#and how do i barely even remember writing it???

[fictionalsweethearts]

SUBLIMATE THE PAIN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Sevika helps you to explore yourself and subside the pain and the shame of self pleasure.

Contains: comfort, soft!sevika, unexperienced!reader, wlw, first sexual experiences, soft talk, masturbation, fingering.

A pretty personal fic, tbh, but Sevika as a character seems to be patient and loving when it comes to sex and I'm here to write about it. Enjoy!

Sevika had promised you patience and comfort, a woman with her vast sexual experience knew the unpleasant and uncomfortable details of love. She knew the burning and the pain, the disgust, the sorrow, the shame and the numbness, and for that reason she had promised to accompany you in the process with as much patience as necessary.

She kissed you again on the neck, a mirror stood before you sitting on the bed, Sevika's vast hand ran over your breasts and her grey eyes looked at you through the reflection, inviting you to stop ignoring the signs of your body. Her breasts brushed your back, her mechanical hand gently parted your legs and revealed the juiciness and softness of your core.

"How do you pretend to touch her without knowing her?" The woman asked. "You ignore many things, babe."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment since you had your first kiss of the evening, but you promised not to let shyness win you over this time. It was the third night and the third time you tried, the last two having ended with a sudden lock-in in the bathroom or tears of shame and frustration running down your cheeks.

"I can't. I swear I can't." You cried as Sevika kissed your wet cheeks.

"Of course you can, don't be like that with yourself."

You considered that Sevika could be your mentor in this unknown field for you, the guide that would allow you to understand sex as something more than a mere routine or necessary act. "To begin with, doll, we don't intend to have a child with this. Not even if we wanted to. Second, I've seen as many pussies in my life as I've smoked cigarettes and yours is undoubtedly beautiful."

You laughed to hide your shame, but Sevika meant it. She was decades ahead of you in sexual experiences, she knew the female anatomy in depth, taking the time to explore herself first. Sevika knew that no one could teach her how to have an orgasm, and she fondly remembers the first times she tried self pleasure in the silence of her room, picturing that pretty girl at the market who used to sell her peaches at a good price. It was another Zaun, more precarious, less saturated with pornography and violence, and certainly her brain needed little to start imagining. And the softness of the girl's breasts under her blouse, her long neck and olive eyes were more than enough to awaken that visceral desire in her.

She dedicated her first orgasm to that girl and her peach scent. It was in a way tender, but the starting point of an endless journey through the unexplored region of sexuality. She soon discovered that inserting a finger was pleasant, that if she moved it in a certain way, it was even more so. She discovered that her breasts were sensitive if touched properly, that her entire skin was a map of erogenous zones and tickles, that rubbing her pussy against the pillow was delicious, and that after an orgasm she slept better. And soon, as soon as she was over five foot seven and learned to smoke without coughing, Sevika discovered that touching herself tasted better if someone she liked did it for her.

"Slow." Sevika whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Look at yourself. What do you see?"

"My pussy." You whispered, barely giving your reflection time to look back at you.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not bad it's…"

"Strange?"

"I don't usually look at my pussy, Sev." You groaned.

"You should, it's pretty." Sevika laughed, caressing your waist with her metal fingers. "Think of all the men who have been staring at their cocks for as long as they've been conscious of them hanging between their legs, do you think they feel ashamed?"

You hesitated. "No?"

"There are two things a man always believes to be true." Sevika said, her tone lighter. "That they have the fattest cock on the block and that they can duel a bear without weapons, and win."

You laughed, your legs shaking slightly. Sevika smiled back. "If only you had the confidence they have in themselves, doll. It would be all so different."

Your expression sobered, this time giving the gap between your legs a longer look, that much neglected organ that deserved just a little more recognition in your life and in the lives of many other women.

"Look at the labia majora, the shape of it, the length of it…" Sevika whispered. "It frames the labia minora, the ones closest to the entrance."

You'd seen them in some anatomy book at the library, but recognizing them on yourself was quite different.

"I should have shaved more." You groaned in frustration.

Sevika snorted. "Are you saying that because of you or me? Cause lemme tell you, a hairy pussy doesn't grosses me out. On the contrary."

"But it does to me."

"Mine repels you?" Sevika inquired, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"No…" you whispered. "Yours… it's yours."

"I see. Now think the same about yours, sweetie." Sevika said. "Yours is what it is and that's it. Don't you dare apologize for how your body looks. Do I apologize for not having an arm?"

And you fell silent once more. Sevika sighed, kissing your neck. “You get my point.”

Sevika reveled in your body, in your flushed cheeks and focused eyes. She loved seeing you present. “You’re already wet.” She whispered. “But it can get wetter. Take two fingers.”

Sevika brought you index and middle fingers parted to the sides of your entrance, urging you to press. “Massage, slow.” She whispered, showing you the movement.

You obeyed, following the motion timidly at first, until you soon understood the purpose. That movement, however subtle, opened a pent-up dam that began to make you wetter and wetter. You moaned, feeling the urge to touch the rest but Sevika held your wrist. “Start from edges.” She said. “Don’t rush it.”

It was one of your vices, quick, silent masturbation. With your legs closed, a hand on your mouth and your eyes closed tightly, as if you were committing a crime that you wanted to finish soon. They were fleeting moments of pleasure that later turned into disconnection with yourself.

But Sevika knew you deserved better than that.

With your index finger you traced circles on your labia majora, slowly while Sevika whispered in your ear, kissed it and bit your lobe, making you shudder subtly. It was a constant and gentle movement, with no other purpose than to explore yourself.

"Come closer to the center." Sevika whispered. "Apply pressure, rub a little."

Your eyelids fluttered at that tickling between your legs, the sticky and wet murmur of your folds that made Sevika moan softly and her breathing accelerate, her breasts pressing against your back. Your hips moved unconsciously, you looked at your hand through the mirror, delicately between your legs with the elegance of an erotic painting.

"You're so pretty." Sevika gasped. "Look how your cheeks blush."

"Yours too."

Sevika smiled. "It just turns me on like you can't imagine seeing you touching yourself."

Sevika was known to be an avid spectator. More than once she would abstain from participating and sit on the couch in the brothel with a cigarette between her teeth, asking her girl to give her a show. There was something about watching such an intimate ritual that stirred every nerve fiber in her. Watching them unfold before her, rubbing themselves the way they liked, moaning genuinely, shuddering, whimpering and sighing, being able to see how their own hand is able to take them on a roller coaster of sensations. That ritual held a power that Sevika was fascinated to behold, and tonight you were her apprentice and her muse.

Sevika squeezed your breast, playing with your hardened, sensitive nipple. She already wanted to taste them, but she had to be patient. The appetizer was your self-exploration, the dessert was her mouth between your legs.

"You know… when there's too much business to attend to." Sevika said, her grey eyes watching you. "I can't visit the girls, so I lay back on my bed with a cigarette between my lips…" she murmured. "And I squeeze my breasts. Over and over, I touch them… massage them… while thinking of old encounters, of sounds… smells. You know how I love smells."

"All of them." You whimpered.

"Yes… from the armpits to the neck, between a couple of breasts and a wet pussy." Sevika sucked in between her teeth. "All of them."

You remember how Sevika had taken to sniffing you the first time she had you. She inhaled the scent of your neck and the crook of your elbows, behind your knees and your armpits. It was a scent loaded with codes, codes that communicated intentions. The pheromones were the best card to attract the most finicky organ of the human body; the nose.

"Sev." You whimpered. "Can you…?"

"That would be the shortcut, so no. I won't touch you yet."

You groaned, tilting your head back as Sevika placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Patience." Sevika drew your hand to the shy hood at the top of your pussy. "Pamper her, that's what it's for."

You traced circles around it, letting out a gasp. Sevika kept her hand on your wrist, indicating the methodical and steady pace, drawing sweet moans from you. "I'm wet just by looking at you." She whispered.

You bit your lip, the urge to grind harder and harder. An orgasm was building inside you, steady and certain, as Sevika kissed your neck and motioned for you to quicken your pace. "Ah, fuck…"

"Moan better." Sevika said. "You can be as loud as you want here."

You whimpered, your hips seeking more contact as you moved and you rubbed against your hand. Sevika pressed her fingers against you, urging you on. "Keep going… don't rush." ​​

"Ah, Sev."

"You like it? It's better when you don' try to cum in two minutes."

You hurried your hand, but Sevika held you back. This wasn't a race and you were certainly getting ahead of yourself. "Old habits die hard."

Her metal hand held your legs apart, her other hand ascending to your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror again. “We’ll try again, okay?”

This part was the one you liked the least. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the accumulated frustration from past sessions with no results. Sevika told you it was all in your head, that you were just as deserving of this pleasure as others. But you still felt skeptical.

“Middle finger.” She whispered, bringing it to your entrance. “Just press, darling. Soften your entrance.”

You pressed your lips together, obeying her command even though you preferred to rub. You eased the tip of your finger, gently moving it in circles. “It already burns.” You whined.

“I know. We talked about sublimating pain, remember?” You nodded. “Your body is already relaxed, you’re wet. You need to focus on breathing.”

It seemed that when it came to penetration, your body locked up. It was an overwhelming burn, a wall of fire if you will, closing in around your fingers and keeping you from entering. Sevika had tried this in the past, drawing whimpers from you that would never stop causing her guilt. This time, however, it was about allowing yourself to do it.

"I don't like it, Sev."

"You don't like it because you're predisposed to suffer." she insisted. "I know you can, babygirl."

You looked at Sevika through the mirror, her grey eyes soothing you. "Breathe, deep. One… two…" you inhaled, your hand between your legs, the wall of fire present. "Three. Exhale…"

You dared to venture deeper, your walls coupling to your finger as the burn quickened your breathing. "Shh." Sevika kissed your neck. "Breathe again."

One… two… three…

Exhale.

“Ah���” you moaned, inserting the last bit of your finger and feeling the latent but less painful tension. “Mhm.”

“Good girl, look at yourself.”

You opened your eyes, looking at yourself in the mirror. The palm of your hand rested against your clit, your finger inserted all the way in, like a new but unrejected intrusion. “Sev.”

“I told you you could, you're taking it whole.” Sevika smiled. "Can you move it?"

You barely curled your finger, but you recognized the rugous wall inside you. "Yes…" you moaned.

"Breath for me." continued Sevika, gently taking your wrist as she motioned you to curl your fingers once more. "One... two..."

"Mhm, Sev." you moaned, your eyes closing. "Fuck."

"Does it hurt?"

"The pressure." you managed to explain.

"You're tensing, baby. Relax..." Sevika let out a pant, kissing the side of your neck. "You're doing so good."

You endured and took a deep breath, curling your finger against the inner wall Sevika talked you about. You felt a tickle, barely diminishing due to an increasingly timid pain.

And Sevika seemed pleased. "You did good, baby. Rest."

You pulled your finger back when the pressure forced it, only for Sevika to cup your chin in her fingers and pull you in for a long kiss. "Well done." She said between kisses. "Fuck, you looked so beautiful."

Sevika showered you in kisses, from your mouth to your navel, repeating how proud she was of you. "You've crossed the threshold, gorgeous. You just need to practice."

You smiled, feeling the hint of a happy cry build up in your throat. But Sevika cheered you up with another kiss. "We'll try again tomorrow. Sooner than later I'll have you cumming in my fingers over and over again."

You chuckled, watching Sevika kiss your inner thigh. "It's rude to look at the food without eating it, y'know?" you teased her.

"How rude of me." she purred, her kisses coming closer to your wet and now dilated pussy. "You better moan properly, doll."

"All you want."

[maskedbyghost]

Simon knew marriage came with adjustments, but nothing could have prepared him for life with a writer.

It wasn’t just the weird questions—though there were plenty of those—it was the way your mind never seemed to slow down. You’d be doing something completely normal, like folding laundry, and suddenly stop, eyes going distant.

He’d barely have time to ask what was wrong before you’d rush off to scribble something down, muttering about plot twists and character arcs.

Sometimes, he’d wake up in the middle of the night to find you sitting up in bed, phone screen lighting up your face as you frantically typed notes because “this idea can’t wait until morning.”

It meant half-finished coffee cups scattered around the house, abandoned when inspiration hit.

It meant narrating your own actions under your breath, like “she sighed, stretching her arms above her head” while actually doing it, which always made him raise an eyebrow.

And then there were the moments that made him question everything, like when you casually asked if he thought someone could realistically survive being shot twice in the chest or how long a body would take to decompose in a swamp. He used to answer with concern. Now, he barely looked up. “For a book?” “For a book.”

At first, he thought the strangest part was the research, but then he realized it was how easily you pulled him into it. You used him for everything—testing out fight scenes by making him grab your wrist so you could figure out how a character would escape, running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms as you mumbled about muscle structure and “what kind of build do you think my main guy should have?”

You studied him constantly, stealing phrases he said, describing his expressions in your notes, even admitting once that a few of your male characters had a bit of his attitude.

And then there was the way you used him for other inspiration. He figured it out one evening when he saw you sitting on the couch, staring at him with that look—one that usually meant you had something on your mind, but this time, you weren’t saying anything. Just watching.

He glanced over from where he was cleaning his gun. “What?”

You didn’t answer right away, just tilted your head slightly. “I think I want to write a new scene.”

He raised his brow, setting his things aside. “What kind of scene?”

A small smile played on your lips as you stood, walking toward him. “Something a bit messy.”

Simon leaned back, arms resting lazily on the couch as he looked you up and down. “You need details, then?”

“Mhm.” You straddled his lap, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “Need to get it just right.”

He smirked, his hands settling on your waist. “That why you’re lookin’ at me like I’m about to be put to work?”

“You don’t mind a little hard work, do you?” you teased, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

His grip tightened, voice low. “Not if you’re gonna make it worth my while.”

Much later, when you were tangled in the sheets, catching your breath, you rolled over and reached for your phone. Before you could even unlock it, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against Simon’s chest. “Nope,” he muttered against your shoulder.

You laughed. “I just had a thought—”

“Don’t care.” His voice was warm and heavy with sleep. “Whatever you’re about to write down, you can remember it in the morning.”

“But—”

A hand slid down your hip, fingers pressing into your skin in a way that made you shiver. “I said, in the morning,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. Then, just to make sure you listened, he added, “Be a good girl and go to sleep.”

Your entire body heated at the words, your brain short-circuiting for a second before snapping into overdrive. Without a word, you bolted upright, nearly diving for your phone as you started typing furiously.

Simon groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you serious?”

“Shhh,” you hushed him, fingers flying across the screen. “This is really good.”

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

@daydreamerwoah

[vershautece]

Imagine the whole phd thing was your inside joke nobody else knew about and one day you’re at a gathering and somebody asks “so luigi, thinking of going for that phd soon?” He smirks and looks towards you like “what you think of me and a phd baby?” OHHHH LETS GO HOME RIGHT NOW AND I’LL TELL YOU

*when i first started responding to this ask i didn’t even mean to write a whole oneshot haha but omfg guys this is like size kink heaven

—

omg this is what im saying he would literally be this cocky and teasing😣 and yes i love the idea of it being an inside joke like u guys were prob just cuddling scrolling on your phones and he starts laughing bc he’s just seen a tweet about someone doing a phd and it inspired the joke😭 ur both giggling like children and then u turn to him and decide to tease, batting your lashes. ‘so is it really as huge as you say, sir?’ & you know damn well it’s a whole 7 inches bc ur insides have it memorised. ur rubbing his bulge through his pants and when he tells u to straddle him you’re giggling and whining while u dry hump

he’s going along with your playing dumb gimmick: ‘you need help remembering how big my cock is baby? don’t want just the tip, no? you want the whole thing? how many inches am i, princess?’

‘mm, 5?’ you’re messing with him still, grinding your hips onto his clothed crotch. his hands are moving between your sides, your lower back and gripping and kneading your ass in your loungewear.

at your words he immediately scoffs, and cocks his tongue to the inside of his cheek: ‘yeah sure baby, so you wanna see if you’re right?’ his smirk is making you so wet, and it’s surely gonna leak through the thin fabric you’re wearing. your hands are pushing on his chest now while you rock your hips against his.

‘mhmm, show me baby, i don’t think you can call it a phd if it’s only 5 inches. hm?’ u tease him, and move back off his crotch a little to palm him through his sweatpants. he’s so hard now, and u almost moan out loud at the feeling of him even through fabric.

‘take it out then, sweetheart’ he’s looking at you with pure lust in his eyes as you sit back to pull his sweatpants and his boxers down his legs, throwing them onto the other side of the bed.

his cock is fully erect, almost slapping against his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. ‘what do you think, baby?’

you’re nearly drooling at the sight, and you giggle, biting your lip. ‘still think it’s just 5 inches, lu’ you bat your eyelashes, pouting slightly, and he nods slowly in response. ‘see if you can take those 5 inches in your mouth then, come on. if it’s only 5 you can do it, sweetheart’

you don’t break eye contact with him as you put him in your mouth, and you only get halfway down before you start to gag. the sight of u struggling to deepthroat him while maintaining eye contact has him going insane. he lets out one loud groan as soon as he’s in your mouth, and instinctively moves his hand to your hair, holding it out of your face. ‘why can’t you take it all, bellissima? hm? come off my cock for a second and answer me, yeah?’

you reluctantly take him out of your mouth, and tease him by spitting out his precum back onto the tip of his cock. ‘mm, think i need to feel it inside me lu, y’know if it hits my cervix then maybe i can say you do qualify for a phd’

u and luigi literally never have sex without him hitting your cervix - he knows you’re messing with him and his size kink is going crazy. he gives u that smirk (u guys know which oneee) ‘that’s fine baby ill give it to you, but you didn’t answer my question. why can’t you deepthroat my cock, beautiful?’

‘mm, stop asking questions and tell me to put it inside baby’ you moan, rocking yourself on his bare thigh and stroking his cock - you’re still fully clothed, and this friction isn’t enough

‘so fuckin’ needy, hm? yeah, you want my dick inside you? take everything off baby, there wasn’t any point in wearing panties cause you’re leaking through your clothes, mm’ he sits up a bit and reaches forward to rub your pussy slowly through your pants. he can locate the clit even through your clothes, and he slaps it lightly as a way of telling you to strip off. you take off your tank top, shuffle out of your pants, and then pull down your soaking panties, and luigi is jerking off slowly in front of you, trying to control his moans. you position yourself on him, replacing his hand with yours on his cock so that you can guide him into you. slowly, you start to push in the tip, and you nearly scream at the pleasure from his tip alone. ‘mmmm, lu’ you place your hands on his chest, and he’s smirking up at u. ‘mhm? this is just the tip baby girl, you gonna push me in deeper? shouldn’t be that difficult since im not that big, huh? cmon’ and he starts drawing slow circles on your clit just to tease you even more. you roll your eyes and push him in deeper, letting out another pornographic moan. ‘luigiiii, mm you’re so bi-’

his smirk grows wider: ‘i’m what? repeat that baby’ he lifts his hips to slowly push the rest into you, groaning at the feeling, and when he bottoms out you lean forward onto his chest and put your arms around his neck. ‘you’re so big, mmmm Mr phd’ you giggle into his chest

‘yeah? it’s more than 5 inches, huh, princess?’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist and gently pulls your face from his chest. he kisses you passionately, and you’re both giving each other teasing smiles when u break the kiss. ‘mhm, feel you in my cervix’ you moan softly; he’s not even started moving yet.

‘yeah, i know baby’ he coos at you, caressing your abdomen where his imprint is. ‘start rocking your hips, and i’ll get to making you feel so good, hm?’ he kisses you again softly as you start grinding on his cock. ‘mmmm, i’m so lucky’ you moan

his arms are moving up and down your torso now, and occasionally to your ass to knead it and grip it. ‘yeah you are, and so am i with this beautiful girl on top of me. you look like an angel, my baby’

you’re blushing down at him, soft moans spilling from your throat as you increase the pace. he’s kissing your neck now and leaving hickeys, while u tangle your fingers in his curls. ‘yeah, grind on my cock just like that, oh fuck’ he’s moaning into your neck, and you keep this pace going for a good few minutes, until he tells you to stop.

u both look at each other with lust filled eyes, a needy whine leaving your throat as you stop moving. he chuckles softly at your desperation. ‘c’mere, baby girl’ he wraps his arms tight around your waist again, and shifts his position on the bed to sit up properly against the headboard, still inside you. ‘c’mere’ he continues to coo at you, then brings u down onto his chest, planting his feet on the bed for the perfect angle to start thrusting up into you. he kisses your forehead, and holds you so tight. you’re prepared for him to start thrusting rough, but instead he starts an extremely frustrating pace of one rough thrust, then stilling inside u, another rough thrust, stilling inside again, and repeat. you want him to be fucking you dumb, not teasing you at this slow pace but it’s so so intimate, and his words in between the thrusts have you feeling like you’re in heaven. ‘i’m starting off slow like this baby, need to make sure you’re really savouring the feeling of how i hit your cervix, mhm? promise i’ll go faster soon’ he speaks to you so sweet and soft, kissing your forehead over and over.

*thrust* ‘mm, that’s it bellissima, you’re taking it so well’ *thrust* ‘mhm, my baby taking my cock so deep for me’ *thrust* ‘yeah, you feeling good?’ *thrust* ‘oh that’s my girl huh? mm, amore mio’

to all of this you’re just responding with moans and incoherent babbles, fingers tangled in his curls - the sensation and the contrast of him thrusting and then stilling inside is heavenly, and you don’t mind the teasing anymore.

‘all you can do is moan for me, hm? all dumb on this phd?’ he’s still at the same pace, and when you still don’t respond he smacks ur ass in between thrusts. u manage to let out a reply through whines: ‘mmm i love you luigi, my baby’

‘i know, sweetheart, i know. i love you too, always wanna show you how much’ he stops thrusting altogether and kisses your shoulder. ‘luigi, please’ you moan, desperate for him to fuck you properly. ‘pazienza, amore mio’

you’re arching your back like a slut waiting for him, and when he starts a steady pace you can’t control any of the whines and moans that leave your throat. ‘oh, luuu, i needed this so bad, your cock’s so fucking big, shit, i can’t’ your eyes roll into the back of your head, and his grip on your waist is so secure it’s making u even dizzier thinking about how protective he is of you. ‘that’s it, sweetheart - is it too much?’ his pace is getting unbelievably faster, and he keeps saying things to you as if you have the energy or brain capacity rn to reply.

‘no it’s perfect baby, want you inside me like this forever’ you manage to reply, and then you’re pressing sloppy kisses all over his neck - your moans vibrating against his skin triggers louder moans from him. ‘oh you’re so good to me, i’m the luckiest girl in the world’

‘baby girl - bambina - i wanna take care of you forever, make you my wife’

‘luigi, i’m gonna cum’ you whine, his words getting u even closer.

‘mhm, you close? yeah? cum for me, beautiful’ he pushes you back off his chest so he can see you, and the eye contact is insane. ‘i wanna see you come undone for me, amore mio, i’m so close too’

‘cum inside me, lu’ you whine desperately, hands gripping his curls so tight. his thrusts haven’t slowed once, and u think it can’t get any better till he suddenly hooks his hands under your ass and makes you jump on his cock, while he shifts his position so that you’re both sat up properly chest to chest, and he bends his knees even more to adjust the angle of his thrusts that somehow makes you feel even better than you already felt.

‘i’m gonna cum, fuck baby, oh, i love you so much’ his moans are erratic, and he’s sucking and kissing your boobs, hands still gripping and smacking your ass.

‘mhmmmm, me too, oh i love you’ you’re rocking your hips frantically to meet his thrusts now, and he pulls away from your boobs just for one second to say something: ‘dolcezza, play with your clit, my pretty girl’

and now your fingers are working erratically on your bundle of nerves, the last thing to push you over the edge as you get your release, screaming luigi’s name. you fall forward onto his chest immediately, while he continues his thrusts to get his own release.

‘that’s a good girl, cumming all over my cock, that’s it - gonna fill you up with mine now, mhm’ he’s muttering these words in your ear, followed by loud grunts as he spills inside you, right before collapsing on the sheets with you on his chest.

you’re both breathing heavily for a few moments and he’s stroking your hair with one hand, pulling you as close as possible by your waist with his other hand. he’s the first to speak: ‘so you’re gonna tell me i qualify for a phd now?’ he’s smirking into your hair, pecking the top of your head. ‘baby’ you giggle into his chest. u caress his cheek and whisper in his ear, ‘of course. and this 7 inch phd belongs to me’ you’re smiling up at him, and he raises his brows in response. ‘oh so you do admit it now, huh? i know your pussy has every inch of me memorised, you can’t mess with me sweetheart’

he shifts you slightly to slowly pull his cock out of you, and you both giggle at all the cum that drips out onto his stomach :’) then, you look up at him innocently, moving your hand to his softening cock. ‘can you fuck me in the shower, please baby?’

[beomiracles]

the way I read this two weeks ago and have yet to reblog... anyhow, cam already heard me absolutely CRASH OUT reading this on vc. but it's a lot more fun to host a public crash out too.

FIRST OFF ALL.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

second of all.

the UNIQUE concept is to fucking die for. the idea of vampires feeding off of other vampires is something I've never even thought about??! much less them becoming literally fucking soul bound after that.

You hadn't put your mouth on anyone since that night, not even when it felt as if you had been scooped out with a spoon, carved open, and laid bare from hunger. If it wasn't him you would have nobody. 

PACK IT UP PACK IT UP. "If it wasn't him you would have nobody" YES YES YES. like I'm tearing my heart open and giving it to you rn just take me as I am.

Feeding from vampires was anything but a rush, that first mouthful was a wash of exhilaration. It made one dependent on each other, one taste and it was never the same.

mother of all things holy.

next, the way they were both yearning for each other. cam was yapping this nonsense about the smut feeling weird, BUT LET ME TELL YOU. the smut in this fic is absolutely DIVINE. it portrays the longing and the yearning in such an immaculate way I'm literally out of breath writing this rn. like just opening the fic back up to find my favourite parts has me in shambles, so you can imagine the out of body experience I had reading this.

You would never feel full again unless you had him back. 

AH YES YESYYEYSYEYSYEYSWYE.

You still remember the sound his human heart made

see. i. I'M UNWELL. the way she remembers him even after DECADES passing. the longing of a vampire is so painfully beautiful I'm going to actually pass out on the floor may one of you guys come pick me up again once I've had a moment to collect myself.

AND WHEN SHE SEES HIM AGAIN --- It wasn't the butterflies of newfound love but sickening maggots wriggling in your stomach.

cam I'm going to actually bend you over.

But he was wrong, he hadn't known how full the world felt, how full he was after one drop of love from you. And now he was empty, starved clean from his own doing. “I was ashamed,”  The confession was so quiet matching your question, “And now?”  Beomgyu looked up from under his lashes, he was close enough now that your scent was suffocating him, begging him to give in and just sink his teeth right over your heart. Find the same place they had last been because no one had been able to tempt him to even pull his fangs down, not since you. “And now I'm starving,” 

AND NOW IM STARVING BITCH COME HERE IM GOING TO GIVE YOU MY BODY MIND AND SOUL FOR BREAKFAST DINNER AND LUNCH.

“Now look at this,” you can feel the pad of his thumb running over the bite mark scars he's left on your inner thigh, his grin wicked enough to make your knees twitch. “I wonder if your pretty cunt will remember me as well as your skin has,” 

im so normal about this paragraph its insane lol.

everyone shut up and read this part:

Beomgyu whines, breath quickening as he shoves in the last few inches. He lets his body fall onto yours, needing to be closer, needing to drag his lips over your neck, teeth scratching at your pulse, “say it again, tell me how much you hate me,”  But he knows you can hardly speak, your legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him down closer. “Shut up,” you gasp, his hips rolling against yours.  “then beg me,” he doesn’t even have to say for what. Not when your neck is rolling back to give him better access to your vein, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “If you don’t hate me, beg me to taste you. I know you remember how much I love to mix the flavor of your blood with your cum still in my mouth,”

I want to declare a moment of silence. for my sanity, for my pride and the person I have become after being bestowed such an honour of a fic. I want to lick every part of cam until there's nothing left of her and I want everyone who I've never came in contact with to have read this fic at least once in their entire life to get at least some use out of it.

this fic is my favourite ever.

bitten

beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s been a century since the last youve seen him, why come back now?

warnings: 🔞!!! vampire!beomgyu, vampire!reader, mentions of blood, blood drinking, biting, angst, mentions of a break up,mentions of bite mark scars, a bit of soulmate trope, oral (f!rec), no protection,mentions of subspace, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.8k (now this flung the 2k limit out the window )

an: thank you for the request! I hope that this captured the essence of the request because vamp!gyu was consuming my thoughts after I read those lines. I love vampire fics and im so sad I don't have more on my page already and this was the perfect time to add one. not proofread im so sorry my sweet angel darlings have mercy on me and forgive me of any mistakes found.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The bar was dark enough to keep the bruised necks and wrists of the occasional lost traveler hidden. Spots of blood dripped onto crisp white shirts scenting the air in coppery sweetness. It was a sickening smell to those who didn't need to feed, the alcohol keeping the rest of the occupants held over enough to ignore the twinge. 

You didn't come to places like this often, the back room filled with half-drunk vampires and humans, desperately grasping at each other as they took from one another. Even the drinks didn't call to you, not when he wasn't standing there behind the bar passing them to you, constantly working his eyes up your body like a desperate plea to have even a taste. He hadn't been turned then, not when you first met. The pull towards you always accounted for the fact you were tainted with blood lust. A moth to a flame, he felt that pull, your hunger enough to send him right into the fire without even glancing at him. 

It wasn't often that a human found themselves offering their bodies up to vampires. Most of them felt the hair rise on the back of their necks, the prickling of fear telling them that whoever was standing just round the corner was a wolf in perfectly tailored sheeps clothing, how tight that human look held onto you after your change. The uncanny glow seeping that poisonous warning off in waves, a trap waiting for the truly reckless to trip. 

The ones who wandered closer instead of away always found themselves in the back of bars like this, bruised and hazy eyed laying in beds done up in silk and candlelight. Beomgyu, although working behind the bar for years knew never to offer himself up to the ones who sunk his stomach, that warning to run ringing in his ears as he slid a drink across the hardwood. But you, the second the door had pushed open and your skin washed in that low down glow, tripped him up; your waiting trap snapping shut around him like a rib cage around fluttering lungs. Even the echo of fading hoof beats on stone sounded so close to the beating of his heart that he couldn't tell the difference between flight and flush. 

But that had been years ago, so many that you couldn't even remember the shade of his irises. You remember they were brown, staring up at ceilings casing empty houses trying and failing to conger up the image. Well over a century's worth of time to hate yourself for forgetting the one thing that drew you in at first glance. But it wasn't as if you didn't try to work your way through the fading memories of him, all flickering by like the passing pages of a notebook you forgot you wrote and held so dearly. All you could see was that empty bed, the sugary taste of his blood still on your tongue, your breast still tender from where he bit you over your heart, so hard the soft outline of his teeth, like a stain you desperately wanted to rid yourself of. 

You had come here, back to this bar only three times after he had left to check in. That night with tears in your eyes, heart crumbling, the second taehyun had confessed that beomgyu was gone, packed up with only a shrugged goodbye. “He said he doesn't know when he will be back,” 

You had waited ten years to return the next time, so little time when you counted decades like snowflakes, not the glass shattering hail you assumed beomgyu would have still thought of as a recently turned fledgling. But no one had seen him, heard from him, hardly even thought of him. But he plagued you, ran around your head until you could taste the blood coming from overworked joints. 

The third time was no better, not when you entered and Taehyun shook his head, apologizing for a friend he wouldn't recognize anymore. 

You had given up, moved away, and swore to never think about beomgyu and his puppy stare. That follow you everywhere look that seeped into your bones and begged you to never turn away from him. Only now you were back, sitting in the far corner you fell in love, sinking into the leather seat wishing you could have that first glance back. 

Taehyun felt pity when he saw you, knew that you had been locked away in some house countries away, only sending in orders for blood long since cold. He poured you a glass, the same drink you asked for with tears in your eyes that first night back alone, chugging so many of them back he's sure your blood tasted of fire, too sour, burning all the way down one's throat. 

“Thank you,” neither of you wanted to bring Beomgyu up but he was the first thing on both of your minds. 

“He hasn't-” 

“I don't care,” you tossed back your drink, the ripples of mixed in blood making your fangs tingle, ready to push through soft gums and piece flesh not yet provided. It's why you came. Tired of the empty flavored pints of blood brought to you by Soobin and his sorry eyes. You hadn't put your mouth on anyone since that night, not even when it felt as if you had been scooped out with a spoon, carved open, and laid bare from hunger. If it wasn't him you would have nobody. 

But that declaration was a century ago, so many cold cups later it was tiring to swallow another. “I want a girl, preferably quiet, business only,” Taehyun nodded to your order, already knowing the best pick. 

“Room 615, she can be brought back in about thirty minutes,” there was no room for judgment, not after the years of working behind this counter, sneaking into those beds just like everyone else had. But he knew what it took from someone who hated to drink from a vein, it's why they had the services, those who couldn't go out and find someone or someones to keep up a constant full belly. 

But human blood wasn't the same as drinking from a vampire, humans went out too quickly, blinking back their faintness, never able to take more than a few deep pulls before they were at capacity. Feeding from vampires was anything but a rush, that first mouthful was a wash of exhilaration. It made one dependent on each other, one taste and it was never the same. Taehyun could tell Beomgyu and you drank from each other. Could see it in the years after, the way you turned your nose up even at the bitter drink in your glass. 

You would never feel full again unless you had him back. 

Thirty minutes was enough time to go home and call soobin for a late night order. But your hunger was clawing up your throat, nails on a chalkboard begging for anything else. Having the time to think, sitting here, filled your mouth with the memory of him. Not just the taste of his blood but the faint drum of his turned heartbeat. You still remember the sound his human heart made. The way it pattered at the sight of you, that irregular beat speeding up every time you sat down in front of him, entered through the cherrywood door. 

How even after you had turned him his heart still acted as if it was tied to your presence, fluttering weakly even if it was all it could muster. 

It was that sound that made you turn, conjured up from memory only now to show up right behind you. Taehyun was frozen, face pale at the sight of his lost friend. He had only seen him once or twice after he had been turned but now he was no half human fledgling. 

Beomgyu and you were caught in a web of your own disastrous weaving, stuck in place witnessing the crumbling of love because seeing him only settled the grievances you held into stone.

He wasn't hollow like you were, empty from the time left alone, the bloodlust having fully settled over his skin making him shine in that uncanny beauty. Everything about his gentle human features has been frozen in place, the warmth in his brown eyes only enhanced in the light. How sickening to have to now face the reality of what you had done to him, what he must have run from once he realized he couldn't truly love the monster who infected him. 

It wasn't the butterflies of newfound love but sickening maggots wriggling in your stomach. You stumbled as you stood, not even worrying about the key taehyun had left for you next to your drink, not even a meal could keep you from running as far as you could. 

It had been too long for him to come back when you had given up on trying to wait for him. How many nights had been spent waiting for this exact moment? Only now for you to run away. How cruel fate could be. 

He was calling your name, that twinge of hurt mixed in with something close to pity, every syllable weaved through with the words, no, don't do this, don't make me feel sorry. Even his voice made you waver, the back and forth shake of your head confusing you as you walked down the wrong hallway. 

Even through the doors, you could smell the blood from the occupants behind them, like overripe fruit left to sit on the counter, nothing smelled the same after one drop from him. And now with Beomgyu right behind you, weak heartbeat still mimicking that first sight, it was impossible not to pinpoint the smell of him. Wrapping around you like fog; a haze you tried desperately to claw your way out of but you knew it was no use. You had never felt so hungry until then, carved clean through with the need. 

“Please, let me explain,” he tried, grasping at straws. He didn't intend to see you first, only planned on catching up with Taehyun and apologizing for leaving him behind without answers. Save this conversation for when he built up the courage. “Please,” 

His fingertips only brushed your arm, the shock of it going right down to your toes. It was instinct to turn and slap his hand away, and even in your exasperated exhale, that first acknowledgment was enough to make Beomgyu weak again, as if he had ever been anything but when attached to you. “What is there to explain? You left, you left me there, alone in our bed,” 

“I-” The words were stuck in his mouth, hanging right at the edge of his tongue and yet all that came up was a frustrated laugh, “well did you miss me?” even just hearing his own words he could tell you would fume. 

“Did I mi- you left me! You fucking left me, if anything now I just hate you,” 

It was so easy to fall back into it with you, as if you had woken up alone a few days ago not centuries, “look what you did to me. What I've become, don't act as if you're so innocent in this, don't blame me for decisions we both made,” 

The words felt like a slap in the face. That night you had turned him so clear in your mind, the way he had begged, the way he had burned. It was one of the hardest things you had ever done, most vampires went their whole lifetime without infecting anyone because of how hard it was to complete and yet you had. 

“I turned you after you asked me. Do you know how much it takes? And then like some love-sick fool, I drank from you and every day I think about how stupid I was to believe you would stay. After I left behind everything I knew just so that I could have some human boy stay with me. How pathetic,” the last word was thick, sticking to your throat and pulling your tears forward. “You should go back to wherever you ran away to, climb into some feeders bed to keep warm for all I care,” 

You turned, ready to close the door on a life you wished you had. The one you begged for after nights spent alone clinging to the sheets that still smelled of him. But Beomgyu wouldn't have it, his grip tight on your wrist as he pulled you back, “It was never about changing me, I left because I wanted to know if it was real- that intensity was so…consuming, I was scared and so I ran. I ran and I looked for some way to replicate it because I'm a fucking fool who can't see right in front of himself. You made me addicted to you, I begged you to do this to me and yet I ran. Im sorry,” 

“You can say that but you stayed away so long I'm sure you found some poor soul to swallow down by the mouthful,” he could feel your resentment coiling around him, snapping back at his desperate attempt to explain. Because there was no way for him to get the words out, even after running them around his head for the years he had lost all because of his own fear. 

That night was stuck right behind his eyelids, replaying over and over. Your body pressed to his, soundlessly sleeping as he looked up at your shared canopy bed. Your blood was still singing through his body, staining his perception of life before you. He didn't know he could be so utterly infected by someone so much so that it colored his sky differently. Your soft breathing was enough to tear him apart, he wanted countless nights spent exactly like that one, just watching you, listening to you sleep. And it scared him. He thought humans had been over-emotional, feeling things as they came, wallowing in them because they had little time to let it spread out. But he was wrong, he hadn't known how full the world felt, how full he was after one drop of love from you. And now he was empty, starved clean from his own doing. “I was ashamed,” 

The confession was so quiet matching your question, “And now?” 

Beomgyu looked up from under his lashes, he was close enough now that your scent was suffocating him, begging him to give in and just sink his teeth right over your heart. Find the same place they had last been because no one had been able to tempt him to even pull his fangs down, not since you. “And now I'm starving,” 

Even just the word from his mouth made your fangs ache. You had been getting by on so little for so long. He was the only thing your body needed and you knew he must feel the same. Your mouth was filled with saliva, that venom that numbed prey or set them ablaze. You tried to swallow but you could already taste him, the movement of your throat making his eyes zero in on your pulse. You were no better watching his adam’s apple bob, connecting the dots on long since gone trails of hickeys you’d left before. 

Neither of you knew who moved first, moaning against lips you were sure you’d never kiss again. His sweet venom singing on your tongue. His hands were heavy on your body, pulling you closer as he pushed you against the hallway wall. He wanted to melt into you, his desperation crawling up his skin, hips keeping you in place. 

You chuckled into his mouth, the sound rattling in the back of his throat like a prayer he wanted to keep to himself. “You always did get hard from kissing,” his whimper in response is followed by the grind of his bulge against you. How fast his body reacted to your touch didn’t change when he did. 

His heart was picking up speed, your fingers running through his hair, the groves of your fingertips slotting back into place amongst the strands. Beomgyu’s fangs were already elongating, nipping your bottom lip. He had always felt so good about his self-control, accounting those early days of overfeeding on you for the simple fact of being so recently changed, he should have known you were the variable that cracked the hold he had on himself. It was only worse now that he'd nicked you enough to mix blood into the kiss, his throaty moan rumbling against your body, sinking into your soul. 

You're both stumbling to find a room, twisting knobs until you find an empty one. The silk bed envelops the both of you as you fall into it, peeling off layers of clothes. Beomgyu can smell your sweet arousal between your legs the second he's pushed them apart to kneel between. 

“Now look at this,” you can feel the pad of his thumb running over the bite mark scars he's left on your inner thigh, his grin wicked enough to make your knees twitch. “I wonder if your pretty cunt will remember me as well as your skin has,” 

“You're impossible to forget,” and when you expected him to bite you, following the pattern of his usual ravishing but he skipped it, shocking you with his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking deeply. 

His mouth is on a direct line to your spine, your back arching off the bed. His tongue is hot on you, tracing the lines of your folds, and moaning into your slick. He missed these desperate whines you let slip, the perfect backtrack to the messy slurping sounds he's started. You hadn't even realized how much you had missed his mouth, your fingers twisting into his hair the second he brushed a fang against your swollen bud. He loved to tease but it had been too long since you felt your orgasm rise so fast. 

Beomgyu was eating you like he missed your pussy, your stomach tightening, hips sinking into the sheets. It only takes a few more precise sucks with his puffy lips before your toes are curling, eyes rolling back as you cum for him. His chuckle vibrates against you before he pulls away, chin shining with your wetness. “I missed the taste of you,” 

He hasn't even tried to find someone else to take care of his needs, not when he knew no other cunt could compare to the way yours perfectly molded to him, sucking him in to the hilt. The memory alone is what had him rushing to get inside of you, cock already leaking rivets of precum. 

You've never felt so needy in your life, fangs and pussy aching for him. The drag of his tip from your clit to your weeping entrance makes your knees fall open. One of his hands guides himself to push into you and the other tenderly holds your hip in place. Your mouth drops open at the stretch, slow as he lets you take in the feeling, needing you to remember how full he kept you. 

Beomgyu whines, breath quickening as he shoves in the last few inches. He lets his body fall onto yours, needing to be closer, needing to drag his lips over your neck, teeth scratching at your pulse, “say it again, tell me how much you hate me,” 

But he knows you can hardly speak, your legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him down closer. “Shut up,” you gasp, his hips rolling against yours. 

“then beg me,” he doesn’t even have to say for what. Not when your neck is rolling back to give him better access to your vein, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “If you don’t hate me, beg me to taste you. I know you remember how much I love to mix the flavor of your blood with your cum still in my mouth,”

As many times as he's crossed your mind, thinking about his fangs in your neck was something that would never compare to the moment they finally sunk in. You had never let anyone feed from you, not until he was there in front of you pleading. You were no better, not after you had changed him, needing to drain him of almost everything. But with one nod he was biting you. 

Beomgyu’s mouth was flooded with your blood, the familiar flavor of iron mixed with the undercurrent of sweet delicacy. He’d dream about the first bite, mouth tingling, fangs brought forward on nothing but the memory of you. Now he was ravenous, so shocked by his own hunger with its pounding fists on nailed shut doors. His hips stuttered in his thrusting, caught on the ecstasy of quenched starvation. 

You felt your mind slip into that hazy space, anything he asked would be answered, every action would be taken, and all you knew was him and him alone. To have that numbing venom injected into your bloodstream was enough to break even the strongest down into puddles of simmering whimpers. 

It was hard to pull away and keep himself from overfeeding like he wished he could. But he felt his orgasm cresting, stomach flexing as his balls tightened. Beomgyu shoved his wrist to your waiting lips, your fangs stinging as they pierced his weak flesh. You drank deeply, thick swallows of the ichor you had prayed to get back on your tongue.

Everything was crashing down around you, beomgyu groaning as you clenched around him, fluttering walls sucking him in as you came, taking everything he had to give. He was a mess of moans, clinging to you as if that could keep him grounded when he felt this good. Every slow shallow thrust only pushes his cum further into you, still being pulled from him with every pulse of your greedy pussy. 

Neither of you can believe how lost you had become, falling into each other like stars crashing into nothing but pooling darkness, so full of energy the only option was to collapse. And it's just what you did, twisting into each other's hold, beomgyu’s kisses pressed over the puncture marks he's made on you, nose brushing up and down your skin trying to keep your scent close. 

Breathing evening you fought back the worry settling in. He had left before, walked right out the door without you knowing anything wrong had been on his mind, what was keeping him from doing it all over again? 

“Stop thinking,” he muttered, mouth finding yours, mixing the flavors of your blood together as he kissed you. “I don't think I could find it in myself to ever leave again,” but he was pulling away, his playful smirk lingering on his lip cleansing your worrying mind if even for a movement. “How could I ever leave again after seeing how happy and full you are after only one round?” he pulled his still hard cock from you, the gush of cum slipping out, pooling on his ready fingers only to shove them right back into your waiting cunt. “No, nothing could keep me from this sight ever again,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @no1likemybbgcharlie @beomiracles want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[fear-is-truth]

EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE

— KAI ANDERSON x f!reader

warnings — voyeurism ‧ kai being a perv ‧ very suggestive ‧ MDNI 18+ jackie’s note — tried a different writing style since it’s mostly conversation. hope it’s in character….

“you should change your brand of deodorant.”

the sentence is so mundane it barely registers. you stab at your food, half-listening.

“what?”

“that shit is cancerous,” kai states mildly. he chews thoughtfully. swallows. “you don’t want breast cancer, do you? you wouldn’t be able to breastfeed our baby if you did.”

your fork pauses mid-air. you blink.

“our what?” kai looks at you then, tipping his head, like you’re the one saying something strange. “hypothetically,” he says, waving a dismissive hand. “future tense.”

your stomach twists—not at the words themselves, but at the way he says them. easy. certain. like the thought of you nursing his child is already set in stone. he’s just being practical.

“how do you know what deodorant i use?”

he shrugs. “i pay attention.”

—

you find it that night.

tucked neatly into the corner of your room, angled to catch everything.

a tiny black lens, reflecting the light when you lean in.

you go still. then cold.

you rip it from the wall

—

you storm into his room, shoving the camera in his face.

“the fuck is this, kai?”

he barely glances up from his laptop before looking back down.

“looks like a camera.”

“no fucking shit. why was it in my room?”

his fingers tap against the keyboard. “do i really need to explain that to you?”

his calmness makes it worse. you want him to panic. you want him to lie, at least—pretend this isn’t what it is.

“so i can keep an eye on you.”

“keep an—” you cut yourself off, staring at him. “you are actually insane.”

he hums, noncommittal. “or just prepared.”

“you had no right—”

“relax.”

kai leans back in his chair, stretching, exhaling through his nose like he’s already bored of this conversation.

“it’s not like you haven’t enjoyed the attention.”

“i haven’t enjoyed anything about you spying on me—you’re insane!”

“am i? or are you just mad that i know all the dirty things you do when you think no one’s watching?”

he smiles. fingers drum against the desk.

“oh yeah. i’ve seen what you get up to at night.“

heat creeps up your neck. your skin prickles.

“laying there all quiet, thinking no one’s watching. but you can’t keep still, can you?” he tilts his head, eyes glinting. “legs rubbing together, then that hand slipping under the sheets, moving so fucking slow. teasing yourself. getting frustrated. biting your lip, trying so hard not to make a sound.”

your jaw clenches. you want to hit him.

“you always break, though.” he licks his lips. “always start panting real soft, hips rocking up, so so desperate. and when you finally get there? god.” he exhales, shaking his head, like he’s actually impressed. “you’re so fucking pretty when you cum.”

you feel sick. his voice, the easy, clinical way he’s talking about it, about you. like he’s narrating some goddamn documentary.

“you make these little whimpering sounds—” his head tips back against the chair, lashes fluttering. “like you’re not even fully aware you’re doing it.”

you want to fucking kill that bastard.

kai watches you, taking in the way you shift on your feet like you don’t know whether to run or swing at him.

“it’s kinda hot, actually.” he grins. “you getting all embarrassed, knowing i’ve been watching this whole time. getting off to you getting off.”

he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking over you, hungry. “wanna know how many times i came to it?”

“shut the fuck up.”

“nah, i think you wanna know.”

he leans in, resting his elbows on his knees, watching you like he’s daring you to react.

“i could tell you exactly which night you got yourself off the hardest.” his voice is lower now, almost thoughtful. “you remember it? probably not. but i do.”

he tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. “i could show you the footage if you need a refresher.”

your skin is burning. rage, shame, horror—twisting together, churning in your gut. kai watches your reaction closely, his smile widening like he’s savouring every sweet second of your humiliation.

“you kept whining into your pillow, i heard you say my name, too.” he huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “so desperate, so fucking needy. you came twice. back to back. shit was crazy.” he spreads his hands, like he’s telling an interesting story. “could’ve busted right there just watching. actually, i did.”

you lunge before you can stop yourself, shoving him, hard. the chair skids back.

kai just laughs.

“god, you’re fun.”

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[makeyoumine69]

Disco Heaven

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sub!Patrick Bateman x Dom!Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Patrick, after enduring restless nights consumed by obsession, finally meets the woman who has captivated his thoughts. Blinded by his own arrogance and misplaced confidence in his charm, he is unaware that the plan he has devised will unravel in ways he could never have foreseen and, in a twist of fate, ultimately turn against him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Smut, femdom, oral sex (reader receiving), obsession, humiliation, degradation, coming in pants, nipple play, finger sucking, teasing, hair pulling, Patrick is touch deprived, dirty talk, pet names.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 5.8k

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: Lady Gaga—Disco Heaven✨

𝐀/𝐍: Hello dear people! I hope you like this one, I had a lot of fun writing it!💕

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

How could he be so lucky to meet you at the Palladium Club when he thought he would never see you again? It was a fucking miracle. And although he hadn't liked McDermott's idea of coming here at first, it was definitely worth it now.

The flashing lights illuminating the dance floor made it hard to recognize any more familiar faces in the crowd of people moving to the catchy rhythm of another Bananarama song called Cruel Summer. Bateman couldn't say that it was his jam, but it was pretty exciting to see an uncountable number of girls dancing next to each other, their dresses too short to hide much, only making everything more alluring to his prying eyes as he stood at the bar with a glass of some tasteless drink in his hand.

Well, everything seemed to be perfect tonight except the alcohol.

The split second Patrick spotted you, he knew that you recognized him too and he liked that even more than he could imagine because it fed his ego that you remembered him. Could it mean that you were thinking about him the way he was? 

Bateman smiled at his own delusional theories, but he did not really call himself delusional, on the contrary, this man could swear to God that he believed in his own irritability—no woman could reject him, the word 'no' simply did not exist in his realm. And this belief was so strong and vivid that Patrick had no doubt that you would be his next victim to fall for his charming charisma, his boy-next-door vibe, and his masterfully curated facade of a gentleman.

"What are you staring at, Bateman?" Craig's slightly provocative voice was barely audible over the loud music, but it was enough to make Patirkc flinch in genuine surprise. "Oh, I better ask who?"

McDermott stood next to him, smoking a cigarette and waiting for him to answer. Bateman took a moment to scan the dance floor again to make sure you were still there, and when he did, he turned to face his colleague—a friend, perhaps—before gulping down his cocktail, only to cringe at the bitter taste.

"I think I saw someone familiar." Patrick gave Craig a toothless smile, unable to hide the thrill in its timbre.

"How could you see anything in that fucking mess of limbs and sweaty bodies?" McDermott asked, following Bateman's gaze, now scanning the dance floor as well.

A mess of limbs and bodies.

That single phrase, cut out of context, struck a chord in Bateman's head like a drumbeat playing exclusively for him, and no one could hear it. For a fleeting moment, the two men stood in silence, not talking or drinking, just watching people having their moment, throwing themselves into the flame of music and passion.

"Do you think these chicks might have a condom?" Craig laughed at the absurdity of his question but never stopped staring at the group of girls closest to the bar, they were good looking, not hardbodies but pretty enough to be fucked. "I'm getting bored."

"Then why do you care about fucking condoms?" Patrick replied nonchalantly and put the empty glass down on the bar with a thud. "Are you afraid of catching dyslexia like Bryce?"

"Oh, fuck you, Bateman." McDermott took a long drag on his cigarette, blew out some smoke, and considered ordering himself a drink, but then he remembered Bateman's disgusted face as he finished his own drink. "As soon as Bryce gets back from rehab, we should have a party at his summer house in the Hamptons, and no faggots are invited."

The men exchanged eloquent glances before bursting into laughter, though Patrick's was not really genuine - it was more like he was trying to fit in, rather he really enjoyed Craig's shitty attempts to sound funny. But all that fell away when Patrick realized that he had lost your silhouette somewhere among the dancing people—for a moment he felt nauseous—his forehead immediately became slightly sweaty.

No fucking way he could lose track of you. No fucking way!

But on the other hand, what if this was another beautiful illusion that had been chasing him since the first day he met you in that damn restaurant where he had dinner with Courtney? And good Courtney, who was so reckless and clumsy that she somehow managed to spill her drink on your impeccable outfit—did he really call anyone but himself impeccable? Impossible.

Sheer panic clouded his anxious mind, McDermot's presence was nothing but an annoying bug, Bateman's slightly dilated eyes searched desperately for your elegant figure, literally praying for another miracle. Surprisingly, when he turned a little to the side, he saw you moving toward the small dance platform, and as you stepped onto it, the crowd consisted mostly of the men gathered around it. And Patirck could swear that all of them were trying to peek under your skirt—just the thought of it made his blood boil.

Fucking morons!

Yet the man never said it out loud. Patrick allowed himself to watch you so closely, as if this dance was for him and him alone, as if the two of you were the only ones in this club. The playful grin on your pretty face was like a burning sun—so painful to look at, but at the same time so glorious and wonderful. If only he could find you and kidnap you right in front of the greedy crowd of perverted men. As if Bateman was not one of them, oh no, his depravity was different. Exclusive. The man was so zealous in his belief that he had the right to be a horny animal and a cruel monster because he was so fucking rich, even though the constant pain he suffered from wouldn't stop even for a day. His life was both his blessing and his person. A golden cage covered with blood.

All these philosophical thoughts were just a backdrop. As if hypnotized, Patrick still watched you dance, every sway of your hips mesmerizing him, and when another girl rose and joined you on the platform, he felt himself so fucking hard that he almost chewed on the inside of his cheek. The imagination of this sick man was so powerful when it came to imagining two beautiful girls worshipping each other, their petite bodies rubbing against each other as they played with their pussies with pure abandon.

Fuck yes, yes, that was what he lived for.

And then Bateman suddenly felt too worked up—he could barely keep himself from exploding in his pants—thank God Craig was gone. Maybe the best option now was to just leave the club and go back to his apartment, masturbate and let off some steam, because Patrick was afraid that he would completely lose control and snap at someone right there in the club. He closed his eyes for a second and imagined himself getting his hands on the girl dancing next to you while you watched him grab her breasts and then suck on her nipples until they swelled. Holy shit, this man was literally obsessed, and he wanted you to be the same. 

Obsessed, obsessed, obsessed. 

Pathetic.

As soon as the music changed abruptly, the people around you started clasping hands and cheering the DJ as your "performance" slowly came to an end, he could tell by the way your movements became slower, less plastic and less energetic. Even though the girl next to you didn't end up kissing you as the man had imagined, he was satisfied just thinking about it. 

A little later, you gracefully stepped down from the platform to the floor to give another girl a hug and a light peck on the cheek. Patrick was literally stalking your every move, the way you were gossiping with other chicks, laughing heartily, and when you started to walk away, he could swear that he caught your gaze as you looked directly at him. And the eye contact was so intense that Bateman was left breathless, literally clawing at the bar to regain control. But then you dared to wink at him before turning on your heels and walking off in an unknown direction.

What was that but an invitation to follow you?

Patrick didn't even think twice before he left the bar and walked across the dance floor—the thrill of the chase set all his nerve endings on fire—he could feel the smell of blood in his nostrils, but he never forgot to keep his mask of a charming man. 

The music only seemed to get louder as he made his way to the VIP area. The VIP area consisted of several private little rooms where special guests could find some privacy for all sorts of things like sex, doing some drugs, or maybe...for a kill? 

Standing right next to the corner, the man looked over to remember which room you were in, but then he noticed a tall, rather bulky guy standing right next to the door. Who was it? Your boyfriend, a bodyguard? Bateman couldn't really decide which was worse, his mind was busy plotting what to do next and he even considered just leaving the club because this guy alone was literally ruining all his plans.

In the end, the risk took over and pushed Patrick to go around the corner to the private room where he would finally have a chance to get to know you better. At first, he considered ignoring the weird-looking man and pretending he was your friend or something. But as he approached the door, the guy turned out to be even bigger than he looked - he was much taller than Bateman and more muscular, which made Patrick feel uncomfortable. Sweating a little, Bateman started to say something, but the stranger just clasped his hands together and nodded, stepping aside, no longer blocking the way.

Okay, now it seemed so wrong, but it was too late to think about it.

Too-fucking-late.

It didn't take long for Patrick to enter the room, which was so dark because of the dim purple light. But that was enough for him to recognize your form sitting on the small plush couch on the other side of the room.

"Well, hello-hello," you murmured, stretching back in your seat, your voice enough to send shivers down his spine. "Aren't you curious?"

"Me?" Patrick hummed back before glancing at the small floor lamp next to you that made this room look so ominous and... intimidating. "Darling, you worked your ass off all night to get my attention. I'm flattered, really." Bateman chuckled and leaned against the wall, casually shoving his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants. "But what is this?" He grimaced and held out his hands. "Are you a psychic or something?"

This little outburst of his almost made you laugh. Almost.

"No, I'm not a psychic," you replied, sitting close to the edge of the couch, genuinely interested in how far this man could go. "I doubt you know who I am. That's not really important. What is important is... did you satisfy your obsession by coming here?"

Confused, Patrick narrowed his eyes, which were as dark as the surroundings. Your question left him confused and he was on the verge of hysteria. But it was he who came here, he wasn't forced to, but why did he feel so... trapped?

"Hey-hey, hold on," he chuckled nervously, not really expecting you to act like this. "You wanted me to follow you."

"Did I?"

"Yes," Bateman let out a muffled gasp, his boner still stiff and yearning for release like a caged fire. "Because our meeting that day was no coincidence...I knew it. This interest is mutual-"

"I don't even remember your name," you suddenly cut him off, crushing his ego like a freight train might crush a small car on its way. "I don't even remember if I asked you one."

Leaning against the back of the couch, you smiled wickedly as you noticed the small glimmer of weakness in his brown eyes—the most delicious delicacy you could find these days, the broken ego of the yuppie. But besides all that, this man was handsome, it was hard to deny that, but his tactics to break you down, his assertion of control and his attempts to overpower you were simply pathetic to you. 

Embarrassed, Patrick nervously fixed his hair and then his red tie, his hands were visibly shaking and that prompted you to turn on another lamp, much brighter than the purple one—you wanted to see him blush in front of your eyes.

"But... I think I remember yours," Bateman added soon after, his cheeks truly flushed and the sight of it stirring something wild in your gut. "I hope you weren't upset about your dress."

"Oh, no, not at all," your smile grew wider and wider, and as you flew one leg over the other, you did not notice the way he was sizing you up. Literally taking in everything with his greedy eyes. "So what's your name?"

"It's Patrick, Patrick Bateman."

"Good," you really liked that name, it sounded solid, but in reality you didn't give a fuck. "So let me explain something to you, Patrick. I know that most guys like you only see women as fuckable pieces of meat," a short pause made the frown between his prominent eyebrows grow even deeper. "That since you're so rich, all women should fall to their knees."

Swallowing hard, Bateman stood still against the wall, his breath hitching in his chest, though he tried to look confident—in control of the situation—you couldn't blame him for being delusional. It amused you.

With a wry smile, the man finally decided to come closer, but not too close. "That's a valid point," he muttered, pacing since he couldn't stand in one place. "But not all men are like that."

You could barely hold back your laughter. 

"Oh, I know," your voice rang in his head so loudly that he had to clench his teeth. "But the truth is, I personally don't care about money, about wealth—all of that is boring to me, simply because," you faked a thoughtful expression, as if it was such a complicated conclusion. "My daddy is going to be president one day. Everybody knows the White House belongs to him. That's all."

And that was such a painful blow to his gut, you knew it, you could smell his frustration. Whenever some smug bastard like Bateman tried to impress you with his 'high social status', it was such fun to see their arrogant faces turn into a look of shock as they were literally speechless. But still, they didn't know anything about you and your family. For example, today you literally ran away from the charity dinner to have some fun at the club with some of your 'friends', in other words, just a bunch of people who followed you like a tail just because you were rich and influential. 

In the wake of the too-long silence between you two, Patrick let out a thoughtful hum, as if the cups on surreal weights were swaying from side to side inside his head, leaving the man perplexed in the complexity of his next decision.

"Do you think your father will protect you?" The man suddenly asked, and to be honest, the question was quite intriguing. 

This was what you had expected from him.

Thrilled, you smiled and crossed your arms over your chest. "And you... do you think you can protect yourself?" Bateman furrowed his brow but didn't answer, pretending not to understand the point of your question. "Do you think you can protect yourself from your obsession?"

After a short pause, Patrick burst into nervous laughter before he could say anything in his defense. "You're really funny. I always said that a good sense of humor is an underestimated trait in women."

He thought he was so smart—smarter than all the men who had been in the same situation before him, trying to show their dominance, not really understanding that only strong individuals could admit their weaknesses—that was such a cliché in today's society. Too bad for him that he still assumed that such tricks could work on you.

You shifted your legs to open them a bit, pretending that the whole conversation bored you, so you yawned loudly and stretched your arms out so that your breasts were on full display for him to see. You wanted to ask him some complex questions that would roast his brains, but seeing him so tense made you want to spare him a little.

"What do you want out of life? You seem to have everything and yet you decided to follow me here. Why?"

Bateman grinned in return, his face still tinted red even though the purple light had turned it a dark pink. "I could ask you the same question."

Spreading your thighs even wider to make sure he could see your black panties, you watched him gulp, his Adam's apple twitching so tantalizingly that you decided to go further and rake the hem of your dress to tease Patrick even more, and when the man finally surrendered, his eyes glued to your barely covered slit, you knew the trap he was setting for you had backfired in the most unpredictable way.

"Is this what you want, Patrick?" You murmured, fluttering your eyelashes as the most innocent creature on this planet.

The man didn't answer at first, fighting the urge to just snap at you here and now, but something still held him back. "Huh, you're not an easy one, are you?"

With a sly grin, you ran one of your hands along your chest, 'accidentally' bruising your nipple before tugging on one of the straps of your dress to slide it down a bit, revealing one of your tits. And that scene left him drooling as he was about to grab his hard groin at any moment.

"I can give you what you want if you can offer me something... special," you crooned, continuing to play with your taut nipple, twisting it between your fingers. "What do you say?"

Stepping even closer, Bateman approached your seated form so that you could see the huge bulge in his pants—at least nature had given him something to make up for the lack of brains—you stopped yourself from staring at his crotch as he continued to speak.

"Well, if you decide to spend some time with me, you won't forget it, baby," he grinned and glanced at the seat next to you, but you immediately put your hand there, implying that it wouldn't work that way. "I promise you."

"Nah," you replied casually, letting go of your little tip but only pulling up the skirt of your dress until it was cramped around your waist. "This is so boring! Always the same! Tell me this," you looked up at him before holding out a hand and taking small steps with your fingers along his hard groin. "Have you ever considered exploring something else? Because... I can't imagine that you don't get bored of the same thing. All those easily accessible chicks with low expectations... See, I can have you today and tomorrow I won't even remember you because I'll have another guy... maybe even with the same name as you," you giggled as you felt him twitch under your touch, his breathing becoming more audible. The sexual tension in the air coaxed you to switch to a whisper. "So the thing is, you can impress me, but not with the things you used to impress the other women, but with... devotion, dedication and submission. Because I find that really exciting."

With that, you sprawled across the couch with your legs spread, your underwear slightly wet from the thrilling game the two of you were playing. Bateman hesitated, but then he lunged at you in quick motion, and you managed to lift your leg at the last moment, almost sinking the sharp stiletto into his chest.

Furious as ever, the man tried to pull your leg up. "You bitch," he hissed in desperation as the memories of sleepless nights jerking off to the thought of you washed over him like a waterfall. "You think I give a fuck about your old man?" Patrick clenched his jaw but still did not do anything that could hurt you. "I don't fucking care if your father is Ronald Reagan himself!"

Bateman was about to lose control at any moment, so you used that for your own advantage and kicked him in the chest with all your might, almost threatening him. "That guy out there is my bodyguard and he has a fuckin' gun, a real one! And believe me, he won't hesitate to rip your ass apart if I tell him to!"

Another shock wave went through Patrick's system, turning everything in his head upside down. Stunned and lost, the man gasped for breath, and nevertheless he seemed to believe your words—he took them seriously.

Your breathing was as rapid as his, as you were still lying on the soft furniture, but your look was a bit disheveled. "I'm telling you for the last time, we play by my rules, or we don't play at all," you declared, slowly sitting back down. "And it's never too late for you to leave...no one is holding you here, you know."

Inflamed and annoyed, Bateman gave you a scornful look before turning and heading for the door, only to pause beside it as a genius idea dawned in his mind. What if he could trick you into thinking you were in control? So that when you lost your attention, he would cut you to pieces? That was not bad, not bad at all. Patrick smiled to himself, so damn proud of his own smartness that he saw himself as nothing but an evil genius.

As soon as you noticed the change in his demeanor and the man came back to you in several large strides, you couldn't help but smile broadly, especially when you saw him loosen his tie and brush off some sweat from his forehead.

"So are we cool, baby?" You asked him playfully, and before he could answer, you stood up to face him, pulling down the top of your dress to expose your heavy breasts.

The way your tits bounced a bit as you undressed was delicious, Patrick was literally on the verge of collapsing if you decided to touch his dick again.

"Yeah," the man finally replied before licking his lips briskly. "We're cool."

"Good," you walked closer to him, your hands never ceasing to caress your heavy breasts. "Now get on your knees for me."

The boiling, unbearable rage coursed through his veins, but he submitted to your will, kneeling gracefully before you, his brown eyes consumed by the darkness of their pupils as you hovered over him, only to lean down and press the soft mounds of your tits against his beautiful face, now so flushed again.

"Suck them," you commanded, biting your lower lip as he looked up at you in utter disbelief. "You've probably waited too long for this. Am I right, Paddy? I will call you Paddy because I really like it."

As much as he wanted to say that he hated any distortion of his name, the man simply couldn't pronounce a word when you were standing over him, the weight of your breasts felt so heavenly on his face and it seemed that his will to struggle for his dignity had fallen to his most basic desires. And there was nothing Bateman could do about it.

With an almost primal growl, the man obediently took one of your hard nipples into his warm mouth and sucked on it so greedily that you thought he was going to bite a piece of your flesh, so you had to claw a little at his scalp to make him be gentle.

"God, you're so fucking thirty for my tits!" You whimpered softly, burying your hand deeper in his brown hair, which looked so messy and chaotic now.

Panting, you let him wrap his arms around your hips and pull you closer to his face, but then you pulled away only to have him latch his lips around your other nipple—Bateman used everything he had, his tongue, a little bit of his teeth—you were soaking wet and it seemed that what was going on was not enough.

As you pulled your swollen peak out of his mouth, Patrick let out a small but loud gasp of frustration. "Are they natural?" 

Holy hell, that question alone almost made you fall to the floor, but instead you just smiled and looked down at your hard nipples, now wet with his saliva. "And what do you think?"

With that, you lifted the hem of your dress once more to place your leg on his shoulder, and the man wasted no time peppering your elegant leg with little kisses, nuzzling against your soft skin and moving higher until he grazed your inner thigh, but not daring to go any higher. Instead, he watched as you slipped your finger under the lace of your wet panties, and when you touched yourself with a lewd moan, Bateman had to cling to his hips as his orgasm loomed over him like an inevitable sin. Breathing heavily, you rubbed your swollen clit several times, covering your fingers with your flavor, before pushing them into his mouth and he gladly took them, sucking your taste off them and still yearning for more.

"Starved Paddy," you grinned, stroking his burning cheek as he pecked at your mound—his hot breath wafting around your core felt amazing. "You want me to use your face?"

Fidgeting on his knees, Patrick nodded and gently grabbed your ass, ready to dive between your legs and literally drink you dry—the wicked glint in his hazel eyes was a sight you would probably never forget. So Bateman was right about one thing—you would indeed remember him as an arrogant yuppie you had brought to his knees. And the feeling was absolutely delightful, even better than you expected.

"What are you waiting for?" Patrick's gruff voice brought you back to reality.

Oh man. Was this man really that desperate? 

You hummed and tilted your head, admiring his completely ruined appearance and yet there was so much more to come. "I want you to beg me," you suddenly demanded, literally hooking your leg around his neck, feeling the smooth fabric of his collar brush against your skin. "Come on Paddy, beg for my pussy."

Bateman took a nervous gulp, his face so red and sweaty, and you knew he was struggling between his own desires and the bruised ego it would all cause if he just gave in. Was he willing to pay that price to get what he so desperately wanted? Out of all the women, Patrick was unlucky to set his eyes on you, thinking you would fall for him the moment you met, but now that he realized you were not that easy, it seemed to excite him even more. Well, at least you liked to think so.

Patrick's heavy breathing was so warm against your mound as he pressed his face into it, nuzzling it, then kissing it, licking your skin here and there until he finally raised his eyes to you, his parted lips so red and glistening with your wetness.

"Please," the man purred, reluctantly at first, the stray strands of his brown hair scattered across his tense forehead. "I... I want... that little pussy of yours."

"Uwu," you smiled in awe. "That's so sweet of you," without any further hesitation you moved your soaked panties to the side and presented yourself to him and he couldn't take his eyes off of you, licking his lips in anticipation as he watched the soaked material of your underwear brush against your swollen clit, your oozing folds looking so damn delicious. "Cleat it up, baby."

To your surprise, Patrick didn't snuggle up to you the moment you allowed him to—the man decided to start with small, kitten-like licks along your pussy lips, savoring the taste of you with soft groans and the vibration they caused felt electric.

"Mhmmm...yes," you moaned into your palm, not wanting anyone to hear you, even though the music was quite loud. "Just like that...you're such a good boy."

As time went on, Bateman's actions became bolder as he watched your reaction all the time and the sight of him on his knees looking up at you was so fucking hot. The red tie was swung carelessly to the side and now lay on his shoulder as you grinded on his face, getting more and more heated up, and at one point you heard him moaning into your cunt as you pulled on his hair pretty hard. But you didn't care. And you couldn't really care, not when his mouth felt so good on you, when he sucked your little tip with inhuman ferocity, leaving out slurping sounds, and the next second he was already lapping at your cunt like a dog. And his tongue, fuck, his tongue was made for that.

"Oh-fuck," you cursed, pushing his face closer between your legs and holding him by the back of his head. "You know how to go down on a woman...do you like the taste, Paddy?"

Desperately gasping for air, Patrick tilted his head back for a moment with his eyes closed tightly—his whole look was so fucking ruined and messy—Bateman was glorious in his submission, though he would probably never admit it.

"Yes," he breathed out, licking his wet lips, catching the beads of your juices with his tongue. "I like it."

With these words the man dipped between your thighs again and this time you knew that you couldn't hold back any longer as the tight knot in your core pulsed like a bomb. And Patrick could tell by the way you clung to his head, leaning on his shoulder as your legs began to tremble, and as you climaxed he was still swirling his tongue around your feverish clit to prolong your bliss, not really realizing that he was about to explode as well. But what could he do? Bateman held himself back for too long, and as he lived through your orgasm with you, the man suddenly froze and grabbed your ass with all his might, as if you were his lifeline. It was a fucking disaster, he knew it, but he couldn't stop himself from cumming in his pants, still on his knees.

The musky, intoxicating smell of sex filled the small room, making it difficult for both of you to come to your senses, but eventually you were the first to push him away from you as the last aftershock of your orgasm faded. On your weak legs, you stepped away from the kneeling man, who didn't move as if chained to the floor, but that didn't bother you anymore. You straightened your dress and ran a hand over your slightly sweaty face before you snuggled back into the couch.

Utterly humiliated, Patrick tried to clear his mind to solve the fucking problem he had gotten himself into—he still had a designer handkerchief somewhere, and luckily his jacket was quite long, so he could hide his wet pants. But the thought of what had just happened could never be erased from his mind. 

Degraded, disgusted and completely abashed. That was how he felt.

"So," you suddenly began to speak, breaking the silence. "I hope you satisfied your obsession with me a little."

Fumbling for the pack of cigarettes in your purse, you frowned when the man either didn't move or didn't say anything. It was getting on your nerves, but you weren't going to tell the bodyguard to throw Patrick out—there was something oddly appealing about the fact that Bateman still couldn't pull himself together after everything was over.

"You'd better leave before you make trouble for both of us," you added in a stern voice, but then you smiled at your viscous idea and the next second you were already pulling down your panties to throw them in Patrick's face. "Here, so you have something to jerk off with."

But the man didn't even react when your wet underwear hit his tense face—he just watched it fall indifferently, only to take it later and hide it in his jacket pocket. And his pettiness was both breathtaking and frightening. Yet you didn't know about the chained beast inside of him that Bateman was somehow holding back, but still, the images of him stabbing you with the fucking stiletto of your shoe were so vivid. But if he was going to kill you here and now, what was the point of the game? 

Avoiding looking in your direction, Patrick could only say: "When can I see you again?"

Again?

Shocked, you grinned, but then looked at him with feigned concern. "Are you crazy? Was that not enough for you?"

"Was it... enough for you?" He muttered back and slowly started to get up, surreptitiously searching for the handkerchief.

You took a moment to consider this sudden...proposal? Because to you, his words sounded like a business deal, and that was kind of interesting. "Did you say you work on Wall Street?"

"I didn't say that," he replied, pressing a soft piece of cloth to his flustered face. "But I really work on Wall Street."

With that, Bateman handed you his business card, and when you looked at it, you saw the text Pierce & Pierce printed in a nice font. "Pierce & Pierce? Never heard of it."

Frowning, Patrick wanted to say something, but then he felt the slipperiness between his legs—it felt so fucking disgusting that he wanted to rip off his clothes and go naked, because it would be better than that.

"You know, my father worked on Wall Street too," you muttered thoughtfully. "Before one day he decided to become a fucking politician. My mother was so crazy in love with him that she forgave him everything and now... it all ended with my dear daddy having a new young wife. A model or something," the man listened to you without blinking. "This world sucks so much!" You giggled hysterically and waved your hands in despair. "Listen, if one day I don't know what to do... I'll call you. Until then, don't even try to find me. Do you hear me, Paddy?"

Bateman couldn't remember how he left the private room, how he found his way to the bathroom and waited for everyone to leave so he could clean up a little. The man didn't feel comfortable in his own skin anymore, he could barely keep himself from smashing the mirror with his fist every time he looked at his reflection. And all because he was afraid—afraid to admit that he might like the things you were doing to him. It was contagious to his ego and the perfectly curated concept of the ultimate yuppie he always wanted to be. But what could he do now when his body betrayed him?

There was no escape, only agony.

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!💞

[saintvainglorious]

Fics I Enjoyed in January - DC Comics Fic Rec List Part 2

I am still neck-deep in DC fandom this month and the fics have been so so good. Unlike last time, I am too tired to write mini summaries/reviews, so I'm going to feature my favorite quote from each fic instead.

My first DC Comics fic rec list is here!

Floor Plans by @oh-mother-of-darkness (Teen & Up, 1k, 2016) “I really didn’t want to die,” he finished. “I was kind of hoping if I laid here long enough, I would remember what that felt like.”

Losing two brothers in six months takes an emotional toll.

almost right by @bitimdrake (Teen & Up, 3k, 2020) He desperately wishes that he didn’t know what Dick’s cheekbone feels like under a gauntleted fist.

Bruce sucks in a breath, hand raising to fix the cowl. Dick flinches back.

but more with love by @danishsweethearts (Teen & Up, 3k, 2022) Dick wakes up one morning, groggy from a dream that he thinks might’ve been about the circus and also about his favourite car and also about how lonely he is, and realizes that he can’t remember what his mother’s voice sounds like anymore.

O Robin, Robin, wherefore art thou Robin?

The Mechanics of a Hug by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 4k, 2017) “You know… that crushing sense of depression? Like,” Dick chews his lip. “It’s. A physical weight. Makes it hard to breathe?” “Yeah,” Tim says, soft. He smiles, wryly. “I sort of hoped you didn’t, though.”

“So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.”

No Pain, All Gain by @sohotthateveryonedied (General Audiences, 1k, 2020) Tim’s eyes go even wider. “You stole my organs?” “Technically,” Jason chimes in, “the doctors stole your organs. We just gave them permission.”

Bruce checks Tim’s IV. “Are you in any pain? Do you need more morphine?” Tim’s pupils are so wide that only the faintest ring of blue can be seen. He watches Bruce the way a five-year-old watches cartoons. “I’m all good, B-dog. All Gucci, like we cool teens say." His words are slurred almost beyond recognition, but Tim doesn’t seem to notice or care. "I could fight Superman right now.”

The Wind Sits in the Shoulder of Your Sail by @birdchildsnest (Teen & Up, 7k, 2020) “Oh my god. Bruce. I can’t even tell if you’re serious. When everybody finally eats the rich—they’re going to eat you first.”

At least, back then, Tim had barely been a teenager. He could almost forgive his own volatility. And he’d been smart enough (scared enough?) not to tell Jack that he didn’t need him. What was his excuse now? Bruce was his dad (at least, in the legal sense), but (surprise, surprise) it turned out that Tim wasn’t any better at being a son. Or Tim and Bruce still have some things to sort through after the adoption.

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 21k, 2022) He doesn’t want to be loved if being loved is like this.

"I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

bad boys bad boys (whatcha gonna do) ♫ by @drakefeathers (Teen & Up, 20k, 2014) "They live their lives thinking they can charge through the city with the right to hurt and kill and destroy as many lives as they want. And they do it all without a shred of remorse." “But—” Damian begins, brow furrowed in confusion. “Isn’t that like you?”

a Jason and Damian as Batman and Robin AU!! featuring a bunch of graffiti, a rival dynamic duo, and Cat Jason (a cat named Jason).

The Biggest Mistake by @oh-mother-of-darkness (General Audiences, 1k, 2016) “I could ground him anyway, if it would make you feel better.” “He only said it because I called him ‘a garbage can so ineffective it actually became garbage.’”

"You know what really needs to be addressed? Bruce's truly terrible treatment of Damian." -Me, on a daily basis

been a number and a name by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 35k, 2023) “Turns out if you just say ‘spacetime’ until people’s eyes glaze over they don’t really question anything you say. Also, somehow nobody expects me to be able to actually do enough math to explain it.”

On a field trip, Robin has a close encounter with the newest super in Metropolis, only to discover the hard way that Superboy secretly works for Lex Luthor. They agree to work together on a plan to free Superboy from Luthor’s hold, but Robin isn’t sure how far he can trust him—and his developing feelings only make things more complicated.

clean it like you mean it by @wynterstars (Teen & Up, 70k, 2024) "Wait, ugh, you're not my dead dad, right? If I'm getting a dying vision of my dead dad I want a do-over because he suuuuucked."

When Gotham's crooks have to scrub down their lairs, who do they call? Jason Todd, Gotham's first and only underworld crime scene cleaning specialist. He's spent his life dodging the Bat, but after a chance encounter he saves Robin's life. Tim Drake finds himself drawn to the conflicted rogue, and soon Jason becomes Robin's street informant. But they can only stay on opposite sides of the law for so long before something breaks.

3:16 by @wufflesvetinari (Teen & Up, 70k (WIP), 2023) “Try to decouple one thing from the other. I’m proud of you, but ice cream isn’t my grand statement about whether you’ve been good or bad today. Good things are good. Happiness is precious. Sometimes you just want caramel chocolate chip.”

The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” (With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.)

wolf-king of rome by @mysterycitrus (Not Rated, 25k, 2024) “You go after Joker, but you don’t kill him, because it’s not about the Joker dying, it’s about Bruce breaking his code for you. It’s about Bruce loving you enough to change himself for the worse. It’s about your idea of grieving.”

Jason doesn’t fear Dick Grayson. Fear itself has changed shape for him, since his return from the Pit - it tastes of dirt in his mouth, of drowning, of fire and blood and laughter, more than a tangible face. Still, he’d be stupid not to be cautious. Dick liked playing on an uneven field, and would do anything to keep him off balance, so he just had to stay focused. That’s the nature of the armistice, both waiting for the other to make a move. It’s like balancing on the head of a pin.

Declensions by @dustorange (Teen & Up, 13k, 2018) “Do not tell them your name. Do as I did to survive. I lied. I have always lied. Make one up. Do not let them have you. Say your name is…is…is…Richard Grayson. Or something. They are going to steal you; do not give them anything to steal.”

“My father,” Dick says, “worked the rope. It cut him. His hands were never clean.”

Passiontide by @bigdvmnhero (Teen & Up, 5k, 2025) Despite its faults, the day had tried to be good. He felt young, like someone's son.

On the 96th day Bruce didn't call, Dick remembered their old game. Three things he knew: 1) In three months, it would be Dick's death anniversary; 2) Bruce was still missing his check-ins; 3) Here Dick was, persisting. Imagine the things I'd survive, Dick thought distantly, if I loved Bruce less. Or: Agent 37 and his various crises of faith, on Day 277 at Spyral, Day 150, and Day -0.

the time you won your town the race by @silverwhittlingknife (Teen & Up, 4k (WIP), 2022) Tim. Tim is Dick’s. Death sharpens, clarifies these things. Who will receive the body, decide on the funeral, receive condolences, make all the decisions that matter. No one has questioned it, not even Tim’s friends. There’s a terrible clarity about death. If Dick said, let’s burn everything he owned, Alfred would do it.

He doesn’t know exactly what Tim would say. But he knows what Tim would do. Tim dies. Dick doesn’t take death for an answer. A Red Robin 12 AU.

door, opening by @cowboysorceror (Mature, 70k (WIP), 2024) Dick, with the keys to every locked door Jason has ever tried to open, tucked inside the cradle of his skull; all of that, snuffed out like a candle.

It’s barely audible, but he knows what he heard. A short, four-note whistle, chirping down – E, C#, then jumping up to A, F#, a little trill on the finish. He waits a moment, head turned slightly towards the dim shapes of storage containers between him and the ramp, eyes straining against the blackness. Long, stretching seconds. There it is again. His gloved hand, prickling with cold, closes into a fist. It’s a wood thrush. A small North American songbird that doesn’t sing at night, doesn’t live in the city. He knows what it means. It means hold, steady, not yet. It means wait for me, I’m behind you.

[jenosonlywife23]

Chasing Paradise

a\n; Hope you guys liked this, i tried to write it like the show but i just cant seem to get it right. This was so hard for me to write. Also imagine Haechan on singles inferno dang!!

The sun beat down on the sandy beach of Inferno as you adjusted your hat, trying to shield yourself from the blazing heat. You’d spent days preparing yourself for this experience, convincing yourself that auditioning for Single’s Inferno was your chance to break free from the tangled mess of feelings you harbored for Haechan. But nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared you for the moment he stepped onto the island, grinning like he owned the place.

Your jaw had practically hit the floor as he sauntered toward the group of contestants. For a split second, you thought you were hallucinating. But no, it was really him. Lee Donghyuck—your best friend, the person you’d spent countless nights laughing and bickering with—was now standing in front of you.

“What… what are you doing here?” you stammered, your shock evident.

He smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. “What does it look like? I’m here to find love.”

The contestants exchanged curious glances, intrigued by your reaction. You barely noticed, your focus entirely on him. “You followed me, didn’t you?”

“Followed you?” He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “I didn’t even know you auditioned.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Mark told you, didn’t he?”

His grin widened, and he shrugged. “Maybe. But can you blame me? What kind of best friend would I be if I just let you flirt with random guys on TV?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you huffed and turned away, ignoring the amused whispers from the other contestants.

The days in Inferno passed in a blur of challenges, mingling, and the occasional heated arguments between you and Haechan. He was everywhere—flirting with the other girls, cracking jokes during group meals, and somehow managing to steal your attention no matter how hard you tried to focus on anyone else.

One day, during a challenge where the contestants competed to win a night in Paradise, Haechan outperformed everyone, earning the coveted prize. When it came time to choose someone to join him, he didn’t hesitate.

“I choose **** ,” he announced, his eyes locking on yours.

You looked towards the contestants clearly surprised. You hesitated for a moment, but the soft, hopeful look in his eyes made it impossible to refuse.

Paradise was breathtaking—a luxurious escape from the harsh conditions of Inferno. The two of you lounged by the pool, sipping on drinks and enjoying the rare moments of peace.

“This is nice,” you admitted, glancing at him.

He smiled, his usual teasing demeanor replaced by something gentler. “Yeah. It’s not bad having you here with me.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “So, what’s your plan? Win me over with fancy dinners and sunsets?”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning closer. “Or maybe I’m just hoping you’ll realize I’m the only guy here who really knows you.”

His words sent a jolt through your chest, but before you could respond, he leaned back, his smirk returning. “Anyway, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

But not every day was like that.

A week later, after a heated argument over something trivial—you couldn’t even remember what started it—Haechan didn’t choose you during another challenge. Instead, he picked another contestant, leaving you fuming.

Fine. Two could play that game.

You found yourself spending more time with one of the other guys, a charming contestant named Jinyoung (def not talking abt dex lol)who was clearly interested in you. He was sweet, attentive, and always made sure you felt comfortable.

Haechan noticed.

Every time he saw you laughing with Jinyoung or sitting a little too close to him during meals, his jaw tightened, and his usual playful attitude became sharper, more biting.

“You’re really into this guy, huh?” he said one evening, cornering you near the fire pit.

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to rise to his bait. “What’s it to you?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing. Just thought you had better taste.”

“Oh, you mean like my taste in friends who audition for dating shows without telling me?” you shot back.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was suffocating, and you could feel the curious glances of the other contestants.

The final day arrived, and with it came the moment of truth. As the host explained the rules one last time, your heart pounded. Who would you leave with—if anyone?

You waited anxiously as the decisions unfolded, your mind racing with doubts and emotions. And then, it was Haechan’s turn.

He stepped forward, his gaze fixed on you.

“I came here because of you,” he began, his voice steady but laced with vulnerability. “I didn’t plan on confessing my feelings on TV, but… I couldn’t just sit back and watch you with someone else. You’ve always been the person I wanted. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he continued. “So, if you’ll have me… I want to leave here with you.”

The world seemed to blur as you stepped forward, your heart pounding. “You’re still an idiot for not telling me sooner.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “Guess I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, then.”

As you walked off the beach together, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this crazy journey had been worth it after all.

[gingiesworld]

Untitled Drabble

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: TW: Suicide, character death, not a happy one

AN: If you are uncomfortable or triggered with reading things associated with the warnings topic, feel free to miss this one. Also remember to talk to someone if you ever have feelings or thoughts similar to what's in this drabble. Also remember to keep on fighting, you are stronger than you know. Although this is going to be my only post for a while, I am not entirely sure when I will definitely be coming back. But remember your feelings matter, as do you.

MINORS DNI 18+

It had been months since the accident, since Y/N had lost their entire world, struggling with grief and purpose. Always putting on a smile and a brave face for everyone of their friends and family. Little did they know what lies beneath the fake smiles.

Y/N was always one who struggled with expressing their feelings, always answering everyone with “I’m okay.” But no one really saw the pain behind their eyes, the emptiness that they felt, the lack of purpose they had felt. That’s why they had written letters, hidden them away in the drawer of their night stand.

Every night, for months without fail they went out, heading towards the one place where they felt they had belonged, after drowning themselves in booze or drugs, hoping to get rid of the pain somehow, but nothing had truly worked, the pain they had felt only grew day by day, becoming unbearable. Although one night on their walk, they had reached their limit. Sitting on the edge, overlooking the overpass, watching as cars and trucks passed by underneath, wanting to finally be free, they rose to their feet, their heartbeat increasing slightly, although they had found peace in that moment, free of the pain as they stepped off of the ledge.

It was the middle of the night when Wanda had gotten the call, lying peacefully asleep beside her husband before the phone rang. Once she had heard the words she feared the most, the loss of her best friend. Jarvis was quick to pick up the phone once she had dropped it, finishing the call before wrapping his arm around his wife, trying to console her.

As the days went on, preparations for their funeral were ongoing, but Y/N’s mom had asked for Wanda’s help in finding their suit, the one they had bought for the wedding that was cancelled. Once she had the suit hanging, she had took a moment to gather herself as she sat on Y/N’s side of the bed, her eyes soon fell on the nightstand, the drawer slightly ajar, her curiosity peaked as she opened it, revealing sealed envelopes, addressed to different people, although she had come across one addressed to her. With shaky hands, she opened the envelope nervously, her eyes soon drawn to their handwriting. She had always admired their penmanship, seeing how neatly they had written in cursive. She chuckled at the memory of them telling her that they hate writing in print, always telling her you can see how much effort had gone into the words just by the neat handwriting. She then took a deep breath before reading it.

Wanda,

I’m sorry to be telling you this in a letter, but I am not okay, as you already know if you’re reading this letter. I tried to carry on, taking everyone’s word that it gets easier in time, but in truth it has only gotten worse. The pain has become too overwhelming, I have tried talking to someone about it but the words just get stuck, it’s like I know what I want to say, but on another note, I don’t know how. I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on, I just don’t have the will to keep fighting anymore. I feel like I am drowning, in my own grief and the thoughts that come with it, but there have been moments where I don’t feel a thing, not a single thing. I don’t even recognise myself anymore, and I hate the person that I have become. I had become the liar that I never was, because everytime I said that I was okay, I was barely holding on. I hope that you can have the life you have always wanted and I know you will get through this, because you have people to help you, you have people who give you purpose, especially those two boys of yours.

I just want you to know that I am at ease now, I’m no longer drowning in my own pain, I have found peace. But most of all, I want to thank you for being the best friend that anyone could ask for. You were truly more than I deserved and I will always love you for that.

Y/N/N

No one truly knows what others are fighting, whether we can see it or not. No one knows what thoughts or feelings we have, but it’s not always easy to express them, it can be difficult to find the words to say, even if we were to say a simple “I’m not okay.” Doesn’t exactly say what kind of battle we are facing alone.

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Venomous cravings||Vampire Oscar x Human!lando

Summary— Lando develops an addiction to vampire venom and Oscar can’t have that so he gives Lando what he craves in a safe and controlled way what he didn’t mean to do was ruin Lando…or did he?

A/n this is just a one shot of the larger fic Im writing for @adventuringblind and it’s dark and smutty.

Lando didn’t mean for it to get this bad. It had started as one stupid, adrenaline-fueled night with his friends. They’d snuck into an underground club—dark, loud, and tingling with danger. It was the kind of place his mother warned him about, but Lando had never been good at listening.

He didn’t remember the vampire’s name. Just the cold press of their hand against his neck, the sharp sting of their bite, and the warmth that flooded him afterward. It was euphoric—electric, addictive in a way that scared him. He woke up the next day with a faint scar and an ache, but he also felt empty, like something vital was missing.

And then he wanted more. He started seeking it out, throwing himself into riskier situations, letting strangers sink their fangs into his skin. Each bite made him feel alive, buzzing with that venomous high. But it was never enough. The hunger grew sharper, the bites left him paler, weaker, until even his closest friends noticed.

That’s when Oscar stepped in. Oscar wasn’t supposed to care. Lando was reckless, a mess of bad decisions and worse ideas, but Oscar had a soft spot for him—a crush that bordered on pathetic, though he’d never admit it. When he caught Lando in the aftermath of yet another dangerous encounter, faint bite marks decorating his neck and arms, Oscar couldn’t keep quiet.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Oscar said flatly, arms crossed as he stared Lando down.

Lando just shrugged, his grin sharp and careless. “It’s fine. I know what I’m doing.”

“You don’t,” Oscar snapped. “You look like death. What are you even chasing?”

Lando hesitated, his bravado faltering for a moment. “It’s… it feels good, okay? It’s not just the bite. It’s—something about it. The venom. You wouldn’t get it.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened. He did get it—better than Lando realized. He’d been a vampire for decades, careful and restrained, avoiding the chaotic mess humans like Lando brought with them. But hearing the desperation in Lando’s voice, seeing the way his hands trembled like an addict in withdrawal, something in Oscar snapped.

“I could help you,” Oscar said, quieter this time

Lando blinked. “Help me?”

“Just enough to stop you from doing… this,” Oscar gestured at Lando’s pale complexion and fading bruises. “If that’s what you need.”

It was supposed to be temporary. A bite to keep Lando from spiraling, to ease the craving and keep him safe. But Lando came back. Again. And again.

At first, Oscar indulged him carefully, with soft touches and gentle reassurances, tending to the marks he left behind. Lando melted under the care, the warmth of Oscar’s presence more addictive than the venom itself. But Oscar wasn’t blind. He saw how Lando clung to him, how he craved the way Oscar’s bites left him trembling, gasping, and undone.

Oscar thought he could handle it, but the more he gave, the more Lando needed. And as much as Oscar tried to stay in control, the dynamic between them began to shift.

“Don’t give me that look,” Oscar said one night, his voice low and sharp as Lando squirmed under his weight. “You’re the one who wanted this.”

Lando whimpered, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t think—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Oscar’s smirk was wicked, his hands firm as he pinned Lando in place. “But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To make sure you don’t ruin yourself completely.”

Lando couldn’t argue. Not when Oscar’s voice was dripping with control, his teeth grazing Lando’s neck in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

Oscar hadn’t meant for it to go this far. He’d started as the soft, careful one, but somewhere along the way, he realized Lando was ruined—for anyone else, for anything else. And Oscar liked it that way.

“You’re mine now,” Oscar murmured, sinking his teeth into Lando’s skin once more. Lando arched against him, lost in the bliss of it all, and Oscar couldn’t help but smile. Accident or not, he had Lando exactly where he wanted him.

[callmemonster68]

SUNOO - The Writer and the Dark Muse ( slight smut )

Y/N, a writer suffering from writer's block, summons Sunoo, a seductive demon who promises to inspire her to write the masterpiece of her generation. He demands regular intimate meetings, during which he explores her deepest and darkest desires.

Pairing: Sunoo Demon X FemReader (Masterlist)

Genre: Slight smut

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises

The sound of the silenced keyboard was unbearable. Y/N stared at the blank screen, the words that once flowed like a river now trapped behind an invisible barrier. The creative block was suffocating her career and her dreams of writing a masterpiece. In desperation, she remembered a legend she had heard at a literary convention: the story of a demon who inspired artists in exchange for something deeper and more personal.

With a mix of skepticism and hope, Y/N delved into the research, finding an ancient ritual that promised to summon Sunoo, the demon of inspiration. She prepared the environment: candles lit, ink and paper in hand, and a circle drawn on the floor with words in a language she barely understood.

As soon as the invocation was finished, the air in the room became heavy, as if all the molecules around were vibrating. A figure emerged from the shadows, elegant and with a charming smile that exuded danger and attraction.

Sunoo: Did you call me, writer? (the voice was soft, almost melodic, but there was a hint of mischief)

Y/N felt their heart race. He was beautiful in a supernatural way, his eyes sparkling like black stars.

Y/N: Yes. I need inspiration. I want to write something that no one will ever forget.

Sunoo tilted his head, evaluating her with curiosity.

Sunoo: I can give this to you. But true inspiration has a price. Are you willing to pay it?

She hesitated, but ambition spoke louder.

Y/N: What do you want?

He smiled, moving closer until he was just a few centimeters away from her. The heat emanating from his body was almost palpable.

Sunoo: I want you. Body, mind, and soul. And in return, I will give you more than words. I will give you sensations, images, stories that will make the world bow before your genius.

Y/N felt a shiver run down their spine. There was something overwhelming about Sunoo's presence, something that awakened deep and unconfessable desires.

Y/N: I accept.

Sunoo didn't waste any time. He pulled her closer, his fingers tracing a slow path down her arm.

Sunoo: To create, you need to feel, Y/N. Feel everything, even the darkest limits of pleasure and pain. Let me show you.

He kissed her with an intensity that took her breath away. His hands explored her body with a mastery that made her forget the world around her. Each touch seemed to ignite a spark in her mind, images and words swirling like a whirlwind.

Sunoo: Do you feel that? (murmured, his lips sliding down her neck) It's the fire of creation. Let it consume you.

Y/N surrendered completely, her body reacting to every touch, every sigh from Sunoo. He led her like a maestro, awakening emotions and sensations she never imagined possible.

Between moans and sighs, images of stories began to form in his mind: intricate plots, vibrant characters, settings that seemed too real to be mere imagination.

The next morning, Y/N woke up exhausted, but her mind was full of ideas. She ran to the computer and began typing frantically, the words flowing like a waterfall. The story was visceral, intense, and thrilling. When it ended, I knew it had something special.

Sunoo appeared in her room, watching her with satisfaction.

Sunoo: Did you see how it works? Now you understand what it means to create with the soul.

Y/N: It was amazing (unable to hide the enthusiasm) But what do you mean by creating with the soul?

He smiled enigmatically.

Sunoo: Every story you write contains a fragment of you. A piece of your essence. And every time you write, I feed on that piece.

She swallowed hard, but ambition still dominated her.

Y/N: So, do I end up empty?

Sunoo: Not immediately (approaching and tracing her lips with his thumb) But every time we create together, you give me more of yourself. And, in return, I give you the world.

Y/N's meetings with Sunoo became regular, each one more intense than the last. He made her explore desires she didn't even know she had, taking her to extremes of pleasure and vulnerability.

Between moments of luxury, she wrote stories that captivated the world. Her name became synonymous with literary genius, her works adapted into films, plays, and endless discussions.

But Y/N began to notice the changes. She felt increasingly emotionally drained, as if something vital were being siphoned away.

Y/N: What are you doing to me, Sunoo? (after another date)

He held her by the chin, his eyes shining with an almost affectionate intensity.

Sunoo: I am making you eternal. But for that, you need to give me everything.

Y/N knew she was trapped in a dangerous cycle, but she couldn't resist. The ambition and desire for Sunoo were like chains that bound her.

And, perhaps, deep down, she didn't want to be freed.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[penfz]

A Hard Lesson

SukunaXFemReader (Modern AU)

Summary: The Itadori's are faced with a heartbreaking question from Aika, and it's up to them to answer in the best and most truthful way possible.

A/N: Please always remember, you're good enough <3

Sukuna X FemReader Masterlist

Yuji stood there, Aika’s question catching her off guard. She was already in tears as she asked her question, a situation that she had created in her mind to be true. Cause it had to be true, right? Cause why else would things be the way they are?

“Yuji-“ Sukuna called as he headed to his brother’s room. He needed to know what the 2 brats wanted for dinner. But Aika’s cries made him pause at the doorway. Did Yuji make her cry? That’s kind of unlike him. “Suku- nii.” Yuji began to tear up. “I don’t know what to do.”

… wtf. Sukuna didn’t even know what was happening, why Aika was crying and why Yuji was about to cry himself.

He placed a hand on Yuji’s head, signaling that everything will be ok. And then picked up Aika, consoling the child as he did Yuji when they were younger.

“So?” Sukuna pressed. He didn’t need to say that one of them better explain why the fcuk they were crying. “Um, Aika had a question.” Yuji mentioned, a sadness seeping through his voice. “And I didn’t know how to answer.” His voice ended in a whisper. “What question?” Sukuna continued, now looking at Aika. But the poor girl didn’t want to answer, wiping her tears as she didn’t want to upset Sukuna.

“Aika.” Sukuna pressed once more. He wasn’t going to repeat his question, something Yuji already knew and Aika was starting to learn.

With one more sniffle, she asked the question that had broke the younger Itadori’s heart.

“Suki, does my dad not like me?” “Why are you asking that?” Sukuna’s expression turning flat, it wasn’t a question he wanted to answer. Cause screw him! LOL “Cause everyone else in my class has a dad, but not me.” “Did someone in class say that your dad doesn’t like you?” Sukuna questioned. And when Aika didn’t answer and simply looked down to the floor, he mentally promised her that whoever their parents were, will not be having a child anymore.

Which isn’t a nice thing to say, so he didn’t say it outloud Lol

“Don’t listen to them.” Was the poorest advice Sukuna could honestly say. But what else was he allowed to say? He barely knew the situation with you and your ex, only that he chose to not be in the picture anymore. And you were were fine with that. “Suku-nii.” Yuji whispered, as if reprimanding him. Yuji? The younger brother, reprimanding him? Ha!

Sukuna simply grimaced at Yuji. He understood that the advice he gave was simply terrible, especially for someone Aika’s age. But he didn’t want to overstep boundaries for Aika wasn’t his child, he didn’t want to overstep and make you upset.

But to Sukuna, there was something he wanted to say on the matter.

“It’s not that he doesn’t like you.” Sukuna started, catching Yuji by surprise when he continued. Aika simply sat there. “He just doesn’t deserve you.” “Deserve me?” Aika questioned. She didn’t really understand. Maybe he meant like how her mom would ask her if she deserved icecream after not finishing her homework. “Yeah.” Sukuna answered, how does he explain it in terms Aika would understand? “If you’re not good, then do you think you deserve rewards for it?” “No.” Aika answered, tears about to slip through. But she won’t cry in front of Sukuna, she refuses too! But she already did… “If your dad chooses not to see you, is that nice?” Sukuna continued. “No.” Aika sniffled, she was so close to crying again. “Then do you think your dad who chooses not to see you, deserves you?” “No.” Aika let her tears fall.

Aika was so confused in wanting to be a good daughter by loving both parents. But truthfully, because she didn’t see her dad, doesn’t truly know him, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to love him. Was she supposed to give him the same love she gives Sukuna? Cause Gojo said it was ok to write her homework that one time on Father’s Day about Sukuna. He treated her nicely, helped her with her homework when Yuji or you couldn’t. Fed her all her favourite things and took her to her favourite places, all with Yuji by her side. Sukuna deserved her love, deserved her. Was she supposed to love her dad like how she loves Sukuna?

Maybe she should ask you or Gojo about that.

And truthfully. Sukuna loved Aika just as much as he loved Yuji, just as much as he would love his own child.

And perhaps the love that Aika kept for her dad, perhaps Sukuna deserved it more than her dad.

“Mommy!” Aika suddenly screamed, her tears getting harder as she screamed for you.

Yuji and Sukuna jumped, this was so unexpected. The Itadori brothers thought that Sukuna’s little speech was good, surprisingly.

And it was good. Aika was only now confused on who deserved her love, on who deserved her. She needed to ask you, to Aika you had all the answers, you’re her mom after all.

But where were you during this little crisis?

Stuck outside the front door waiting for one of the brothers to answer the door, that’s where.

It didn’t even dawn on any of them that you’re probably close by until Yuji’s phone started ringing.

“Hello?” Yuji answered carefully, Aika was still crying. “Hey Yuji, I’m outside… is Aika crying?” You questioned as you could hear her in the background.

Yuji froze for a moment, would you be mad knowing your daughter was crying?

“Yeah…” Yuji answered slowly. “I’ll come open the door.”

And with that, Yuji quickly exited the room, leaving Sukuna with a crying Aika.

“Hey…” Yuji said carefully, opening the door. He wasn’t sure how you would react to news of your daughter crying. “Hi Yuji.” You answered… pretty cheerfully too. Wtf? Did she not just hear her daughter crying? “So where’s Aika?” “With Suku- nii upstairs in my room.” Yuji admitted. “I’m sorry Y/N-“ “For what?” You asked confused? “Did you make Aika cry?” “No, but-“ “And I doubt Sukuna did too.” You answered with a small smile. “It’s fine Yuji, just tell me what happened.”

So Yuji began to explain how Aika’s sudden question had stumped him, and how Sukuna tried his very best to comfort her. But in the end, his words didn’t seem to affect her.

“Is that all?” You questioned, that gentle smile never leaving your face. “Yeah.” Yuji answered, he was relieved he wasn’t in trouble. But he still felt bad for Aika crying. “And between me and you.” You said just before heading upstairs to Yuji’s room, making Yuji look up at you. “Aika’s father is a real piece of work. The reason she doesn’t see him is actually his own fault, he chose that. So Sukuna’s right when he said that he doesn’t deserve Aika.”

With that, Yuji’s big smile returned to his face, realizing you agreed with his big brother.

You gently knocked on Yuji’s door, even though it was wide open. Sukuna and Aika immediately made eye contact with you, causing Aika to crawl out of Sukuna’s grasp to get to you.

You scooped Aika into your arms, and into a big hug. Her tears were now dry, but her eyes red and puffy. And there sat Sukuna, still on Yuji’s bed, taking in the scene before him.

“Aww my sweet pea, you were crying.” You cooed at your daughter, Aika burying her face into your neck and shoulder. “Did Suki make you feel better though?”

And you felt a gentle nod against your neck, making you smile.

“He did? Suki is always so good to you darling, isn’t he.” You continued, a gentle smile on your face as you hugged Aika. Sukuna couldn’t help the way his heart beat in his chest, and his cheeks turn pink. Wtf, why do you always make him feel this way?! All cause you acknowledged his actions towards your daughter.

“You know, there’s someone downstairs who also probably feels sad, cause you were sad.” You mentioned, causing Aika to lift her head. “Yuji is also sad, because you were sad. Why don’t you go make him feel better like how Suki did.”

Instantly, Aika was wiggling her way out of your arms, holding back her tears once again. As she made it her goal to make sure Yuji was ok. And off she was running down the stairs.

“Don’t run brat!” Sukuna yelled.

And there Aika was, now walking down the stairs cause she got yelled at.

You laughed.

“I heard what you said to her.” You confirmed to Sukuna’s dread. Of course Yuji most likely told you when you were let in. You’re probably going to tease him about being a softie. As if you don’t already know. “It’s whatever. Brat was crying about some deadbeat.” Sukuna answered back, that gruff tone reappearing. “Yeah he is a deadbeat.” You laughed. “She has you and Yuji though.”

Sukuna could no longer hear it, the sadness in your voice whenever you spoke about Aika not having a relationship with her father. It was like it never existed. Instead your tone, your words, they were grateful. They were kind. They were loving.

“Be nice if she had a sibling though.” You casually mentioned, a smirk on your face as you eyed Sukuna.

Sukuna almost choked on air.

“Don’t fcukin’ temp me brat.” Sukuna answered back, walking out of Yuji’s room. You closely following behind, laughing out loud.

Cause how would he know, how serious you were about that.

Extra:

“You don’t deserve to cry Yuyu cause I was crying.” A small but serious tone said.

You and Sukuna only looked at each other before peeking around the corner to the living room. There was Yuji gently smiling at Aika, who stood before him, holding his hand in such a serious way.

Wtf is going on…? And why did she say it that way?

“I’m sorry Yuyu, for making you cry. But you don’t deserve to cry.” Aika continued.

Yuuji was trying not to laugh, Aika was getting her words wrong. And figured out that Aika was probably copying Sukuna’s kind words.

“Don’t worry Aika, I’m ok.” Yuuji grinned. “Want to watch that new movie you asked about? I found it streaming.”

“Yeah!” Aika was excited.

You laughed at the change of Aika’s mood and words.

“Almost seems like she was mocking you Suki.” You teased, to which Sukuna groaned. He swears, this family doesn’t take him seriously!

[utilitycaster]

sometimes you have a good and well thought out idea for a fic and sometimes you are just like this concept is best expressed as a series of ao3 tags for something you will probably never write

[aetalk]

[eyrieofsynapses]

good evening, all. it is May the 25th. our lilacs are blooming, just as the ones at the Watch House did. and I am thinking about remembrance of the fallen, and GNU, and the love in commemoration.

y'know, I read Night Watch… oh, maybe a year ago and some months ago. and the lilac symbolism, the remembrance of the Watch, has always struck me with the depth of the emotion of it, the tangibility of it in the flowers. but I wasn't aware that today was the day until I saw commemorative posts, all that gorgeous artwork and more, on my dash.

I was also not aware, until now, that fans commemorated the day not only because of the book reference, but in support of Terry Pratchett and of those with Alzheimer's. which knocked me over a bit because of course, of course the group that would use GNU to honor him would do that. and… I've been thinking about GNU a lot, lately, and this caught me again.

I read Going Postal a bit ago, and reread it recently. both times, the parts about GNU made me tear up. this idea of the names, the memories, the lives of the clacks workers who dedicated themselves to ensuring that people heard each other's voices—all those names spoken again and again and again by that which they poured their souls into, winging along in the air as they could not, an eternal reminder that they were loved—how could that not touch a person's heart?

when I found out that fans online used it to memorialize him, I damn well cried. hell, I still tear up just thinking about it. do you know, there's a code for an HTTP header "X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett" written by Reddit users to put in webpages, where it goes unseen by the average user? and in 2015, when Netcraft took a survey, there were eighty-four thousand websites using it? it's eight years later—how many thousands upon thousands of websites have this now, do you think? how many little cables of light has his name flown along, now? how many times?

that alone is absurdly and unimaginably lovely in its own right, but… there's something else to it. there's something about remembering with the lilac sprigs every year, just as Vimes and those who were there remembered their dead. something about how, when we take up our lilac sprigs, we carry a little piece of the characters in our hearts, too. I kept trying to put my finger on why that makes me tear up the way it does. the conclusion I came to is this:

what greater way to honor a writer is there, but to honor them the way they did the characters they poured their heart and soul into? what better way to say we know you and you are not forgotten and your work and words and gifts to the world are held in our hearts forever than to remember them by their own words, their own vision? how else could we say you embodied all the good you believed in and wished to see in the world, but to memorialize them after the little pieces of their soul they wrapped in ink and put upon the page?

it is a knowing of the writer, to remember them in their way. it is not a worn-out faceless platitude, but a reminder that their work has been read and will continue to be, that the characters and world they loved enough to bring to life last just as their name does. such remembrance is warm and loving and delights in their memory even as it grieves.

and now Pratchett's name has been written in his tradition, over and over and over, across the vast plane of the Internet, where it will—with any luck—continue to fly for generations to come.

there is no way to truly express the beauty of that… but perhaps we can catch a glimpse of it in the lilacs, both ours and the Watch's.

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Does anyone else automatically size themselves up with people their age and look for ways that you’re inferior to them? Just me? Ok….