanai and giyuu didn’t speak to you for months because you were taken in for a hashira position so quickly. 

less than a week to be exact. 

the amount of skill that you have is almost inhumane and was never seen before. you were given the position without any prior training or requirements. 

after all, you took an upper moon down by yourself, which was pretty impressive for a first timer who claims to have no experience. 

nonetheless, mitsuri and rengoku were your only friends. you have a huge soft spot for both of them, but after the incident that occurred in the mugen train, both you and mitsuri went down a pretty dark path. 

but, you made sure to comfort her as much as she did to you. you both have each other and you swore to protect her just like how she did to you. 

you both were platonic soulmates without a doubt. 

“y/n!” you heard tanjiro’s voice behind you, making both you and mitsuri turn around. 

“oh, ‘jiro!” you flashed him a smile as you waved at the redhead. 

“the crow spoke to me this morning, we got assigned a new mission.” he said eagerly, panting a little, which indicated that he probably ran around in circles to find you. you hummed in response, ruffling his hair. 

“ah, so you’re with me. inosuke and zenitsu are on it too, i assume?” you questioned, accepting the cup of green tea that mitsuri handed you as you took a sip. 

“yup, and also mr. tengen.” tanjiro nodded with a nervous smile. you choked on your tea, coughing as mitsuri patted your back. 

“what?! why is he coming??” you yelled, making tanjiro’s eyes widen as he gulped. 

“u-uhm, it’s ‘cause i heard that we’re fighting an upper rank six. the more help we get, the better.” he tried to calm you down, but the information he relayed only angered you further. 

“huh?! do those shitty higher ups think that i can’t kill an upper moon myself without that cocky bitch?!” you raised your voice, eyes glaring in the distance as tanjiro gasped. 

“n-no! y/n, you got it all wrong! i di-”

“i’m gonna have a word with those stupid hags.” you spat out angrily, marching off before you felt tanjiro wrap himself behind you in an attempt to halt your movements. 

“let go, tanjiro. i’m not going on a mission with that stupid freak.” you tried to desperately peel yourself away from his hold, but tanjiro’s hold was tight. 

“please, y/n! why don’t you understand that this is not the time for your pride or his pride to get in the way. inosuke and zenitsu already suffered from minor injuries because mr. tengen lashed out from hearing about you joining the mission.” tanjiro informed, making you scoff. 

“that arrogant little shit. i’m gonna kill him for sure now!” you exclaimed, making tanjiro cry out as he begged mitsuri to help him cage you inside the room. 

“y/n! please, just listen! after losing one of the hashiras already, we need to be sure that we don’t lose another. i don’t want to lose you or mr. tengen. so, please, just try to get along with him or you can just stay with me and the other two.” he suggested, and as much as you hated the idea of being stuck with tengen, you adored tanjiro like a little brother and saying ‘no’ to him was pretty hard. you let out a heavy sigh in defeat.

“fine, but if he pisses me off, i’m gonna slice his throat with my blade.” you threatened, making tanjiro’s face turn pale as he let out a nervous laugh. 

“everything will be fine, y/n. don’t worry.” tanjiro assured, but you didn’t pay mind to his words because it will go down like how it usually does when you get placed together with tengen. 

with you both at each other's neck, of course.

“hmm, i think you secretly like tengen, y/n.” mitsuri flashed you a mischievous grin, making your jaw drop to the ground. 

“did you not hear about me wanting to execute his murder literally a few minutes ago?” you asked in disbelief, wondering if your best friend was okay in the head. however, the two-toned hair colored woman simply laughed at your words. 

“you both quarrel like an old married couple.” she giggled, making you let out a fake gag in response.

“disgusting, i’d rather marry obanai’s snake than him.” you retorted, making mitsuri gasp from your obnoxious words. 

“you’re crazy!” mitsuri looked at you with wide eyes. 

“no, you’re crazy for even thinking that i wanna even breathe the same air as that shithead!” you sneered, making mitsuri scoff. 

“don’t be silly, he’s totally your type. you told me that you like tall guys, more on the muscular side, extroverted to fit your opposite personality and someone who’s very sexy.” she smirked, watching how a deep blush tinted your cheeks as your lips twitched, trying to formulate words to defend yourself. 

“i was not referring to him!” you quickly blurted out, walking ahead as you wanted to leave the conversation. 

“mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night.” mitsuri said as she ran up to you, linking her arm with yours as you rolled your eyes. 

“shut up, i don’t like tengen. he’s an arrogant jackass that pisses me off.” you grumbled under your breath. 

“i’m a what now, princess?” you suddenly heard a deep voice coming from behind you, making you yelp from how startled you were. 

“what the fuck is wrong with you?! can’t you let your presence be known, creep.” you glared at him, mitsuri happily greeting the giant as you ignored his presence. 

“creep? no, no, no. you must be mistaken. i am the god of festivals, the flashiest being on the planet, and the best of the best!! i also happen to have very good ears to hear a certain little rat talk ill of my superior being.” tengen cockily gave his speech, making you groan in irritation. 

“spit out one more word and i swear i’m gonna rip your tongue out.” you threatened in a low voice, to which didn’t scare the 6′6ft man, as he only gave you a chuckle in response to mock your attempt of being intimidating. 

“what was that? i couldn’t quite hear you from down there. it just sounds like squeak squeak squeak i’m stupid squeak squeak lord tengen is the best squeak squeak!” he said in a very obnoxious and annoying fake high-pitched voice, making your blood boil as you turned around to face him. 

“you little shit!” you yelled, before lunging at him and jumping to cling on his very inconveniently tall body. your actions caught tengen by surprise, quickly placing an arm on your hips to make sure that you don’t fall on your ass. 

“i said that i’m gonna kill you if you don’t shut up, uzui tengen!!” you said in a louder voice, closer to his face as you harshly pinched his cheeks. 

“ouch, ouch! it hurts, y/n!!” tengen whined, trying his best to release himself from your deathly grip. 

“good, that was the whole point.” you grinned in satisfaction, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“look at you being so close to my face and with your tongue out too. you wanna french kiss me that bad, princess?” tengen teased, making you immediately pull your hands and face back to create distance between you both, your face scrunching up in disgust. 

“as i said before, i’d rather kiss kaburamaru than you, freak!” you quickly defend, trying to slip away from his embrace, but tengen only tightened his hold on you. 

“hmm, i don’t think i’ll let you goo~.” he sang out, making you cry out to your friends to help you escape the beefy man’s hold. 

“they’re definitely in love, right tanjiro?” mitsuri asked the boy who was standing next to her and witnessing the entire thing. 

“oh, for sure. i’m a strong shipper of y/n x mr. tengen.” tanjiro responded, making mitsuri squeal. 

“oh my, me too!! let’s start our little club and play cupid with them.” she eagerly suggested, making tanjiro laugh and nod. 

you were finally able to peel yourself away from tengen, which was not as easy done as said, but you somehow did it. you threw a sharp glare at tanjiro and mitsuri who were giggling at god knows what while you just battled death. you stomped over to them before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“you traitors.” you spat out, making the both of them grow silent as they side eyed each other, trying to contain their laughter. 

“sorry, y/n, but tengen is strong for us too. we wouldn’t be much of a help.” mitsuri said, which was a total lie that both you and her knew, but you were too tired to argue. 

“ugh, whatever. ‘jiro, get inosuke and zenitsu to meet up with us in front of the gates. it’s almost sunset, so we should start moving.” you instructed the scar-faced boy, making him nod as he obliged. 

you turned around, about to walk off, only to be spun back around before getting pulled into a bone crushing hug. you let out a heavy sigh, already knowing the words that would come towards you now. 

“hey!! you jerk, don’t just walk off without telling me goodbye. tch, you better come back to me in one piece, alright? i have to braid your hair tonight, so you must come back. i know i tell you this before every mission, but i really love you, y/n. you’re my best friend, and i can’t lose you. so, don’t be stubborn. if you need help, then ask the others, okay idiot?” mitsuri softly spoke, her squeeze on you tightening with every word. 

your heart melted as you returned her hug, a smile forming on your lips. no one in this entire universe would be able to describe the bond that you both had as it ran too deep to even measure. 

“i love you too, mitsuri. how can i leave you when i still have to attend your and obanai’s wedding, hm? i’ll be back home tonight, in one piece, i promise.” you assured her, looking into her gentle green eyes that held so much adoration for you. 

she was the love hashira after all. 

“i know you will, y/n. you’re a strong little thing and i believe in you.” she gave you a warm smile before you both pulled away. 

both you and tengen waved mitsuri goodbye before taking off. needless to say, tengen’s serious mode is quite enjoyable because he finally shuts up. 

---

“yeah? well, maybe if you weren’t such a manwhore, then you’d probably have a wife right now.”

“are you jealous that i can pull bitches and that you can’t?”

“i could have a whole harem full of men if i wanted to.”

“but would they offer to be your husband?”

“...”

“then we’re equals!”

“i would never want to be your equal, that’s just me disrespecting myself.”

“excuse me?! i am the god of fe-”

tengen was rudely cutt-off midway his sentence as the ceiling broke down, his hands instinctively pulling you towards him as your back collided with his hard chest. there were multiple screams coming from everywhere as the commoners looked horrified. 

“huh, i guess finding our little friend tonight wasn’t as hard as we thought.” you sneered, walking further in to find the source of all of this commotion. 

your eyes widened as you saw tanjiro on the ground struggling to tame nezuko who was in her full demon form. however, tegen seemed more surprised than you because this was his first time witnessing it. 

“damn, what a flashy way to demonize your sister.” tengen said in awe as the poor girl was out of her mind and clawing at the air. 

“holy shit, then we’ve come pretty late. you look very beat up, ‘jiro.” you said with apologetic eyes, taking note of how tired he looked as he panted and was covered in some blood. 

“yeah, the demon’s pretty strong. she- nezuko please! just go to sleep!” tanjiro begged, tears pooling in his eyes as you felt useless since you had no solution for him. 

“take her outside in a safe place and try to think of something that would bring her mind back to something that is close to her. maybe like a song or tune that your mother used to sing. we got this from here.” you gave him a small smile, making him nod his head as he quickly grabbed a hold of nezuko before leaving. 

“hey!! why aren’t you guys paying attention to me!” you heard a high-pitched voice yell, making both your and tengen’s head turn. 

“god, your voice is so annoying, it nearly made my ears bleed.” you grimaced, taking a look at the female in front of you. it was the demon that tanjiro was talking about, but she looked so... weak?

“huh?! you dare to say that to me, you ugly looking shit!” she angrily remarked, making you giggle. 

“of course, if i were you, i wouldn’t even need a demon slayer to kill me. i’d just kill myself if i had such a hideous voice like that.” you shrugged, making tengen let out a muffled chuckle as he tried to hide it behind his palms. 

“you fools, you may be hashiras, but i’m one of the strongest demons out there. i’m one of the upper moons, ranked in number six. the name’s daki, so don’t forget it when you’re on your last breath by the end of this battle.” daki smirked, but both you and tengen exchanged an expression of amusement. 

“what? there’s no way you’re an upper moon six. you’re so weak and unskilled, i could end you in two seconds.” tengen scoffed, making daki’s eyes widen at the insult as she gritted her teeth. 

“the fuck did you just say to me, you meat sack?!” she snarked. 

“what a pity. not only is your voice ugly and you’re weak, but you’re dumb too! jeez, that’s just foul. here, would you like to take my katana and just end your sad little life on your own before we do?” you pulled out your katana and offered it in a way to taunt her. daki’s eyes twitched at your words as she ran at you, only to have her head laying on her lap in just seconds. 

“h-huh? did you just cut my head off?! it’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!! you both are so mean to me and this is just bullying!” daki cried, making you confused as you looked at tengen who looked equally as lost as you were. 

“is this some kind of a joke? there’s no way she’s throwing a tantrum right now.” tengen chuckled in disbelief. 

“what a child.”

“i know, right? her parents must’ve been so fed up with her. she’s so not flashy at all.”

“ugh, and she has white hair like you, so she’s automatically ugly.”

“excuse me?! do not compare me to that thing. i’ll dye my hair to black then with mitsuri’s dye.”

“you both deserve to die for ganging up on me like this! big brother i need your help!” she suddely called out, and you gasped as you saw another demon emerge from her body. 

“holy shit-” you were struck, not even being able to form proper sentences. 

“oh? how interesting. the fun has just begun.” tengen smirked, his hands gripping the shaft of his katanas. 

this was going to be a long battle. 

---

“you stupid bitch! you have some nerve to insult my looks when you look like you were picked up from the trash. i’m a beauty icon!” daki cackled, watching you struggle to sit back up after forcefully thowing you across the building with her belt. 

you groaned in ache as it felt like your bones were nearly shattered to pieces. you lost sight of tengen, assuming that he was probably handling the brother. you heard the clacks of her heels grow closer and you knew that if you didn’t get back up on your feet soon, things won’t be good. 

so, you focused on your breathing to heal. 

“beauty icon? don’t make me laugh. you look like the fat shit that i took earlier in the morning. actually, no. you don’t even deserve to be compared with my shit.” you frantically laughed at her, watching her ball her fists, grinding her teeth at your words. 

“that’s it, i’ve had enough of you. it’s time to put an end to you right now.” she maliciously smirked, her belt coming towards you to wrap around your figure, only for her to lose sight of you. 

“huh?” she looked around in confusion. 

“too slow.” you scoffed, holding your katana tightly before beginning to slice her belts. being partnered up with tengen on missions and training allowed you to adopt some of his notable skills. one of them being to move very fast to the point where it almost seemed like you were teleporting. a blue flame began to wrap around her belts, burning them to crisps as daki bellowed in pain. 

“you burned my belts!” fat tears began to roll down her cheeks as she fell on her knees, gasping and crying out in pain. 

“i wish i could hold even an ounce of sympathy for you, but sadly i don’t.” you coldly said before harshly landing a clean slice on her neck, making her decapitated head fly far from her body. 

a sigh of relief left your lips, but you let your guard down way too soon. forgetting how demons work, it slipped out of your mind that even though her head was cut off, her body was still functioning. 

you both were still on the roof of a very tall building and you didn’t notice when daki’s body came behind you as you were now pushed off. your eyes widened in horror as you felt yourself lose balance, feet slipping of the edge as you didn’t have the opportunity to grab something. 

you screwed your eyes tight, waiting for the impact of the cold soiled ground to come into a harsh contact with your already weak and aching body. however, that never happened as a strong pair of arms caught you, your eyes opening to see tengen look down at you with a playful smile. 

“you just can’t do anything without my help, can you?” tengen narrowed his eyes. 

“tch, i didn’t even ask for your help.” you rolled your eyes, yet you were still thankful for him saving your life. 

“ugh, this is why you’re not very flamboyant, y/n.” he let out a dramatic sigh before completely dropping his hands to the side without warning, making you crash on the ground with a yelp. 

“you absolute shithead!” you yelled at him, groaning in pain as you shot him a glare. 

you glanced up to the roof to see that daki’s body was now laying hopelessly, and you know that you should probably go look for her head, but you were too tired and pained to even move. 

“did you take care of the crybaby?” tengen asked, referring to daki. 

“kinda.” you replied, a hint of embarrassment in your tone. 

“kinda? what do you mean?” he furrowed his very thin white eyebrows. 

“i managed to slice off her head but i let my guard down too soon. so, i don’t know where her head went and her body is pretty beat up but could still function.” you informed him, watching tengen’s face turn into one of disappointment. 

“you’re not that careless to mess up like that, y/n. i’ve sliced her head off almost twenty times, so you know that’s not an effective method to kill her.” he nagged at you, making you feel slightly irritated. 

“you think i don’t know that, genius? my body can barely stand and i’m losing so much blood that i feel like i can pass out any moment.” you tried to reason with him, only for him to scoff. 

“if you can’t handle a little bit of blood loss and body ache then why are you a hashira? this shouldn’t be new to you, y/n.” tengen’s words felt like a jab at your pride with every word that he spoke. 

“i made a mistake, okay?! i can’t do anything about it!” you spoke through gritted teeth. 

“yeah? well, it was a very stupid mistake that only brainless people make!” he yelled back at you before giving you a glare. your jaw dropped, unable to even form words to defend yourself. 

he was right, it was a very stupid mistake. 

tengen almost immediately regretted his words, but it was too late to take it back now. he saw how you grew quiet, eyes planted on the ground as he watched you slowly slide back to lean against the wall. he wanted to say something, but would soon be interrupted by gyutaro, who has found him once again. 

even keeping your eyes open at this point was draining. your head throbbed and your body felt completely numb. you had no clue where daki’s head went and you didn’t know where tanjiro was either. 

you felt your eyelids growing heavier and before you knew it, you passed out. 

---

“y/n! y/n! wake up, please! y/n!” you heard a voice desparately call out for you, your body being shaken back and forth. you slowly opened your eyes, vision still slightly a little blurry as you were able to make out some fuzzy burgundy and green bits on the figure. 

“tanjiro?” your voice came out as a whisper. 

“yes, it’s me, y/n. are you okay?” tanjiro softly asked, helped you sit up straight as you grimaced in pain. 

“i’ve been better.” you tried to laugh it off, but it even hurt to laugh. 

“mr. tengen and i managed to weaken the brother, but it’s not enough to kill him. we’re just buying some time to recover ourselves.” he said, gulping harshly and you could sense the fear in his voice. 

“hey, we’re not gonna die, okay? help me stand up so that i could go over to that airhead over there.” you pointed a shaky finger at tengen who was panting in the distance while gyutaro’s body was at a farther distance. 

tanjiro helped you up and held onto you as you walked over to where tengen stood. you could see how fatigued he was, the poison that was injected into his body earlier began to spread. he was so out of it, that he didn’t know that gyutaro was creeping behind him, claws out with the intent to chop a limb off. 

both you and tanjiro began to yell his name, but tengen was too distracted to even hear you both. you quickly got out of tanjiro’s hold, sprinting towards the weak man with whatever energy that you had left in your body, throwing yourself onto him. you both came crashing to the ground, rolling off to the side and dodging the attack. 

“y/n?” tengen called out your name in surprise. 

“this is me paying off my debt to you for saving me earlier.” you quickly muttered, before standing up as you pulled out your katana. 

“missed me?” you heard the familair high pitched voice coming from behind. your head turned around to see daki, full recovered before she took one of her belts and wrapped it around you. 

gyutaro took this an an opportunity to get back to the unfinished business him and tengen had. 

tanjiro quickly sliced through the belt to release you. as far as you know, inosuke has been taken down by daki as he was now trying to recover the severe wound he got. you don’t know where zenitsu went. 

“tanjiro, go help tengen fight the brother. i don’t think he’ll be able to hang on by himself for long.” you quickly directed him, but tanjiro seemed conflicted. 

“but, what about you, y/n?” tanjiro asked with concern washing over his face. you thinned your lips, only to have some hope in your eyes as you saw a sleeping zenitsu creeping up behind daki. 

“zenitsu and i got it from here.” you gave him a small smirk. 

---

it was finally over.

both daki and gyutaro were taken down. you laid on the ground, feeling like your heart was going to explode any moment from how irregular your breathing was. there was a huge blast, landing you at a distance and you had no idea where zenitsu was.

all you knew was that the demons were taken down. you saw tanjiro running off to somewhere, along the lines of saying how he won’t be at peace until he found both of their heads. 

as bad as it sounded, you had no energy left inside you to care. you felt like a dead corpse. you’ve fought many upper ranked demons before, you even took some very powerful demons down on your own, but this by far was the one that nearly knocked you off. 

it was because there was two to deal with, double the trouble. 

you’ve been laying on the ground for god knows how long, probably fifteen minutes or so. you tried to control your breathing, trying to envision every single blood vessel within you to deal with the aches and wounds that you had. 

from what you know so far, everyone was still alive to some extent that can be taken care of. other members of the corps were on their way, such as kakushis and obanai was said to be on his way as well. 

although, the serpent pillar was taking his sweet lovely time. 

after some time, you finally felt your body somehow become a little more alive. so, you tried to slowly stand up, knees still slightly a little wobbly but you regained your balance. you walked, well more like limped, around the area as your eyes scanned for tengen. 

finding him didn’t take very long as you saw him resting on a pile of rubble. you scoffed, walking to him before crouching down as he glanced at you weakly. 

“you look like shit.” you blurted out, making him chuckle at you usual sharp tongue. 

“thanks, you look even shittier.” tengen replied, his words having a little lisp added to them but you didn’t pay too much mind to it. 

there was a thick silence that was placed between you too, the only sound that could be heard was the heavy breathing that was coming from tengen. 

“you alright?” you asked in a gentle voice.

“could’ve been better, although, i don’t think i can hang on much longer.” he gave you a sad smile, making your heart drop to your stomach. 

“w-what do you mean?” you stammered, gulping down the lump that formed in your throat. 

“the poison he injected inside me is way too strong for my body to fight against it.” tengen let out a pained groan, making you rush to his side as you examined his body. nearly all of the skin he had exposed right now was purple from the poison and worry took over your mind. 

“stop talking like that, you idiot. you’re gonna be fine, you hear me? the kakushis are on their way and they’ll have an antidote to reverse this. you’ll be okay.” you said with soft eyes, grabbing a hold of his cold hands to provide some warmth to him. tengen hummed is slight amusement. 

“oh? do i see the cold-hearted y/n being mushy for the great god of festivals?” he teased, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how unhinged he can be sometimes, even when he’s nearly on the brink of death. 

“unfortunately, yes. you get on my nerves a lot and you’re a complete idiot, but i need you to stay alive and continue doing that. i need you to keep bothering me and making me wanna strangle you. so, you can’t die on me, okay?” you gave his hands a gentle squeeze, making him gaze at your face. 

in tengen’s point of view, you looked so beautiful, even though you were covered in blood, scars and dust. he noticed the scar on your cheek, which you got from gyutaro when you saved tengen from losing his arm. 

“does it hurt a lot?” tengen asked, a weak finger coming up to lightly graze the scar on your cheek. 

“not so much.” you winced a little after feeling his touch. 

“i’m sorry.” he suddenly apologized, making your breath hitch. 

“it’s okay, it was just a defense inst-”

“no, not for that. i mean, i’m sorry for the scar too. but mainly for what i said earlier to you.” tengen’s voice was laced with guilt as you tried to think back to what he was talking about earlier. 

oh. 

you realized what he was referring to. 

“it’s fine, don’t worry about it. in one way, you weren’t wrong about it.” you admitted as you shrugged your shoulders. tengen shook his head before opening his mouth to speak. 

“no, i was in the wrong. i was so angry and frustrated at myself for not being able to take down either of them that i lashed out on you. i know it was a mistake, but i used it as something to attack you with. so, for that i’m sorry.” he sincerely apologized, and you knew that there was not even a speck of bullshit in his words. 

“we’re okay, tengen.” you offered him a comforting smile before stroking his messy white locks which came undone from his ponytail. 

tengen could feel the poison slowly making his heartbeat irregular, from erratic to dangerously slow, his vision was growing fuzzy and his tongue was getting stiff. 

“i need to let my last words out, so hear me out, please.” tengen requested and your heart shattered to a million pieces. 

“stop talking crazy! you’ll be fine.” you panicked, feeling useless and desparate as your eyes scanned for any source of help. 

“you’re an amazing hashira, y/n. i mean, being able to climb into these ranks and this position in less than a week without any prior training is beyong impressive. i’ve always admired and respected you. you’re very flashy and flamboyant.” he gave you a wide smile, making your heartbeat increase as his words flustered you. 

“i think he injected you with too much poison, ‘cause you’re out of your mind.” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood, which worked as the weak male in front of you laughed. 

“there’s something else i’ve been wanting to tell you too, y/n.” he cleared his throat, making all your attention go to him. 

“hm?” you hummed. 

“i l-”

suddenly, his words came to a halt. his expression pained as he slouched back, his mouth closed. 

“tengen? tengen! oh god, what the fuck is taking them so long to come?” you yelled in frustration and fear as you stood up and started to call for help in every corner, but it was futile. 

you came back to where tengen sat, sitting on your knees as you gently cupped his face. you saw how his eyelids fought to keep open, tears welling in your eyes. 

“don’t try to speak, just focus on your breathing, okay? y-you’ll be fine.” you stuttered towards the end, your voice breaking as you let your tears fall. tengen’s eyes softened upon seeing you cry, bringing a shaky hand to wipe your tears away as he shook his head, an attempt to tell you to not cry. 

you heard rushed footsteps coming from behind you, turning around quickly to see the kakushis hurrying to your side. you moved over a little, allowing them to take a look at tengen. 

“he’s been poisoned and it’s really bad. give him a strong antidote, please.” you begged, watching them nod at your words as one of them dug into the medical kit to pull out a small bottle before handing it to you. 

you opened it before placing the bottle near his lips, as tengen obliged and drank the medicine. 

“this is the strongest antidote that we have access to. it works almost immediately.” one of the kakushis informed you. 

but nearly five minutes has passed and nothing has improved about tengen’s condition, it only seems to have gotten worse. 

“it’s not working. do you think maybe a second dose would work then?” you asked, eyes pleading for any kind of solution that could reverse this mess and put your heart at ease. 

“miss. y/n, there’s no other option. i don’t think-”

“no! no, you can’t say that!” you cried, looking over at tengen who tried his best to keep a small smile whenever you looked at him. you chewed on your lips, knowing that he was trying to mask away his pain to make you feel less shitty. 

you couldn’t help but throw yourself on him, straddling his lap as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck. you started to sob, it sounded really loud and ugly, but you didn’t care.

you don’t want to lose him. 

“you can’t die, tengen! this is not how you’re supposed to go, you little shit. being killed by poison is not a flashy nor flamboyant death that is fit for the great god of festivals. please, don’t leave me.” your tears began to wet his clothes and the flesh of his neck and shoulder. 

tengen’s heart clenched in pain as he heard your broken cries and pleas. he wishes that he could speak and comfort you, even if his words would’ve been a bunch of lies. but, sadly he couldn’t do anything other than trying his best to embrace you as tightly as he could. 

you were so busy crying and sobbing as you begged tengen to not die, followed by a bunch of empty threats darted to him, you didn’t realize when nezuko and tanjiro arrived. 

nezuko gently placed her hand on tengen’s bicep and he felt the small touch, glancing down to see the smaller figure giving him hopeful eyes. then, both your and tengen’s body was place in a huge pink flame. 

you were still unaware of all of this going down, not even bothering to pull away from tengen even for a second. although, you felt your body temperature slightly rising and it was almost as if your body aches were magically going away. 

“jeez, i thought that demon was a crybaby, but surely you’ve taken over that title, princess.” you heard tengen speaking normally, feeling the vibration of his chest as he let out a chuckle. 

you quickly pulled away from the hug to look at him, your face teary and eyes glossy with tears. you quickly scanned him and noticed that the trace of poision was gone as his flesh returned to its normal color. 

and, his lips drew a shit eating grin.

“you idiot!” you scolded him before tightly wrapping your arms around him as you hugged him, trying to be as close to him as possible as your heart was slowly being put to ease. 

“you’re alive and okay.” you said, which was slightly muffled. tengen hummed in response, arms tightly wrapped around your waist. 

“can’t leave you now, can i?” he said, comfortingly stroking your back to calm you down. 

“i’m glad that you two are okay. we both checked up on inosuke and zenitsu, too. they’re both doing good as well, the kakushis are treating them.” tanjiro assured with a smile, making tengen reciprocate. 

you pulled away to look at nezuko who was sitting next to you and tengen. tanjiro came closer before ruffling her hair. 

“nezuko’s blood demon art includes healing powers. although, you both shouldn’t move too much as it might make the wounds worse.” tanjiro advised, and both you and tengen nodded. 

“thank you, tanjiro and nezuko. you both saved my life and no action of mine can ever repay you for what you guys have done.” tengen graciously thanked them, and both siblings offered him a smile. 

“thanks, nezuko.” you gave her a big smile, holding your arms out so that the little girl could come into your embrace. you gave her a gentle squeeze before placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“and thank you, ‘jiro. you’re always looking out for us.” you ruffled tanjiro’s hair, he looked more than just beat up, giving you a smile as his tired eyes tried its best to stay awake. 

“now, let’s all return home in the most flashiest way possible!” tengen’s loud voice boomed, making everyone cheer. 

---

you sighed in bliss, stepping out of the huge shower as you dried yourself. you hummed a small melody, feeling refreshed to wash away all that blood and gunk with a warm shower. you wrapped your hair in a towel and your body in a robe before exiting the bathroom. 

you nearly let out a blood curdling scream when you saw someone laying on your bed. after realizing that the person in question is none other than your best friend, mitsuri, you calmed down your elevated heartbeat. 

you forgot that she’s the only one who knew your password combination. 

“holy shit, you nearly put me in a heart attack just now.” you placed a hand over your heart, closing the bathroom door behind you before shuffling over to the bed where mitsuri now sat up. 

she wore a facial expression which made you grow worried. usually, she’s never this quiet and is all smiles and giggles. but, her lips are frowning and you could see her eyes swelling with tears. 

“mitsuri? what’s wr-”

you were cut off by her jumping on you as you let out a yelp. she sobbed on your chest as she tried to say something to you, but all her words were incoherent and muffled. 

you patted her back and stroked her hair to calm her down, feeling her arms tightening around your waist as if she was afraid that she was gonna lose you. 

“i-i was so scared, y/n! when the order came for the assistance of another hashira because you and tengen were down, i lost it. i wanted to go and help you guys, but obanai refused to let me go. i thought i lost my best friend!” mitsuri cried, looking up at you as tears nonstop poured out of her eyes, landing on your neck. 

“i’m sorry for worrying you, mitsuri. but, you know that i’m a woman of my words, right? i promised you that i would come back in one piece, and i did. i can’t leave my one and only best friend, now can i?” you gave her a warm smile, making her smile at you too. 

“don’t ever leave me, okay? i love you too much to lose you.” she sniffled, and you nodded your head as a small chuckle left your lips. 

“i love you too and i promise. now, let’s stop with all of this sad stuff and talk about something else. come on, help me dry my hair so that you can braid it.” you suggested, making her quickly sit up and smile brightly at you as she eagerly nodded at the idea. 

so, here you both are now, munching on the red bean mochi that she made earlier while she braids your hair. 

“so, i heard that you and tengen shared a pretty special moment together.” mitsuri suddenly said out of the blue, making you choke on the mochi that was trying to pass down your throat. you could feel her smirk behind your head. 

“said who? no such thing happened.” you quickly dismissed her assumptions. 

“nope, a little birdie told me that you hugged him and you both got all sappy with each other.” 

“...”

“so, i’m correct, right?”

“tanjiro told you, didn’t he.”

“i never said any names. so, that means i was right!!”  

“i never said that.”

“ughh, you’re so mean, y/n.” mitsuri whined, shaking you back and forth as you let out a heavy sigh. 

“listen, even though he’s annoying, i was scared that he was gonna die. i just got a little too emotional, alright?” you explained, your cheeks tinted with an angry blush right now. 

“oOooOo~ y/nie’s in loovveee with tengennnn~” she sang out, making you grumble as you were trying to shush her. 

“i don’t know anymore, he makes me confused. sometimes he’s a little mean and annoying but then he’s so sweet and caring.” you admitted honestly, making mitsuri hum in response. 

you’ve taken note of the small actions tengen would do to fluster your heart. him putting you before himself, moving you away from harm, his sometimes suggestive or flirty comments, and the numerous skinship you both unknowingly shared. 

“do a little trial on him for these next few days that you both get off. see if he acts the same or a little different with you.” mitsuri peaked her head around to shoot you a wink. 

“different?” you questioned, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. 

“mhm, different. you’ll be able to realize, don’t worry. oh! and i finished doing your hair. you should go to sleep, you must be tired.” mitsuri hopped off your bed, leaving you a little dumbfounded. 

“huh? but i thought we were gonna have a sleepover.” you said, causing her to laugh nervously.

“o-oh, well that, uhm i just realized that nezuko told me to sew up her kimono.” she replied, which was a total lie, but you decided to mess around with her a little more. 

“really? why didn’t she just give it one of the kakushis?” you interrogated further, making mitsuri thin her lips. 

“because the kimono is special to her and she trusts me the most with it. besides, you deserve some peace and quiet to rest. i’ll see you tomorrow in the morning.” mitsuri quickly waved to you before scurrying out.

you giggled at her strange behavior as mitsuri never hid anything from you before. but, you knew that sooner or later you’d find out. 

you turned of the lamp light before snuggling into your bed as you pulled the covers over your body and fell into a deep slumber. 

---

you were awoken by a cold breeze that entered you room, goraning as you rolled around you bed for a little. after stretching your body and doing that weird shaking/twitching thing, you sat up and turned on your lamp. a yawn left your lips as you rubbed the sleep away from your eyes, glancing at the clock rengoku gifted you on your last birthday. 

it was almost five in the morning. 

it was still pretty early but you knew that you weren’t going back to sleep any time soon. so, you decided to go to the hot spring for a soak since you knew that everyone was still asleep at this hour. 

you went to the bathroom and brushed your teeth before washing your face. you then grabbed a fresh set of clothes and a towel before heading out. as you were walking outside, you noticed the familiar white scaled reptile freely roaming the place. 

you cocked an eyebrow in confusion, knowing that the animal was almost never without his owner. you walked over to obanai’s pet snake, kaburamaru, before leaning down. 

“morning, why are you out here all alone, ‘maru?” you asked, as if the snake could understand and respond to your words. nonetheless, kaburamaru simply stuck his tongue out. 

“come on, let’s get you back to obanai.” you extended your arm, allowing the snake to slither onto you before wrapping itself on your neck. 

luckily, obanai’s place was on the walk to the spring, so you didn’t have to make a double trip anywhere. 

you finally reached his place, knocking on the door as you waited for a response. the door finally opened, revealing obanai in his robe. 

“good morning, i just came to return your little friend here who was roaming nearby my place.” you gave him a smile, extending your arm out to let kaburamaru slither back onto his owner as obanai thanked you. 

“who is that, honey?” you heard a familiar voice speak from inside his room. you looked at obanai with a questionable expression, but, he simply averted his eyes away from you as a blush crept up to his face. 

“mitsuri kanroji. come out here. now.” you strictly called out, hearing a faint gasp coming from her as you could here her shuffling around the bed. you saw her come into your view in just a robe as she harshly pushed obanai aside. 

“y/n! what are you doing here?” she nervously laughed as an obvious blush embrace her, while she scratched the back of her nape. 

“i just came to return kaburamaru. what are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. 

of course, you didn’t need her to answer. 

the visible hickeys that were littered across her neck gave it away. 

“i can’t believe you left me for obanai. is this how deep our friendship runs?” you pretended to sulk, making her quickly shake her head. 

“no, no! it’s not like that, y/n, i swear!” she tried to reason. 

“i was going to invite you to join me in the hot spring, but i assume you’re to busy.” you let out a dramatic sigh, making her face wash with guilt. 

“i promise, i’ll join you later!” mitsuri grabbed your hands, giving you apologetic eyes. you chuckled at her futile attempts. 

“i’m just playing around, mitsuri. have fun, i’ll see you later.” you winked at her before walking off. 

the sun was still shying off, not fully risen as it was still a little dark outside. but, you didn’t mind it. you liked the dimmed lighting, the quiet atmosphere and how it was warm outside. 

you finally reached the hot spring, untying your robe as you took it off before settling your clean clothes and robe on the bench that was provided by the corps for use. 

you were now in your naked glory, being one with mother nature as the warmth of the earth embrace your skin. you dipped your toe in the water, testing the temperature, which was just perfect. you slowly began to emerge yourself in the water, moaning in bliss as the warm water hugged you with warmth. 

you leaned against the edge, allowing yourself to close your eyes as a contented smile was plastered on your face. 

“mind if i join you?” you heard a loud voice boom, recognizing it almost immediately. you opened your eyes to see tengen in nothing but a towel around his waist that was barely covering the lower half of his body. 

he was bare faced, snowy locks untied and his jewelry was removed. 

“knock yourself out.” you bluntly responded, averting your gaze as you realized that you spent way too much time checking him out. you looked the other direction to give him some respect of not looking at him completely nude. 

the only people you’ve been in the hot spring with was you friends, mitsuri and rengoku. other than that, you rarely come here unless it was a tiresome mission or mitsuri needed some company. 

you heard the splashing sound which indicated that tengen got inside the water, facing him as you both now sat across each other, an awkward distance if you were to be honest. 

after about a few minutes that had past, you suddenly heard tengen chuckle. 

“i feel like i’m about to have a serious conference with you. come closer, i’m not gonna bite you, ya know.” tengen gave you a sheepish grin, leaning back to become a little more comfortable. 

you suppose that he was right. 

you wrapped your arms around your chest as you got up, thankfully, the water covered your waist. you didn’t want to accidentally flash him. 

you took a seat next to him, feeling a little shy. 

“why are you so quiet?” you broke the silence, turning your head to the side to face him. tengen looked down at you with a cheeky smile. 

“why? you miss my voice that much?” he asked in a flirtatious tone, making your cheeks heat up. 

“no! it’s just unusual for you to be this silent.” you murmured, pushing yourself further down inside the water from embarrassment. 

“i’m giving you a day off from our bickering today. but just today! so, don’t get your hopes high.” tengen said, making you roll your eyes. 

“why thank you, lord tengen, how kind of you.” you said in a sarcastic voice. however, the foreigness of the honorifics used for him slipping out of your stubborn mouth made his eyes widen. 

“you should use honorifics with me more often. you sounded so hot.” he remarked, looking at you with a smirk as he licked his lips. 

“oh my god, shut up!” you splashed him with water, making him yelp. 

“hey! not fair!” he scoffed before returning the treatment to you as you both were now too busy wetting each other by the brutal splash attacks. 

which was you mostly getting drenched as his large hands caused huge splashes while your comparably smaller ones were not much help 

“why are you acting like we both didn’t have a romeo and juliet moment yesterday, princess!” tengen teased, continuing his attacks as you struggled to keep up with him, too busy as you were dodging. 

“don’t get any weird ideas, i was just an emotional wreck yesterday ‘cause i didn’t want to experience the whole rengoku incident.” you responded, using all your strength to form a huge wave with your hands before splashing him. 

“is that so? and how do you view rengoku as?” tengen paused, cocking an eyebrow as he waited for your response. 

“a brother of course!” you blurted with no hesitation as if it wasn’t obvious. 

“then how do you see me as? a brother?” he scrunched up his nose in distaste as he fake gagged. 

“what the fuck, hell no.”

“then?”

“i see you as a colossal dumbass.” you smirked, earning a gasp from him before the water attacks continued to be thrown at you. this would go on for another couple of minutes before you waved your hands in defeat. 

“okay, okay! truce.” you held out your hand, waiting for him to shake it. 

“fine.” he agreed, taking a hold of your hand; only to pull you against his chest as he smirked. your eyes widened, feeling the bare skinship between your tits and his well-scultped abdomen. 

tengen leaned his face down before his hand cupped your cheek, grazing the healing scar that was created from yesterday’s battle. 

“does it still hurt?” he softly asked, his voice sounding so hypnotizing and you couldn’t tell if your body was getting hot because of the water or the close proximity between you two. 

“not a lot.” you meekly responded, making him hum. 

“you were so good to me yesterday, saving me from that demon and scarring this pretty face of yours for me. yet, you look beautiful as ever.” tengen whispered sensually, making you release the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding in. 

“really?” you asked, mind slowly fogging up. 

“mhm, the prettiest. so fucking pretty that i could just eat you up, princess.” he began to leave soft kisses on your jawline, his lips feeling like soft pillows as you let out a whimper. your hand snaked up his nape, pulling him closer to you as he continued to kiss down your neck. 

suddenly, you felt something wet on the flesh of your neck. his tongue began to lick and bite your skin, making you moan. tengen made a few kitten licks before harshly sucking on the spot, determined to leave his mark. 

“tengen.” you called out his name, which came out as a whisper. 

“hm? tell me what you want, and imma give it to you all.” his thumb stroked your cheek as he looked at you with lust clouded eyes. without thinking twice, you pulled his head towards your face, crashing your lips onto his. 

the kiss was steamy and intense, the lewd noise of sucking and clash of teeth from how needy the both of you grew. you nibbled on his lower lip teasingly before licking it as an apology. tengen smirked into your little antics, grabbing a hold of your jaw before kissing you roughly. 

you felt his tongue swiping against your lips before his free hand cheekily went down and groped your ass, making you gasp. he took this as a chance to slide his tongue in your mouth, exploring every cavern he could find. you sucked on his tongue, completely drinking and devouring each other. 

you could taste the fresh mint he uses every morning. 

tengen pulled you more into him, as you could feel his hard cock now resting on your thigh. your eyes widened at how long, heavy and thick it was. he noticed your reaction and couldn’t help but let a cocky grin dance on his lips. 

“you feel that? it’s what you do to me.” he spoke on your lips before placing a sloppy wet kiss on them one last time. tengen pulled away, both of your lips connected by a string of saliva as you both panted for air. your lips were swollen and your face was burning red. 

tengen bit his lips, seeing your tits on full display for him to enjoy. of course, your tits borderline flash him every day because those tight uniforms are too small to cover them up.

not that he’s complaining. 

although, now it was completely exposed. your perky nipples swollen and begging for some of his attention to which he’d be more than happy to provide. 

tengen took one of your tits in his mouth, his hand fondling with the other one as he pinched your nipple, before rolling it between his index finger and thumb. tengen was the king of fairness, using his mouth equally as he suckled on your nipples before lightly biting it. he swirled his tongue around the bud before releasing it from his mouth with a ‘pop’ sound. 

your breath hitched as you entangled your fingers in his wet snowy locks, pushing him further into your chest. of course, tengen made sure to leave plenty of hickeys on your chest too, just for good measure. 

“come on, princess. let me please you how you deserve to be pleased, yeah?” with that being said, he lifted you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist and wrapped your arms around his neck. tengen made sure to securely hold onto you as he stood up and exited the hot spring. 

the area had two benches, one of them was occupied with both of your stuff. so, tengen used the empty one to sit you down. a sudden shyness took over you as you realized that you were completely nude in front of him. 

you look down at your feet before he grabbed a hold of your chin, lifting your face up to meet his burgundy ones. 

“come on, baby, let me see that pretty little pussy of yours.” tengen begged, kneeling as his palms were placed on your knees. there was a growing ache between your legs that you knew only tengen could cure. 

so, you pushed away those stupid worries swarming in your mind and said fuck it. 

you opened your legs, giving him a beautiful view of your wet cunt. tengen grinned in satisfaction, licking his lips as placed teasing kisses on your thighs, trailing up to your inner thigh. 

“tengen, please.” you whimpered, looking down at him with pleading eyes. although he wanted to toy around with you, he has waited way too long for this, so he wanted both you and him to indulge in this. 

tengen leaned forwards before licking a fat stripe on your folds. you let out a heavy breath as you felt the wet muscle part your folds open. he began to sloppily makeout with your pussy, sucking on your lips before lightly biting it. multiple swears and curses slipped out of your lips along with sinful moans as his tongue worked wonders. 

tengen sucked on your clit before placing a kiss on it, making the most lewd sounds ever. you soon felt the intrusion of something entering your hole as tengen pushed in a thick finger. he began to tongue and finger fuck your dripping cunt, his chin wet with your arousal as he continued to circle the tip of his tongue on your clit. 

he soon added a second finger, the sounds of your pussy squealching was like music to his ears. he experimented by moaning against your pussy, the vibration of his voice sending a shockwave through you. 

“fuck! s-so close, tengen.” you moaned out as he continued to scissor his fingers inside you while his tongue continued to lick, suck and bite your clit and folds. your stomach began to form a tight knot, your chest feeling fuzzy as your eyes rolled back from the intense amount of pleasure that you felt. 

“cum for me, princess.” he demanded, speaking against your sensitive pussy, nose bumping into your swollen clit while he continued to eat you out. 

you gasped and let out the most pornographic moan that your throat could produce, cumming all over tengen’s face. he happily drank in all that you had to offer, using his tongue to clean you up as his gracious actions began to overstimulate you. 

tengen gave your clit one last playful bite before giving it a kiss as he pulled away, looking at you as he wiped his wet chin. you were still trying to catch your breath from that powerful orgasm that he just put you through, looking at him with a flushed face. 

“i’m not done with you yet.” he mumbled, picking you up as he began to walk to his place. you forgot that the hot spring was located pretty much in his backyard. 

you both were now inside his bathroom, as he turned on the showerhead, the both of you now becoming wet once again. you felt his hard cock poking your thigh, wrapping your hand around it as you lazily pumped it while kissing him. 

he gasped in the kiss, a low moan leaving his lips as your thumb circled his tip. you grinned, looking up at him with an innocent face. 

“you know, i could put my mouth to other uses than just bickering with you.” you seductively said, licking and biting his peck playfully, making him groan. 

“is that so? why don’t you show me, i’m a visual learner.” tengen replied, making you giggle as you got on your knees to come eye level to his cock. 

this man was 6′6ft, it was expected that he’d have a huge cock. but, now that you’ve come face to face with it, you felt a little intimidated. tengen was massive, an erected shaft standing at no less than nine or ten inches, thick as the girth of it barely fit your hands, twin veins running on either side which throbbed under your fingers and his tip leaking precum. 

you placed a teasing kiss on his tip before swirling your tongue around, knowing that it’s the most sensitive part. tengen’s breath hitched, as he stroked your hair lovingly while you toyed around with his cock. you licked up and down the sides of his cock, making sure to specifically go over the twin veins, feeling him shudder. 

without warning, you took his cock inside your mouth, trying your best to fit most of it in. you gagged at first as you didn’t expect it to hit the back of your throat so soon, but you regained control. you bobbed your head back and forth, making sure to use a lot of spit to lubricate it and make it more slippery. 

tengen felt like he was in heaven, just on earth, in his bathroom. your teeth lightly grazed his shaft, the new sensation sending him over the edge as you continued to throat fuck his cock. you sucked and licked the entire length before sucking on his tip like a lollipop. 

you fondled with his balls, trying to stimulate more pleasure within him as you knew he was getting close with the way he was twitching in your mouth. 

“f-fuck, you’re such a good girl, doing so good for me.” he breathed out, encouraging you to continue your actions as he began to thrust his hips into your mouth. you heard him let out a whimper before a guttural moan exited his lips, his warm cum flowing down your throat. 

you made sure to clean his cock up, not wasting a single drop of cum that he poured inside of your mouth. you placed a gentle kiss on his tip, before standing up. 

tengen pulled you into a heated kiss, tasting himself a little on your tongue as he looked at you with darkened eyes. his hands travelled in between your thighs, fingers slipping past your slit as he rubbed your pussy. 

“need you so bad...please, tengen.” you whimpered, desparately grinding your wet cunt onto his hand as you continued to leave sloppy kisses on his jaw. tengen smirked, feeling himself get hard by your pleas. 

“you poor thing. need me to make you feel good, princess?” he tauntingly asked, but you were too fucked out in pleasure to care about his tone. you nodded your head eagerly before he pinned you against the wall. 

tengen grabbed a hold of his thick cock, using the tip to prod your slit open. you felt his tip graze against your clit, making you moan as you gave him pleading eyes. however, tengen intended to play around with you a little more. 

he coated his cock in your juices, sliding the long shaft between your folds as it ocassionally bumped into your clit or poked your entrance. you were on the verge of tears because your hole was clenching on nothing. 

“no more teasing, tengen. i need you inside me.” you said in between your pants, trying to convince him to give in to you by kissing him, sucking on his lips and biting his tongue. 

perhaps if tengen was feeling generous today, then he would’ve given in. but, he needed this. 

“tell me how bad you need it and maybe then i’ll consider if you’re worthy of my cock.” tengen evilly grinned, making your eyes widen at his request. 

“you little shit!” you cursed at him, only to receive a harsh smack on your ass. 

“disrespect me again and i’ll leave you in here all hot and bothered, i swear.” he threatened, making you harshly gulped as that was the last thing that you needed to happen. 

“please, tengen. i want you to please me, i need you inside of me so bad. make me cum, please?” you tried your very best to sound as pleasing as you could to make him happy, to convince him that you deserved to be fucked by his cock. 

“hm, have you forgotten that i am superior to you?” tengen scoffed, wrapping an arm around your waist to make sure that you don’t slip when he lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist. he takes his free hand to slap his heavy cock on your clit, making you wince in pain. 

“say it right or you won’t get it.” he spoke and with every word was a smack on your clit with his cock, to which you were sure made your clit swell with both pleasure and pain. 

“please, lord tengen. make me cum, please.” you begged once more and this time he was satisfied with your answer, a proud grin plastered on his face as he leaned in to give you a longing kiss. 

“see, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” tengen playfully asked, but you were too distracted by the way the tip of his cock was splitting you in half. your face expressed a grimace as the stretch of his cock entering your tight hole burned a little. 

“just breathe, baby. you’re taking me in so good.” he encouraged you, a finger toying with your clit to stimulate you with some pleasure as he slowly continued to push more inches of himself inside you. 

“mhm.. it’s too much, tengen.” you mumbled against his lips, feeling incredibly full as he still hasn’t bottomed out inside you yet. 

“you can take it, princess, i know you can. this pussy was made for me.” tengen groaned, pulling out of you completely before slamming his entire cock back inside of you, a loud moan escaping your mouth as you clawed his back in both a mix of pain and pleasure. 

“f-fuck, so tight.” he stuttered, feeling your walls welcome his throbbing cock in a tight hug as he continued to thrust in and out of your went cunt. you were breathing heavy, the feeling of fullness from his cock threw you into a whole other dimension. 

“feels so good.” you whimpered, biting down on his neck as he continued to piston his hips into you, balls smacking against your thigh. his twin veins grazed your slick walls so perfectly, the friction increasing your pleasure. 

“been waiting for so long to fuck this sweet pussy of yours. god, if only you knew how many times you’d make me so hard and i had to jack off at the thought of you. and now? this pussy is mine.” he lowly chuckled, increasing his pace as his stamina was absolutely wild. 

a ring of white cream began to form at the base of his cock as you were fucked out dumb from his huge cock. your eyes rolled back, vision growing blurry as your mind was filled with nothing but tengen. 

“i’m gonna cum.” he moaned out, making you gasp as he twitched inside you while his tip kissed your cervix. 

“i-inside.” you managed to stammer out, and he nodded. the familiar knot continued to tighten as your climax was near. you moaned like an absolute bitch in heat, purposely squeezing him with your walls, feeling him choke on a breath from how good you made him feel. 

“gonna cum-” you whimpered as your body shook with pleasure, cumming all over his cock and a few seconds later, tengen painted your walls with thick ropes of cum. you shuddered at the warm feeling of your pussy being pumped full of his cum, as tengen still lazily thrusted inside of you. 

you were completely delirious.

you cupped his face, pulling him in for a kiss, nothing too suggestive. it was a simple and loving kiss. 

you pulled away, looking at him with a bashful smile. 

“come on, let’s properly clean up now.” tengen chuckled, and you nodded your head. he pulled out of you, watching the sight of your pussy leaking his cum and he could feel his cock struggling to contain the urge to get hard again and plunge deep inside your cunt again. 

“don’t waste it, pretty. i worked too hard to fill you up.” he scoffed, plunging two fingers into your cunt to shove his cum back inside you. 

“tengen!” you smacked his bicep, your pussy still sensitive. you both broke out into a fit of giggles as you guys finally decided to cut it out. the rest of the shower consisted of you two bickering as usual about who made who feel more pleasured. you washed his hair and he washed yours, it felt very domestic. 

after about another half an hour or so, you both finally got out of the bathroom. tengen went outside by the hot spring to grab both of your clothes from the bench. 

he saw mitsuri heading to the hot spring, waving her good morning as the woman happily reciprocated. 

“oh! why do you have y/n’s clothes in your hands? and speaking of y/n, where even is she? i told her that i’d be joining her in the hot spring later.” mitsuri pointed at your clothes as she asked in confusion. 

“don’t worry, i took great care of her. she seemed a little tense, so i helped her relieve it.” tengen smirked, giving mitsuri a wink. she gasped as she saw the marks left on his flesh, a squeal leaving her lips. 

“i knew it, i knew it! hehe, she’s never gonna hear the end of it from me!” mitsuri jumped in joy from her victory. 

“hm, looks like you and obanai had some fun like us too.” tengen pointed out, noticing the bluish-purple marks left on her neck. she laughed in embarrassment, to which tengen didn’t pick on her any further, patting her head before taking his leave to let the woman enjoy her time. 

tengen returned with your clothes as you both dressed more comfortably. it was only seven in the morning, still pretty early. 

“i should head back to my room.” you said, standing up from the bed, only to have tengen frown. 

“why? just stay here with me for a little longer.” tengen grabbed your hands, pulling you down on his lap as he protectively wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“what if someone finds out?” you asked in worry. 

“so? who cares? you’re mine now anyways. also, mitsuri know.” tengen dropped the bomb as he kissed your neck. 

“what?! how??” your eyes were the size of two full moons. 

“i met her by the hot spring just now, she was asking for you and i told her that you were with me.” he shrugged it off. you groaned as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck. 

“fuck, i’m screwed.” you whined. 

“why? you don’t wanna be with me?” his voice was tainted with disappointment, making you quickly pull back to cup his face. 

“no! that’s not what i meant. it’s just, i’ve been in denial with my feeling for you for so long and mitsuri was right. so, she’s gonna eat me alive for the next few weeks.” you let out a heavy sigh, making him chuckle. 

“oh? you know, you saying that now makes me wanna eat you again.” tengen grinned, and in a swift motion you were now on his bed with him hovering above you. 

you giggled, locking him between your legs as you wrapped your arms around his neck before pulling him in. 

“you’re so dirty, geez. i’m so tired and sore, so let’s just sleep.” you suggested, watching his eyes glimmer with love as he nodded. tengen laid on the side, pulling you close to his chest as he kissed the top of your head before looking down at you. 

“tengen?” you called out to him.

“yes?” he responded, as you looked up at him. 

“i love you. well, i love you a lot actually. i was so scared that i was going to lose you yesterday. so, don’t ever scare me like that, okay?” you hugged him tighter, making him laugh at your sudden confession. 

“i love you too, princess. as long as my heart beats, i promise to protect you.” tengen leaned down to press a kiss over the scar on your cheek before finally planting a soft and loving kiss on your lips. 

you both smiled at each other before snuggling into one another’s embrace as sleep slowly began to take over your heavy eyes. 

[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!

[pseudowho]

Infiltration, Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Nanami Kento and the reader must pretend to be married to infiltrate a deadly Curse-user cult and take it down from the inside.

*SMUT/NSFW/18+ BEGINS HERE*

A slow-burn fic with fluff/comfort, angst, smut and heroics from our favourite salaryman.

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Your mind, body and soul had ached for Kento for so long, that falling, pliant and supple, into his hands and mouth, was instinctual. Your hands grabbed his lapel and hair fiercely, desperately, as you tasted his tongue, minty and warm against yours. An involuntary moan climbed out of you and Kento drank it down, grappling your body against his, as eager as you to feel unadulterated contact between your bodies.

You were so drunk on each other, you forgot that you were supposed to be acting. As the cupboard door swung open with a creak and a crack as it hit the wall, your lips parted with a wet pop, both of you blinking in the daylight as the elderly librarian spluttered at you, ears reddening, hands on his hips.

"What are you doing in here?" he boomed, as you squeaked and rushed to cover yourself up. Kento pushed a hand through his hair, sheepish, glancing between you and the librarian, as if you'd offer him a get-out clause.

"I told you he'd find us," you squeaked at Kento, still reeling, only half-acting. Kento looked a little smug in his humiliation, smiling at the librarian with a loose, embarrassed laugh.

"I'm, uh...I'm sorry, sir," Kento offered, teenagerish, tie and trousers still undone, lips pink and slightly swollen as he bowed deeply. You had turned to face the back of the cupboard with your face in your hands, mortification and arousal still thumping through your veins in equal measure. The librarian bristled, prudish and cross. He looked sternly down at the back of Kento's head.

"Names?" he demanded. Kento shared your alter-egos with practiced ease. The librarian stuttered again, "Mr. and Mrs. Tsuda? From the, uh...from the...from the..." he trailed off, deflating. He huffed, moustache-hairs fluffing out.

"Just came in here for a bit of, uh...a bit of hanky panky, did you?"

"We uh...we thought it would be...funny, sir," Kento mumbled weakly. His hands were folded over his lap in apparent subjugation, but he felt his semi-erect cock remain, almost confused, as if wondering which way to go between humiliation and arousal.

"Yes, well..." the librarian continued, still deflating, now wagging a finger at you and Kento, "...go and find somewhere else for your...your...shenanigans," he finished weakly. Kento offered him another smile, sincere and grateful as he bowed again. The librarian couldn't help but smirk as he rubbed his beard, two young lovers caught in the act in his cupboard.

"Yes, yes, well...I do remember myself and my wife couldn't keep our hands off each other, either," he and Kento shared a laugh as you shot Kento a furious look.

Kento pulled his arm around you as you left, still absolutely baking with embarrassment and stunned by the kiss. You could barely remember the walk back to your little house, Kento's arm feeling unnaturally warm against you, your shirts both rumpled, silent, unspoken words weighing heavily in both of your chests.

Kento let you through the door first and you practically ran to the bathroom; by the time Kento had closed and locked the door, the bathroom door slammed shut in his face. Kento had a moment to evaluate what had just happened- a sordid flurry of emotions, your body, soft against his, and most of all, how eagerly you had kissed him back, just enough for him to hope beyond hope--

Kento pressed his head against the wall, tortured, still buzzing from the raw adrenaline, before dropping to his haunches, holding onto the doorframe, rocking his forehead against the wall as he swore rhythmically to himself.

You slammed the bathroom door, gasping and tearful before leaning over the sink, aggressively splashing your face with cold water. The kiss had been too real, you thought, your mind chaotic with a flurry of unasked and unanswered questions. There is no going back from that, you thought, solemn, convicted. Even Kento wasn't that good an actor...was he? Face in your hands, you recalled how urgently you had kissed Kento back, mortification deepening at how badly you had given yourself away if Kento didn't feel the same.

Breathing in a shaky breath, you released it in a slow, trembling puff through pursed lips. Desperate for distraction, you reached for your notebook and pager, sending a series of abbreviated messages, of details of the outlying cult members sent for recruitment. A few minutes passed after you sent your last message, and the pager buzzed; a brief message of confirmation from Ijichi was a small balm, satisfied, at least, that you were still fulfilling your task.

You jumped as knuckles tapped the bathroom door. Kento called your name, soft, apologetic. You didn't respond; a pregnant pause.

"I'll...I'll give you your space. I'm so sorry." Your heart climbed into your mouth at Kento's apology, and the words you wanted to speak stuck on your tongue; don't be sorry, just tell me that was real. Your throat constricted as you heard brisk footsteps, and the front door opening and closing with a bang.

Wiping your nose and eyes with still trembling hands, you sniffed, tumbling out of the bathroom door, "Ken--"

Your shout cut short, feeling Kento's cursed energy taper away from the house. Eyes pricking with tears, you hiccuped back a sob, feeling so lost without him there, your candle in the dark.

Kento found himself on the tiny arched bridge over the stony river. The sun was setting on the short day, and he shivered with the chill, nerves frayed as the adrenaline began to wear off. All he was left with now, was regret that you'd always believe that his first kiss might always be an act, a lie. Even his thrill at your reciprocity was dulled, knowing that he had forced your hand, feeling a roiling nausea that he had pressed himself on you so aggressively. Kento leaned into his palms, elbows resting on the bridge, groaning his misery away.

After several minutes of profound soul-searching, you and Kento had both reached the same conclusion, the only way to repair the damage; you had to share how you really felt.

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"Will it work?" Father Tatsu growled, barely visible in the faint candlelight, barely audible over the groaning of the beast. Father Shinzu shook his head, sweating, deep in concentration as his Cursed technique strained against its limits.

"The mind is willing, but the flesh is...the vessel, she...she is not enough," Father Shinzu gasped, falling to all-fours from his knees. Father Tatsu sneered, casting a glare to the vessel, knelt before Father Shinzu at the edge of the writhing pit.

"The goddess, she...she must be split," sobbed Father Shinzu, "help me, Tatsu-- she is not stable--"

Father Tatsu clenched his fists before grabbing his brother by the shoulders, shaking his wretched body; "Apply yourself," he growled in Father Shinzu's ear, "for once in your life." Father Shinzu groaned, coughing, blood spattering on the floor beneath his mouth with his enormous final exertion.

The ground between the pit and the vessel cracked like a gunshot, buckling upwards. The vessel shrieked an inhuman shriek, ringing through the chamber in the dark. The pit writhed its last, stilling at the crescendo of a devastating groan. The trees around the Shrine withered and blackened. The grass curled and browned. Death trickled through the seams of the earth beneath the pit, pulsing through veins of rock and root.

Everything and everyone stilled between two heartbeats, life hung on a thread...until with a heave of effort and one final crack through the gloom, the goddess gasped the first breath of life in her vessel, born anew.

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Kento arrived home with cold night air and sprinkles of snow flurrying off his coat. Kicking off his shoes and jacket, his jaw and shoulders were set in a determined line; you had to know how he felt. Calling your name, he walked through the kitchen, and feeling a waft of cool air from the living room, he walked through to see you.

His rehearsed speech disappeared as he saw you with your back to the door, in the onsen, in nothing but a wet white towel. your elbows leaned on the rocky edge of the pool, your chin perched stop your hands. Kento's eyes wandered to the gentle slope of your shoulders, the soft tapering of your neckline down the curve of your back-- his mind wandered to other, more illicit places. His voice caught in his throat as, with a gentle swish of water, you turned and caught his eye.

A few moments passed where you and Kento simply stared at each other, mouths working soundlessly, blushes creeping up on you both, before Kento cleared his throat, his mouth set in a grim line.

Kento bowed deeply to you, not standing up as he spoke; "Please forgive me." Your brain short-circuited as you frowned, now turning to Kento.

"Kento, there's nothing to apologise fo--"

He interrupted, continuing, determined; "Mission requirements or not, I took advantage of you, and made you uncomfortable. It was grotesquely unprofessional. I completely understand if you need to abandon the mission and go--"

"Kento. Stop." Kento stayed in a bow, too captivated by what you were about to say, "You...did what you had to do. And it was...fine. It was better than fine. You're a-- a-- you're...a good kisser." You finished weakly. Kento stood, face neutral and serious, but with a playful glimmer in his eye.

"So...assault is okay...if the assailant kisses well?" You turned, burying your face into the wall as you laughed, the awkwardness now slightly broken. Kento found his usually legendary bravery breaking, suddenly unable to find the words to tell you how he felt. He began to gently excuse himself.

"No, wait! Please, Kento. Stay. I hate it when you leave." You cursed yourself for sounding so desperate, so needy. Then, Kento spoke, and you felt time stop for a moment.

"I don't have to leave, ever...if...if you like." You remained silent, but now that Kento had started he couldn't stop, snowballing, "Before you were gone for three months, I told myself we had to get to know each other better. I'd already planned our first date, if...if you had said yes."

Your heart leapt into your throat. The rest of your life to come sat on a knife's edge and you felt both as light as a feather, and dangerously at risk of falling, all at once. You felt that your very ability to ever feel joy again rested on Kento's next words.

"But now..." Kento continued, slow, thoughtful. You felt yourself teetering as dread crept up your body, and tears pricked in your eyes. When Kento spoke again, you broke, a sandcastle being washed away by the waves.

"Now... I know that if I never get to kiss you like that again, I'll be haunted every day and night for the rest of my life."

A single, gulping, enormous sob heaved out of your body. Months and months of restrained longing, of fervently wanting something-- someone -- so much better than you had ever dreamt of having, swept out of you, and you burst into wracking tears, your face in your arms, and your back to Kento.

Appalled, needing to hold you, Kento made towards the onsen-- "Oh no-- shit-- please don't cry" -- and without any thought other than you, he climbed into the onsen with a splash, wading towards you and pulling you into his arms, wet shirt clinging to his chest.

You babbled, apologising through sobs, trying to control yourself.

"Kento, your suit!"

"Fuck my suit." Kento pulled you tightly to him, his broad palm cupping the back of your head, fingers in your hair, one strong arm around your waist. You stopped crying almost as quickly as you had begun.

"I'm sorry, I'm just-- I'm just so relieved, I thought it was just me--"

Kento looked down at you shrewdly, eyes narrowed, "I fail to see how it wasn't obvious."

"Well, you're so kind, I just thought you-- you--"

"...that I'm a stuttering mess with everyone?"

You sniffed, wiping your eyes with a laugh. Whatever had held him back before had completely dissipated, and you felt yourself melt as Kento stroked your cheek, looking at you like you had hung the stars. You pressed your cheek into his hand, sinking into his amber eyes.

"Please, just...kiss me again, Kento."

He didn't need to be told twice. Corded forearm tightening around your waist, and his fingers gently pulling your jaw towards him, Kento's lips pressed to yours so softly at first that you barely felt it at all. Pulling away slightly and tipping his head to the other side, as if trying to commit every curve of your lips to memory, he kissed you again, firmer this time, and he felt the world fall at his feet as you sighed into his mouth and wound your arms around his neck.

Countries could have been falling to war around you and Kento, and you would have remained completely lost in each other, kisses becoming deeper and needier as you pulled at his wet shirt, fingers unashamedly exploring the planes and cords of his shoulders. Kento felt your fingers burn into him, unreasonably irritated by his wet shirt blocking him from feeling your skin. You moaned into his mouth as he nipped at your lower lip.

Kento felt a primitive urgency rush through him at your sweet little moan, and he had to actively fight against the urge to rip your wet towel from your body. With a shudder, Kento pulled away, eyes squeezed closed with a frown as he pressed his forehead to yours, trying to control his breathing.

Opening his eyes slowly, and seeing yours stare into him, glassy and drunk, Kento rubbed his nose gently against yours, trying desperately to restrain himself. His hands betrayed him as they glossed against the curve of your hips beneath the water, trembling in need as he stopped himself from digging his fingers into the plushness of you, so exotic compared to his own body.

"We should stop," he rumbled, his voice crushed velvet on steel, low and slow. When your lips wandered to Kento's jaw and neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against his thrumming pulse, Kento growled to feel your tongue graze against his throat, completely unable to hide his arousal now with your body pressed flush against his. Kento coughed your name, urgent. You answered with a hum, your fingers now starting to work at the buttons of his shirt.

"If you keep going-- I won't be able to stop-- I..."

"Then don't stop." Kento moaned into your mouth, all inhibition stripped away as he held your jaw, sinking his tongue into your mouth, tasting you as your fingers worked hurriedly at Kento's shirt, the palms of your hands pressing greedily against his chest when his shirt floated away through the hot, cloudy water. Steam swirled atop the water, and lapped against Kento as he moved you against the wall, knee raised and pressed between your legs to hold you there.

Kento groaned as your fingers grazed against his nipples, panting as your eyes drank him in, hungry for what you had craved for so long. Not breaking eye contact, Kento brushed his fingers questioningly over where your towel was tucked in over your breasts. You pressed your hand over Kento's, deliberately looping his finger inside your towel to brush against the cleavage between your breasts; one soft swipe of his finger had your towel falling open, and you shivered as Kento's gaze dropped to your breasts, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his fingers gently rolled your plump nipples between them.

You shuddered, a breathy sigh escaping you, and Kento felt you rock your hips against his thigh. Leaning down to take your breast into his mouth, Kento pressed your hips down onto his thigh, rocking them gently back and forth against the roughened material of his wet trousers. You keened, a high whining noise which punched through Kento's chest like a bullet. He had to hear more, and he continued to rock your hips on his thigh as he played your body like an instrument, his tongue flicking eagerly against your nipple as he sucked it into the wet heat of his mouth.

You floated above yourself, your pleasure taking you off the ground as you lolled, pliable and weightless in Kento's arms. Your hips followed his hand's instructions now, and you rolled against his thigh, Kento's eagerly awaited attentions alone bringing you halfway to orgasm. Your fingers pressed little crescents against his chest as your nails dug in, eyes squeezed shut as you felt the embers of your pleasure burning through you, desperate to reach your peak.

"Look at me," Kento spoke, gravelly with lust as he watched you fall apart in his arms, "I have to know how you look when you cum." You opened your eyes, face slack with pleasure, and Kento studied you as your hips began to stutter.

"Please Kento-- I--" Kento understood, moving your hips fervently against his thigh and you trembled and whimpered, clutching at him as your eyes threatened to close again. Kento leaned in fast, lips pressed against yours as he growled, urgent and authoritative.

"Look at me." Your eyes snapped open as you came with a cry, Kento memorising your agonised blissful face and praises of him as you rode through your pleasure, his hands still rolling your hips against him.

Kento's hand pressed down into the water to squeeze himself, his cock solid and weeping pre-cum inside his wet trousers, and he stressed, his voice tight and urgent, "I haven't-- I didn't bring any protection."

"Don't need it," you insisted, breathless and brisk, and you lifted yourself on Kento's shoulders as you kicked his thigh downwards out of the way, and your supple legs raised your feet to his hips, hooking his trousers between your toes and forcing them down over his hips. Kento gulped, obscenely turned on by your oddly creative flexibility. Kento stripped his boxers, his cock relieved of its confines as he pressed you back to him, high on the prickling delight of your skin against his.

Your hand pressed flat against Kento's abdomen, ecstatic with the electric twitches of his muscles beneath your palm, and how he looked to you, desperate and needy, as he held your hand against him. Shaking and desperate, Kento urged your hand downwards, grunting with pleasure as your fingertips grazed over his neatly trimmed hair and against the base of his cock.

Needing to feel him in your grip, your hand slowly encircled Kento's erection, marvelling at its length and girth, and the strange duality of the silky skin over woody hardness. Kento held his breath as he felt your fingers around him, dreamy lights popping in his vision, groaning lowly as you started to move, stroking him firmly, squeezing slightly at the tip.

Kento's arms caged you against the wall as you eagerly pleasured him beneath the surface of the water, thrusting forwards into your hand, jolting as the edge of your palm grazed his balls, tight and heavy against him. His head was swimming with fulfilled fantasies and he moaned and whimpered, white-knuckled with ecstasy as he gripped the rocky wall behind you. Feeling his orgasm creep up his thighs and back, Kento gripped your hand with a hoarse groan.

"Please. Not like this-- inside you-- please--" Holding onto his biceps, you wrapped your legs around Kento's hips and waist as he threw his abandoned shirt on the wall behind your back, protecting you from the harsh stone wall. Forehead to forehead again, Kento committed you, like this, to memory as he lined his cock up with your entrance, taking a few moments to glide his long fingers appreciatively between your perfect folds.

"I love you," he urged, sinking slowly into your pussy with a low groan, "more than you could ever know."

Your eyes pricked with tears again, heart and body so perfectly full as Kento bottomed out with a shuddering gasp, wanting beyond want to feel you exquisitely close to him, joined and necking softly in delight.

Slowly, meticulously, Kento began rolling his hips against yours, and his gentle ministrations had you reeling as you felt every ridge, every inch of his cock slipping through you. Kento buried his face in your neck, with low, steamy huffs against your throat with each thrust, determined to let his pleasure build slowly.

Yours did not; lost in the eroticism of finally feeling him inside you, you urged your hips against his, matching your movements until you felt his tip kiss against your cervix, chasing the sensation with whimpers and cries. Kento plaited his fingers with yours beneath the water, thrusting into you hard and slow, not sure how long he could last after wanting you for so long.

Feeling your belly clench with pleasure, you came, shuddering weakly, clutching Kento close. Feeling your pussy flutter and squeeze around him, pulling him in, Kento followed you into your orgasm as he came, thick ropes of his seed filling you deeply, Kento fearing nothing of the consequences, as long as you could be his until the day he died.

Panting and spent, both letting the water hold you as you held each other, you kissed Kento's closed, fluttering eyelids adoringly; "I love you, Nanami Kento. I always have. You deserve everything good in this world."

Kento could have wept, brimming with pride over the privilege of holding the enormity of your adoration in the palms of his hands.

Snuggling into his neck, you whispered to Kento; "Can you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" He mumbled, nose in your hair.

"About our first date that you planned."

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Infiltration Chapter Six: Exposed, LINK HERE!

@angelofthorr @nn-hh192 @vxmethyst @moonmalice @daisynik7 @heyitsmirae @black-swan-blog27 @shamelessreaderthere @orikuu @vocosys

[daisymbin]

hitorijanai - yoon jeonghan

warnings: some use of profanities, slight mention of uncertainty, slight children talk, let me know if I miss any

pairing: yoon jeonghan x female reader (use of she)

genre: girldad!jeonghan, comfort, established relationship

wc: 2.6k

a/n: 1. fuck taeil i hope he burns and rots in hell

2. this was supposed to be proofread & posted 2-3 weeks ago but my family suddenly came to visit me cause I moved out the country (i knew they were coming but i forgot) & I had to spend time with them so here i am 5 days after jeonghan's birthday 🥲 sorry for the extremely late post.

3. SEVENTEEN ASIA TOURRRR theyre coming!!!!!! no ot13 but I will be grateful & happy to see all the other members. until next time, mr yoon jeonghan!!!!

check out my masterlist!

for months on end, jeonghan has been trying to plan out the perfect weekend for your little family on your wedding anniversary but he was having trouble planning it as you were home as much as he was, he just had no chance! he got lucky however, when you had told him on a Wednesday afternoon that on friday, you had to return to your mom's place & stayover for a night as she needed help with something. then it struck him, this is his chance!

friday afternoon_

“hannie-ah, don't forget to throw out the trash and wash the dishes later, okay?” you asked while you were standing by the door with your overnight bag on the floor, putting your sneakers on. “do you really need to tell me this 3 times? I've got it! go spend time with your mom, I'll be waiting at home for you with ha-rin.” jeonghan snakes his hand up your arms only for them to find home at the back of your neck, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. “come back home safely to me, okay?” he asked as he pulled away to look at you, you had simply nodded, “I'll be back tomorrow evening hannie.”

As soon as the door to your apartment was closed shut, jeonghan wasted no time taking his plans into action. “ha-rin ah, you know this weekend is appa & eomma's anniversary right? appa needs to decorate our house to surprise eomma, can you help me?” jeonghan asked. “but appa, what about lunch? I'm hungry! can we eat first?” ha-rin had her tiny brows scrunched together as her tiny hands held onto her stuffed bunny's hand, dragging it around. “of course, give appa 20 minutes okay? I'll turn on pengsu for you on the TV, you can watch as you wait okay?” with that, jeonghan picks ha-rin up and headed straight to the living room.

whipping up a quick lunch for ha-rin wasn't anything difficult, but the swirling thoughts at the back of his mind about things like: where to start? will he have enough time? will you like it? what if it's lacking? all these questions were definitely making a simple lunch far too difficult, a small slip of his hand & jeonghan has accidentally cut himself with the knife. fuck jeonghan grumbled softly. “appa! are you okay?” ha-rin's concerned voice echoed from behind him, the cut stings but jeonghan could only reassure ha-rin that he was okay. jeonghan thinks to himself: he's not about to crumble with just 30 minutes of you being gone. he can do this! it's just a cut, it's just lunch, it's just some decorations. yeah, he can do that, right?

“ha-rin ah, appa's is okay. can you give me 10 more minutes? I'm almost done making lunch.” jeonghan has mustered all the energy he could find in himself to force a smile at his daughter, he could only hope his 4 year old can't see right through him like her mother can. “appa, but eomma says if we have a boo-boo, we have to kiss it better! I can help you!” jeonghan merely giggled when he heard his daughter, “okay, let me clean up and put a bandaid over it first, okay?”

saturday morning_

“yoon ha-rin! are you hiding all the balloons in your room? you can't just keep them because they're pink! I know its your favourite colour but this is for eomma, can you please bring it out?” ha-rin strutted back to her room sulkily with a cute pout adorning her lips, pulling the string of pink heart balloons out of her room before hastily running off to retrieve the drawing she had finish for her mother. “appa! appa! I finished my drawing! is it pretty?” ha-rin presented her drawing, waiting for her father's reaction. she had used up all her tiny fingers and small hands to litter dozens of colourful flowers all over the once empty drawing block, she had even used her elbows to draw the sun as both her small hands were covered in different paint colours. “everything you create is beautiful ha-rin, including this one.” jeonghan had answered as he placed a peck of kiss on her fluffy cheeks which only made ha-rin happier than she already was, clapping both her paint covered hands together in excitement. “do you want to give it to eomma like this or do you want to hang it up?” “I want to hang it up and surprise eomma!!” harin-rin squealed excitedly.

just when jeonghan thought he had everything together & that it was all perfect: ah the dishes and trash it had almost slipped his mind. he was so focused on decorating the house that after cooking yesterday's lunch and dinner, he forgot to do the dishes and throw the trash. “ha-rin ah can you help me gather all the newspapers you laid out under your drawing block on the floor just now? appa has to throw the trash before your eomma gets home.” a light smile paints his face as he thinks back to a few hours earlier where he had asked ha-rin to lay out newspapers on the floor so that the paint won't get on the tiles; he ended up having to change the newspapers 3 times.

saturday afternoon_

jeonghan glanced at the clock, feeling the pressure. ha-rin was running around with balloons, and the house was still a mess. whilst distracted, jeonghan lost his balance while hanging decorations and tumbled off the stool, knocking over paint cans. pain shot through his ankle as he hit the ground.

“appa!” ha-rin’s voice was filled with worry.

“I’m okay,” jeonghan reassured her, but he knew he was hurt. the house was in chaos, and he hadn’t even touched the dishes or the trash yet.

meanwhile, after a tense argument with your mother, you decided to come home early, hoping to find comfort in your small family. you sent jeonghan a text, but he didn’t see it, too focused on cleaning up the mess and dealing with his injury.

walking into the apartment, you were shocked. paint was everywhere, the trash was overflowing, and the dishes were piled up still. “yoon jeonghan!” you yelled. “what happened?!”

“I can explain!” he stammered, but you were too upset to listen. you were seeing red & nothing he's saying is going in.

“you couldn’t even throw out the trash or wash the dishes? and look at this mess! I've been gone for less than 24 hours and this house turns into a god damn jungle!”

ha-rin, overhearing, stomped her foot; coming into her father's defence. “eomma, don’t yell at appa! he was trying to make everything nice for you!” ha-rin angrily picks up her torn out drawing block sheets of art that she deemed wasnt pretty enough for you as she ran off into her room in riot; thinking jeonghan had made you upset, slamming her door.

you finally noticed jeonghan wincing in the now very quiet living room, you turn around to see his hand on his ankle. “hannie-ah, are you hurt?” you asked, your anger melting into concern as you reached your hands out to hold his. despite the pain in this ankle, jeonghan's once tensed muscles now relax under the gentle touch of your hand. suddenly, his ankle doesn't hurt as much & his once drained energy is being fully recharged at the sound of hannie coming out of you.

“oh…i slipped while putting up the balloons,” joonghan admitted embarrassingly, “and I cut my hand earlier. I was trying to surprise you, but everything went wrong.” jeonghan slumped dejectedly.

you softened, kneeling beside him as you take his hands. “i’m sorry i didn’t realize sooner. you didn’t have to do all this…” you say as your eyes start to water, the feeling of guilty and anger at yourself combined with the frustration from the argument you had with your mother was almost too much for you to bare suddenly. “i just wanted everything to be perfect for you,” jeonghan reassured you as he slides his thumb against the back of your hand.

you smiled and kissed his cheek. “you and ha-rin are all I need,” you retrieved your hands to wipe your tears away before cleaning them on your shirt as you held your hand out, “come on, let's go to the hospital and get your ankle checked, then we can clean together when we get back."

saturday night_

ha-rin peeked into your room, “eomma are you still mad

you shook your head. “no, my little angel, come here.” she ran into your arms, and together, the three of you watched tv in your bedroom, laughing and enjoying the time together. “actually…..” you start out, “ha-rin ah, don't you have a playdate with hae-eun tomorrow morning? shouldn't you be sleeping now?” you asked in hopes your daughter would give you some alone time with jeonghan….you had something you needed to tell him. “oh- I almost forgot about tomorrow!” ha-rin quickly sat up from where she was laying her head on your chest, “goodnight eomma goodnight appa!” she moved in closer to peck both you and jeonghan on the cheek and you both do the same to her.

as soon as you watch the bedroom door close behind ha-rin, nervousness and anxiety start to churn your tummy. you were admittedly, worried about how jeonghan will take the news. you turn to look at jeonghan to meet his worried eyes, “are you okay?” he asked as he reached for your hands. “it's not like you to chase ha-rin out of our bedroom…..” his voice trails off slowly before he begins again, “is something wrong?” his concerned eyes searched yours. “hannie-ah…I have something to tell you…” you turn around to reach for the drawer of your bedside table, pulling out pictures of your ultrasound scan from a few days ago and placing them in your husband’s hands as you wait for his reaction. “is this…?” jeonghan's face paints a looks of surprise and happiness; just as you had hoped he would be. you couldn't quite interpret yet for sure though, because this second baby? yeah, it wasn't planned… “I'm preg-” “you're pregnant? oh my god you're pregnant! I'm gonna get to be a dad again!” you watch fondly & adoringly as jeonghan's eyes widened in realisation, how could you ever think he would take the news badly?

“I'm just worried.”

“what about, angel?”

“like, is now really the time? your career will definitely be affected more or less, one way or another, what about our sleep oh my god we won't get any sleep if this kid is anything like ha-rin as a baby. & god, what about ha-rin? is she okay with this? what if she isn't opened to the idea of having another child around? what if that's not what she wants? what if you're too busy? what if i have to do this alone this time? what if-”

“you're doing it again,” he says as he rests his hand atop of yours, reassuring you. “you're spiralling & overthinking again.” his lifts his free hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear before resting his hand in between your jaw and neck, his thumb caressing your soft cheeks soothingly. “you haven’t even asked me how i feel about this….” he says; hinting you. there was a slight hint of disappointment to his voice, but it quickly disappears. “well…what do you think hannie?” your glossy eyes lift themselves and finds sight of jeonghan.

“personally, I think whatever time is right as long as its with you, and as long as its what you want. don't worry too much about my career, I was well prepared for whatever was to happen & to take on whatever burden and struggles we might have in the future the day i asked you to marry me." he paused to give you a soft smile.

"do you remember when 8 years ago, you asked if i was serious about us because you felt like we were drifting apart? you were so angry that you even asked if I ever thought about marrying you. I never told you this but the truth was that, i've always wanted to marry you, from the very start, I had just put it at the back of my mind, but somewhere along the line, i realised that if i really wanted to marry you, i had to be prepared. as they always say, love alone just isnt enough sometimes & i never want that to happen to us so i had to be prepared & i had to make sure none of these other factors affect our relationship. I was working day & night, meeting clients of all sorts to build the company & and giving it more stability, making sure I have enough spare funds before I dare take your hand in mine, angel. thats why i was spending more time away from you, because i want to marry you. when i asked you to marry me, i told you i'd let you live a comfortable life without having to work, that if you wanted, we could open that book cafe & that i'd spend all most of my free time with you didn't I? didn't we end up opening that book cafe you've always wanted? the company will do fine without me for a couple of months, ive built it up, havent i?” jeonghan asked with a certain softness to his eyes, as well as his voice. they soften just for you.

“also we're still young, let's really worry about sleep when we hit late 40s, as for ha-rin, she's been asking for a baby brother for awhile now.” “and what if it's not a boy? what if it's a girl? what if that's not what ha-rin wants…-”

“eomma!!!! are we really having a baby?” both you & jeonghan whipped your head around so quick you wouldn't be surprised if they snapped. oh no, did ha-rin hear you? should you just ask her now and get it over and done with? “ha-rin ah,” you say as you helped her back up onto the bed. “appa always tells you you're an angel who got sent to us right?” she nodded her head in response, “appa said I was a good angel & I've come here to do good deeds & help even more children learn to do good deeds!” she answered with ease, her bunny now in her hand. “yes, that's right. but i think eomma and appa must have been really good people in our past lives too because another angel is coming to us.” you said gently, gauging her reaction this time.

“really? is it a boy? a girl?” she asked excitedly as she clapped her hands, “we don't know yet baby, but would you be okay if it was a girl? would you be upset?” you asked as you start to comb your hands through her hair. “if its a boy then we'll be best friends & if its a girl then we'll be the bestest best friend!!!!! i can share my toys!!!!” her toothy-grin was all too much for your weak heart; you picked her up and brought her cheeks up to your lips, peppering her baby soft skin with your playful kisses. “ha-rin ah, why dont you ask eomma what she thinks about this situation? your eomma wont tell me if she's excited or not. i've been happy alone for the past 10 minutes!” jeonghan interrupted as he teasingly sulked.

“appa! we can celebrate and be happy together! eomma too! eomma is excited, of course! didn't you see her smile just now?” ha-rin asked as she now directs her attention on her father. “did she? I didn't see her smile…tell me, pretty, what do you think? ha-rin & I are happy & ready, are you?” a soft sigh escapes your lips as you smile happily genuinely, “I am.” you answer your husband as he smiles knowingly, feeling relieved & at peace at being able to shut your uncertainties down. “I'm going to get sally & we can all sleep together!!!” ha-rin announces as she jumps off the bed & dashes off to her bedroom to retrieve her stuffed giraffe.

“& darling, about what you said earlier,” jeonghan's voice was soothingly gentle yet painfully firm & confident. maybe it's because he knows what he says next has been true & will continue to be, “when have i ever let you do or go through anything alone?”