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holybibly · 5 months ago

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𝔐𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔇𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔐𝔞𝔫 | Hongjoong x reader

Pairing: Rich adult Hongjoong x reader Summary: You've always had expensive taste. So when you meet a gorgeous older man in a bar with the most ravenous feline eyes and diabolical smile, you can't resist the urge to taste him. You let him take you back to his place and give you the most unforgettable night of your life. Genre / Au / Trope : Smut, S2L, One Night Stand!AU, Luxurious! AU Rating: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI Word count: 9.2k Warnings: Older Hongjoong (36)/younger reader (20) unprotected sex, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, praise kink, face fucking, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, and more.

net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet A|N: It seems we need someone older, little bunnies, don't you think? God, I just love this. I'm so happy to be immersed in the luxurious and unbelievably dirty atmosphere of wealth and sex again. And Hongjoong has been on my mind a lot lately. So, bunnies, here I am, feeding you delicious and vulgar things, just the way we like it. ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl

It was not like you at all to agree to go home with some random guy from the bar that you'd just met.

But Kim Hongjoong wasn't just any guy; no, he was an adult, absolutely gorgeous, rich man with a hundred diamond-carat Rolex glittering on his wrist and a devilish grin on his scarlet sensual lips. The kind of lips you want to feel against your skin.

Hongjoong was no ordinary guy whose face you could barely remember the morning after a wild night out. He was the man you'd always dreamed of, the man you'd always wanted, and frankly, the man every girl wanted. An absolute wet dream, dressed in a black Armani suit.

All night long, you felt the weight of the dark, predatory gaze of his feline eyes, the intensity of which burned through your skin, even through the dress you wore tonight. The fleeting interest you had in each other had grown into something much more. And now he was toying with you like a hunter with his prey. But in your case, you wanted to be caught by this man, perhaps too much for your own good.

He was expensive in every way—his clothes, his looks, his behaviour—and you were desperate for a taste of this expensive luxury. You wanted to have a taste of him on your tongue. You wanted to pour his luxurious nature into crystal bottles and drink it down as he fucked you into oblivion. And as you looked at him in the semi-darkness of the bar, it was clear to you that this man was going to be quite unsweet, and that fact only turned you on even more.

But it wasn't just that. It was everything about him that fueled your lust and made you feel the wet heat between your legs.

There was everything about him that spoke of experience and authority, a power that no pretty boy in your philosophy class could ever hope to possess. He was mature, dominant, and rough around the edges. And you wanted nothing more than for him to be the one who fucked you tonight. You wanted to be with someone older, someone who knew how to treat you the right way.

As you walked back to the bar after a quick smoke with a friend, you hadn't expected to find yourself face-to-face with him. The scattered yellowish light from the street lamps played in his platinum blonde hair, and it was at that moment that you knew you'd do anything to get what you wanted so badly.

Not your league, not your age, not your style—he was your golden ticket to heaven. So when he offered to take you back to his place, you didn't think twice about immediately agreeing.

He smelled like money, sex, whisky, and luxury, and this intoxicating mixture of flavours invaded all of your senses, causing your head to spin a little and warm moisture to build up between your thighs. Your little game of seduction was over; you were the ones who initiated the hunt, but he was the winner, and now you were completely in his power, ready to be on your knees in total submission.

As soon as his dark, feline eyes met your big, shining ones and demanded your full attention, you fell into his trap. He leaned in close to your face, invading your personal space completely, and lifted your chin up with his long forefinger so that all you had to do was look at him. You couldn't help but notice how long and thick his lashes were, framing the onyx gleam of his irises, and how sensual his plump, slightly parted lips were, now curved into a seductive grin.

There was a sexy, beautiful maturity in the sharp features of his face. None of the puppy tenderness you were so used to seeing in boys your age. It was so new and so damn attractive that, for a moment, you were left breathless by the wave of excitement that was washing over you. And the devilish spark that danced in the depths of his eyes didn't help you at all; if he were to keep looking at you like that, you would have turned into a puddle of lust right where you were standing.

"Is there something that you want from me, kitten?" His voice is hoarse and sultry, like pure gold drenched in poison. It has a dangerous, demonic tone, is full of the most sinful promises imaginable, and it only attracts you more. Like moths to a flame. The air between you crackles with tension and desire, and you can barely utter a word.

"I wanted..." You mutter—another thing that's completely unlike you. But you can't gather your thoughts as you stare at the breathtakingly handsome man in front of you. Never before in your life have you felt such a strong desire for any guy as you do for this man at this very moment.

Oh God.

The aura around him is so dominant, and you swallow in anticipation. All of your self-confidence evaporates completely as soon as the pointed tip of his tongue slides across his plump lower lip, leaving it wet and glistening with saliva. You can feel yourself starting to sweat; you're so hot and so needy right now.

A storm is about to break, and you want to be right in its midst.

"What's the matter, kitten? Did the cat eat your tongue?" His words were accompanied by a wicked twist of a grin on his face. He was amused, to be sure, but there was something else dancing in the depths of his slanted eyes beyond that. It was an emotion that you could not decipher, but something told you that it could hardly be described as holy.

This man was clearly aware of the overwhelming effect he was having on you. And judging by the expression on his face, it gave him an indescribable amount of pleasure.

"Hmm... perhaps you would like something to drink? With me...". God, you have made such a fool of yourself. The man's grin at your words was just that much bigger. He leaned in even closer to you, his wet lips touching the soft, sensitive skin on your ear with every word he said.

"How tempting that sounds, my kitten. But I think I can offer you something much better. How about I take you back to my house, and you let me drink the champagne right off your pretty, sexy body? Then I'm going to fuck you till dawn until you're stupid and obedient to me. Would you want that, kitty?" He purred in your ear as he ran his finger down the length of your neck until it dipped into the deep neckline of your cleavage.

You let out a low, pitiful moan as everything he does sends signals straight down the nerves that control your cunt. A palpable shiver runs down your spine, and you can feel your pussy clenching at nothing as his words take shape in your mind. The image of that tongue and those sinful lips gliding over your body as he licks off the sparkling golden champagne that you were sure would be obscenely expensive and taste exquisite is practically making you come without even touching yourself.

Without hesitating for a second, you nod in agreement with everything he has told you, and soon you find yourself sitting in the leather seat of his car, with the possessive touch of his hand on your bare thigh. As his fingers, adorned with massive silver rings, dig into your soft flesh, you swallow hard as you see the veins under his skin swell and pulsate.

You want to spread your legs wider and let him see how wet and ready you are for him, but you bite your lip, holding back the urge to retain some semblance of your dignity. Boys your age have never made your body react like this before, and it almost frightens you, but at the same time, it makes you want this man all the more.

It doesn't take long to get to his house, but for you, it feels like forever. During the drive, you find out that the gorgeous man's name is Kim Hongjoong and that he's a music producer, which makes you wonder how talented his fingers are at handling pussy. Aren't all musicians pretty damn good at fingering? Hongjoong is going to be no exception; you can be sure of that.

That's the only thought that stays in your head the whole time you drive out, as the feel of his hot touch on your bare skin literally melts your brain and makes you so soft and pliable for him.

The air in the car is becoming unbearably heavy with the excess sexual energy, and you are on the verge of choking to death. Just as you're thinking about starting to beg him to fuck you right there in the back seat of his car, he lets you know that you've arrived.

Hongjoong's house—luxurious, expensive, and modern, with lots of glass and metal—was a complete reflection of his personality and style. A marble-tiled swimming pool with soft lighting and a green maze garden lay behind the house. As expected, Hongjoong had exceptionally refined and expensive tastes in everything.

You were standing in front of the huge picture window in the master bedroom of the house, and your eyes were fixed on the glowing water of the swimming pool. It helped to ease your nerves now that you were alone with Hongjoong, far away from the prying eyes and the noise of the city. He slowly approaches you like a big cat of prey and hands you a tall glass of sparkling champagne. As you stare at the dancing particles of air and liquid, Hongjoong's earlier words come back to you, and you bite your lower lip to keep yourself from moaning out loud.

His hot breath hits the sensitive skin of your neck as his strong arms wrap around you from behind. Fingers adorned with massive silver rings dig into the soft curves of your body with great force. Behind you, Hongjoong is moaning in satisfaction as he squeezes you even tighter into his arms.

"Well, hello, my little kitty." He purrs sensually into your ear before one of his hands moves the hair from your shoulder, just to leave a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss on your skin.

Hongjoong's hands slide down your body in a possessive way until they find their place on your ample, luscious thighs. He presses you harder and harder against his body, and even through the tight fabric of his designer suit, you can feel the embossed muscles of his chest and the tightness of his abs. His fingers start to knead your thighs roughly; his grip is so tight that you're sure you'll be bruised in the morning, and in fact, you wanted him to leave as many of his marks on you as possible.

"You should try the champagne, my princess; you were so eager to have a drink with me. Weren't you?" His voice is pure darkness wrapped in velvet as he purrs against your skin. The seductive huskiness of his words sends shivers down your spine, and you tilt your head to the side to give him a little more access to kiss you. Hongjoong mooed contentedly and pulled you closer to him so that his hips were now pressed up against your plump bum. Oh, fuck. This position gives you the chance to feel his cock very clearly; it's hard, big, and thick in its girth, and you know that it's going to stretch you out in the most glorious way.

"Yes, that's what I wanted, sir." It's an experiment; you're just testing the dynamic between the two of you. You whimper as his teeth sink into the sensitive flesh of your neck, and it's a sign to you that you've hit the mark.

You definitely do not want to disappoint Hongjoong, so you obediently follow his order and bring the champagne glass to your lips, taking a little sip. Your head spins slightly as the exquisite taste of the expensive alcohol tingles your tongue.

"Such an obedient kitten, just the way I like it." His praise makes you feel even more sticky and wet in your panties. You've never been praised sexually before, and you've only guessed at your penchant for being praised and acknowledged during sex. You've always had a desire to learn more about this kinky part of your nature, but you've never had the opportunity to do so.

But it seems tonight will be the night.

Hongjoong's hot, soft lips continue to plant passionate kisses on your neck and shoulders. Your eyes roll with pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey. He slips a finger under the strap of your tight dress and begins to slowly slide it down, exposing your plump tits.

"Mmm, you're so tender, kitty." The man says as he touches your breasts with his fingertips, and from this lightest touch, hot desire runs through your veins, and you unconsciously rub your arse on his cock, making Hongjoong let out the sexiest moan deep in his throat.

As your dress fell to your thighs and you stood half-naked in front of the huge window in Hongjoong's bedroom, your nipples tensed against the cool air in the room. You were displayed like a sparkling diamond, belonging to him alone now, and knowing that made your heart beat faster.

So far from the city and behind the high fence of his mansion, you had your doubts that anyone would be able to see you in such an inappropriate way, but you had the wish that it was possible. You wanted all the boys who'd been in love with you to be able to see this adult, breathtakingly handsome man fuck you so stupidly and so hard that none of them would ever be able to do it.

Hongjoong's hands cupped your boob in a possessive way, holding their heavy weight in the palms of his hands before he began to massage the soft flesh roughly. The silver of his jewelled rings scratched lightly across your skin, leaving reddened marks. Your breasts had always been quite sensitive, and you knew that you could easily come just by stimulating your nipples, but all your previous boyfriends had never paid much attention to that. But Hongjoong, hell, this man knew exactly how to treat you—how to make you whimper and beg.

"Please... Sir..." You moan loudly and eagerly as his fingers run expertly over your sensitive, swollen nipples, and the wetness between your legs becomes more and more intense. Your juices are seeping through the thin lace of your panties and are literally dripping out of your pussy, and you are desperate for Hongjoong to fill the aching void inside of you with his thick cock as quickly as possible. Your hand that holds the champagne glass is trembling and threatens to spill the golden sparkling liquid all over the marble floor, and Hongjoong notices it with a dark chuckle.

"Look at you, Princess; you're trembling all over. My sweet little kitty is so sensitive." His tongue sticks out to lick the long stripe on your neck, and you gasp in surprise as the soft touch is replaced by his sharp teeth, branding your skin.

But it's only a distraction, because the next second you're backed against the cold window glass, and Hongjoong's sensual lips finally meet yours in a scalding kiss. Oh shit. He growls in a low voice against your lips, one of his hands wrapped roughly around your neck, squeezing it with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. Those soft lips are pressed tightly against yours in a kiss that is hungry and cruel. His mouth is insistent and demanding; every movement is a sign of experience and power - he doesn't cajole you - Hongjoong takes what is rightfully his.

His thumb burrows into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue winds between your lips, compelling you to open your mouth for him.

Once you let it in, you shudder at the sensual, hot sensation as Hongjoong's tongue runs over your palate and your teeth, licking the inside of your cheeks and wrapping it around your tongue like a snake. God, you've never been kissed like this before. Usually it's a slobbering mess with lipstick smeared all over your face, but Hongjoong clearly knows how to make your knees buckle with just one kiss, and you're afraid to imagine what else that sinful mouth is capable of.

Now you're absolutely sure he's going to fuck your brains out.

You moan with wanton need as he presses his fingers harder and harder against your throat, and the glass of champagne slips from your hand and shatters into hundreds of tiny pieces of crystal, glittering with rainbow-coloured tears in the dimly lit bedroom.

"Hongjoong..." The moaning of his name was so desperate, so needy, and so full of lust and desire.

"Damn it, kitten. I love it when you moan my name, but I love it even more when you address me properly. Will you be able to do that for me, Princess?"

"Yes, Sir, I will."

Hongjoong kisses you with renewed fury, biting your lips almost to the point of blood. He's so passionate, so unique, tasting like dark chocolate with red pepper, and you want more and more; right now this gorgeous man is licking your mouth with his tongue and literally pushing it down your throat.

He kisses you like he's dying of thirst, and you're the only way to satiate that vital need. The saliva is running down your chin; it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop. You don't want to stop. Hongjoong's tongue practically fucks you in the mouth. Your hands reach for the collar of his designer shirt and start to unbutton it hastily. He laughs against your lips as you whimper, frustrated at not being able to make it right. Your fingers are trembling too much with excitement and impatience.

"Shhh, kitten, let me help you." He pulls his hands away from your body just so he can take off his jacket and shirt, tossing the expensive designer stuff aside with a dismissive air as if it were completely worthless, but the embroidered name labels you notice tell you otherwise.

Your touches on each other grow more desperate by the second; his skin is smooth and soft under your fingers, but underneath you can feel the strain of muscles that have been trained for years. This man is pure porn, as sexy as Hell itself, and you want to burn up in his flames without leaving a trace behind.

"Please... Sir." You catch your breath as Hongjoong's hand wraps around your neck once more. You are completely unaware of what you're asking him to do. The excitement and the lust are making your brain look like mush and are setting your skin on fire.

The only thing that matters to you right now is that Hongjoong keeps touching you. You want to feel him all over you. You feel like he's got every cell in your body burning, and only his touch can make you feel better.

At your pitiful plea, Hongjoong's feline eyes seemed to grow even darker and more predatory than they could have been, and that should have frightened you, but instead, lust coursed through your veins and a palpable shiver ran through your body. He was looking at you as if he wanted to eat you alive, and you were more than happy to let him do it.

"Oh, my beautiful little kitten. Are you going to be an obedient little girl for me?" Your pussy clenched, and you nodded your head affirmatively in response to his sultry purr.

"Yes, I will be an obedient girl for you, Sir." His scarlet, sensual lips curve insidiously into a wide, devilish grin as he kneels before you. Hongjoong slides the soft fabric of your dress down your legs until you are standing in front of him in nothing more than a lace thong. He wraps his arm around your ankle and then tosses it over his shoulder as well.

For some reason, this pose feels so obscene and dirty to you, and you blush to a deep red, especially when your gaze falls on his face. There is something unjustly handsome about his features, and it almost makes you want to cry. God, this man was beyond your comprehension.

Your hands get tangled in his platinum, perfectly styled hair, and you pull lightly on the soft strands as Hongjoong bites down on the soft skin on the inside of your thigh before his sharp nose nestles up against your pussy and he takes a slow, deep breath.

"God, your scent is so sweet, kitten." He breathed out. The sound of his voice caressed your skin like liquid silk. "But I bet your cunt tastes even sweeter." His dark, hungry eyes look up at you through long, fluffy lashes.

For the second time that night, you find yourself caught in his feline gaze, watching in fascination as Hongjoong leans his gorgeous face forward and licks a long, tantalising strip down the length of your cunt through the thin lace of your thong. The indirect touch of his tongue on your throbbing, swollen clit makes you let out a loud whimper, your knees almost buckling at the slight caress.

"I... sir..." You feel, rather than see, the curve of his beautiful, soft lips in a sly grin before he repeats his action, once again running his tongue along your clothed slit, this time deliberately flicking the sharp tip of his tongue over your clit. You tremble under the skilled touch of his mouth on your warm pussy as Hongjoong continues rubbing his tongue against the lacework of your thong, leaving thick and viscous trails of saliva on them.

"Look at you, kitten; your cunt is soaking wet. You're so juicy and so ready for me. Tell me, princess, what do you want from me?" Hongjoong whispers and pushes your panties aside. His fingers spread your labia, allowing the cool air of the room to cool your hot and sticky flesh slightly. Hongjoong's feline eyes are predatorily narrowing at the sight of your small, throbbing clit and the way your tight hole is trembling with the need to be filled with something. "Come on, kitty, tell me what you want so badly. Don't be shy." Hongjoong's sensual lips are parted by his heavy breathing, and he swallows hard as he sees your hole clenching at nothing and spurting a thick, viscous drop of your sweet essence. Damn it, it's literally dripping off of you.

He rolls his eyes and moans lewdly; his Adam's apple swayed, and the veins in his neck swelled with tension. The sound that he's making is almost pornographic. His hard-on twitches painfully as it presses hard against the fabric of his trousers, but Hongjoong ignores it for the moment.

"Hongjoong..." You whimper. Your whimper turns into a loud squeal as his fingers dig roughly into the tender flesh of your thigh, leaving stinging red marks from his nails on your skin, and he lets out a deep growl that you can feel in the folds of your cunt. It makes you realise what you've done, and you immediately try to correct it. "Sir, I'm so sorry. I'll be better."

"That's right, kitty, you should behave better, and I'm still waiting for your answer." Hongjoong's hot breath flows around your sensitive pussy with every word he says.

"Your mouth...I want your mouth and your tongue, sir...please..." Your thighs are trembling a little from all the attention that this luxurious man is giving you at the moment. "Please, sir, use your mouth. I want you to eat my cunt."

"Oh, my beautiful, precious girl, I promise you. I will take good care of you. So good that you won't even remember your name." Hongjoon purrs in a velvety voice as his dark and hungry eyes devour your pretty pink cunt. You look like an exquisite delicacy to him, and he is eager to taste your juicy sweetness.

You sob pitifully in response to his words, your body obviously enjoying the way he is addressing you as more and more viscous slime oozes out of your sensitive pussy. God, what this man is doing to you now is nothing compared to any of the men you've ever fucked in your life.

You can't hold back a loud, prolonged moan as he pulls you closer to his handsome face, pressing your soaking wet cunt to his greedy, scarlet lips. The tip of his tongue slides expertly between your folds before he runs it along the delicate edges of your small, tight hole, tasting the flesh of your cunt and the nectar-sweetness of your juices.

"Fuck, kitten," Hongjoon growled. "The taste of your pussy is divine to me." The man doesn't hesitate to plunge his gorgeous face even deeper, literally burying himself between your thighs, his sharp nose poking at your clit as he hungrily lavishes on your aching, oozing hole.

"Sir!" You squeal as the searing heat of his gorgeous mouth envelops your plump little pussy in its entirety.

Hongjoong pulled the small, reddened bud into his mouth and began to suck it roughly, milking your overly sensitive bunch of nerves with his gorgeous lips. When you sob and squirm in his grip, he lets go of your clit with a loud pop and instead licks another long strip along your throbbing cunt.

He moans wantonly and somehow desperately into your vagina, leaving dirty French kisses on your folds and making them even wetter and stickier, smearing your mucus and saliva all over your little mound. You pitifully moan as you begin to wiggle your hips in time with the relentless movements of his jaw, tugging at the thick strands of his platinum hair.

He sucks, licks, and caresses your pussy and brings you to a state of absolute bliss. Hongjoong is getting drunk on you and is completely intoxicated by your beautiful, creamy cunt.

You gasp loudly as Hongjoong spits a thick lump of saliva onto your pussy and you can feel some of the liquid running down your folds. He spoiled your cunt completely.

"I could eat that little cunt of yours all day long, kitten. You have such a delicious taste." Hongjoong moaned as his tongue licked greedily along the long strip from your crotch all the way to your clit. The taste of your sweet, creamy cunt on his tongue was practically driving him mad, and he let out a low, sultry purr that vibrated all the way to your centre.

It wasn't the first time someone had buried their face between your thighs, but damn, Hongjoong was something else.

Your sweet, pitiful moans and wheezes were music to his ears and only served to encourage him even more to continue his caresses. You sang so beautifully to him, trembling and wriggling in the firm, rough grip of his hands while his soft and experienced tongue flicked and fluttered over your sensitive clit.

Fuck, it felt so good—so damn good—that your vision became blurred with pleasure and sudden tears on the edges of your eyes, and your breathing became intermittent and heavy. You could already feel the knot of hot pleasure tightening inside of you; damn it, you were so close to cum.

Hongjoong wrapped his hot, wet mouth around your clitor once more and began to suck on the swollen, throbbing bud of yours, alternating between rough and gentle sucking.

God, this man definitely had the most amazing 'tongue technique' that you could ever have imagined. Hongjoong lifted his head for a moment, and the sight of his stunningly handsome, mature face almost brought you to a state of ecstasy: his lips swollen from the incessant caresses, all shiny and glassy with your excitement, feline eyes unfocused as if he were drunk, long eyelashes fluttering, saliva running down his cheeks and chin, mixing with your sticky sweetness.

It was overwhelming, and the pleasure shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh my God!" You let out a loud groan, throwing your head back and banging it lightly against the glass, but you don't even pay any attention to it; you are too engrossed in Hongjoong.

"Oh my kitten, that's right, you can call me God." Hongjoong laughed fiercely, and then you felt the tip of his tongue sliding into your small, narrow hole, and he started caressing your silky walls.

And then everything goes white for you. The stars explode behind your eyes, your hips shake uncontrollably as they clench around Hongjoong's head, your hands pull harder on the soft platinum strands of his hair, and the loud moaning of his name flies from your parted lips like a prayer song.

"Please, Hongjoong, don't stop. I'm begging you; don't stop." And he doesn't stop, prolonging your orgasm with quick and skillful movements of his tongue. He's lapping up your cum like it was the world's most exquisite dessert, smacking his lips and greedily swallowing all the viscous, sweet liquid that flows into his insatiable, devilish mouth.

You look so ethereal as you spray your sweet juices all over his face, and something deep down inside of him wants to feel it all over again.

"Please! Hongjoong..." You are begging him, but you don't know exactly what it is you are asking him to do. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, almost painful.

The tears have begun to flow freely down your face, leaving inky trails of mascara and shimmering glitter. Hongjoong thinks you resemble him a freshly bloomed flower, and when you come again, he can't help but want to see you underneath him—wriggling, heated, exhausted from hours of endless, animalistic, rough sex, cum on his cock again and again. Fuck, he'd milk every last drop out of you.

When you feel like you're about to pass out from the overstimulation, Hongjoong pulls away from your cunt. He lifts his dark, slanting eyes to you and licks his swollen, scarlet lips hungrily, using his tongue to pick up what remains of your slime. But it doesn't help much. The clear, sticky liquid runs down his chin and drips onto his chest. How does this man still look so luxurious and expensive, even after licking your cunt like his life depended on it?

Hongjoong plants a last hot kiss on the inside of your thigh before taking your leg off his shoulder and standing up. His hands are around you at once, dragging you against his powerful body. His skin is so smooth and so hot, and you have no hesitation in telling him that you'd like to lick him from head to toe.

"I want to taste you. Are you going to let me do that, sir?"

The corners of his lips lift, turning his smile into a true predatory grin, and everything inside of you clenches and quivers with a sharp anticipation that tingles your skin like shards of broken crystal.

"Sweet little kitty, aren't you the most precious thing in the world?" He says. Hongjoong takes your hand in his and presses it against his hot, thick erection. Fuck, even through the tight designer fabric of his trousers, you can feel how amazing and delicious his cock is going to be. Oh, he's going to totally destroy your cunt. "Would you like to taste my cock, Princess?" His eyebrow lifts in a teasing manner, and your fingers tighten on his erection.

"Yes, sir, I do. I want to taste your cock so badly. I'm such a slut for you. Give me the feel of your cock on my tongue. Please, sir." You look up at him through your lashes, running your tongue over your plump lower lip and his cock twitching under your palm.

"If you ask me so sweetly, kitten, who am I to refuse you? Just say the word, and I'll have the whole fucking world crawling at your feet."

He pulls you over to the luxurious bed, which is clearly too big to spend your nights alone, and makes himself comfortable on the edge of the soft mattress, pulling you down gently until you're kneeling between his legs. You spread your legs a little bit so that even in this position, Hongjoong can enjoy the sight of your glistening, dripping cunt. Traces of his saliva and your juices cover your silky folds and make him want to sink his face between your thighs once more.

Hongjoong throws his head back and lets out a deep, velvety moan, and your eyes sparkle as you see his gloriously sculpted abs tense and his Adam's apple tremble, and you want to leave hundreds of marks on that gorgeous, seductive throat. Belatedly, you notice the "NO1LIKEME" tattoo on his arm and think it suits him damn well.

"Come on, princess, show me what you can do with that beautiful, slutty mouth of yours." He says this as he unbuckles his belt.

You move impatiently closer to him as he finally pulls his cock out of his trousers, your eyes widening to see this thick, velvety length right in front of you. The head of his cock was reddened and swollen, and you swallowed hard from this vew. God, his cock is gorgeous, with thick, juicy veins covering the hard length, which is glistening wet from the pre-cum that is leaking out of it.

Your mouth fills with saliva, and you run your fingertips lightly over the entire length of his cock before you dip your head down to lick the wet head. The taste of him reminds you of the champagne you drank earlier and tingles your tongue. Outrageously expensive and ultra vulgar. You hunger for more. Your parted lips press against his cock, wrapping it in your hot breath as you run it down the length to the base.

Your tongue gives him a kitten's lick at the sensitive spot where his cock meets up with his heavy, cum-filled balls. The moan he makes as he does so goes straight to your pussy and your silky walls clench around nothing. The soft skin tingles under your tongue and makes his cock bounce up against your pretty face, and the sight of you licking his balls almost brings him over the edge.

Fuck, Hongjoong swears to himself that he's going to fucking destroy you.

"I see my kitten knows how to handle a cock, eh? But can you please me, Princess?" He hisses through his teeth as you wrap the palm of your hand around his cock and slap it against your protruding tongue a couple of times. Each time his cock pulls away from the soft surface of your slippery appendage, long strands of saliva stretch from your mouth to his glans.

"I'll try, sir..." The look in your wide, open eyes is completely innocent as you begin to slowly suck him into your hot and deliciously moist mouth. Hongjoong's dark cat-like eyes are fixed on your glistening ruby-red lips as they stretch around his thick dick in the most beautiful way.

The way you tilt your head and relax your jaw, allowing Hongjoong's massive cock to slide deeper into your throat, makes him crumple the silk sheet in his hand with such force that the knuckles on his fingers turn white. His other hand comes to rest on the back of your head and presses firmly, causing you to take his cock even deeper into your mouth. Your eyebrows furrow as the swollen head rests against the back of your throat, eliciting a guttural moan from him.

Unconsciously, you swallow, allowing Hongjoong's cock to slide easily down your throat, the veiny length of it stretching along the quivering walls of your larynx. He swallows hard, his Adam's apple jiggling to get your attention, and you repeat the motion, swallowing again, letting his cock slide deeper and deeper until your face is almost resting against his pubic.

"Fuck, that, my good girl." Hongjoong gasps, watching the blissful expression on your face as his entire cock basks sweetly between the tight, sticky walls of your throat. On your neck, he can easily see the outline of his length bulging beneath your thin skin. His fingers get tangled in your hair as he begins to pull your head up and down, fucking your mouth and causing saliva to drip from your lips onto your chin and down his thighs.

You moan around his cock; the heavy, hot weight on your tongue makes you feel so good. You've always loved having a cock in your mouth, but there was something about the fact that Hongjoong's cock was the one that was destroying your throat at that very moment that just made your head spin.

"Fuck, I haven't had a good cocksucker like you in a long time. Most girls start to whimper and choke, but you're just made for sucking cocks. Aren't you, pussycat?" Hongjoong said mockingly, his thrusts getting harder and harder as the most disgusting and lewd words poured out of his mouth like sweet, seductive poison.

You moaned affirmatively, agreeing with what he said, your wet, silky throat clinging to his cock with each powerful thrust. An almost evil laugh erupted from Hongjoong's chest as you made a strangled, gurgling sound around his cock after a particularly strong thrust of his hips. His balls slapped against your chin with a sticky, vulgar sound.

He ran his other hand through his platinum hair, brushing the silky strands away from his eyes as he tilted his head back.

"I can't wait to spoil your cunt. I want you to smear your cream all over my cock, or are you a squirter, pussycat?" He purred, and you fell into even more bliss from the vibrations of his golden voice on your skin.

The thought of him stretching out your cunt on his cock made your exhausted brain boil with euphoria. You let his cock out of your mouth with a loud slutty pop, saliva and pre-sperm running in long strands from your tongue to the tip of his cock.

"For you, I'll do both, sir."

"Could you be any more precious, Princess?" Hongjoong's fingers cupped your face and pressed your cheeks together. His eyes were filled with something animal, primal, and utterly savage. "Are you ready for me to fuck you, beautiful? Because I'll screw you so hard and long that you'll feel my cock in your pretty little pussy for days after. Those threatening words sounded like heaven to you, and I nodded your head impatiently.

His hand moved away from your face but soon came back in the form of a sharp slap that burned your soft, plump cheek and made you gasp for breath. Oh shit, Hongjoong's actions caused a thick stream of slime to pour out of your trembling hole and onto the marble floor. God, you loved the way he handled you, without this puppy sweetness that guys your age had or clumsy attempts to please you.

He was a man who knew exactly how to make your pussy flow for him.

"I... want you to fuck me stupid Make me your personal little slut, please, sir."

Satisfied with your words, Hongjoong grabbed your hair again. He lifts you up from the floor, the roots of your hair being pulled painfully tight and causing your delicate scalp to burn slightly. He throws you down on the bed with force; your arse is facing him, and your legs are dangling over the edge. You immediately assume a seductive pose, looking back at Hongjoong over your shoulder with the most innocent and angelic expression on your face, spreading your legs for him, and shaking your plump arse to tease him slightly.

The evil, almost demonic grin is back on Hongjoong's face when he sees what you have done. Your pussy is all swollen and pink, and for a second, he leans in to lick the delicate folds of your pussy once more. His tongue dives into your hole before he slaps you hard on your buttocks with both hands, mixing pain and pleasure and making you moan loudly as you rest your face against the silk sheets.

"Impatient little cunt, aren't you? But, I suppose, kitten, it must be so hard for you to satisfy that greedy hole when you're being fucked by inept, drooling puppies, isn't it? Is this the first time you've ever been fucked by someone older, kitty?"

"Yes, sir, I've never been fucked by an older man." You moan as you feel Hongjoong rub the head of his cock against the folds of your quivering pussy. You whimper in frustration; damn it, all you wanted was to feel him inside you. Your pussy throbs with every touch, and you desperately want to be filled. You sob loudly as the tip of his cock pokes at your clit, your labia wrapped beautifully and tightly around the soft, wet flesh.

"Please fuck me already. I want your cock so badly." You whimper, and he grins back. The sound of it is utterly vicious and diabolical.

"Now I can see it, kitten. You've never been played with like this before, have you? Those boys just stuck their cocks in your hole and used you as a toy for their own pleasure, didn't they?" He slapped his cock against your wetness before he wrapped his hands around your thighs and pressed them together. This new position made the throbbing of your pussy even more intense.

"No one has ever played me right, sir; please show me how it's done. Destroy me..." You whimpered, pulling your arse back to try and get his cock inside. Oh, he just couldn't resist your words. You were exactly what he had always wanted for himself.

"Well, then you should get ready, kitty, because this is going to be one hell of a ride." Hongjoong spits on your pussy to get more lube on it, as if you weren't already an absolute wet mess for him, and he positions himself in front of your narrow entrance. With a deep growl, he begins to push his cock into you, your wet walls sliding apart easily for him as he does so.

The delicate edges of your little hole burned from stretching as the head of his cock fully penetrated you, but you welcomed the sensation with a loud moan of pleasure. Centimetre by centimetre, your warm, sweet pussy engulfed his cock, bringing the two of you to a state of euphoric bliss. The silky, slippery walls of it clung to his thick girth, almost preventing him from moving at all.

Your cunt was so tight and narrow around him that it made Hongjoong hiss and gasp for air. You moaned loudly underneath him. The bossy position that he was holding you in prevented you from moving your hips, leaving you with no choice but to take what he was giving you. Never in your life have you been so intensely aroused. Your lust for this stunningly mature man was simply inhuman.

"Oh fuck..." Hongjoong exhaled as he entered you all the way, his hips pressed tightly against your plump buttocks, as the head of the dick was buried in your cervix. You felt so full, so satiated, and already close to orgasming just from the way he spread you apart. The walls of your cunt contracted and quivered, and your swollen clit throbbed like never before. He hasn't done anything to you, and you're already so fucked up.

Hongjoong grabbed hold of your soft hips and dug his fingers into the juicy flesh, pulling you along the entire length of his cock before he pushed you back against him, slowly adapting you to him. You were so tight and tiny, or rather, he was so big, that even with so little movement and a great deal of mucus and saliva, the friction was palpably sharp.

As soon as you got used to him, Hongjoong didn't wait a second before he started to move. From the very beginning, his pace was sharp and fast. His hips slammed into your arse with great force, and each time his thick, wiry cock entered you all the way to the base of your cervix, the swollen head slamming into your cervix. In time with his thrusts, your plump, heavy tits bounced.

The loud sound of his balls slapping against your plump arse and the noisy squelching of your wet cunt that echoed throughout the room made you sob loudly and pitifully.

"Your pussy is sucking me so deliciously, my little kitten. You are so hungry for my cock, my sugar princess, and I will give you exactly what you want so badly. I am going to feed you properly with my cum. I'm going to give my pretty little kitty so much milk that it will be pouring out of you for days and days." Hongjoong's moan was deep and velvety. His breathing became heavy, and his voice became hoarse and sultry, like a wild predatory cat purring, as he quickened his pace to fuck you harder and deeper. "I'm going to breed you, kitten. I'll make you so beautiful and swollen with my children."

Hongjoong's dirty words turned you on even more, and you knew if you touched your clit even a little, you'd have your cream all over his dick in a matter of seconds. As if reading what you thought, Hongjoong's fingers slid down and began to circle your swollen bud. He drew intricate patterns all over your clit, sending jolts of hot pleasure through your body as he did so.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, your tongue flicked out of your mouth, and a look of pure bliss crossed your face as Hongjoong continued to fuck you mercilessly.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum, please, sir." Your viscous fluid began to flow harder down your inner thighs and Hongjoong's hand as you approached your orgasm.

"Already? You were really desperate for my cock, you pretty little slut. Cum on my cock, kitty." Hongjoong laughed. He leaned forward, his muscular, sweaty chest pressed against your back, his magnificent hips moving smoothly and powerfully as he continued to mercilessly fill your pussy. In this new position, the head of his cock is now rubbing against your G-spot in a delicious way.

Your orgasm is raging inside of you like an all-consuming flame, destroying every conscious part of you and leaving you with no bones. You writhe beneath him, your legs shaking violently as you let out a loud scream. Just as you promised him, your pussy covered all over his cock with your cream, Hongjoong's name comes off your lips like a mantra, and you swear you saw God for a second. You don't think you'll ever reach that level of bliss again. It was truly intoxicating. Your limbs turned to jelly as your orgasm began to melt; you were almost drooling all over the silk sheets from the intense high.

You don't even notice it when it happens. Hongjoong suddenly leaves your used, squeezing cunt, and the next moment you are lying on your back with your legs around his slutty waist and his cock deep inside you.

"I want to have a look at your face when you come again. This time I'll make you squirt, kitten." Hongjoong's pace slows down; it becomes deep and hard; it's sharp, short thrusts that make his cock practically penetrate your cervix. You feel like he's completely remodelling your insides at the moment.

Hongjoong continues to fuck you, and the stimulation becomes almost unbearable for you, bringing you to the edge of pleasure once again. Hongjoong starts to move erratically and becomes careless as he chases his own orgasm. He leans down to your ear, breathing wetly and huskily, his hard chest pressed against your tits, your sensitive nipples rubbing against his heated and sweat-slick skin, bringing you even more pleasure. Your pink buds are practically tingling with the stimulation.

"I will fill you with my sperm, and your pussy will swallow it all." He purred, the sound of his moaning filling your ears. As he fucks you into oblivion, Hongjoong catches your gaze, his cat-like eyes fixed on you.

Hongjoong's gorgeous face contorts with pleasure; his hips twitch, and his face is pressed against your neck to muffle his animal growl. His cock is pulsating hotly inside your silky walls, and as he makes another deep thrust inside you and the head of his cock slips into your cervix for a second, your orgasm hits you like a freight train.

"Hongjoong, oh my God... It's so much. I can't... I can't take it anymore." You start to come, huge jets of liquid splashing around his thick cock as he continues to fuck you like there's no tomorrow.

"Kitten, god damn it!" The man growls, and you feel the hot, thick sperm staining in the white of your tender walls. There's so much of his cum that the viscous, milky liquid seeps out past the point where his cock has plugged your tiny hole and stains the inside of your thighs. His teeth sink into your shoulder, almost tearing through your skin and almost to bleed, until he relaxes and pulls himself away from you. Hongjoong comes out of your tortured, swollen pussy and you go completely limp, too weak to move.

"Damn, look at that hungry little cunt of yours swallowing up all my cum. That's my pussycat." Hongjoong purrs contentedly, showering you with praise as he watches your pussy twitch and the walls clench around the sudden void that his cock has left behind.

"Let's get you cleaned up, kitty." The man says this to you as he gets out of bed and walks to the dressing room that is connected to his bedroom. When he comes back, he is dressed in a floor-length black silk dressing gown, and in his hands he is holding one of his luxurious, classic shirts. You can barely manage to get out of bed; your legs are trembling, and cum is dripping out of your pussy. Hongjoong laughs as he picks you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom, where he sets up the shower for you. It was probably one of the best showers you've ever had. Maybe it was the incredibly expensive skin care products, or the water being the perfect temperature, or just the fact that Hongjoong fucked you to heaven and back.

But you're safe to say that you're going to feel this night on your body for the next few days.

Hongjoong's hot hands glide over your body, smearing the soft, fluffy foam of the incredibly sweet shower gel, and you melt under his touch.

"Will you stay with me, love?" He whispers in your ear.

"I'll stay with you as long as you want me to, Hongjoong."

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You slowly climb out of Hongjoong's luxurious bed and try not to wake up the man who is sleeping peacefully with your actions. Hell, even when he's sleeping, he looks like a fucking work of art, and you almost want to go back to bed and wake him up with a quality blowjob, but you decide to revisit the idea later, after you've made breakfast for both of you. You flinch slightly as you move. The sweet pain in your pussy reminds you of what happened last night. Damn it, Hongjoong really did fuck you incredibly well.

It's surprisingly easy to navigate his huge house, and you quickly find a spacious kitchen bathed in golden sunlight, only to freeze in the hallway, not daring to move.

If yesterday you thought that Hongjoong was the most handsome man you had ever seen in your life, then when you look at the man who is now sitting at the dining table, relaxed and drinking coffee, you think that you have met God himself. Oh, damn. Unconsciously, you gasp for breath, which gets his attention, and when your eyes meet, you swear that your heart stops beating.

"Oh, you are awake already. Did you have a good night's sleep, my love?" His voice caresses your skin like a thousand kisses, and you are terribly ashamed to admit it, but sweet moisture begins to gather between your legs. God, what's happening now?

"Yes, I... Yes, that was good." You stammer under the weight of this gorgeous man's dark, almost hypnotic gaze, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Your insecurities and embarrassment seem to amuse him, as the man lets out a dark, amused chuckle before his sensual, plump lips curl up into one of the sexiest smiles you've ever seen.

"I'm glad; sometimes Hongjoong is not the nicest host. He's a bit of a grumpy cat. You know?"

His casual words confuse you even more. And the fact that his eyes are literally devouring your almost naked body doesn't make it any easier. You're still wearing only Hongjoong's shirt, and it's decent enough to cover your plump buttocks, but not decent enough to be in the company of a strange man when you're not wearing underwear.

"I think I have to go..." You almost whisper as you watch the man's eyes go dark as his gaze lingers on the bruises and hickeys that Hongjoong has left on your neck.

"Oh no, darling, I don't think so. I think you should definitely stay for breakfast." He gets up from his seat and slowly starts to walk towards you, and you feel as if the air in the room has suddenly become heavier and thicker. You almost suffocate. God, you feel like you are being hunted.

"This is not the best idea; excuse me..." And then you realise that you never bothered to ask the name of this luxurious, grown-up man. A man who looks as if he had been the star of a fashion show just a few minutes ago.

He seems to realise this too. Because the next second he utters words that turn your whole world upside down.

"I'm sorry, I think I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Seonghwa, and last night you fucked my husband, Kitten".

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denial-permanente · 1 month ago

Note

Tom, Going on my own experience being locked in chastity permanently a titanium custom fitted chastity from Steelwerks is the only way to go and worth every dollar. Even though I spent 5K one mine, it's an investment I never regret. Mine is so well fitted, it's impossible to get more a just a hint of an erection, no pain or pitching. No way to escape or as you say have an accident. Mine is from the Creature design and it looks and wears like a beautiful piece of jewelry which my wife loves.

I have chatted a bit with the owner of Steelwerks. Having spent most of my life in manufacturing, I'm fascinated in his operation and what he is doing. Steelwerks is a top-notch, finely crafted piece of functional jewelry. They are like the Rolex of chastity devices. Thanks for reminding us know about how great they are.

#chastity question #steelwerks

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makeyoumine69 · 27 days ago

Text

Last Memory (Memory Reboot x5)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Some time after Patrick and Evelyn got married, Bateman thought he could live a normal life and finally forget about you, but he didn't realize that he was already starting to lose his grip on reality, slowly but surely.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW, Patrick's POV, angst, lots of sex, canon violence, blood, near-death experiences, dark themes, obsession, strong hallucinations, blowjobs, pussy eating, rough vaginal and anal sex, cum eating, tainted love vibes, drug use, depressing thoughts and intentions, blackout and fainting, rough choking, spanking, masturbation, cheating, dirty talk and slurs, pet names, degradation kink, self-harm and panic attacks implied, unstable Patrick is a warning himself, I might have forgotten something because this chapter is long af, so forgive me if I really did.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 15k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: VØJ, Narvent—Last Memory; Timecop1983—Back to You

ᴀ/ɴ: Hello dear readers, I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but I just wanted to make this chapter as good as possible! After several rewrites, I think I am finally happy with the result. I'm very sad that Memory Reboot will end in the next update, but I hope you enjoy this angsty story! Also, there are some easter eggs in this chapter, so be on the lookout! And please be aware that there is a lot of trigger material in this chapter, so be careful! Thank you so much for sticking with me, you are all incredible!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]

An annoying, sonorous alarm sound woke me up and I had to hit it with my fist, almost breaking it, to make it fucking stop. Yawning, I sat on the bed and realized that I was still in Evelyn's apartment; these cream-colored sheets made me want to cry from how much I hate them, but instead of ripping them off, I stretched my arms. The tension in my body, coursing from my shoulders down to my groin, was an eloquent sign that I needed release. With a loud groan, I stood up and briefly grabbed my dick through my white underwear, which seemed to have been hard all night since that bitch Evelyn, who was my wife by the way, refused to have sex again. It was the second time in a row. Sliding my messy hair back, I walked into the living room and noticed that Evelyn had already left. I sighed with relief that I didn't have to see her irritated face since I was already on the verge of going nuts.

In the kitchen, I took the bottle of Evian from the fridge and made a long gulp before checking the time on my Rolex, frowning right away as I remembered Evelyn yapping about me always keeping them on, even when I went to bed.

God, why can't women have their mouths shut sometimes?

With a wry grin, I placed the bottle on the counter and paused for a moment to check my reflection in the gleaming metal door of the refrigerator. Today’s day in the office was going to be tough as hell since I had a fuck ton of stupid meetings I tried to convince Jean to cancel, but she reassured me that it would be too rude to ignore my business partners for too long. Hmmph…

A bit later, when I was almost finishing my work out, I suddenly realized that it had already been two months since me and Evelyn got married. And no, I couldn’t really believe this since all days were like one long day—a day that seemed to never end. Huffing, I did another push-up, the 50th in a row, feeling not tired at all. Small beads of sweat rolled down my tensed forehead and I could care less about brushing them off as I was so focused on the pleasant feeling of my muscles flexing each time my chest almost touched the mat. Normally, sports could easily help me to distract myself, to let off steam, to feel refreshed and clear-headed, but now I was more detached from reality than ever before. And it seemed that no amount of exercise could help. Also, my condition was aggravated by the lack of sex, proper sex. When my muscles finally began to hurt, I stopped doing everything and just lay on the mat, panting and looking at the ceiling above. Then, I slowly looked down at my groin—still hard as rock–before my hand involuntarily grabbed it, eliciting a small gasp to fall from my wet lips. Fuck, I was about to explode from my own touch. That was not normal at all. It was pathetic.

Frustrated, I was certain that even a quick release in the shower wouldn’t soothe my mounting tension. It never did, considering that over the past few days I couldn’t even sleep, and what was worse was that even violence couldn’t bring me this much-needed relief. As I made my way to the bathroom, I was thinking, literally drowning in my obsessive thoughts.

I need more…I really need to get this done. I REALLY NEED IT! I NEED THEM!

I bit my lip and turned on the shower, then got rid of my white boxers, stepped out of them, and strided on the cold marble. The water washed over me like a tidal wave. I closed my eyes and let the steam splash along my flushed face. My skin felt like it was on fire, as if I were about to crash into the sun. I couldn't find any way to relax. I felt desperate and angry. I was pretty mad, too. But would killing you have helped me find peace?

If I knew you were gone, if no one could ever be with you the way I was, would that be what I wanted?

I let out a deep, exhausted sigh and pressed my forehead against the wet tiles, ignoring the way the tip of my cock brushed against the wall, sending tingles into my very core. The images of you covered in blood, trapped beneath me, almost sent me over the edge. I didn't let myself think about it for too long, though, because I knew it would lead to addiction. As if I weren't already hooked. My breathing got a little uneven, and I started scratching at the white tiles as I got hit by a sudden, intense rush of memories. I remembered your voice, your moans, and the way you screamed my name. I wanted to ruin you, to make you bleed, to tear you apart and leave you just like you left me. The pain you caused was so deep, it lingered. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn't realize what I was doing. I let my hand rest on my throbbing length while the fingers of my other hand slid down my lower back, right between my legs. The moment I touched my tensed asshole, I moaned. I was loud and needy. I was embarrassed but also aroused. I thrust into my hand, slowly at first but gradually losing control, while my digit slid inside my ass completely with ease. I couldn't hold back my whimpers as I was about to cum. My vision was filled with blood, intensifying my fantasies about you. With my eyes closed, I was on the brink of losing it when I suddenly heard some commotion coming from behind the bathroom door.

"Damn!" I groaned and hit the wall in front of me, my dick pulsing even after I let go of it.

"Honey," Evelyn's voice echoed through the bathroom. I turned to see her casually walking to the shower, her blue eyes curiously examining my bare frame as if she was seeing me like this for the first time. "You didn't close the door."

Fuck, I really didn't.

Scrunching my nose, I pushed my wet hair back and spun around completely, giving her the full view of my nakedness. "I thought I'd leave before you got back..." my reply was brash and sharp. "...at least I hoped so."

Evelyn didn't react, she just stood in front of the shower, blinking and staring at me—at the way the water flowed down my sculpted body, to be exact—and something told me that just watching wasn't going to be enough for her.

"So... are you just going to stay and watch?" I said aloud before opening the glass door and letting some steam out of the shower.

The blonde grinned broadly but remained motionless. "You're not trying to bait me like that, are you?"

Jesus Christ, this woman is really driving me crazy.

Irritated, still struggling with my boner, I wanted to drag her into the shower without even asking and make her freshly bought Chanel suit so fucking shitty that she would definitely throw a tantrum, but I managed to control myself.

Leaning against the wet glass, I watched her unclasp her jewels, gems that shone in the dim bathroom light, my hands instinctively slipping down to my aching cock as I was now the one watching Evelyn take off her jacket, the delicate shape of her collarbones forcing me to admit that my wife was, after all, absolutely gorgeous and even though I didn't feel anything... sublime towards her, I couldn't deny that every time she did things like that, she stirred up a burning desire in me.

"What if I do?" My voice dropped lower from the tension building at the base of my spine. "You'll find another stupid excuse to deny me, like you always do?" I gave myself a slow stroke, biting my lips and quickly licking them as Evelyn removed her blouse and placed her leg on the edge of the tub, pulling up her skirt so I could see her black stockings. "Why didn't you go for Bryce when you had the chance?"

My body stopped listening to me as I said these words, as if I was hypnotized, but I felt no remorse, only a pang of conscience for how pathetic I probably was right now, standing in the shower jacking off to the woman I didn't really love, who was probably having an affair with my best friend all this time as a bonus.

"And you're bringing up Bryce again," Evelyn murmured, grinning like a vixen, her hands working meticulously to remove her stockings, stopping only when she was done with her expensive clothes, leaving herself only in a white Vanity Fair lingerie I'd bought her a few days ago to stop her hysteria. "Why is this only bothering you now...after we got married?"

"W-what?" I almost choked on my breath, my hand around my cock stalled in its momentum. "What are you talking about? It...it never bothered me."

Still, her words struck a chord within me and now I was even more angry with myself than before. Evelyn obviously thought she was in control of this situation—her extra confident demeanor, the way she moved and talked, even her blue eyes looked different now, as a wicked spark glinted in them.

For a fleeting moment, I just stood there, trying to lose myself in the warm streams of water, not really knowing what to say, and a suffocating panic crept into my chest, but then, as I found myself gripping the glass shower door with all the force I could muster so that it wouldn't shatter, my vision blurred for a second before I noticed Evelyn's slender body pressed against the glass, her small but pretty breasts looking so damn inviting that I couldn't hold back a groan.

"What were you saying?" She asked indifferently, the water gurgling mixing with her voice inside my head pulling me into a trance.

"Nothing," I replied, leaning forward and pressing myself against the glass door from the opposite side, my dick brushing against it ever so slightly, but even this mere contact made me close my eyes for a dear moment. "I said nothing..." my eyes darkened, pupils dilated. "Now...get in...will you?" I grinned and tilted my head, watching my wife flutter her thick eyelashes like bird wings.

Evelyn didn't answer, standing still with her body pressed against the shower door, and I couldn't hold back anymore—I just dragged her in, not caring about her expensive lingerie getting soggy—I'd buy her a new one if I had to. With a surprised squeal, she then giggled as the streams of water ran down her fit body, her elegant fingers stroking my cheek for a fleeting moment before I picked her up and turned her around to press her against the cool marble wall. Evelyn's gasp echoed through the bathroom, sending a shiver down my spine, as if I were really into her, into all of this, and if that was not me imagining you in her place, if that was not making me want to be somewhere else right now.

Somewhere where nobody could find me. Us.

"Patrick," Evelyn's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Can you hear me? The water's too hot..."

"Too hot?" I repeated, finding her statement so funny for no reason, but I cooled the water with my free hand anyway, still holding Evelyn in my arms as if she weighed nothing. "I'd say something like..."

"It's not the water that's making it hot, it's me," she cut me off, her face turning into a serious grimace, and for a second I felt like I was going to lose my shit. Is she making fun of me? "I've heard that enough, honey."

Frowning at that fucking nickname I really hated, I noticed the way she was pressing on my shoulders, implying that she wanted me to get her down on the floor, and I did—I didn't want to think, I didn't want to guess what was going through her mind—I just wanted to follow. To feel at least something beyond hatred and disgust. But I guess that was too much to ask.

Without saying a word, I knelt before Evelyn, leveled myself with her perfectly waxed pubic area, her breath hitching as I planted a soft kiss on her mound before tracing a finger along her wet from the water folds through the absolutely drenched fabric of her panties, which were now clinging to her like a second skin. I looked up at her with a mischievous grin, the water hitting my eyes painfully, but I held on to watch that raw need emanating from her body—savoring it like a vampire thirsty for blood.

My actions were smooth, calculated. When I got rid of her damp lingerie, I let the wet clothes that were now spread out on the shower floor fall to the ground, forgotten, and I was sure that Evelyn would have to throw them in a garbage can when we were done. The involuntary arch of her back, her hips brushing against my face and the moan she let out when the tip of my tongue flicked around her feverish clit, that was something I could live with.

Letting Evelyn grind against my face, I began to eat her pussy more feverishly, my one hand holding her open while another was wrapped tightly around my hard dick as I jerked off in sync with my oral ministrations. It was actually a turn-on, but only because I managed to block out all thoughts of you... In another situation they would have helped me to orgasm, but now... now they would only destroy everything.

I groaned when Evelyn pulled my hair harder than I liked, but I didn't want to punish her for it, not now, because I was still going to fuck her and this would be a perfect moment to show her how I felt and what I really needed. But then again, all of this made me feel pathetic in some odd, twisted way, that I was a starved dog who had to struggle to find barely any food to survive—what was my life—I was not living, I was surviving.

"Yes...yes...just like that," Evelen keened again as I tongue fucked her flushed cunt. "Keep...g-going..."

I could feel that she was so close to collapsing, it was kind of amusing how fast I could always make her cum, if only she knew that I always did it for myself, not for her, but for me. "Cum around my face," I spat out, my overalls buzzing from the tensind at the base of my cock; these little tingles were going to make me explode, but I didn't hesitate, increasing the pace of my own stroking. "Let it go. Now!"

My voice was muffled, gruff, I was sure its vibration only added to the overwhelming rush of bliss that was about to descend upon my wife as her legs began to tremble, her thigh on my shoulder jerking as I dipped my tongue inside her while my thumb caressed her oversensitive bud. And then she climaxed, convulsing and barely holding herself from screaming, I watched as she silenced herself with her palm, her eyes closed tightly, I reveled in such reactions, I always had, so I didn't stop as I wanted to prolong this scene—a scene full of fake emotions and this was just an echo of something I had experienced and lost— because if I stopped, I would fucking die.

Maybe this is what I always needed? Just to...stop existing?

Panting, I finally moved away from her hot, now swollen cleft, my own heart pounding so fast, but I couldn't move, I just stayed on my knees, the water falling on me like a heavy rain from that day I followed you to the airport and watched the plane take you away from me. For the second fucking time in a row.

Meanwhile, Evelyn was slowly coming down from her high, her chest heaving and falling so fast that for a moment I thought she was going to pass out, but then she turned and leaned against the wall, swaying her hips in the most inviting gesture I'd ever seen her make.

"Shit," I murmured almost imperceptibly, my basic instincts finally taking over. "You want me to fuck you?"

Gasping, she nodded and craned her neck to look back at me, I quickly stood and hugged her from behind, my lips tracing a short trail of kisses along her shoulder as I aligned myself with her entrance, she was so aroused and ready for me that I felt no resistance as I pushed myself into her malleable body. Just a few fleeting seconds for both of us to adjust before my pace picked up, the sound of wet flesh against flesh filling the room, and I pressed closer to Evelyn, her high-pitched moans fading in my delusions as I gave in—the images of you were so clear in my mind now that I clenched my teeth to hold back my own moans—I was weak and I hated myself for it.

Luckily Evelyn was on the pill so I didn't have to worry about a sudden pregnancy, but there was still some fear I tried desperately to ignore, my thrusts became ragged, raw and deep, I was about to spill myself inside her, both palms cupping her breasts, rubbing soft mounds, but then I squeezed them quite roughly and Evelyn's loud whimper was a sheer testament to my ferocity. Feeling my whole system shatter, I managed to stop myself from sinking my teeth into her neck as my vision turned white as I reached my peak with your name on my lips, though I never let myself say it out loud.

A little later that morning, as I dressed in my freshly tailored dark charcoal flannel double-breasted suit with wide white pinstripes, the sun was high in the zenith and its rays bathed Evelyn's bedroom in a soft golden hue. This brief encounter of intimacy with my wife gave me some hope that maybe there was still a chance to live a normal life, the one my mother and father always wanted for me, the American dream family they always told me about, but my parents never really tried to understand me, but since Sean chose a different path in life, not the RIGHT one, the legacy of my family fell on my shoulders.

Trapped in my thoughts, I didn't even notice the phone ringing somewhere next to me, I turned around to see a small black phone on the nightstand. At first I decided to ignore it, since I didn't really care about Evelyn's business, I didn't care at all, but this time something inside of me started to sting.

Who can call her at this hour?

With a soft click of my tongue, I finished adjusting my cufflinks and looked back at the buzzing phone, deciding to pick it up and find out who the hell was calling my wife. "Yes? Who's this?"

"Hello, Patrick," your voice crawled into my brain like a parasite, I swallowed, my skin covered in goosebumps and I sweated almost instantly. "How's it going? Don't you think it's a bit pathetic to think of me when you're banging your lovely wife?"

"You?" Was the only thing I managed to say. "Where did you get this number?"

I heard you laughing as if you were right next to me. "Tim gave it to me," you replied with blatant audacity. "Uh...you're not happy to hear me? That's a shame because I thought you missed me."

"Listen," I spat into the phone, gripping it so tightly that it was about to break in a half in my hand. "I don't know who you think you are...but believe me when I say I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FUCKING LIFE! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Patrick? Who are you talking to?" I turned to see Evelyn standing in the doorway, her blue eyes full of concern.

Caught red-handed, I took the phone away from my ear and chuckled. "It's just...a random call...nothing serious." When I said that, her face became even more worried. "Is something wrong, darling?"

Evelyn blinked several times before answering. "I definitely remember turning off the phone before I went to sleep...I always do..."

Her words hung in the air for some time before I could actually continue, and when I finally did, I tugged at my collar from the sudden lack of oxygen in my lungs.

What the fuck?

Under Evelyn's attentive gaze, I looked up at the receiver as if seeing it for the first time in my life, then I pressed it to my ear again and all I heard was silence—a deafening, eerie silence—even a single beep could not be discerned. My throat tightened uncomfortably and I felt like throwing up from the tight knot in my stomach, for I'd never felt such fear before.

"Patrick...are you okay?" The blonde woman asked, not daring to come closer. "Are you taking the medicine your psychiatrist prescribed you..."

"Evelyn!"

"No, I'm serious! This isn't funny Patrick, I'm scared," she suddenly confessed and I swore I couldn't remember seeing her so worried. "You need help...why don't you let people help you?"

With that Evelyn stormed out of the bedroom and I was sure she was crying. Damn women, never give you a chance to explain yourself. I cursed before slamming the phone down on its station with a thud, probably shattering the plastic, but who fucking cared? All they cared about was whether I was taking those fucking pills, but no one really cared about...me.

It took me some time to calm down and finally go to work. I didn't talk to Evelyn before I left, as it was pointless in her current state. As soon as I was outside, I breathed in the fresh air and watched the passers-by walking here and there without even noticing each other, this scene I saw every day, I picked out my Walkman like in a slow motion movie, put the headphones on my head and then attached it to my belt, the next moment I heard Madonna's deep voice surging through my head.

The taxi ride to the Pierce & Pierce office took longer than usual because of the heavy traffic. When I finally entered the high-rise building, I didn't take off my headphones because I didn't really want to talk to anyone, I just walked through the long corridors like a ghost without a name. It was really interesting that I never really thought about my fucking coworkers constantly messing up my name—they didn't know who I was even though we met every week—but you—you remembered it so clearly, there wasn't a single day that you mistook me for someone else. Jean greeted me as always with her sweet smile. Today she wore a dress and high heels. I smiled at such details and pulled up my headphones so I could hear her.

"Did I miss anything?" I asked casually, thinking I was late as I often was.

Brushing her blonde hair, my secretary rose from her seat, clutching her favorite notebook to her chest. "Timothy Bryce called to ask about lunch."

My eyebrows raised in skepticism at her words.

Bryce. Wants to see me after not talking to me for almost a week. Interesting.

"Uh, right, but I thought I had a pretty busy schedule today?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Well, yeah," she quickly opened her notebook and then raised her bright eyes to me. "But you have a little window..."

At some point, Jean's voice became as much white noise as Madonna's song, the lyrics of which slipped away from me like a leaf in the wind. The thought of Tim finally revealing that he and Evelyn were having an affair behind my back, as if they really thought I could be stupid enough not to notice, brought me a strange sense of relief. It was like an itchy splinter in your finger that you couldn't bring yourself to pull out, but you knew that the longer it stayed there, the worse it would get.

"Okay, Jean," I heaved abruptly. "Be a doll and make a rez in a good place. Then call Bryce back."

Jean was noticeably confused, but I was too overwhelmed with my own chaotic thoughts that there was no room for anything else. With a devoted nod, she returned to her seat and I opened the door to my office, where everything was the same, all things in the places I had left them. At least there seemed to be something constant in my life.

The rustling of chatter and the clinking of silverware against plates mingled in a wild cacophony of sounds I was quite familiar with—I was born in the middle of this madness, to say the least, the lush life of people like me was something you couldn't really avoid, though I never tried to avoid it, I enjoyed every little benefit I got from being rich.

So now I was sitting in Delmonico's lash interior, holding a glass of J&B on rocks in one hand and a cigar in the other. I waited for Bryce to come and soon I noticed his approaching figure, his black hair slicked back as usual, and I even chuckled at how fucking punctilious this man always was. Tim ordered a glass of Russian vodka and some seafood appetizers. After a short casual conversation we both fell silent and just when I was expecting him to tell me the reason why he wanted to see me, he suddenly picked up a shiny cardholder and put it on the table, then took out a pack of cigarettes to grab one.

"New cardholder?" I asked, definitely remembering that Bryce used to have a different one. "Looks...nice."

"It's platinum," Timothy commented before lighting his cigarette, his gray eyes scanning the room before focusing on me. "It's a gift...from our mutual friend."

Friend?

I almost bit the inside of my cheek to the point of bleeding. "Really?"

Bryce let out a puff of smoke and pointed to my empty glass. "I heard you quit drinking," he grinned and dabbed the ash from his cigarette. "That you're on... some medication."

"I wonder who told you that," my jaw almost snapped in anger, I had to claw at my knee to regain some composure. "And yes, I had to take medication for a while...but I'm on a break now." I hoped he could tell by the tone of my voice that I wasn't going to continue this conversation. "Who else would know how it works better than you since you went through rehab. Am I right, Bryce?"

I knew how much he hated talking about it, so his recent bravado faded like a cloud of smoke, but his cheeky grin never left his face.

"I get it, I get it," he laughed softly before sipping his drink. "You definitely got off on the wrong foot today, but it's okay," the man swirled his glass in his hand, watching the ice cubes clink against its walls. "I just wanted to tell you that... you're definitely missing something. Or maybe I should say—someone."

Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. "Maybe you can tell me something more...specific, or are we going to play that crappy guessing game?"

Bryce shifted in his seat and wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by two familiar voices—Craig and David.

Shit, why did those two idiots have to come right now?

The moment was ruined, and so was I.

"Wow, I can't believe my eyes! See, I told you they had a date," McDermott let out a loud chuckle, my fists clenched, and if we were somewhere else, preferably alone, I'd fucking break my glass against his smug face. "I called Jean and she said you two were having lunch together. Isn't that sweet?"

"Oh, fuck you, McDermott!" Bryce retorted, but he wasn't really angry. "Fuck you and your cheap jokes. Your sense of humor is as flat as the ass of that chick you met in the Tunnel yesterday. Besides, how was she?"

The Tunnel, that damn club that started all this shit. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the unwelcome memories of that day, but all I wanted to do was leave this place. Bryce's words became a breaking point, they helped a cup of weights to turn to another side without him even knowing it. Slowly I rose from the table, ignoring any questions, dismissing them with a clumsy gesture.

This evening was destined to be spent in the Tunnel after everything that happened today. I didn't tell anyone about my spontaneous venture to find some escape in the nightclub full of drug-addicted chicks and yuppies like me. My mind was racing with the idea of doing some coke, all I had to do was find the dealer that Bryce and I always hang out with and get a gram. A very simple plan to forget about all the shit that was going on in my life for a while.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.

As I strolled across the dance floor, I noticed the bar was pretty empty, so I decided to have a drink before finding the dealer, as the glass of whiskey I had at lunch was not enough. The bartender greeted me with a polite smile as he cleaned the bar.

"Good evening, sir," the man took a shiny glass and set it in front of me. "What would you like to drink?"

"A J&B straight and a Corona." I replied, taking a seat and fumbling for my wallet.

The bartender nodded and went to get my drinks. While I waited, I looked around when I noticed the only person sitting at the bar—it turned out to be a redheaded girl, a very good looking one—I hummed to myself, absolutely sure that such a girl was definitely not alone tonight.

"Your drinks, sir." The bartender placed an open bottle of Corona next to my glass, now filled with my favorite whiskey.

"Thank you." I handed him a few bills before he could even tell me how much I had to pay.

The young man babbled something incoherent that I couldn't even make out, but after I gave him a dead stare, he just took the money and finally left me alone. Annoyed, I checked the time on my Rolex before grabbing a bottle of Corona to take a sip, but I was interrupted again. This time not by the bartender.

"Hey," a soft female voice hung over my ear, sending a massive wave of excitement through me. I turned to see that the chick from the other end of the bar was now standing so close to me that I could smell her flowery perfume. "Are you here alone?"

I wish I could say that, but my thoughts of you were always here, with me, but instead of saying that bullshit, I nodded and grinned, checking her body in the most humiliating way, thinking it would scare her away from me, but the gleam in her green eyes only increased after my move.

God, she doesn't know what she's asking for.

"Yeah, you could say that." I smiled again as she sat down next to me. "What about you?"

The girl leaned against the bar, her ginger hair cascading down her elegant shoulders, and for a moment I couldn't take my eyes off her. "I wasn't supposed to be alone tonight, but...you know how it is...most men are total jerks."

I could barely keep myself from bursting out laughing. "Did someone offend you?" She played with the gold bracelet on her wrist and nodded shyly, a move I suddenly found very sexy. "Do you mind if I get you a drink?"

"First, tell me your name," she muttered in a challenging way—a blatant provocation that I ate like a starved man. "Then I'll think about it."

This girl is so sweet, I bet her insides are the same.

At first I wanted to use a fake name, like I always did, but then I just gave her my real name, because in the end it would make no difference. "Patrick....Patrick Bateman," I finally took a sip of Corona and savored the taste. "And you?"

"Nicole," the girl said, still fiddling with her jewelry. "But I used to have a lot of different names."

"I like this one," I chuckled, smiling charmingly. "It suits a girl like you."

"A girl like me?"

"A beautiful girl...very beautiful I must say." My voice was deep and soft like silk, I noticed the way she straightened her shoulders, slowly but gradually relaxing.

"You really think so?" She asked me, her eyes roaming over my mischievous face, then down to my lips.

Instead of answering, I just smiled in the most enchanting way possible before calling for the bartender to order her a drink. Nicole and I talked for a while—she told me she was from Canada and didn't really have any friends in New York—it was strangely satisfying but I tried to be sympathetic and supportive even though my mind was so far away from here. The ginger girl didn't even notice how she finished one cocktail and then another, while I didn't even touch my whiskey, just idly sipped my bottle of Corona because for some reason I wanted to be as sober as possible.

As the club was getting more and more empty, Nicole was ready to give me a blowjob right at the bar, but I convinced her to go to my place and to be honest, I didn't expect it to be that easy since I hadn't really planned anything like that. I forgot about the drug dealer because now I had to worry about what I was going to say to Evelyn tomorrow because I was definitely not going to spend the night with her.

"Patrick..." Nicole nestled into my side as we sat in the cab. "Did I tell you I know...F-French?"

I crossed my arms and shook my head in dismay. "No, you didn't," I said, looking down at her red, messy hair. "But it's nothing special...you're from Canada and French is your second official language."

Nicole let out a cartoonish giggle that made me cringe. "Oh...you know it? Damn, you're such a smart man...Mr. Bateman...so fucking smart...most guys I've slept with....didn't know that..." she giggled again and tried to pinch my nose, but I shooed her away. "Can you believe that?"

At a certain point, I was even starting to regret bringing her along, but I hoped I'd be able to shut her mouth with something...sharp and maybe deadly. "It happens, Nicole. Like you said, there were so many bad people in this town. Fortunately, you're lucky to have met someone like me."

The girl hugged me at my words, I could feel her drunk breath next to my lips, but instead of turning away I let her kiss me and it felt better than I expected. Soon the cab pulled up to the American Gardens Building. The walk up to my apartment didn't take much time, I was already thinking about how I was going to dispose of her body after I was done with her. Nicole, completely unaware of my dark thoughts, walked around my apartment barefoot as she kicked off her shoes, complaining about how fucking uncomfortable they were.

"Oh, this place is so fucking...c-cool!" She managed to say, swaying from side to side while moving. "Jesus, is that a telescope? Why do you even need that?" Nicole giggled like a child seeing one for the first time, but who knew, maybe she really was seeing it for the first time. "Do you... spy on people with that... thing?"

"No, Nicole." I replied curtly, standing next to her with my hands hidden in the pockets of my tailored pants.

"Are you...an astronaut...from NASA?" She asked, then winced when she finally noticed my looming figure. "Are you... going to send me to the moon tonight, handsome?"

"I'll do more than that," I crooned, placing my hand on her waist and pulling her closer. "But I must say one thing you may not like..." a short pause, then a soft rumble left my throat. "I prefer that beautiful mouth of yours to be closed. Do you understand?"

I was expecting anything other than this bitch dropping to her knees and immediately working on unbuckling my belt. The way she was behaving was both amusing and enticing, but what I enjoyed most was that she was so naive and completely dumb.

"Look at you," I murmured before grabbing a handful of her ginger curls that were blocking her vision. "So inpatient, huh?"

By the time she managed to undo my pants, I was already so hard that my dick sprang out of the confines of my clothes and almost slapped her face, but it didn't bother her at all—I could only see an uncontrollable desire in those big green eyes that were now looking at me as if asking for my permission.

Shameless, pathetic whore.

With a practiced move, I grabbed the back of her head to pull her closer to my crotch, then pressed my engorged dick against her lips, sliding it along them and making her lick off my pre-cum. "Yeah," I croaked, biting my own lips. "I definitely like you more like this...open your mouth, bitch."

Nicole obeyed and the next thing I knew I was thrusting into her mouth, her warmth welcoming me and making me grunt as I bucked my hips into her face, pushing myself further until I heard her gag around my shaft.

"'C'mon, choke on my dick," I snarled, pulling on her hair with brutal force, her nose rubbing against my pubis and I snaked my hand down to rest on her throat, wanting to feel my cock slide along it. "I'm sure no one has ever face fucked you like that...am I right, honey?"

I used that ugly nickname Evelyn always gave me and pulled myself out of her mouth to hear her answer, but she just gulped desperately for air and grabbed my legs for any semblance of support.

"Oh-Christ...you're...s-so fucking big," she wept, trying to wipe the liquid mixture off her chin, but I wouldn't let her, pulling her head back. "Shit...you're really one of those guys...who likes it rough?"

With a devilish smile, I gave myself several quick strokes before answering. "Oh, darling. You can't even imagine how MUCH I like that kind of thing."

Panting, Nicole was not ready for me to invade her mouth again, but I didn't care, just as I ignored her little protest when I fucked her throat and felt the curve of my dick slide into her wet, tight channel. It was a bliss I had always sought, that fleeting moment of raw control over another human, once you tasted it you couldn't stop yourself.

Perfection.

As time passed, I came at least twice in her abused mouth, each time making sure she swallowed every drop, but then I got bored of fucking her face and left her sprawled out on my expensive living room floor, which I would definitely have to call the maid service to clean. Barely alive, Nicole literally vomited my sperm mixed with her blood, her plump lips swollen and bruised from my beatings—I couldn't stress her pathetic whimpering anymore, so I had to act—but she would last a while longer, I was sure of it.

As I rummaged through my stuff in the bedroom to get a condom, Nicole's pathetic whimpering was like music to my ears, but at some point I considered turning on some real music to muffle the girl's screams, although to my surprise she was not that loud. But just in case, I returned to the living room and stepped over Nicole, who was still lying on the floor, to get to my stereo and put on the latest Talking Heads album, True Stories.

"I didn't ask you what kind of music you like," I suddenly chuckled and moved closer to the sobbing girl to crouch down beside her. "But I doubt it would change anything."

After that, I stood up and decided to strip completely, every move I made calculated and mastered to perfection. One second, two seconds....ten seconds and I was almost naked, when the only thing left on me was my gold Rolex, I heard her weak, shaky voice:

"Whitney Houston," she murmured, barely audible. "I love Whitney Houston."

I stopped in my tracks. "Oh...really? What is your favorite song?"

My lips were curled in a smile that came dangerously close to something insane as I carefully placed all my clothes on one of my black chairs before picking up the girl and moving her to the window—away from my white couch that I didn't want to stain with her fucking blood. She didn't struggle, she didn't struggle at all as I positioned her against the window, pressing her bruised face against the cold glass.

"Take Good Care of My Heart," the redhead added as I began to poke at her soaked pussy, which was not shaved like most of the girls I used to have, and to be honest, I really liked it. "I...I really love the whole album."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled into her ear, fixing her in place as the tip of my cock plunged into her, causing her legs to shake. "This is such a good album..."

With that I bottomed her out completely, my balls slapping against her ass, red from my spanking, I thought I could see the outline of my hand. Her little cunt felt no worse than her mouth, but it was not as tight...after being with you, nothing seemed tight enough to me.

Fuck it!

Cursing under my breath, I sped up to pound into her as hard as I could. Thank God the glass didn't break, but I changed our position anyway. Now Nicole was bent over my black leather chair, her ass wiggling every time I thrust into her and I couldn't stop myself from spanking her, I wanted her to fucking scream and cry out in pain but all I could get from her was nothing that could signal that she was in pain. On the contrary, this girl seemed to enjoy it so much, as her hips moved in rhythm with mine, she bucked in my direction to meet my movements.

"Shit, you fuck like a whore," I blurted out, grabbing her hair in a self-made ponytail. "Is that why you came to America? To be a fucktoy for men like me?"

"Mmm...f-fuck me...please...fuck me!" Nicole didn't seem to hear me, I had to squeeze her throat to shut her up. "Ye-yes...fucking...c-choke me...please!"

Stupid bitch.

In one swift motion, I pulled out only to slam into her unprepared asshole, making her scream in pain and fuck, she sounded amazing. Quickly wiping the sweat from my forehead, I pushed her down on my cock, noticing the crimson drops of her blood on my dick, which only spurred me to move faster and more ferociously. This bitch didn't see it coming, but she was still pretty obedient, which started to seem pretty weird to me, because usually by this time women start to panic, fight and try to escape, but this fucking hoe didn't even say a word about the way I was treating her.

And that started to disappoint me.

When I thought I was not going to climax, I closed my eyes and let my imagination take control of my brain. Huffing, I rammed into Nicole harder, fantasizing about you—how we could go 69, your fingers buried deep inside my asshole - I could fucking feel the sensation of them and it sent an electric shock right through my tensed sac.

"Oh, fuck," I gripped her waist with both hands, fucking her with pure abandon. "You...fucking...arrogant prick...I hate you! I hate you s-so fucking much!"

All my curses fell on deaf ears as Nicole only whimpered in response, gripping the back of the chair and the next second I found her cumming around my cock, her inner walls spasming around me, triggering my own orgasm.

When I was finally finished with her, I stood over her trembling body as she lay on the floor again. The girl was shaking and giggling, I thought she probably lost her mind already, so instead of using a knife or something, I decided to just strangle her with my bare hands. I wanted to see life slowly leave her body. I fucking craved it.

"Nicole," I shook her before getting on top of her, pressing her down with the weight of my muscular body. "Look at me."

Nicole's bloodshot eyes couldn't focus on mine for some time, she was stunned, dazed, ruined and intoxicated, I had to slap her face several times before she finally locked her hazy gaze with mine. The sweet anticipation of the kill enveloped my mind, my cock grew hard again as I placed both hands around her fragile neck, I began to squeeze it, lightly at first but then more and more forcefully.

"You made a big mistake coming to America, Nicole." I let out a taunt, not really expecting her to hear it or respond to it.

Everything was going according to plan when she suddenly smiled and covered my hands, not to take them off, but to stroke them with a wicked... attraction?

"Please...kill me already...I beg you..." She couldn't stop herself from crying and laughing.

This was a psychotic episode I had experienced so many times, but I never expected to see it with my own eyes. I froze in shock, losing my grip, and as I did, Nicole pulled my hands back to her throat, shaking me as if to wake me up.

"No, no, no, no! Please...don't stop...please...I want to die! Patrick, please...set me free!" Nicole's voice cracked and I could finally see the sheer desperation in her green eyes, but this kind of desperation was different.

This wasn't the kind of despair I'd seen before...this was something completely different. It was kind of a turn-off for me. The whole evening was fucking ruined, I couldn't believe it. Shaking my head, I stood up and stepped away from her as if from a fire.

"Patrick...please!"

"Shut up!" I yelled, looking down at my own hands—they were shaking so badly. "Shut the fuck up!"

In a panic, I rushed to the bathroom to wash my hands for who knows what reason, then grabbed my robe and put it on. I couldn't really explain what was happening to me, but when I got back to the living room, I picked up Nicole's clothes and threw them at her.

"Get dressed," I ordered, and then I went into the bedroom to unlock my safe and take out several bundles of money. What was I doing? Panting, I paused in the doorway to watch her get dressed, then walked over to her and handed her the money. "I want you to take this, go to a hospital and get back to Canada. Do you hear me, Nicole?"

The redhead was silent, just looking at me with her pleading eyes. "But I don't want to go..."

"You have to." I emphasized the words by lowering my voice. "Just do what I say and everything should be... okay."

"But I don't want it to be okay." Nicole tried to touch me, but I pulled away.

"Just go," I repeated my previous words, this time in a more serious voice. "And never come back."

I spent the rest of the night sitting in the shower, literally sitting on the floor, crying. A lot. My eyes were so red and puffy that I didn't know which ice mask would help me look normal tomorrow. The hatred of myself that rose from my chest to my cheeks and made me nauseous—I hated myself so much that I finally admitted that I had changed—you had changed me and there was no going back. The man I was before died, now I was just an empty being, or maybe a new man had been born in my shallow soul?

When I finally managed to drag my ass out of the bathroom, the phone rang and I was sure it was Evelyn trying to fuck my brain for not coming back to her apartment and to be fair, I wasn't ready for anything like that at that moment, but considering how much of a pain in the ass she was, I didn't want any more consequences if I didn't pick up the fucking call.

As I walked into the bedroom, I took the phone from my nightstand and finally answered the call. "Yes?"

"Patrick! Jesus, I thought you weren't going to answer the call!" It was you, damn it, it was you.

My teeth almost creaked with anger and disbelief. "How many times do I have to tell you to fuck off?! Are you stalking me or what? How the fuck did you know I was in my apartment?"

"I... I didn't know... I just decided to try my luck and here we are," you replied, your voice was different than it sounded this morning. "Listen Patrick, I'm in New York right now...maybe we can see each other?"

"See each other?" Those words made me sick. "Do you even hear yourself?"

"I know that...things are pretty tense between us, but...maybe we can at least talk about it?"

"No, we can't," I clutched the phone as tightly as I could. "I don't want to see you and I don't want to hear you. Do you understand? If you ever call me again, I'll fucking find you and KILL YOU!"

With that, I dropped the phone on the floor and screamed so loudly that my throat began to hurt. Right now I was nothing but a living madness, the things that were happening in my mind were like an open chasm to hell—a place I'd be one day, I had no doubt about it.

The few days I spent in a dizzy state, I couldn't really remember what I was doing, but the only thing I was sure of was that I couldn't stop thinking about you. Also, I didn't kill anyone for lack of thrill, there was no more adrenaline or excitement—you changed me and now spilling some blood couldn't help me to relieve myself anymore. I felt like I was being shattered into pieces, decomposed into something primitive, for the first time I saw myself as being even more inhuman than I really was.

Inhuman.

What a perfect word to describe everything about me, but I still couldn't understand where I belonged? If not here, could there be a place for a creature like me?

This question was swirling around in my head like a brain worm; that damn rainy evening when I decided to stalk my dear wife. After my rather long absence, Evelyn was about to go to the police, but then I showed up at the door of her apartment at night, high as hell, but she didn't seem surprised at all. I expected her to be mad and angry, but instead she treated me really nice, I could hear her crying and her desperate touch when she hugged me, weeping and sobbing something about being so scared and worried about me and although I didn't believe a single word that came out of her mouth, something stirred inside of me.

The raindrops were falling on my umbrella like Morse code, hitting the surface with such a precise rhythm that I really thought maybe something or someone was trying to send me a sign. The level of absurdity was over the top, and if I were in a different state mentally and physically, I'd be laughing my ass off at this shit, but today I couldn't do anything funny. I couldn't smile, I couldn't sneer, I was like a ghost, a shadow of the person I was before I met you. So here I was, following Evelyn down the street after the taxi ride until I saw her stop at some hotel—a luxury hotel in Upper Manhattan to be exact— and then, after some time, when I thought nothing interesting would happen, a sleek black Cadillac stopped by the street and I saw Timothy Bryce get out of the car—he was holding a black umbrella just like me. Evelyn was so excited to see him that she didn't even wait for them to go inside the hotel, she kissed him now and then without holding back her emotions. This scene made the stone fall off my shoulders; I was so damn happy that I was right and that this fake marriage was about to collapse, but I still couldn't understand why Evelyn married me at all. To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if one day, when we finally had a serious talk about it, she would confess that she loved both of us—me and Bryce— and suggested that we all live together.

Say hello to an altered version of the American dream family.

The reality was always cruel, and I knew it too well.

A loud clap of thunder echoed through my apartment, waking me up in my living room, drenched in sweat. Breathing heavily, I turned around to register some pornography playing on my TV, my robe was undone, I was completely naked underneath, some remnants of my cum stuck to my stomach.

Shit, I just blacked out jerking off? This porn really sucks.

And this was the 5th or maybe 10th porn tape I had watched, and I only managed to cum once. Cursing and scowling, I fidgeted on my couch to find a remote control. I was disgusted with my current situation, but then I noticed two thin lines of white powder on my glass coffee table and a twisted $100 bill. Now everything started to fall into place.

Fuck, where did I even get this gram?

I rubbed my head, and instead of turning off the porn, I turned it up louder—two perfect bimbos making out, their oiled bodies wrapped around each other like two snakes—my hand instinctively sliding back to my hard cock, throbbing and soaked with my cum.

"Oh-fuck..." I murmured through clenched teeth as I pumped myself, watching the girls play with their large breasts. "Yeah...suck her tits...suck them like a fucking pacifier..."

The louder their moaning got, the more excited I got, and just when I thought I was about to climax again, I heard... a fucking phone ringing loudly—it hurt my hearing. Confused, I stopped doing anything, ignoring the fact that one slut was now riding on the face of another. There was only one thing I could think about right now— had I turned off my phone or not? Because I definitely remembered pulling the fucking cords out of it, but that thing kept ringing?

Slowly I got up on my stiff legs and walked to the kitchen island to grab the phone, the only light coming from my playing TV and I bumped into something pretty hard before the fucking receiver was in my hand.

"Patrick Bateman's apartment..." I almost whispered, pressing the receiver harder against my head.

"...Pat..." the echo of a familiar voice wailed from the other end of the line, but I still couldn't make out who it was. "...need... -h-help!"

"Who...am I talking to?"

"Patrick, please, help me," your voice sounded so clear now that it echoed inside my skull, drowning out all the sounds of the bad weather outside. "I'm...I'm at Paul Allen's...I need help...please...I think I'm gonna die..."

Was this some kind of prank?

I turned around and scanned my apartment as if someone was watching me right now. I felt insane and cornered, if I was really losing my mind the best option now would be to take more coke and trigger an overdose and then...

"Can you hear me? Please, come here, I'll... give you the address..." and then I heard loud interference and noise, so I had to pull the phone away for a second. "Patrick? Please...talk to me!"

"What...what happened?" I asked, still not believing what I was doing. "Are you in pain?"

"No...yes....Patrick...listen...you should write down the address..."

Without thinking, I grabbed the Vogue magazine lying next to the phone and a pencil, and the next second I was writing down the address where Paul Allen was supposed to live.

"Hold on! I'll be right there!" I suddenly said into the phone, but all I could hear was the agonizing beep. "Hey...I'll be there...do you hear me? I'LL BE THERE!"

Fuck!

I dropped the phone and took several deep breaths before I finally came to my senses, or so I thought. Then I rushed to the bathroom to clean up and put something on without worrying too much. So I grabbed the first suit out of my closet, fixed my hair and left my apartment to take a cab. All the way to Paul's, I was holding a crumpled page of Vogue that I had to rip out. At first I didn't even notice that I wasn't surprised when the cabbie just nodded and we drove off, so this address was real? It meant you really called me? And what about all the previous calls?

Perplexed, I leaned against the cool glass of the car window and watched the nighttime cityscape blur into something unrecognizable, almost falling asleep, but the driver turned on the radio with some cheesy pop songs that kept me awake, as I was too irritated to ignore how much I disliked such music. When the car stopped in front of a towering building like the one I lived in, I paid the driver twice what I was supposed to and got out of the cab. There were no pedestrians and for a moment I really thought that maybe I was still asleep and had to pinch myself to wake up in my living room?

As I entered the building I saw a table where the concierge should be sitting, but there was no one, so I casually opened the journal to find the number of Allen's apartment—I felt a creeping shock when I actually found his name in the journal.

Okay… this feels…too real.

Feeling a strange thrill of the rush, I closed the journal and sauntered quickly across the large lobby to the elevators. Paul's apartment was on the 15th floor, so when the door opened on the floor I needed, I stepped out of the elevator with a heavy weight in my chest. Every step I took resonated with the fast beating of my heart, and when I reached my destination, I didn't know what to do - whether to ring the bell or knock or…

Shaking myself off, I first rang the doorbell—nothing. Then I knocked several times, then again, still no answer. Finally, I put my ear to the door to listen, but I couldn't hear a single sound. Anger overcame me, so I kicked the door and turned to leave. How stupid was I? Maybe mixing my pills and coke wasn't the best idea, but this...

When I got back to the lobby, an old man, who must have been a missing concierge, greeted me with a fake polite smile. "Greetings, sir. How can I help you?"

Annoyed as hell, I stopped next to his small table, adjusted my leather gloves, and pointed to his journal. "I was looking for Paul Allen's apartment, he's my friend and I wanted to see him, but it seems...he's out tonight."

"Oh, Mr. Allen left on a business trip this morning." The concierge said casually, but then he noticed how pale I'd become. "Sir, is something wrong?"

"Did you say he left this morning?" I asked again, feeling a few beads of sweat on my tense forehead.

"Yes, sir," the old man opened the journal and began to leaf through it. "I can even tell you the exact time he left..."

"No need. Thank you." Was all I said before I turned on my heels and headed for the exit.

Outside I noticed that the taxi that had brought me here was still standing by the side of the road. It was strange but I didn't even think about it. I got in and asked the driver to take me back to my place, but first I asked him to give me a moment to sit and think. With shaking hands I picked up the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it, I traced my handwriting before throwing it out the window, my temples pounding so hard I thought my head would explode. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples, not noticing that the concierge I was talking to literally ran out of the building, looking around, seeking someone.

"Let's go." I ordered the cab driver with my eyes still closed. "And can you please turn off the music...my head is killing me."

The taxi drove off and I didn't see or hear the old man following the car. "Sir, wait! I made a mistake about Mr. Allen-"

Today, after I refused to go shopping with Evelyn and help her choose a fucking curtain for her living room, she finally told me that she never loved me, that she wanted a divorce and nothing else from me. The relief I felt was comparable to a good orgasm, to say the least, Evelyn was shocked at my reaction—did she really expect me to beg for forgiveness? But the single mention of Bryce made everything come to its place, I wasn't angry, no, I just couldn't solve this fucking puzzle, what was all this for? If she really liked Bryce, why couldn't she just tell me and go for him? How many times had I told her that? A hundred? A thousand? Millions? Luckily, I wasn't inclined to leave my stuff in her apartment, so I finished my busing with 'moving out' pretty quickly and smoothly, because something glorious and important was waiting for me. The last moment of my drama.

I imagine that maybe someday there will be a show on Broadway based on my life—a great example of a life that no one should have lived—I smiled at the thought, as I always liked to romanticize things in the most clichéd and poetic way. After all, Bryce was right, I was mental, and no matter how hard I tried to run away from the dark version of myself, it would catch up with me one day. And that day seemed to have finally come.

As I walked down Wall Street, wearing my favorite headphones and listening to Huey Lewis and the News, I stumbled by the phone booth—a random idea plagued my mind before I could really think about it. Opening my briefcase, I found my notebook, and soon I was dialing your office number, hoping you wouldn't answer. But my hopes were never to be fulfilled.

To my surprise, I heard a male voice coming from the phone and all the words stuck in my throat like a lump. "Uh...hi...can I talk to..."

"Sorry sir, I can't hear you properly...it might be the bad connection," the voice replied and it made me really nervous. "I'm sorry, but if you want to talk to my boss, they are out of the office right now."

Out of the office…shit.

"Who am I talking to?" I asked, almost fainting.

"Vinc..." an unpleasant static noise came over my brain and I held my eyes closed for a second from the stabbing pain in my temples. "My name is Vincent...I'm .... assistant."

"Listen, Vincent..." I started to speak, not even knowing that he could hear my words. "I want you to tell your boss that...Patrick Bateman called and...this would be my LAST call," I laughed hysterically, leaning against the phone booth door. "I'm going to, uh... disappear..."

A short pause seemed like an eternity.

"You mean you are leaving New York City, sir?" Vincent's question surprised me.

My lips twitched in a wicked smile. "No...I mean...yes..."

"Are you going somewhere in particular, Mr. Bateman?" The man asked me and I stopped breathing for a second.

"I'm going...to a place where no one will ever...find me..."

And with that I hung up the phone. There was already a line of people by the phone booth, and as I walked away, they looked at me with the most disdainful look I could ever dream of mastering. Unfortunately, I wouldn't need it anymore.

Soon the white walls of my apartment would be the only witness to my last confession. My apartment smelled so fresh and good, the maid had just finished cleaning, and I was glad that if the police found my body, they would see that wealth and money were not a panacea for a happy life, although I had believed in it fervently for almost all these years. With deliberate steps, I walked into my bathroom, grabbed a small bottle of medicine prescribed by my psychiatrist, and popped a handful of pills at once. Then I looked at my reflection in the mirror and somehow realized that the mask I had worn for most of my adult life was about to slip. Right now, at this very moment, I was about to die. An abnormal dizziness washed over me, I could barely stand on my feet when I suddenly saw your silhouette behind me in the mirror. I gulped and turned around to see nothing but the empty doorway, my hands shaking so badly that I failed to put the bottle back in its place, dropping it on the floor and scattering pills all over the bathroom.

Holy shit.

A strong gag reflex suddenly took over me and I managed to get to the toilet faster than I could throw up—I threw up all the pills—Jesus Christ, I was so weak I couldn't even finish this... I was so pathetic. In the end, I finally accepted that as the darkness took me in its cold embrace.

Knock…knock…

What is this? Am I still alive?

I kept questioning myself because I didn't feel anything, no pain, no remorse, nothing. But if I were dead, I wouldn't hear that strange sound, would I? I opened my wet eyes and looked up at the white ceiling—I was still in my bathroom— lying on my back, covered in my own vomit, saliva and bile. My mouth smelled like a rotten rat and I knew what I was talking about. The annoying knocking kept coming from my front door, and although I didn't want to get up, I felt that if I didn't, this fucking knocking would never stop.

With careful, unhurried movements, I crawled to the sink and, leaning on the bathroom counter, managed to stand up and quickly brush my teeth, avoiding looking at my reflection because I was sure I looked like shit. After that, I took off my stained clothes and put on a new robe that I had bought myself for no reason a few days ago.

As I approached the front door, the knocking stopped and I thought it was just another hallucination, but I decided to open the door anyway and to my surprise I saw my concierge who looked very worried and even scared.

"Mr. Bateman, thank God you're all right!" The man blurted out, holding his concierge hat in his hands.

"Of course I'm okay," I replied nonchalantly. "What happened? Or did you just come to check on me?"

"Well," the concierge looked away before rubbing his gray mustache. "Someone was looking for you..."

My eyebrows furrowed, and I peered out into the long corridor. "Who was it? Did they give a name? Was it a policeman or something?"

"No, sir." The old man gave me an awkward smile that made me even more angry. "They were so desperate...they were literally storming around the lobby...constantly saying things about you not answering calls and not opening the door...I told them maybe you just left..."

The rest of what he said fell on deaf ears, because now I was absolutely sure who was looking for me. "What time is it now?"

"11 a.m., sir."

"Today is Friday, right?" I asked, my head spinning. "It should be Friday."

The concierge paused. "It's Sunday, sir."

Sunday?

A sharp pang of nausea crept into my stomach, nearly breaking me in half, but I managed to grab hold of the doorjamb for support. "Where is this person?"

"Mr. Bateman, I had to call the police because they were being...kind of aggressive," the concierge explained, stepping back a bit. "The cops arrived pretty quickly...they found out this person had drugs, sir."

I stagger to the side as if from the hard blow. "And what happened next...did they arrest them?"

"I...I guess so?"

I let out a tired sigh, rolling my eyes and trying to keep it together - this poor guy was not guilty, it was just an accident, but how did you get caught with drugs? It was so fucking illogical to me.

My voice was unnaturally soft as I tried my fucking best not to snap at the man across from me. "Did the cops really take them away? Did you see that with your own eyes?" The concierge just nodded, and I could tell by his nervousness that he felt it was his fault at some level. "All right, thank you for your information, remind me to tip you next month." And with that, I closed the front door, leaving the man in a completely bewildered state.

Shit...this whole situation seemed like a fucking joke, but I had to think fast—I needed a plan how to solve this bullshit and maybe I could get some answers if I could help you. I took a moment to collect myself and told myself that one way or another I had to go there...to rescue you.

I'll do it even if I have to burn down this police station.

In record time, my impeccable appearance was ready, and now I confidently walked down the long, dimly lit corridor of the police station that was closest to where I lived—I hoped you were in that station, but if not, I would visit all of them until I found you.

Finally, I reached the reception area, where a pretty policewoman greeted me with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for..." I opened my briefcase and showed her my notebook with your full name written in it. "Are they here, in this department? I believe they were arrested today."

The officer smiled at me before she turned around and started to rummage through some papers, folds, notes... With each passing moment I was getting more and more impatient, but I had to play it cool.

"I think I found the person you were looking for," the woman said, placing several documents on the reception desk, implying that I should take a look at them. "They were delivered here an hour ago."

"Can I see them?" I asked, putting on my casual, seductive smile.

“And what is your relationship to the suspect?”

Damn, not this fucking question.

I was a little stunned at first, but then I quickly tugged at my red tie and tilted my head in a condescending way. "I'm their lawyer, and I need to see them as soon as possible."

I noticed that her expression suddenly changed, her eyes gliding over my massive form—she was obviously trying to access my appearance and compare it to the look of a successful lawyer living in New York City—when I gave her an intense look and then winked, she visibly blushed.

After a small cough, she took the documents and only then dared to look at me again. "The suspect is now in interrogation room number one. Don't get lost."

"Thanks." I grinned broadly and, after closing my briefcase, left the reception.

It didn't take me long to find the interrogation room I needed. As I stopped right next to the door, I checked myself in the reflection of the nearby window—I looked perfect, not as perfect as I used to be, but not too horrible either.

A light knock on the door before I opened it. "Good afternoon, sorry for the long wait. How is my client? I hope you haven't done anything inappropriate in my absence?"

The moment our eyes met, I could see a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something beyond human understanding.

"And who the hell is that?" One of the officers—a rather fat guy with a messy beard—asked his partner, then looked at you. "You said you were from Chicago and your lawyer had to catch a flight here."

"Yes, that's exactly what I said. Why are you telling me my own words?" You crossed your arms and gave me a scorching gaze, I seized the moment of your confusion to nestle into the empty chair next to you. "Probably...my lawyer has handed this case over to his colleague in New York, so he doesn't have to come here."

Both policemen looked at us as if we were idiots—which we definitely were—but I hoped this affair would work out.

"But you asked to be allowed to make a phone call... the whole damn time," another policeman replied, pointing his finger at you and then at me. "I'm going to send you both to jail if you don't tell me what-"

"Jesus Christ, I told you several times...I was at a party...I took someone's coat by mistake and there was...this fucking bag of cocaine, but it's not mine! You can check the fingerprints and you won't find mine on this fucking bag! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU?"

"My client is right. Before we get the results of the fingerprint analysis, the presumption of innocence should not be forgotten." I started in the most serious tone I could manage. "Remember that."

Both officers started arguing with each other almost immediately, using many different insults that I would definitely have to remember so that I could present them to Tim— he would love to hear them. I was about to say something clever when the door suddenly opened and a woman with dark hair stepped into the room.

"What the hell is going on?" The woman asked her colleagues, looking disappointed and quite angry. "Everyone can hear you outside."

"Oh, Miss Moore," one of the officers murmured like a guilty child. "Well, we..."

"Detective Moore to you, Rogers," she replied, her posture radiating confidence. You and I both stared at her for a while, I noticed her tanned skin and thick curly hair, she was definitely Hispanic, the accent was also quite noticeable. "Can I confide in you at least once?" Officer Rogers looked at his partner, neither of them said a word, and that made the detective even more annoyed. "We'll talk about it later, now go."

The cops didn't dare protest, and soon they left. Now it was just you, me and Detective Moore in the interrogation room. The tension was palpable in the air, my hands were sweaty and shaking, I had to brush them off my open coat, but before I could, you caught one of them and squeezed it barely sensibly—I gasped, almost choking on my saliva.

After a brief examination of the documents, the woman across from us raised her brown eyes and smiled, not too friendly, but not too menacing either. "So, my name is Andrea Moore," she turned to look at you, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "I already know your name," her piercing gaze finally stopped on me. "May I have your documents, sir?"

Swallowing hard, I unlocked my briefcase to hand her my ID. "Yeah, sure."

"Mr. Bateman...have we met before?"

"No...I don't think so."

Andrea hummed to herself. "Well, I hope you brought your law license with you?"

Your grip on my palm tightened, I almost let out a hysterical squeal. "I... I must have left it in my office."

"Listen," you suddenly spoke up, gesticulating as if you were at a school presentation. "I need to call my assistant, Vincent Eisenhower...he will help sort things out-"

"Wait a minute...did you say Vincent Eisenhower?" Andrea suddenly stopped you, obviously surprised.

"Uh, yeah, he's my assistant at the company I work-"

"...in Chicago?"

"Yes..." you replied in confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"

The detective didn't answer, and it made me nervous as hell, but you holding my hand in a gentle manner was strangely comforting, even though I despised such displays of affection.

Looking puzzled, Andrea finally took the pen and a clean piece of paper. "Can you give me the number...I'll call Mr. Eisenhower and ask him for...a real lawyer. Mr. Bateman, I hope you understand the consequences of your actions-"

"Leave him alone, it's not his fault," you cut Andrea off before I could say anything in my defense. "He didn't know what he was doing coming here...please...he hasn't done anything bad...he's just going through a hard time in his life and..."

"Enough," the detective raised her hand in a halting gesture. "I hope I can reach out to Mr. Eisenhower....You two better pray for that."

Andrea left as abruptly as she had come. We were finally alone. Both confused, frightened, and lost.

"Why did you even come here?" You asked, not looking at me, but not parting our hands. "How stupid of you to come here and act like you were my lawyer."

"I HAD NO CHOICE!" I almost screamed, turning in my seat to cut the mere distance between us. "Not after you terrorized me with those damn phone calls..."

As I said that, time stood still for us and I could see the inner conflict in your deep, mesmerizing eyes—you were broken and lost just like me—I looked down at our intertwined hands, waiting for your answer.

"What calls, Patrick? What are you talking about?"

"You know WHAT I'm talking about...don't try to fuck with my brain," I husked, inches from your lips. "You think this is funny, huh?"

"And you think it's funny to call my office and tell my assistant about your suicidal intentions?" Your warm breath wafted pleasantly around my face as you moved closer. "You think it's funny to appear and disappear in my life like I'm a toy you can play with whenever you feel bored?"

At first I didn't answer. Instead, I just kept eye contact with you, then I lowered my eyes to our hands again—my palm was bigger than yours, this little detail always made my heart flutter. Did I ever think that such a small thing would stir such strong emotions in me? Probably not.

Definitely not.

"By the way, did you manage to find out anything about that machine you told me about?" I questioned abruptly, putting my arm around your shoulders.

You frowned and chuckled in disbelief. Well, at least the tension was relieved.

"What machine?" You fidgeted in your seat as I pulled you closer. "Hey, don't change the subject..."

"A memory reboot machine," I crooned, leaning forward so our noses rubbed against each other. "If you're here... that means you probably didn't find it."

The urge to indulge in this moment, to follow the passionate momentum and just kiss these lips I'd been thinking about all along, was unbearable, but I didn't want to be the first to fall apart and drop my defenses.

"Maybe I never needed this machine," you replied, pressing your forehead against mine for a brief moment. "Because I never wanted to forget...you?"

Was it a question or a statement—we never knew as we both moved towards each other, my burning lips pressed against your soft ones as we shared the most desirable kiss I could ever imagine. Gasping into my mouth, you let go of my hand only to wrap both of them around my neck as you responded with no less favor than mine. It was so hot, so desperate, so tragic. And it was all mine— your pain, your anger, your hatred.

Because you were my salvation.

With precise deftness, I carefully tilted your head back a little to deepen the kiss, my arms eagerly but not persistently roving around your back, knowing every little detail of your body, every dent and bump. As much as I wanted to tell you how fucking perfect you were for me, I didn't want this kiss to end, but as if you could read my mind, you suddenly pulled me away a little too abruptly and roughly.

"God, I hate you..." you wept, covering your face so I couldn't see your tears. "I really... I really thought you were going to do something bad... I was afraid it was too late..."

I was at a loss, I didn't know how to react or what to say—everything about you confused me, made my brain overload with different thoughts about what you said and why—now was no exception.

"But I'm here now...in one piece," I decided not to touch you, my hand resting on the back of your chair, ready to hug you at any moment if it was needed. "You should understand that...if I really wanted to do this, no one would be able to stop me..." I whisper above your ear and place my hand on the back of your head, gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on the table. "Even you."

I knew that this confession would mean nothing, just like all my previous ones, but as soon as I said it, you raised your tear-stained eyes and whimpered. "Don't say that...don't fucking say that! You can be a total asshole, but that doesn't mean you deserve to die..."

"Darling," I gently brushed your stray locks from your face, trying to distract you and keep you from saying words that would only make things worse. "You know so little about me...but I don't want you to say something you'll regret..."

"I've already said too many things that I now regret," you replied, turning away from me. "Have you ever thought about your family and how they would react if something bad happened to you? Have you thought about Evelyn?"

My eyebrows knitted together, the words you said pierced my heart like sharp daggers, but I didn't want you to stop, because you were right, I was always selfish, but you knew so little about my family, who would surely be sad about the loss, but they would recover pretty quickly, since they still had Sean. And Evelyn? I would laugh if things were not so sad.

Trembling and sobbing, you still sat with your back to my face. "I'm not going to ask you for anything except to promise me that you'll never even think about...hurting yourself."

Oh, dear.

With a soft clink of my chair, I stood up and placed both of my hands on your trembling shoulders. "I promise... if you stay with me, I'll never look back... on my previous life." I felt your body tense under my touch. "We can't reboot the memory, but we can...reboot our lives?"

This was it—the moment I had fantasized about so many times, considering different outcomes, scenarios—I was waiting for your answer when the door creaked and Detective Moore appeared in my vision. She was much more cheerful than before, which worried me a bit.

"So," she took a seat, opened a folder with documents and wrote something on it. "I spoke to Vince, and luckily for you, he has already contacted your lawyer-"

"Vince?" You asked in shock, but at least you stopped crying.

Andrea stuttered and cleared her throat. "I mean..." she paused and twirled the pen in her hand. "It happened that Vincent and I used to know each other..."

What?

We were both speechless, how the hell could such a coincidence have happened?

"Well... I really didn't see it coming..." You murmured, brushing the remnants of tears from your face.

"Neither did I," the detective chuckled curtly before resuming her work on some papers. "Listen, we should wait for the results of the fingerprint analysis, and while we wait, you are forbidden to leave the city. Please put your sign here."

"What is this?"

"Your ticket to freedom," she explained. "A street bail."

I saw you hesitate, so I gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and you looked at me, I simply nodded, and you placed the sign.

"And how long have you known Vincent?" You asked after you handed the document back to Andrea. "Just asking."

"Since childhood, I think."

"Oh... that's... a lot."

"Vince has always been known for being a good boy..." the woman paused, coughing awkwardly. "Uh, you can talk to him about... that if you're interested." Andrea closed the folder and shifted her gaze to me. "And you, I highly recommend that you never do anything like this again."

"So you're not going to put me in a cell?" I replied in a slightly teasing manner.

"No...not this time. But the officer who allowed you to come here will be severely punished, maybe even fired," Andrea explained, getting up from her chair. "It's her first day at the police station, but she let a man go through without even checking his papers. Such violations are very serious."

And although I didn't feel sad for this woman I would probably never see again, I looked at you and your big doe eyes. "Maybe there's a way not to fire her? I assured her that I was a lawyer and...I could pay a fine if I had to."

Detective Moore said nothing, she just grinned and beckoned us to follow her.

An hour later we finally left the police station. For some time we walked in complete silence, the surrounding commotion drawing out my shallow breathing, my mind overclocked with the search for topics to talk about after all the shit that had happened.

"So... where did you stay?" I asked casually, looking at you from above, your eyelashes shimmering in the sunlight. "In the Plaza?"

"No," you replied almost immediately. "Not the Plaza this time...it was all booked up."

"You were really in New York... for the whole time?"

"Depends on what time you mean exactly," your slight smile made me almost stumble, but I pretended to see someone familiar. "Maybe I haven't left New York at all?"

No, that can't be.

"You know, since you can't leave the city... maybe we should spend some time together and... you didn't answer my question."

My offer made you stall, and I followed suit. Passers-by walked past us, not paying attention even though we were standing in the middle of the street.

"Was it really a question?"

"And what do you think it was?"

"A plea?" You smiled and stepped closer to me until there was no space between us. "If you weren't so stubborn...everything could be so much easier."

"And YOU tell me that?" I let myself pull you closer to me. "I have an idea...fuck the place where you stopped! We should go to Newport."

"Newport? Would it count that I left New York?" you asked me a little shyly. "Do you have a house there or...?"

"My family has a house there and since they are out of town we can use it to kill time...have you ever been to Newport?" My hands rested possessively on your waist and before I knew it, I added. "Me and Evelyn are getting divorced..."

"No, I haven't," you replied, finally resting your hands on my shoulders. "But I really want to...since I've heard a lot of good things about this place..." then you suddenly froze. "What... What did you say? Are you kidding me? God, I can't believe this...I..."

You continued to bubble something that made me smile in amusement and I couldn't help but hold you tightly in my arms— the place you always belonged to, though I understood it too late. The fresh breeze of change swirled around us, playing with our hair and clothes. Yesterday I didn't know if I would make it to tomorrow, but today I was sure that there would be so many tomorrows because I wasn't alone anymore.

With you, for you, in your name—I was still alive and finally free.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

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bogkeep · 7 months ago

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it was my last day of the placement so i went to say bye to the shopkeepers, and the boss was like hey do you want to try on this big rolex made of gold. and i was like O_O sure let me just take off my silly little junk watch to make room for the insanely expensive behemoth

i rescued this watch from the scrap drawer and i get to keep it :3

#it was Heavy #scary........#i prefer my little scrap watch!!!!#(also just in case it's not obvious it was literally just trying it on they weren't giving it to me)#(the process of acquiring a rolex is honestly insane. there's like waiting lists and u need Experience and... what.)

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blissfullyecho · 2 days ago

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2025 is:

Baccarat Rouge 540, La Perla lingerie, Chanel No. 5, caviar and oysters, first-class lounges, Soho House memberships, Hermès Birkins, Dior sunglasses, Van Cleef, Cartier, Tiffany, Ritz-Carlton spa days, Nobu dinners, St. Barts holidays, Pilates reformer classes, Montblanc pens, bulletproof coffee mornings, St. Regis afternoon tea, skiing in Aspen, sailing on a Sunseeker yacht, dating men wearing custom-tailored suits, handwritten thank-you notes written with custom stationery by Smythson, interior design consultations, negronis by the fireplace, silk pillowcases, cashmere throws, helicopter rides to the Hamptons, fine art auctions at Sotheby’s, private wine tastings in Napa, chef’s table dining experiences, Le Labo Santal 33, Rolls-Royce chauffeured rides, horseback riding in the English countryside, Ladurée macarons, Rolex watches, a Montauk beach house, Louboutin heels, afternoon reads of The Financial Times, medical-grade skincare routines, investing in blue-chip stocks, attending Paris Fashion Week, tennis matches at Wimbledon, and Courchevel ski chalets.

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jiminjamms · 1 year ago

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sex therapy :: 23. homewrecker

chapter tags/warnings: naoya has sex with toji’s older ex-wife. misogynistic! naoya. age gap. exhibitionism. creampies. masturbation. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. plain manipulation. corruption.

word count: 3.8k

notes: a longer chapter, but i had became so enraptured in the writing process hence the quick turnaround! given the thanksgiving weekend in the united states, i want to thank all my readers for being so invested my story! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya Zenin had no qualms in calling himself the Master of the Universe.

He had everything he wanted in this world.

Money? Check. Power? Check. Fame? Also check.

Mind you, Naoya had to work hard to get into this position too. He didn’t just sit around on the couch all day waiting for opportunities to come flying his way. He had to be proactive. He had some tough decisions to make. Like how he had to choose between spending the weekend on a golf course or a ski resort. Or if he should pull up to the next board meeting with a Patek Phillipe or a Rolex. Nothing in his sad and poor life came easy when he only grew up as a spare heir, always living in the shadow of his once almighty cousin.

Which was why nothing could fuel his ego more than watching Toji's ex-wife ride his dick like this was some fucking rodeo.

"Naoya, baby," Mari whined, flushed as she ground down hard on his cock, her pussy squeezing him to the point his sight became spotted with stars. "I'm so close."

“Yeah?" Naoya managed to croak. His voice was hoarse; he longer recognized himself. He could only feel how his cock was splitting his mistress open, and with one long groan, he sank his face into her fat tits that were like clouds against his skin, his heavy balls slapping against her ass cheeks with each thrust up. "Gonna make a mess over my cock?”

She nodded confidently. “Mhm…We’re going to leave the sheets covered with cum.”

“Fuck, yeah.”

Sighing, the woman leaned forward with her palm holding the headboard’s edge for dear life while the other groped her own breast to keep her bosom from moving wildly.

“Don’t stop,” she mewled.

But shit, Naoya knew he was going crazy at this fantastically sexy sight. With this goddess before him, his mind and body wanted to go all in. No holds barred. He wanted nothing but to stuff this celestial being full of his cum, making sure her cunt would be aching when she woke up.

The Zenin CEO moaned at his lewd ideas, the mattress beneath them rocking back and forth from their combined forceful movements. Damn, he knew he should've booked a hotel room at the Ritz Carlton rather than at some InterContinental, where he knew (from experience) that the beds were sturdier and wouldn't be such an annoying mid-sex turnoff.

"I'm cumming!" Mari shouted in the midst of Naoya's haze, and his mind placed a screeching halt in his thoughts to focus solely on how her walls now squeezed around his cock, contracting around him in waves.

“Shit.”

She might be twenty years older, but goddamn, did she still have that grip.

Naoya’s climax didn’t take long to follow. The way his mistress's hot body crumpled against him as she wailed out his name repeatedly was simply too much, his own breaths dissolving into a strangled moan as his orgasm consumed him. “Holy fuck.”

In one white flash, Naoya's vision went blank. Hot semen shot from his tip in intense bursts as Naoya plunged himself completely into one of the tightest cunts he'd ever fucked. (And yes, he had enough girlfriends and one-night stands to make this conclusion. Don’t be silly to assume he didn't have experience.)

He panted hard, trying to catch his breath as Mari rolled over into the spot next to him, leaving their sweaty forms tangled in bed. As his heart slowed down from its marathon, he puffed his cheeks out and exhaled.

Wow.

He hadn’t gotten his dick twisted like that in a while, and to award the star of tonight’s show, he faced his lover and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Drained my balls completely empty,” he hummed in sheer amazement, pulling the sheets to cover their naked bodies. If they hadn’t gone for four whole rounds already, he would have hauled her into another episode of intense thrusting and moaning, perhaps slamming into her by those windows for the entire Tokyo area to see.

Giggling, the older woman slipped off the bed. She trailed toward the vanity mirror to re-apply her lipstick for what must be the millionth occasion. Not that Naoya was complaining because he had a thing for women with that cherry red on, and every time Mari went smacking her painted lips together, Naoya would find a way to get all that off.

All Naoya could picture in his head was how much he wanted to watch her suck him off again and see her print lipstick stains on his dick, from the base to the tip.

Well, fuck.

He’s getting hard again.

To distract himself, he tossed over to the side, propping an elbow on a pillow and resting his chin on his palm. This gave him the perfect angle to watch his hot girlfriend while hiding the boner between his legs. A genius move.

Then, he thought aloud, “I don’t know what I would have done without those nudes that you’ve been sending me over these past several weeks.”

She purred, flattered. “Liked them?”

Naoya had to correct her.

“Loved them.” Recalling the slew of dirty photos that he had received over text made his eyes roll to the back of his head. “I would bring my phone to the bathroom just so I could beat off to your pictures in the shower. Even came on my screen once because I couldn’t hold myself back a moment longer.”

Mari grinned from ear to ear from the compliment, staring into the mirror to wipe away a misplaced smear. “So, you really missed me.”

Naoya nodded in acknowledgment, reaching for his unfinished glass of Rémy Martin that had been left on the bedside table. “Most certainly, I did.”

“Of course.” Through her reflection in the mirror, he saw her scarlet lips pucker into a pout. “We haven’t been together in weeks since you are always busy and all.”

Despite her leveled tone, the bitter twinge caught Naoya off guard.

Did Mari think he did not care for her anymore after everything that he had done just this night alone? It was not like he had intentionally avoided her in recent weeks. Naoya had made himself extremely clear in the past that he had a company to run, a marriage to tend to, and a father to please.

Especially that last bit.

Naobito Zenin had been on Naoya’s ass on what seemed like everything lately: ‘financial forecasts’ this and ‘earnings call’ that. The Chairman had been chasing him on whether he had been planning for his upcoming strategy discussion with the board, consulting with other C-suite members about new firm initiatives, and speaking with Daisuke (your father) about recent company operations. Immensely annoying. His very own father should at least have some sympathy, knowing that Naoya—unlike his older cousin—did not grow up with a business mindset drilled into his head.

With the family patriarch also now aware of his son’s extramarital affair, Naoya must especially tiptoe around every interaction that involved his mistress.

After all, Naobito might have been turning a blind eye ever since discovering those scandalous paparazzi photos online, but he was no fool to ignore his son’s funny business, especially if this would jeopardize the Zenin Corporation’s success and the proud family’s reputation. In their most recent meeting, the older Zenin had reiterated that if there was any evidence that his son’s affair may imperil the company’s bottom line, there would be ‘severe consequences’—and in these matters with his own father, Naoya understood that no punishment was off the table.

“So,” Mari pressed, noticing the blond’s silence, “when are we going to see each other again?”

Meanwhile, the woman before him was absolutely oblivious to everything that had been going on ever since Naoya rushed back to Japan from Mexico.

He would take the blame, too.

Naoya intentionally did not mention how his father discovered their scandal’s photos, to lessen Mari's worry. Turned out the decision bit him in the ass, given how the woman narrowed her gaze in suspicion.

With the glass of cognac now trapped between his teeth, he took a slow sip that burned down his throat like spiced liquid fire. The warm residue, a testimony to the drink’s potency, pulsed through his veins like a slow-burning hearth as he sat up slowly.

“As soon as I can.”

She surprised him with her fast response. “Why not this weekend? We were supposed to go to your lakehouse in Switzerland soon, remember?” she pointed out, and Naoya had to conclude that she could not possibly be serious given that the European country called for a ten-plus hour flight from Tokyo, even with his Gulfstream.

“That, I cannot do,” he replied, his tone firm.

If he went missing again, his father would be livid.

“Why not?” an unaware Mari asked while walking over to the bed again and seated her naked form along the edge. “Trying to make time for your wife again?”

Interesting that she assumed you had a role in this. Frankly, Naoya had not thought about you the entire night, seeing you last as a sobbing mess in the penthouse.

As your husband, he should feel a teensy bit bad about cursing you off, but he had never been the one to chew on an emotion that did not serve him, so he quickly let that guilt go. This whole thing was your fault, anyway. Purposely poking around in his business, and then letting him have his way with you despite how obviously little he could care. As far as he can tell, he left you huddled up in an adorable little ball on the floor, sulking and crying over how badly you fucked up.

Pathetic.

That should teach you a lesson.

Perhaps Naoya would like to see a little backbone in you, but if that meant you may grow even more testy when around him, then he would rather not.

With his tongue running over his lower lip, he placed his glass atop the oak table again. “About my schedule,” he began, “no, my wife doesn’t have to do with anything.”

“Good!” Mari huffed with finality, his answer giving her the green light to crawl across the mattress and push the covers off Naoya. She straddled him perfectly, allowing his latest load to trickle out slowly from her cunt and onto his thighs. “That’s what I thought, that you two were over had your marriage certificate not existed. Besides, what was that you had texted me?” she continued as if she wasn’t pressing her slicked pussy against his semi-hard cock. “That your wife had been cheating on you for who knows how long.”

He nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Disgusting,” the older woman spat, rolling her eyes at your audacity. “So, she’s a spoiled brat and a two-timer. For someone from her noble background, your wife is one dumb and cheap whore.”

Quite an ironic statement given who was talking, but Naoya kept his mouth shut at the thought. Rather, his hands kneaded his mistress’s fat butt, which at least helped him keep his mind away from things he didn’t want to think about.

“Yeah, she sure is a slut,” he agreed.

Naoya sent a convincing smile in between his words, and he could practically see Mari’s face light up from his validation.

“See! Exactly!” she exclaimed. “That bitch never lived a hard day in her life and is already blessed with everything the world can possibly give her—wealth, respect, a good last name. Yet, she dares to act like she has nothing?!” Enraged, she threw her hands into the air from frustration. “Might as well just leave someone as entitled as her! Filing a divorce is simpler than you think, speaking from my own experience. Once the whole world understands that she’s a nobody unmatched by you, everyone would support your decision, right?” Wrong. His father surely would not. But to satiate his own curiosity, he let her continue. “Not to mention, baby, people would respect you more as a businessman without your current wife.” Wrong again.

His hands might be tracing another woman’s curves, but Naoya understood that he needed you if he hoped to ascertain his ascendancy in the company. That was why his father, with his life’s many decades, easily recognized this necessary union and had pressed for this marital arrangement.

To the Zenin family, you were the perfect addition.

Descending from a line of honorable financiers, you not only had the right connections to the upper echelon since birth but also were the daughter of the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer. Yet, most importantly, you were incredibly elegant, classy, and admired, exactly the person people would want to be associated with if they wanted to clear their public images and tarnished pasts…and exactly the impeccable character that Naoya needed by his side.

His marriage to you served him as not a bond forged upon mutual love, but rather a calculated decision to leverage your virtuosity as a cloak—or moreso, a distraction. With the public adoring you, Naoya could confidently hide his lack of competence and credentials behind your flawless paragon. Goddamnit. He fucking hated how he relied on you more than you depended on him (albeit you might not realize this), but until his father kicked the bucket, what could Naoya realistically do?

Therefore, dissolving this shrewd alliance between him and you would be detrimental not only to two distinguished bloodlines but also to Naoya in particular.

He already skirted around being shown out the door once.

Given Naobito's recent stringency, there was no room for Naoya to make another mistake again.

But rather than dealing with an upset Mari if he chose to reveal these facts, Naoya instead patted her head with encouragement and brushed her brown locks. “That’s my smart girl,” he praised, tilting his head forward to express his agreement.

Flustered at the commendation, she went on without much thought. “I’m so glad you agree with me, baby. That’s just…That is a thought that has been on my mind for a while, but,” and she paused briefly to formulate her next words carefully, “I mean, I only want the best for you. Naturally. So, maybe there are better people to spend your money on and life with.”

Now, Naoya would admit that he can be shortsighted at points, but he was not that stupid to realize that she was alluding to herself.

“I appreciate you for thinking about me,” he still said, because he must stay on her good side if he hoped for a comprehensive answer to his following question, “By the way, do you know any new rumors going around about Toji?”

The said man’s ex-wife perked up visibly at the question. Even though she was busy plotting your downfall a moment ago, the mention of Toji inveigled her such that she would push all her other thoughts aside.

Although Mari had presented divorce papers to her then-husband earlier this year, Naoya continued to allow—in fact, encouraged—Mari to still visit Toji on the occasion. He didn't give two hoots that his mistress was getting railed by his cousin if that meant that she came back with fresh dirt about him, allowing Naoya to indulge in his custom-tailored version of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

“I had an appointment with him yesterday." Using her fingers, Mari combed through her dark strands. “Crazy that you used to work with him and his stupid little entourage, right?"

“That is crazy.” Had he not been reminded, Naoya would have nearly forgotten that he used to work as a sex therapist too up until earlier this year. In that office was where he befriended the then-Mari Fushiguro, although he had known her years prior as an in-law. Naoya only terminated his position after his father finally decided to hand his only son (rather than his nephew) the CEO and heir apparent titles. “To think that now I oversee a large conglomerate,” he stated proudly, “so unlike everyone else, I have matured and am off to better things.”

"Funny for you to say that,” the woman resumed, now twirling her hair out of habit. “Do you remember your office in the middle of their hallway? Only recently did I realize someone scratched out your name from the door’s plaque. Don’t even know who did that.”

What pettiness.

What was this?

Middle school?

Were the other therapists that butt hurt when Naoya turned against them to propel himself toward his well-deserved future as the Zenin Corporation’s heir? “Choso probably did that. He is the type to hold grudges and act upon them.”

Even if he has to kill, Naoya mentally added from what he recalled about his former co-worker but preferred to keep that morbid possibility to himself.

“That makes sense. I never liked Choso anyway. He will talk shit about you to your face,” Mari declared, which launched her into a soliloquy about her grievances regarding the other therapists that Naoya used to work with. “Meanwhile, Geto smiles too much. Creeps me out.” Agreed. “Sukuna is overly cocky.” True. “Then, Toji,” and this is the part that Naoya really wanted to hear about, “has been distancing himself from me these days.”

Why, this was not the news that Naoya hoped for.

Rather than soaking in joy from hearing about Toji’s demise, Naoya instead felt his stomach drop from a sinking dread.

While he found some sick gratification in pleasing his cousin's past partner both emotionally and sexually, the more important reason he needed this MILF in his life was to monitor his estranged cousin’s moves from afar.

She was merely the perfect spy.

What better source of intel was there in this world besides Toji’s former spouse, who simply walked up to Naoya and offered her espionage services the day she learned that her then-husband was no longer set to inherit the Zenin thone? All that she asked in return was a little money and a little physical attention, which was easy for Naoya to throw at her.

After rightfully (and he must place emphasis on that last word) taking back what he was entitled to, Naoya was positive that Toji had a target placed on his back. Therefore, Naoya needed Mari's updates on Toji and Co. to protect himself, to protect his position, and to protect the status quo that he had worked so hard for.

If Toji stopped talking to Mari completely, how else would Naoya keep his threats under watch?

“Do you have ideas on why Toji is giving you the cold shoulder?”

Pressing her bare chest to Naoya’s toned ones, Mari stopped briefly in contemplation but ultimately shrugged. “Do you think he’s getting suspicious? That he realized I left him for his younger cousin Naoya?”

“No,” the said man denied vehemently. “That cannot possibly be.”

Naoya had been extremely careful in keeping his extramarital relationship as discreet as possible. For example, the moment he learned about those photos of him and his mistress en route to Mexico, he immediately called every publisher to have them take the pictures down, no matter the monetary cost.

He made sure to leave no crumbs along his trail and refused to believe in the contrary. “Any other reasons you can think of?”

With Naoya not reciprocating her libido, Mari started to appear visibly annoyed. “Maybe he’s moved on," she suggested, answers curt. "Maybe he'd found another person.”

If Naoya thought the first hypothesis was alarming enough, this second explanation definitely took the cake.

At least, if Toji had truly gotten suspicious about Mari’s affiliation with the current Zenin successor, Naoya somewhat had some control over that situation. Divert the paparazzi. Create cover-up stories. Bribe more publishers. Find each and every way possible to take the spotlight off him and his secret affair.

On the other hand, there was not much Naoya could do if Toji no longer found interest in his ex-wife.

Huh.

Well, that wasn't quite good.

How could Naoya play his next move?

Or had Toji been playing him all along?

Strategize.

Naoya needed to strategize. C'mon, he was the fucking CEO of the fucking Zenin Corporation. He had done strategizing plenty of times before, so why was his mind suddenly going blank on what to do next?

“Who has Toji taken interest in?” Naoya found himself asking, desperate for information.

“Beats me.” Mari guided his hands to trace her curves, cupping her breasts with Naoya's palms to urge him to massage the rounded mounds. “Although, think about this: she cannot merely be anybody,” and she released her grip around his wrists to start counting with her fingers, “One, she has to be well-off. Therapy ain't cheap. Two, she is stuck in a bad relationship. And three, she is also stuck with bad sex.”

What a good approach to the situation, narrowing down the potential suspects and investigating from there!

Who knew some women had the smarts in them to devise such detailed commentary? That was what Naoya loved about mature and more experienced psyches in ladies like her.

Now, her brilliant analysis reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t exactly place his finger on who.

Whatever, because with this turnaround in the mystery, Naoya decided he would figure this out soon enough.

Triumph was right within his reach.

It was only a matter of time until his aging father Naobito, the one person who had the final say in all company and familial matters, solidified his Last Will and Testament to ensure his wonderful only son Naoya would be the successor to the multibillion family-run conglomerate, condemning Toji Fushiguro to be dwarfed by his little cousin forever.

But first, he must treat his paramour to a much-deserved reward that would render her limping in the morning.

With all the moving parts falling into place, Naoya burst into a wicked cackle by her left tit, leaving Mari staring back at him with a confused frown.

"What's so funny?" she demanded to know.

“Don’t worry about it,” Naoya assured between snickers, leading his mistress forward by gently pulling her waist toward him. He attached his mouth to the nipple, flicking the bud with his tongue as he added, “What you should worry about, though, is how you will walk when you wake up after how sore I’m going to make you.”

The cheesy comment made Mari laugh as she batted her long lashes. She saw where this was going, and her large chocolate-colored eyes sparkled with an excited twinkle as she met his hazel ones, her thin lips stretching into a Cheshire Cat grin from delight.

"Baby," she cooed, "the dirty things you say to me make me forget that you have a wife at home sometimes."

Something about her remark made Naoya chuckle even more heartily as his mind meandered back to his nearly forgotten spouse: his wife.

His…wife.

Wait.

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗧𝗪𝗢 𝗘𝗡𝗗

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: The end to Act Two: House of Cards! The very reason behind this act’s name is to reference the precarious web of disguise and deception in this story, only for this structure to topple like a domino chain. Thank you to all my lovely readers for reading, and although I recognize my writing is imperfect, I would love to hear your thoughts before the third and final arc!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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angie-words · 3 months ago

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Rivals Interview & Photoshoot

CW for mentions of sex, nudity

Highlights from the article (abridged! Full article by Caitlin Moran here):

Jilly Cooper’s raunchy Rivals: ‘You will see a lot of willies’

It’s taken 36 years, but finally Jilly Cooper’s legendary bonkbuster Rivals is on TV. Caitlin Moran — who was such a fan, she changed her name to one of the book’s characters — meets the author and stars on set and asks: how was it for you?

Guess where I am.

Oh my gosh — I am in RUTSHIRE.

If you own one of the multimillion copies sold of Jilly Cooper’s infamous Rutshire Chronicles books, you will a) be as excited as me, and b) know exactly where I am.

Yes, I am standing in front of a beautiful, honey-coloured mansion.

Yes, it is a beautiful summer’s day.

Yes, the herbaceous borders are magnificent.

Yes, there are adorable dogs milling around.

Yes, there are champagne bottles strewn hither and yon.

And yes, everyone is dressed in alternately fabulous, or ridiculous, Eighties outfits, with gigantic hair.

The ladies have electric-blue eyeshadow and golden, heaving bosoms.

The men, meanwhile, have tanned legs, huge Rolexes — and, in many instances, their gigantic hair manifests lower down: in moustaches like that of Tom Selleck.

And yes, of course, there is drama. David Tennant — wearing a lavish, gold, silken man-blouse and sucking on a cigar — is furious. He is savaging a roomful of party people, all looking stricken — and all, incongruously, wearing swimwear.

“How the f*** has this happened?” Tennant screams, as all the tits and legs fidget, gaudy piña coladas abandoned. “Get the f*** out there and sort this out! And why are you all wearing bikinis?”

Tennant storms from the room, apoplectic with rage — and then sees me.

“Oh, hello, darling,” he says, all sweetness and light.

“CUT!” the director calls.

Today, David Tennant isn’t, of course, David Tennant. He’s Tony Baddingham, the infamous, nominative-determinist baddie of Jilly Cooper’s Rivals.

“So, is this fun?” I ask him.

The last time I saw him on set, he was being the Doctor in Doctor Who, in a floor-length coat, trying to save the world from being exploded. Again. In the rain. In Wales. At 1am.

“Oh yes,” Tennant says. “I mean, look at my blouse. It’s like my aunt’s! Actually, I think it might be hers — it closes right to left. Don’t men’s buttons close left to right? Am I wearing,” he asks the room at large, “a woman’s blouse?”

“We need to go again, David,” the director says.

“Back in a tick,” Tennant says, running back on set, sucking on his cigar. Getting ready to be really evil, and Eighties, again.

-----

When it comes to the atmosphere on set, I later talk to David Tennant about this subject.

“Yes — there was a lot of due diligence about only having … joyful people on set. Crew and cast,” Tennant says, carefully.

(Dominic) Treadwell-Collins - executive producer - is more forthright.

“We had a very strict ‘no arseholes’ policy,” he says.

-----

Your mother was a Jilly Cooper fan? And, therefore, presumably … a Rupert Campbell-Black fan?

“My mum, you know … blushed when I told her [I’d got the role],” (Alex) Hassell admits. “A lot of women blushed when I told them.”

I’m interviewing Hassell, 44, and Tennant, 53, together. As a former Doctor, Tennant has, of course, a lot of experience in playing a role women find attractive.

“Once you’ve made [Rupert Campbell-Black] flesh, I think a lot of people are going to find it difficult to interact with you, Alex,” he says, helpfully.

It seems Hassell is aware of this.

“Yes,” he says. “One friend, when I told her, said, ‘Oh, that’s a bean-flicker role!’ I said, ‘Ah, I see.’ ”

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone come up to me and say, ‘I’ve masturbated thinking about you,’ ” Tennant says, thoughtfully.

“David!” Hassell exclaims, hurt. “When we met, that’s the first thing I said.”

-----

“Tony’s from a lower class, while Rupert was born with an entire silver cutlery canteen in his mouth,” Tennant says. “So whatever Tony does, he never has that class advantage. Tony needs to taste the blood of his betters in his mouth to make him feel better. Rupert’s blood.”

“And while Rupert is, in many ways, a shit,” Hassell says, thoughtfully, “he’s not a bad man, like Tony. Tony is jealous of Rupert. He wants his house, his women, his life.”

Accordingly, this suit-based class war plays out as Campbell-Black tries to take over Baddingham’s TV station — and the backstabbing, shenanigans, shagging and skulduggery commence.

-----

The tennis court at Cooper’s house is the setting for one of her most iconic scenes — where Campbell-Black first meets his love interest, Taggie, while he’s playing naked tennis. He is adjudged to have lost a match point because something is over the line. Oh, why am I being so coy? This is Jilly Cooper. It’s his penis. His massive penis is judged to be over the line. A note to diehard fans: this scene is shot exactly as written. You will see a lot of willies.

“We’ve been equal opportunities in our nudity,” Treadwell-Collins says. “There’s a willy for every pair of tits.”

“That was my great disappointment over the TV show,” Cooper sighs. “The tennis court is a terrible mess — no one’s played on it for 20 years — and I thought [Disney] might be darlings and build me a new one.”

She looks around, hopefully.

“Do you think anyone here has some booze?” she asks. “It is the afternoon.”

Cooper has been an invaluable muse to everyone on set while filming. In one scene, she handed over an urgent note that read, “Rupert would never say ‘spouse’ — that’s very lower-middle [class]. He would say ‘wife’.”

She argued for particularly Cooperesque jokes and puns to stay in, and was firm that the whole “First of May” tradition remain.

“Oh, yes,” she says, looking delighted, and then quotes herself. “ ‘First of May, first of May — outdoor f***ing starts today. But if as usual it do rain, we f*** off indoors again.’ ”

This ribald rhyme kicks off a massive shagging montage, involving the entire cast. And all outdoors, of course.

-----

I can’t tell you what fun it is interviewing all the Rivals people. Because of the show, everyone talks about their memories of the Eighties (David Tennant: “No, my Eighties weren’t like a Jilly Cooper book — I was at school in Paisley with my glasses held together with sticky tape, and a very unappealing haircut”), and smoking (Hassell: “Everyone smoked everywhere, didn’t they? Even on planes. They’d draw across that little … health curtain, and everyone smoked behind it”), and how hard it was to leave Cooper’s world when shooting finished (Hassell: “No one was looking at me like I’m the most sexy man on the planet any more. It was tough.”)

-----

In the event, (Aidan) Turner, 41, is an absolute hoot — particularly on the subject of the massive moustache he sports on the show. It is a magnificent specimen of upper-lip pelt. It looks like a vole fell asleep under his nose.

It looks like the one Ned Flanders has on The Simpsons, I tell him.

Turner gives a huge, barking laugh.

“Ned Flanders? I mean, I was thinking more … Irish stag? Super-masculine?”

He starts giggling again.

Turner’s relaxed stance towards his sex god-dom comes with an interestingly meta twist. In Rivals, one of Baddingham’s TV shows is called Four Men Went to Mow — where sexy farmers, sexily stripped to the waist, carry out sexy agricultural duties.

Turner, of course, infamously stripped to the waist a few times in Poldark, for that scything scene or lying in bed or emerging from the sea. In a pleasingly postmodern moment, one scene sees Turner rail against Four Men Went to Mow — raging, almost camply, “TV can’t just be men taking their tops off!”

Rivals is on Disney+ from October 18

#i am looking respectfully #david tennant fandom #David Tennant #david tennant #rivals jilly cooper #jilly cooper #aidan turner #alex hassell #bonkbuster #good omens #crowley

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chosos-mascara · 1 year ago

Text

gojo's bride

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - mafia au, violence, arranged marriage, guns, killing/shooting in one scene, you're on the run, bounty hunter toji, marriage

side characters: suguru, sukuna and toji

5.4k words

Throughout childhood, an image of marriage is painted by your family. A contract between soulmates; a display of love to a person. Notes of a traditional wedding decorated with chairs of close friends and relatives, smiles wide and eyes glassy. Or, maybe you were better suited to a romantic elopement followed by a getaway, littered with intimate moments before announcing yourself a wife. In the end, the outcome is the same, one drilled into you by your parents since a young age. Perhaps while innocent, you had indulged within the images of a princess-like gown and florals winding around an ornate staircase - though with age and your growing understanding of your father's business values, you'd understood this wasn't a day to look forward to.

When those in your clan would mention a prospective husband, someone your father would pick by hand, your heart would race excitedly, hands grasping over your chest as you swooned in adoration. There had been a semblance of what you'd pictured your future husband to look like, though that had since dwindled. When hitting twenty, reality setting in that this was another thing you would not experience normally, you tried to push the idea away. To your family, you were a pawn, and your marriage would be nothing other than an advantage to them; because when born as a woman within the world of Japanese illegitimate business, there were more hurdles than most. Your life had been seemingly filled with one sacrifice after another, and marriage was looking to be the largest one yet.

Which is why, a courthouse wedding planned only twelve hours prior hadn't been what you'd envisioned. Despite the loss of formality and tradition there had still been anxiousness bubbling within the pit of your stomach, hands clammy as you took hold of the man you'd barely known while reciting an unbreakable oath. Instead of a dress, you'd been in cargos and a long sleeved top, though Gojo had displayed a little more care over the ordeal - a crisp blue shirt and slacks, black lenses over his eyes an a Rolex on his wrist. He slid the ring over your finger, delivering vows that had meant very little to either of you, and you'd repeated the action moments later, heart racing when the officiant had announced that you were now bound by law. Geto and Sukuna signed the certificate, and the four of you left to return to the shitty apartment you'd been hiding within for the past week. A weight had been lifted, but a new one had only taken its place.

"Now, the reason we're gathered here is due to an important announcement within the family." Your father spoke, lips curving upward into a smile as his eyes darted to your own. It had been obvious when your parents had requested your presence for dinner there had been an ulterior motive, with yourself being left alone unless there had been news, or you'd been in need of discipline. It had usually been the latter, with being in your twenties and having a powerful father while being rebellious to his rules, there had been frequent fall-outs. Though within the moment his cold stare met yours, you'd understood exactly what he'd been about to say.

"I've picked a partner for my daughter, finally." Through his thin smile, jagged teeth had shown. "Next week, she'll become a Zen'in, and our clan will reap the benefits of being united with one of the top three." For such a disgusting statement, he spoke with confidence, watching through beady eyes as the chatter of close and distant family members erupted, though mostly from excitement. "What?" The quiet protest fell between conversations of others, any further objections died on your tongue. He looked down at you, a vacant stare before continuing. Your gaze fluttered to your mother to ask for a semblance of empathy, yet you were met with the same ruthless eyes.

"Naoya Zen'in, my future son in law, will aid in managing business, merging with his father's company." The name had rang alarm bells through your already cascading mind, oblivion on the horizon. Naoya, a bigger misogynist than any man within your clan, a person referred to as scum by anyone with half a brain.

There had been an uncomfortable cough opposite you, your panicked gaze meeting the dark eyes of your cousin. He's raised a brow, placing serviette beside plate as his head tilted toward large wooden doors - the only exit from the dining hall. You took a moment to think, mouth agape and heart racing, before standing. A large push through your daze of emotion had been all it had taken to activate the flight response, leaving your seat to run toward your room.

Once your head had hit pillow, tears flooded through your eyes, face plush to soft sheets in order to drown out the sobs raking over your body. The Zen'ins had been one of three leading clans within the mafia, alongside Kamo and Gojo. Three lineages known to be the dirtiest of all, though due to honor had been treated as if royalty. You'd heard Sukuna speak of Naoya in passing, and his disgust with the man he'd only met in passing.

"Hey," Sukuna's voice filled the air between muffled cries, body shaking and breaths heavy as you'd turned to face the figure walking through the room. Shifting, you sat with your back against the headboard, a pillow in your lap as the mattress dipped to allow space to your only friend. "I'm so sorry-" Sukuna began, bringing a hand to his face and sighing. "This is bad."

The weight of the situation before you had grown heavier when your cousin had admitted his own alarm. Sukuna feared no one, and had taught you to follow him on the same path of callousness; jobs executed with little remorse or care. Your partnership had resembled siblings to outsiders in the sense that you'd been family no one would cross, even if Ryomen had been a relatively new name within this world. With the company founded by your grandfather, there had been just enough time to spread word of the name, though when comparing feats to that of Gojo or Kamo, Ryomen had appeared ant-sized.

"I can't," You stuttered over words between labored breaths, a harsh squeeze over the pillow clutched within your grip, pressing into your stomach. "Sukuna, I really can't do this." Brown eyes scanned over you once more, concern riddled within the pupils, down turned eyebrows creating a crease at his forehead. He hadn't seen you like this before; distraught, scared. Since childhood, the pair of you had pushed emotion from your psyche, swearing vow to be honest only with the other. Each of you had promised to be the only person to trust in the harsh world you'd been brought into. In adulthood, you'd met with him significantly less, and Sukuna had built a name for himself as the Ryomen with the dirtiest hands. Yet, the vow would not be broken.

"There's a place downtown," Sukuna's voice had been hushed, a sigh from his lips before continuing. "Tonight, we'll leave. You can stay until I find a way to get you out of this mess." The statements he'd spoken had been frantic as he'd tried to make sense of the visions in his head - if he would've simply been born with more intelligence, perhaps he'd have been better aid when you'd needed him most.

"What's that going to do?" You laughed through helpless sobs, rolling eyes at the promise he'd made - though with trembling lips and fingernails scratching anxiously over the skin of your arm, your body had demonstrated the true terror within you. "Dad's not going to cancel a deal halfway through, not with the Zen'ins." Reiterating your point, you tried to push him away from an ill-planed escape, however much you'd needed him to give his all. "We'll figure this out, okay?" Tattooed fingers smoothed through his hair, dullness within his gaze as he watched over your deflated form.

It had been midnight when you'd left. With only a backpack for belongings, you'd stuffed it to the best of your ability before slipping through the bedroom window, prayers whispered as you'd absconded the building. Hopefully, your family would notice your disappearance after you'd left their surveillance lines.

Sukuna had waited a block away, engine running as he'd awaited your presence in the passenger side. It hadn't taken much pleading before Suguru had agreed to house you, only having to hear the Zen'in name before allowing you to seek refuge, though he couldn't deny his concerns of being found even while in a safe house. After holding his breath while waiting for you, you'd finally emerged, slumping against the passenger seat. Sukuna had now been in control of your fate, shifting into drive.

The journey hadn't been long, reaching the building within a half hour, though concern riddling your mind upon entry. A run down apartment block, ivy curving into single-pane windows to grow along the white-washed brick inside, cracked tiles beneath your feet left unwashed and elevator jolting upon movement. Your travels had been led mostly in silence, each remaining expressionless despite the mental hellfire you were wading through.

Stopping at a wooden door, a brass 206 nailed into the middle of the wood, Sukuna had only had to knock once before it had opened. Stomach dropping, you stepped back, frantically looking to your cousin to voice your shock and betrayal when seeing the blue eyes behind the door. It hadn't made sense why Sukuna had brought you to a Gojo hideout - one of the leading clans alongside the Zen'ins.

"Don't worry." The familiar brown eyes met your own, stern countenance and monotone voice as he'd placed a hand over your shoulder, a light push forward. "Satoru isn't like his family." After Sukuna's reassurance, the Gojo had opened the door wider, stepping to the side to accommodate both you and your cousin as you passed through. The apartment's interior hadn't reflected the halls outside, being well decorated and clean. Following Sukuna through to the kitchen, you watched as he seated himself at the table, inked hand reaching to his pocket to fish out a carton of straights, pulling one from the pack and setting it to his lips. The amber of his lighter emerged after only one flick of the steel, lighting the end of the cigarette and taking a drag.

"This is Gojo Satoru." Sukuna broke the silence, gesturing toward the white haired male you'd met with moments prior. The smoke drifting upward from the end of his cigarette wafted as he waved his hand, stopping as a painted nail pointed behind you. "That's Geto Suguru." Turning, you were met with a new face, though a name you'd recognised.

Both males introduced had been tall, differing builds yet similar black ink etched into their skin. Satoru had been lanky, yet his height and demeanour gave an aura you hadn't often experienced, one of importance. Gojo's limbs had been decorated, though the most notable artwork had been the clan mark of Gojo: an eye on the right side of the neck. An immediate sign of strength for those who understood its meaning. Geto had been much broader, manner radiating from physical build rather than an intense aura. His physical strength had been clear.

"Goes without saying that you can't leave the apartment." Sukuna's words had been low, eyes fixed to you with an intimidating stare. The heartfelt and honest personality he'd shared with you had switched when in the presence of others, Sukuna instead watching through an emotionless gaze as you reacted to his words. The instruction had been one that had your brow furrowing and arms crossing, though Geto had interrupted before you'd had the chance to counter. "Naoya Zen'in is dangerous." Geto leaned back on a countertop, both hands supporting his weight as he continued. "Not because he's strong - it's because he's weak. People follow him only through fear." Geto shifted, eyes straying to the floor before meeting yours once more. "Naoya doesn't kill - he tortures, molests, creates hell for those who don't give him his way. Even then, he's too cowardly to do anything with his own hands." Suguru's statements had your blood running cold, a lump forming within your throat.

"If he finds you, it's over." Sukuna continued from his friend, another puff of smoke passing his lips. He leaned back, usual stoic expression saddening you after the anomaly of sympathy he'd displayed earlier that evening. "It's not just your life on the line right now; if they know we're involved, there's consequences-" One thing you'd despised throughout your life had been being treated as if a child, awfully long explanations from those who'd considered themselves smarter than you; almost always describing words of common sense. "I know." Quick to interject, you'd stopped Geto's lecture, straightening yourself. "I'll stay here." You met your cousin's eyes as he stood from the chair, opening the window situated behind the sink to throw the smoked-cigarette through, closing it once discarded.

Sukuna had departed shortly after, cautious as not to raise suspicion. Between his few visits, you would be on no-contact, careful not to expose your whereabouts to your own family, or any clan allied with them. After twenty hours, your parents had reported you missing, stomach churning when details of a bounty had been explained in grueling detail by Gojo. He'd sat through an uncomfortable conversation within his own clan's meeting, reciting the disdain from the Zen'ins when the topic of Ryomen had been brought up in passing.

It had been three days before Sukuna had visited once more, tense body radiating nothing other than intense stress. He'd attempted to appear un-phased by the events surrounding you, but when seeing the tired eyes and hunched back, you'd understood he'd been suffering. He'd slumped down in the kitchen chair once again, lighting up a cigarette before beginning to formulate words. The actions had mirrored that of your first evening in confinement, a feeling of deja-vu as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"They're getting restless." He spoke, deep voice much rougher due to lack of sleep and an increase in his smoking habit. Gojo sighed, taking a seat beside him. You fiddled with your thumbs above the table, helpless to the strains both you and your cousin had faced. "Sukuna." Speaking his name had caused his eyes to flicker up and land to your expression. "I don't think there's anything we can do." His stop-off at the apartment had been limited, agreeing between the four of you that his visits should not exceed ten minutes. His departure had grown closer with every passing second, but a conclusion had yet to be found.

"We'll find something." His reassurance had fallen to your deaf ears, instead of bringing comfort, his statement had instead made you feel as if your concerns were brushed off. He'd began to slip away, leaving yourself seated at the table, still helpless to the world surrounding you. There was nothing you could do in the small apartment, even if you'd wanted to aid in finding a loophole, or a solution.

The following morning had marked four days missing, in which you'd grown increasingly depressive and bored. The new roommates you'd gained had often left for jobs and abandoned you to your own devices - which had been daytime television and chores. Being on the run had meant you were unable to use a phone or computer, and being alone most of the time had eradicated the chance of passing time through conversation or games.

On the odd occasion only one of the males had been home, there had been one you'd preferred to the other. Gojo's presence had felt much greater than Geto's (even if he'd been more annoying). Gojo had at least made attempts at conversations. When overcoming the sense of pity Gojo had displayed toward you, he'd been pleasant to talk with, speaking of shared interests such as movies and music. Gojo had been passionate, often becoming excitable when remembering certain scenes or moments within his favourite media - though he could become equally as shut-off. There was a darkness within Gojo you knew he'd held close, and when childlike wonder had worn off, there was a very different person beneath.

Geto had been mostly silent, though you could feel the heavy judgement through his body language. His gaze had been heavy on your skin, eyes narrowing with each movement and shoulders tense. It had been clear Geto did not trust you, and had more reluctance toward befriending you than Gojo had.

Bringing a damp garment to hang over metal pole, you threaded fabric through the bars of the indoor clothes-horse, hanging them to dry. Much of your time spent in the apartment when both men had been home had been within the kitchen, mostly as not to burden the others with your presence. Though as you grabbed another shirt to dry, you'd noticed a tall figure at the door.

"Are you doing laundry?" Gojo questioned, shoulder pressed up to the frame as he watched your movements. You nodded, returning back to the task at hand. "My bag was small so I've run out of clean clothes." Exhaling, you drooped the cotton over, straightening out a few creases. He smirked, finally pushing himself from the wood to waltz toward the cupboard, pulling a bag of sweets from a shelf and tearing it open. Placing a hard-boiled candy between his lips, he gestured the bag toward you. "Want one?" The query had been muffled and accompanied by a few clicks of the sweet against his teeth. You shook your head, a small smile as if to thank him before he'd shrugged and brought the bag back toward his chest.

Instead of leaving, Gojo had seated himself at the table, the perfect view to the chore you'd been partaking within. His eyes had burned into you, yet you'd attempted to continue as usual, facing away from the blue eyes to push cotton over wire. But after hanging another garment, you sighed, head over shoulder to lock your gaze once more.

"Am I entertaining you?" He hadn't replied until you'd finished, your body turned to face him fully, eyes locked onto yours as he shrugged, a crack of the candy between his molars. "Never done it." He commented nonchalantly, picking another sweet from the bag. The rustling lasted a few seconds before he was back to eating, a dramatic exhale from his nose. "That's cause you were a trust-fund baby." Walking toward him, your bare feet tapped against the tiled floor as you brought an arm upward, fingers outstretched and sight locked onto the bag within his hand. Just before you'd been able to dive a hand into the plastic, he moved it to the side, leaving your fingertips bare.

"Feisty for someone who's living in my apartment." He commented, blue eyes narrowing as he watched you roll your eyes yet admit defeat through your gestures, instead flopping down on the chair beside him. You sat in silence for a few moments, eyes wondering to the window above the sink - the only window within the apartment that hadn't been covered by curtains and allowed some semblance of light to cascade through. Although you'd appreciated this, there had still been some annoyance to the reminder of the outside world, and how you'd been unable to step foot within it.

The fifth day, you'd finally brought yourself the courage to ask.

At the table during breakfast, the opportunity had arisen in which you had both men seated with you, coffee situated before each body. "Can you bring me shopping today?" The request would likely be denied, a faint memory of Geto's obvious distrust and worry that you'd be seen and captured if stepping foot outside. But, you'd hoped that being on the outskirts of Tokyo, you were unlikely to be recognized, and with both men beside you, you'd be well-protected. Perhaps the idea had been completely idiotic, and when met with Geto's stern expression and furrowed brow, you'd understood the likelihood had been slim to none.

"Well," Gojo had began first as expected, the less stern presence easing your anxiety. "We're meeting Sukuna first-" "She's not coming." Geto had been quick to shoot the idea down before Gojo had allowed a semblance of hope to form. He stood, bending over the table to gather the plates from breakfast. As he leaned across, his shirt had lifted upward, revealing a handgun against his stomach that he'd had tucked into his trousers. You hadn't allowed your sight to linger too long on the weapon, though it had crossed your mind when pleading with him. "I'll keep my hood up, please Geto-san." You bowed your head, squeezing eyes closed while trying desperately to find an excuse. Swallowing back your pride, you continued. "I need tampons."

You hadn't looked up until you were sure Geto's expression would have softened, though when returning your gaze upward, he'd been visibly taken aback, eyes wide and lips parted. "Whaddya say Geto-san?" Gojo's added emphasis on the term had caused you to outwardly cringe, a reminder of one of the lower moments in your life. "Be quick." Short and spiteful, yet the words you'd wanted to hear most. You'd fought to hide the growing grin across your face, undeniably shocked by the permission you'd been granted. Gojo laughed at the display, hand languidly laying itself upon your shoulder before giving you a light shove. "Get your coat, sweetheart."

When approaching the pink haired Ryomen, you'd expected a foul expression, rant, or some form of physical punishment - yet instead he'd remained still, face unreadable. He'd been leaning against broken brick, cigarette in hand, pushing himself from the back-wall of some run-down establishment to stand upright. Seeing him like this had feared you more - Sukuna wasn't one to be lax over broken rules. There would be a significant reason he hadn't reacted to your presence.

"She insisted-" Geto had began his defensive speech, though had stopped when Sukuna had raised a hand with the shake of his head. Holding the half smoked cigarette had been bloodied fingers, cuts decorating pale knuckles. "Probably better she's here for this." The words had your chest tightening, drop within your stomach when your gaze lingered over the wounded hand, being left to imagine the face that had been on the other side of his fist. "They've got a bounty on you. Saying we owe them money - the Zen'in's own you now."

There hadn't been long to process his statement as he'd taken a step forward, another drag of his cigarette through stiff lips. "They've got Toji on her."

Although you hadn't understood the weight of this comment, you could feel the men beside you tense, a quick glance toward Geto telling you all you'd needed to know. His skin had paled, and eyes widened.

"Are you armed?" The question had added mass to your shoulders, a realization that your freedom had been coming to a close. Toji would have to be bad for all three men within your vicinity to be uncomfortable.

"Sukuna, we can't-" Eyes watering, you'd traced over the handgun tucked within your waistband, metal cooling trembling fingertips. "You can't do anything. This is it."

Sukuna shook his head defensively, quick to begin a bitter reply and deter you from a path of righteousness. Though, the pop of a gunshot had taken stage before he'd had a chance to stutter more than a syllable, hands flying toward belt. Your fingers wrapped around the grip of the weapon you hadn't intended to use as you searched the alleyway for a body, adrenaline fueling your faster reaction time. Two men had stood at the entrance, the taller of the two aiming his own pistol in your direction. As he took steps toward you, the sunlight had hit his face, revealing a tilted smile, lips kissed by a thick scar.

"Hands up, pretty girl." His voice had been rugged and deep, teeth bearing as he'd awaited your movement. You'd hesitated before raising both hands, persuaded only when his friend had taken a step forward, shotgun between his hands aimed toward Geto, who had been stood closest to the alley's entrance.

"Toji. She's not armed." Sukuna's monotone voice didn't waver as he'd glanced at his allies. He'd hoped his lie would pass - you could sense his tension if the other's hadn't. "Ryomen. This your cousin?" Toji exhaled in amusement. "Been looking for her. Healthy bounty on your head, kid." His laughter had been entwined with malice, blood running cold as you'd met with green eyes.

"You hate the Zen'ins. What changed?" Sukuna had asked, though had been shut down through Toji's quickfire response. "Money's money. Hand her over, 'n we'll let you live." He'd used his left hand to usher you toward him, jagged smile increasing the panic you'd felt frozen by.

Sukuna had withdrawn his own weapon, and Toji's expression soured at his movement.

It had been a split second decision.

You pulled your pistol from your jacket, aiming toward Toji's chest and pulling trigger. His eyes had widened in shock as he'd stumbled backward, wounded. It hadn't been fatal, though enough to stun him as your barrel aimed toward his partner. His body had fallen backward much faster than Toji's had, a clear display of you accuracy. Before the black haired half had time to react, you'd ran, left hand instinctively grabbing hold of Sukuna's wrist.

Only when Sukuna had slumped against the kitchen table, drops of blood dripping over the aged wood, had realized he'd been wounded. Your eyes set over the bullet hole in his bicep, a crimson patch darkening his jacket sleeve.

"You were shot?" Your concern had been evident as the question had came to fruition through a concerned shout. He'd smiled in amusement, a gentle shake of head and pained laugh through chest. "When you shoot someone who's aiming a gun, they'll pull the trigger." There was a tightness in his voice as Gojo had pulled his arm through the final layer of clothing, revealing the injury over skin. Geto had already placed a few items over the kitchen table, latex gloves stretched over hands after pushing his sleeves back, inspecting the wound.

"Satoru, tourniquet." With Geto's voice quiet, Gojo disappeared for a brief few moments before re-emerging with a tie in hand, wrapping it over Sukuna's upper arm and pulling it tightly. "You're lucky that Zen'in had started to stumble before he shot, or you would've had Sukuna killed."

"Zen'in?" "He doesn't like the name, goes by Fushiguro. But, he's a Zen'in." Gojo explained while taking a seat at the table. Sukuna had leaved forward, wincing as a needle threaded through the wound. "And, you're lucky there was an exit wound." Geto had added to the statement. "Though, your quick thinking likely saved one of us - so thanks, I guess." It had been obvious that the gratitude had pained him to say, though you'd accepted it anyway.

"Do you think they'll find me soon?" You questioned, picking at the hem of your shirt as Geto finished the stitching. The fact you had little control over the outcome of both you life and your allies lives had irked you, a heaviness residing in your chest. "It's likely they're already narrowing it down - Toji will tell them what he knows if they offer him enough money." "You should just give me over, Sukuna. Get the money." A half joke, an attempt to lighten the mood. Though, when the tired, annoyed eyes had met your own, you'd realized the words had only hurt him more than intended.

"What if you returned home with a husband?" Getou's abrupt inquiry had caught you off guard, but you considered the scenario nonetheless, fighting the urge to question why he'd asked, instead manifesting an educated answer.

"My father would have him killed." You spoke with a sourness, eyes remaining to cling to the floor. His attempts at a solution mirrored thoughts you'd had over the past week, though no fix had been found. The only options you'd had were to remain in hiding, or to accept your future as a Zen'in, benefiting everyone other than yourself.

"What if you married someone they couldn't kill?" His suggestion left you dumbfounded, a muddled flurry of stutters as you'd exhibited your confusion to his ask. "Good luck finding someone powerful and willing to marry me."

A person the Zen'ins couldn't touch would be a rarity within this world. Now your name had been made known to them, your place as a pawn in the Ryomen and the Zen'in's game, there had been an impossible chance of escape. You were raised purely for the benefit of your clan.

"I know someone." Geto's comment pulled you from your thoughts, another bought of self-deprecating laughter and rolling eyes shot toward him. There had been a glimmer of hope within your mind, yet you wouldn't display it to the men before you, instead residing back into refusal to protect your own ego. If you'd taken his words as banter, you would suffer less pain than to cling onto the premise of false-hope.

"Satoru." Geto stated, gesturing to the pale, white haired and blue eyed friend beside him. Gojo's reaction had reflected your own; bewilderment. The brunette glanced between the two of you as you'd remained in mutual silence, awaiting his explanation. "Satoru, think about it." Your eyes met Gojo's briefly before he'd returned his attention to his friend. "You'll be in her position soon - the strongest of you family and heir of Six Eyes; do you think your father will die before you give him a grandson to continue the business?" His theory had weight to it, but you brushed him off, watching Gojo's expression change from confusion to thought. "Geto, come on-" You began, voice gaining his attention.

"I'll do it." Gojo spoke through upturned lips, both gazes returning to settle over his face. "I couldn't turn down the opportunity to mess with affairs that weren't mine to begin with - and fucking with my family is an added bonus." His playful grin paired with the prospect of being legally bound to him had sent heat through your body, mouth ajar while you'd lost yourself within the vision of a wedding day between yourself and Gojo Satoru.

"Gojo, this is serious." You began, narrowing your expression when looking into his own. "This is your future on the line." You took a sharp breath inward. "Not to mention, marrying me would mean having children down the line-" The rant had started, and Gojo had allowed a playful smirk to etch over his features. "I'd be happy to fu-" His interruption was much to your distaste, the unwanted suggestion causing your stomach to churn. "Use your brain for a minute and think about this as an adult!" The sudden outburst caused his eyes to widen before relaxing, mouth still curved upward as he leaned into the back of his chair. "I've already decided, sweetheart. We'll go to the registry office tomorrow - Suguru and Sukuna can be our witnesses."

For a marriage planned with less than a day prior, it had been executed with ease. The four of you had been brought into a small room, a registrar stood to your left as you'd taken Gojo's hands within your own. As he'd held your fingers between his, a cheap ring Sukuna had sourced from a nearby jewelers slid over your finger, you'd swallowed back your anxieties and listened as he'd recited his vows.

You'd repeated the action, his calloused hands maintaining the gentle contact between your own as you had spoken much more timidly than he had. Though you'd done so with some reluctance, you had looked into his eyes as you'd repeated after the registrar, a fluttering in chest. Even if this wasn't real, nor was it love, there was some form of excitement within your fear. Though, you wouldn't tell a soul.

After only ten minutes, you'd left bound by law' a much larger meaning within your families than to yourselves. From this day forward, you were to be labelled as a Gojo. You had expected that crippling weight to ease as you held the wedding certificate in your palm, yet somehow, it had just changed into a new anxiety.

You had gone against your parent's wishes, as had Satoru, and for that, you knew there would be a cost.

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a/n: after posting the teaser for this in MARCH, i have finally finished it!! i hope you enjoyed :,) i'm putting tags below, i'm so sorry if you forgot about this and are confused by the notif !!

tags: @ritsatoru @tomiokas-lunchbox @outrofenty @cherryblossiren @thisbicc @obitohno

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