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chahnniesroom · 4 months ago

Text

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan’s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

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jensettermandu · 10 months ago

Text

A.D.I.D.A.S - huh yunjin

(All Day, I Dream About Sex)

genre; smut

pairing; desperate!yunjin x mean!fem reader

content; degrading, humiliation, yunjin being turned on by Y/n being mean, slightly perverted yunjin (lowkey simps for reader and is down bad), some breast play, cunnilingus (giving and receiving reader), fingering, some praising, spitting, choking, breath-play, a bit of thigh slapping, dom!reader/sub!yunjin

synopsis; yunjin's exams are coming up and among spending hours studying, her new neighbor seems to be a noisy metal-head who blasts music from morning to night. whenever she doesn't blast music, she's shredding on the guitar. yunjin is losing her mind after being ridiculed every time she's asked if she can tone it down, the frustrations getting the best of her. although, the guitarist knows just what is needed to help her relax.

wc; 8.8k+

masterlist

She tried to ignore it at first, to just deal with it and pretend that the noise didn’t exist. When that didn’t work she tried to put on headphones and blast her music, but it made it hard to focus.

Yunjin’s new neighbour had a thing for loud music.

She wouldn’t mind it at all because she loved music, she even played instruments, but this wasn’t her genre of music.

The lyrics were vulgar or dark, straight angst. The sounds were pure noise in her ears and she couldn’t phantom who willingly listened to distorted electric guitar riffs, pounding drums or vigorous vocals.

It was safe to say that Yunjin hadn’t managed to become a fan of nu-metal or any other of the metal subgenres.

If her neighbour wasn’t blasting music, they were seemingly playing it themselves on an electric guitar. She was starting to wonder if she was the only one bothered by this, but at the same time, she lived on the top floor which was mostly empty.

With exams coming up, the girl was already on the brink of a breakdown and was tense. Now a neighbour she had never seen with her eyes was blasting music every time she tried to study which was all the time. She had opted for libraries and cafés but they didn’t compare to sitting in the comfort of her home.

Despite it making her feel like a nag and not something she wanted to be she found herself leaving the apartment to finally try and convince her neighbour to agree to tone it down. Just the thoughts were making her skin crawl because she had always been a person who liked music and didn’t get bothered by someone else. She minded her business and lived on with her life.

She closed her door and took what were three steps to reach the door where music was sounding muffled from the other side. With a hand running through her hair, she sighed and knocked at last–

And again.

Once again.

A frustrated sigh left her lips as she wasn’t sure what she had been expecting as the person on the other side didn’t even hear her knocking. This time she banged on the door, it was hurting her knuckles at this point as they were bright red by now.

The music got turned down and she knocked one last time before flailing her hand and dropping it to her side while she waited for the door to open. She was praying for it to be someone kind and not an asshole. The girl had no clue what to expect because she could have a perceived idea about who was on the other side, but she decided against it.

Her heart picked up when the girl who was just an inch taller opened the door.

It just had to be the campus mean girl she had been avoiding at all costs because despite her slim figure she was sure the girl could swallow her whole.

Y/n Y/l/n who was the lead guitarist in a band was in a whole different division compared to Yunjin.

“Who are you?”

It made the redhead's lips part as she felt insulted after having most of her classes with the dark-haired girl for the past year.

“Neighbour–I’m your neighbour.” She stated, gathering her words that withered. This had been the closest she’d been to the girl–no, the closest was when she once sat right beside her in English. God, how was she the only one to remember?

The scent of vanilla was still the same, the girl was dressed in low-waisted jeans, a cropped tight shirt, star tattoos going right beside her hip bones that were protruding, her nose pierced, the same went to her belly button and when she glanced at her lips that moved she could see the silver bell on her tongue.

“Okay?” Y/n asked, somewhere between confused and maybe weirded out over why the girl was knocking on her door.

Why was she being so rude? That was all Yunjin could think about.

Or maybe Yunjin was being sensitive because her tensed self was on the brink of losing her sanity and now her new neighbour was a metal-blasting asshole.

She shifted on her feet, the slightly taller girl leaning her weight against the door frame.

“I just wanted to ask if you could maybe–the music, you know.”

“I don’t know,” her tone was bored, monotone and lifeless as her eyes stared at the ginger, slept in eye shadow, dressed in grunge with the same makeup style.

Despite these being waters Yunjin had never tested, the girl was undeniably hot. It was like a morbid curiosity. Yunjin was scared of Y/n but also intrigued and curious about the girl. She wanted to touch but also hide.

“It’s kind of loud and I am trying to study, but the noise makes it hard.”

Y/n held onto the door frame and leaned forward, coming closer to the girl who tried to stand her ground. On the inside, she was shaking with how nervous she was, crumbling under Y/n’s cold stare and resting bitch face.

“I take offence, noise is a genre of its own and not all metal is noise, and not all noise is metal.” Yunjin pursed her lips at the haughty smirk on Y/n’s lips and she had a feeling the girl was only trying to mock her, to get her angry, to just mess with her.

“Sorry for offending you, but I have exams coming up and I don’t want to listen to someone screaming shove it, or being cut up and then fucked up.” It did work because she felt her temper grow short and all she wanted was to get it over.

“You just went from hot to less hot by not liking Deftones or Slipknot.”

“What–” She was somewhat stunned to hear that the girl found her hot, but she didn’t get to put in another word when the door shut in front of her face. Before she knew it the music started to pound once again.

All the girl could do was complain to her friends over the phone while being on the verge of tears because of the stress and her neighbour being hot, but also mean and it had bruised her ego when she got called less hot for not liking whatever bands she had mentioned.

Instead of heading home the next day she stayed in the college library to study and would just walk home late.

It wasn’t long until her peace was disturbed by the loud steps echoing through the library and she looked up from her laptop after hours. Her eyes scanned around her and at last, she spotted none other than Y/n and the band she played in. She averted her gaze back to her things when those intense eyes caught hers staring, but she still did a subtle glance to do damage control and see if she had been caught–

Why was Y/n heading her way? She was growing nervous and anxious once again.

Yunjin tried her best to look as occupied as possible, but it wasn’t long until the lead guitarist pulled out a chair. The chair creaked along the wooden floor and Yunjin winced, looking up at Y/n who sat down in front of her.

“What’re you doing here?” She asked as she slumped back in the chair while crossing her arms. The girl played with her pierced tongue as she raised her eyebrows at the girl across from her.

“I study here.”

“You do?” Y/n asked, surprise lacing her tone and Yunjin couldn’t determine if she was serious or not when they had so many classes together.

She didn’t get to reply because Y/n was full of herself. “You sure you’re not following me?”

Her lips pursed into a forced smile at the dark-haired girl who licked her plump lips that were glistening with lip gloss. The ginger cursed God for letting a self-entitled asshole be hot.

“Are you serious?” Yunjin asked in disbelief, heaving a sigh at the annoyance the girl was causing her. Y/n nodded with wide eyes, looking dead serious about the whole thing.

“We have the same classes, you always sit at the back and see everyone–”

“Oh, so…You’re stalking me?” The urge to drill Y/n’s head through each shelf of books was strong.

“I am not.” She hissed, utterly annoyed with how confident Y/n was to even utter those words. The more she would try to explain or defend herself the more like a stalker she would look like.

Y/n rolled her eyes and planted her palms on the wooden table as she stood up. Yunjin quickly averted her eyes away from the girl’s cleavage as she had a spaghetti strap top on. God, Y/n knew what she was doing from how that smirk was right back. The ginger was sure she had caught her looking further down than what her eyes were.

“I’m just kidding, carrot top, no need to get offended, but no I haven’t noticed you before which I guess is somewhat of a bummer.” Now Yunjin was offended, but Y/n was already leaving her behind as she walked through the library. She was offended but was also fighting the way she felt flustered at the somewhat flirty remark from the mean girl.

She had just been called Carrot Top, BUT Y/n also said that it was a bummer she hadn’t noticed her before.

Yunjin hated Y/n, but she was also so riveting that she found herself thinking about her a bit more that day and the day after.

“Could you please turn it off or at least tone it down for an hour or two, please,” she found herself begging her neighbour. Yunjin wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted to see the girl again and maybe receive a backhanded compliment once again or to be able to study. It was probably both as the girl stood leaning towards her as she held herself with both hands on either frame of the door.

“Look how cute—” Y/n started and Yunjin waited for what she would say next. “You’re pathetically begging me.” She took it as an insult and a compliment because somewhere along those lines she had been called cute in one way or another by one of the hottest and most sought-after girls on college grounds. Y/n was the type to crush a guy’s ego and spirit and make girls flash their breasts at their concerts that were attended by quite a huge crowd at a live club.

Around 500-700 people which wasn’t bad at all.

Maybe there was something wrong with Yunjin’s ears if there were so many people enjoying metal.

“Y/n—” She cut herself off as the name just slipped her lips even if they hadn’t officially introduced each other.

“Kind of expected my stalker to know my name. Do you even live here? Or do you pretend and are waiting for an opportunity to one day break into my apartment and do whatever pervy things you’ve been imagining?” Yunjin’s ears were burning hot at the girl’s words and now her mind trailed off to those pervy things because they were mentioned, but she quickly got back on track. At least she tried because they were still swimming in her head as she stared at the girl in front of her while being somewhere between drowning and getting out of the imagining.

“Everyone knows your name.”

“I know.” It made the girl roll her eyes at how confident she still was. “What’s your name?” It somewhat caught the ginger off guard. It didn’t seem likely for Y/n to ask for her name if she had been nothing but mean. The last thing she seemed to care about would be her name yet she was asking about it.

“What do you need my name for?” She asked with raised eyebrows, but it didn’t make the girl’s confidence falter.

“Well, it’s either you tell it or I call you Carrot Top.”

“Yunjin.” It was an easy choice.

“Nice to meet you Yunjin.” With that the door slammed closed once again and a few seconds after the music started to blast again.

“No, literally turn your music off or…” She trailed off, looking for what she would do if the metalhead wouldn’t turn off the music. Her brain racked for things as she found herself right outside Y/n’s door again. At this point, she just mostly wanted to look at the girl she had unfortunately grown infatuated with despite barely knowing her and only seeing her at college from afar. Y/n barely spared her a glance, but somehow that made it better. It made her feel less guilty for what she had done. Eye contact would have been difficult.

“Or?” Y/n prompted, wanting to know what would happen if she didn’t turn down her music. The only person who had been complaining was Yunjin, but she assumed that it was because the apartment next to hers was empty and the other was occupied by a deaf elderly woman.

“I don’t know, but just turn it off,” Yunjin exclaimed, the frustrations getting the best of her as she was ready to get into a verbal fight with the girl. There were so many reasons to be frustrated in the end.

“You’re angry today, aren’t you?” Y/n only questioned, further fueling the girl who looked like she was on the verge of blowing up. She found it amusing, and she was somewhat baffled by how she had missed the girl completely in her classes, but at the same time, the girl was far from the person she was right now in classes. She didn’t seem like the type to knock on doors and lose her shit.

“Yes, I am and it’s all your fault.” She blamed the girl right away who had been getting on her nerves since she woke up this Saturday because of Y/n playing electric guitar.

“What’s your problem?”

“You are my problem.”

“Why is that?” Yunjin groaned at the questions she was being asked.

“Because you move in here, blast your music, refuse to tone it down, you call me carrot top, then you give me these backhanded compliments which you shouldn’t because you are too hot to be flirting with just anyone because everyone will hope that you are serious and–”

“I am serious though. You are hot, but you would be even hotter if you liked my favourite bands and were less of a freak.” Y/n didn’t even blink or stutter when she said those words- Yunjin bit her tongue while blinking her eyes and staring at Y/n.

“I’m sorry but I hate your bands, whatever they are.”

“But you like me?” Yunjin’s eyes went wide at the question from the vixen in front of her.

“No, I hate you for being a jerk.”

“Okay, but you do find me hot, so we have mutual feelings.”

It made her more than flustered as the heat ran to her cheeks. “That’s–” Yunjin wanted to continue and argue about the music as she was frustrated and taking out her frustrations on Y/n seemed like a great option. Y/n had a quicker tongue as she cut her off once again.

“You know, guitar players are quite good at using their fingers and you look like my newest one, so, would you mind if I played you to find out how good you sound?” The abominable words made Yunjin’s lips part as something still twisted in her stomach and the heat shot south instead of north because the thoughts were stronger than Y/n’s horrible pickup line.

“I hate you.” Y/n leaned closer as she held onto the door frame, this was the closest they had been as their faces were a few mere inches apart. “How about you take it all out in my bed? You can be as loud as you want because my neighbour who complains about noise isn’t home.” It wasn’t hard to figure out that she meant Yunjin when she said those words.

The ginger was fighting all her urges.

The door slammed closed once again and this time it wasn’t in front of Yunjin’s face but behind her as Y/n pushed her into her door. It was followed by a gasp and the vixen’s slender hands with those long fingers found their way to her ass as she gripped it.

At last, she got to taste Y/n’s plump lips after watching those haughty and teasing smiles grace them. It was her first time kissing someone with a pierced tongue and Yunjin found herself eagerly sucking Y/n’s tongue into her mouth. That was enough to draw out a moan from the back of Y/n’s throat, the ring clanking against teeth before she swirled her tongue around it, toying with it.

Y/n chuckled at the eagerness of the ginger, her fingers digging into the flesh of the girl’s ass, squeezing and pushing her more into the door.

“You’re so needy, aren’t you? Have you been imagining me fucking you?” Y/n’s voice dropped an octave, clouded with lust as she pulled away from Yunjin’s plump lips. A string of saliva followed and the guitarist leaned in and licked it off of her lips. The action made heat shoot through the girl’s body, running straight to her clit. It was making her crumble and slowly lose this composure she had tried to put on to not show how needy she truly was for the girl.

She tangled her fingers in Y/n’s dark hair, her head falling back against the door to give her the space she needed to kiss along her neck. “You’re so fucking full of yourself,” Yunjin grumbled as the guitarist was cocky, but it was doing unimaginable things to her arousal.

“You’re about to be just as full of me as I am,” Y/n said with a chuckle at the words. The action made Yunjin moan when her ass got smacked and a knee got placed right between her thighs. Y/n pressed into her heated cunt that was throbbing with need and the ginger wanted nothing more than to orgasm and hope for all these frustrations to go away that were caused by her sexy neighbour and godforsaken exams.

Teeth dug into her juncture, hand running from her ass and up under her oversized shirt–only now realising that she wasn’t exactly dressed in a flattering way. She was in a pair of sweats and a shirt for comfort and she could feel Y/n smirk against her skin as she sucked right at her pulse because she had no bra on either. The girl still had her specs on as she had been in the middle of studying.

Yunjin’s hips started gyrating, grinding herself against the knee between her thighs as she couldn’t control it. The need was overwhelming and her clit was throbbing painfully. Small gasps started falling from her, bliss overtaking as she closed her eyes with her lips parted.

Y/n cupped the breast in her hand, slowly starting to knead it while getting a hold of the stiff bud. It elicited a whiny moan from the ginger when she tugged on it and the vixen pulled away from her neck which was shiny with spit and bite marks. The girl was lost, completely, fucking herself on her knee as Y/n helped guide her hips by her ass where her fingers were digging into the soft flesh.

“Fuck–I want to come, Y/n.”

“How bad do you want it?” She asked, pressing harder with her knee and watching the way it made the girl crumble as her hands fell to Y/n’s shirt, gripping it desperately. Her clit rubbed against her through the layers of clothes, the pressure tingling in her body as each second she grew more desperate. It made her humping sloppier, messier and needier to chase her high.

“So bad,” the girl whined out, light moans left her mouth. The heat was building up and the tension in her stomach grew. Y/n watched the frown cover the girl who tensed up, her jaw falling slack. “Oh fuck, so close–” That was all Y/n needed to know.

“Not bad enough.” She said, clicking her tongue as she pulled her knee away from between the girl’s thighs who let out a cry at the frustrations that got ten times worse now. All that tension went away and the only thing left was that painful pulsating of her clit.

“What?” Yunjin let out, her voice cracked in the process as it had been in a high pitch just as she was about to reach her peak. The ginger pushed her head up and her eyes were glossed over, looking at Y/n who licked her lips.

“I said, you don’t seem to want it bad enough.”

Yunjin looked over Y/n, her eyes trailing the girl’s lanky body with her chest heaving, still leaning against the door with Y/n’s hands not on her body anymore. The vixen ran a hand through her dark hair that was more messy after she had been tugging on it, a glint of mischief in her eyes and Yunjin’s stomach was doing flips because of how needy she was, but also how hot Y/n was.

She wanted to get fucked.

Not just fucked.

But fucked by Y/n.

Right now.

“Please,” she pleaded, her eyes going docile to add to it.

“Please?” Y/n questioned.

“Please fuck me, eat me out, or finger me, just please do something. I want you to fuck my pussy until I orgasm.” The words flew out so quickly that she had no clue that they did. There was no shame behind them and the only thing to show that she had some shame left in her was the tint that covered her cheeks.

“That’s pathetic,” Y/n commented and Yunjin was slowly losing it more and more as she couldn’t figure out what the girl wanted her to do anymore.

Why was getting her pussy eaten out by the lead so difficult?

“I like it,” well…

Maybe it wasn’t that hard.

Boney fingers bunched up her loose t-shirt and Yunjin was being dragged through the apartment she had assumed would look completely different as it was light in the living room and kitchen. Her preconceptions had been off–

That was until she was dragged into the room where the walls were covered in banners of what Yunjin assumed were album covers, bands, and their logos. On the wall were three electric Fender guitars hung up, one black, one white, and one pastel pink (?).

“Watch the pedals.” She almost tripped but got roughly pulled by her shirt, threads snapping in it to avoid stepping onto the board with pedals. It still left her stumbling over other wires as nothing was put away and it was messy.

“Jesus,” she complained and was pushed down to sit on the bed.

“Shut up.”

“Wha–” The girl was caught off guard, Y/n was already pushing her down on the bed and getting on top of her. Her specs got removed in the process and discarded to the side. Those same slender fingers cupped her jaw and her eyes closed at the lips that came right back onto hers. They tasted like strawberries and she found herself sucking on Y/n’s bottom lip, her hands gripping onto the slim thighs that were on each side of her body. The whole room held the scent of that strong vanilla and she was drowning in the bedsheets.

She tugged on Y/n’s bottom lip before she let go to catch her breath, panting for air under the girl who removed her shirt, revealing a black lacy bra that wasn’t leaving anything to the imagination. The shirt fell with a thud and Yunjin pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes took in Y/n’s slim body as she couldn’t know if she would ever see it this way again.

“It’s a shame you don’t come to our concerts, maybe we would’ve done this much sooner.” Y/n slyly said as she grabbed the hem of Yunjin’s loose shirt and helped her pull it over her head. She bit her lower lip at the supple breasts, her two buds stiff.

“I already said that I don’t like—”

“Maybe my tongue can change your mind.” Y/n cut her off while pushing her down by the shoulder. It was mouth-watering and Yunjin craned her neck, biting her lower lip at the way Y/n glanced up at her just a mere inch away from her chest. It shot heat to her clit and her hips bucked, earning a breathless chuckle from Y/n, the air making her whine when it hit her sensitive nipple.

Her head fell back, hands trying to grip the girl’s low-waisted jeans but they weren’t baggy enough and it only let her nails dig into them. It was electrifying how Y/n toyed with her nipple, pulling it into her mouth, flicking at it and pressing the hard piercing against it before sucking. Small moans and whimpers slipped past her plump and parted lips, Y/n’s tongue warm and slick as she coated her breasts with her saliva, leaving it to get cold when she moved from one spot to another.

Y/n moved to the other breast after wetting the first one, making it easier to tease it with her fingers. The ginger kept pressing her chest into her face, hips bucking into hers and Y/n’s hips moved, pressing her clothed heat against Yunjin’s.

“Fuck,” she breathed out, getting lost in the bliss Y/n created as she played with her chest. Sucking on the soft flesh, tugging on her nipples, twisting and dragging teeth over them, biting softly and leaving the buds more swollen and her chest glistening. It was hard to focus on anything when Y/n’s jeans were pressing through her sweats and grinding down on her cunt, dragging up and down and pressing into her clit every upstroke. It was making Yunjin’s toes curl and throat run dry.

Y/n moved down, kissing down her cleavage, sucking the middle and down to her underboob, making sure to suck on the skin there too. She licked a long stripe along the underside of her right boob before sucking on it, simultaneously she flicked at her other nipple and it earned her a high cry of pain with a mix of pleasure.

“Want me to fuck you with my mouth?” Y/n questioned, mumbling against her stomach as she kissed down the skin while Yunjin was heaving under her. Her nipples aching after the treatment, wanting more of it, but also wanting Y/n’s mouth on her cunt.

Yunjin was almost embarrassed. She wanted nothing more than for Y/n to go down on her because she was leaking wet. She was quite sure it would soon be visible through her grey sweats if the lead wouldn’t remove them and slurp all her juices up. There was tension between her thighs, it had been there for a while and she wanted Y/n to do something about it.

“I want your mouth to eat me out.”

“Want me to eat you out like you’re a whore or a good girl?” Y/n questioned and Yunjin whimpered at the words that sent heat over her whole body. Her pussy was throbbing uncomfortably and Y/n was kissing just above the hem of her sweats, sitting between her legs that were spread wide for her. The guitarist hummed and cupped the girl’s heat, pressing right where she needed her with the pad of her palm, feeling hips push and subtly hump against her. The girl twisted the sheets in her fingers. “Which one are you for me?” She asked further and watched the shaky sigh that Yunjin released.

“Think you might be a whore the way you begged me to fuck you, how you’ve been coming over complaining all while imaging how it would feel to get fucked by me.” The vixen teased, rubbing the pad of her thumb against the warmth, it was enough to make the thighs quiver.

“I don’t fantasise about you.” Yunjin defended and Y/n removed her hand from her covered pussy. She sat back on her heels and wrapped her fingers around the hem of her sweats.

“The walls are thin, cutie.” Y/n teased and caught the way Yunjin’s eyes widened at the words as she had taught that the only reason why she heard Y/n’s music was because she blasted it so loudly.

“Once.” To her defence, she had been tired and horny and Y/n had just gotten on her nerves by slamming a door in her face while also giving her backhanded compliments.

Okay, she had started crushing and was desperate despite Y/n being mean to her. It left Y/n running on her mind, her pussy suddenly was wet, and she found herself in her bedroom fucking herself while thinking and “mumbling” about Y/n and what she wanted.

This was far from who the girl was, but somehow she just forgot about dignity around the Y/n.

“Still doing it–” Y/n concluded, tongue out and playing with the corner of her lip as she slowly started to pull the sweats down. The ginger lifted her hips, feeling her underwear slowly peel off of her sticky cunt. Y/n threw them off her bed, letting them fall onto the floor. Her smile wasn’t disappearing as she looked at Yunjin’s wet cunt that was glistening with juices. The vixen leaned forward, seeing how embarrassed the girl looked, her hand fell beside her head, her right coming between the younger’s legs.

The moan came right away when cold fingers ran through her folds, spreading them together with her sticky mess, only making it that much worse. She could feel it run down her ass and onto the sheets. “So desperate, such a fucking perv, fucking yourself, moaning my name and thinking about me. Should I get a restraining order?” Yunjin couldn’t comprehend it, but there was just something so hot about Y/n being so mean to her, humiliating her and degrading her.

The guitarist was very well aware of it when the girl bucked her hips at the words. Her eyes faded in bliss, losing focus and lids hooded with fingers twisting the duvet. “Come on, tell me how bad of a whore you are. Aren’t you embarrassed?” Y/n ushered, the sounds slowly occupying the room as her middle finger teased the clenching hole, barely dipping it in before she circled the greedy and sopping entrance where everything was leaking out.

“Fuck, I am, but I just want to get fucked by you at least once, Y/n.” She whined, admitting to having the hots for her new neighbour that she had found herself perving over in her head. “I’m sorry, it just happened,” she continued to whine, on the verge of tears at how embarrassing it was for her, but at the same time, it was making her cunt throb more while it was toyed with by the slender fingers she had imagined before this. Yet Y/n wasn’t touching her where she wanted her.

“You’re not sorry, I just know you will go home and continue fucking yourself while thinking of me. Tell me what you thought about when fucking yourself.”

“Your fingers deep inside me ‘cause your hands are so fucking–” She choked, two fingers stretching her hole as they slowly pushed in. Y/n watched how her lips parted, tilting her head to admire the girl better. The hands that could shred on a guitar were slender, veiny and had long fingers–she no longer had to imagine what they could reach. Y/n pushed knuckle-deep into the girl and slowly started to pump the clenching hole while curving up and caressing her g-spot. The sopping sounds her pussy was producing was shameful because of how wet Y/n was able to make her with just some words and touching.

They barely knew each other, but Yunjin was already giving up her dignity for the vixen.

“How you would play with my clit,” her back arched when Y/n pressed the pad of her thumb against her clit, pressing against it, slowly circling it and letting Yunjin fuck herself against her. “I wanted your hands around my neck and your spit in my mouth for being so fucking bad and thinking about fucking you when I barely know you.” Y/n bit her lower lip, her fingers being squeezed as Yunjin was getting turned on by her own words. All those things she had fantasised about came right back to her mind and left her uncontrollably pulsating from the inside.

She sat back on her heels, hand running over the ginger's stomach and between her breasts until she reached her slim neck. Yunjin moaned louder at how perfectly they wrapped around her throat, slowly stopping the air that was flowing to her head. Her hands quickly grasped at Y/n’s wrist, unable to stop the grinding of her hips, the squelching sounds filled the room, and her moans grew strained as there was only a small amount of oxygen getting to her.

“Y/n…” She strained out, nails digging into the wrist as her eyes rolled back. The sounds muffled.

“Open your mouth wide if you want to take a breath, needy slut.” Y/n ordered and the girl gasped as she opened her mouth. The band member leaned over, fingers speeding up in her cunt and making Yunjin plant her feet down and raise her knees to press more into her. Despite barely being able to see, all the pleasure, it was overwhelmingly good while also barely being able to comprehend what was going on. Y/n fucking her like a toy with her fingers, choking her, ordering her, and spitting in her mouth while her pussy was letting out sopping sounds just how she had wanted it to look.

Her tongue stuck out, and the spit landed right on it, warm and spreading over it. The hand on her throat let go and she barely managed to take a breath when Y/n used her hand to force her mouth closed. “Fucking swallow before you try anything else.” And she did just that, swallowing the spit that had lingered on her tongue, it felt like a reward to have Y/n spit in her mouth.

“Good, live your dream.” Y/n teased and ran her thumb over Yunjin’s wet lips, and tugged down on her plump bottom lip. She gestured with her head to the girl who was barely present as she was moaning and squirming under her, but she got the memo. Yunjin sucked the thumb into her mouth as Y/n pushed until she reached her knuckle, it was close to making her gag and Y/n started to pull out. Her cheeks hollowed and let go with a pop before another whimper left her.

“Please, make me come, I want it so much, please.” She begged and Y/n pulled her fingers out of her sopping hole that had a warm and snug grip on her. Yunjin wanted to whine and complain but stopped when Y/n moved down and got on her stomach.

She did not wait as she had come face to face with the pink and wet pussy. The girl held her legs spread wide, pulling them even further apart and inviting Y/n to start eating her out. Her raised to watch when she would do it, wanting to see her pussy get eaten. To see the look on Y/n’s face of how big of a mess she made her because she had been thinking about this.

Her tongue came out, flat and dragging up her slit, parting the swollen lips of the girl’s puffy pussy. It made her hum at the taste and she went right back down to tease her hole and gather more of the juices onto her tongue.

Her head dropped at the feeling. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Yunjin’s hand flew to Y/n’s hair, eagerly pushing her head into her pussy. The piercing dragged along her slit, adding a new sensation of the barbell that circled her clit and made her hips raise. Y/n wrapped her slim arm around the girl’s thigh, gripping the flesh between her fingers, kneading it while drowning in Yunjin’s sopping pussy.

Those plump lips wrapped around her swollen clit, tugging on it before she suckled. It made Yunjin whimper, her legs quivering around Y/n’s head and she moved her leg over her shoulder, her heel digging into Y/n’s spine as her hips humped at her face. The tongue firmly flicked, pressing the piercing against it before going right back to flicking in a way that was making Yunjin writhe into the sheets. Her moans grew gradually louder, sounding more needy and strained with every hard flick against her swollen slick bud. The pink nerves were sensitive and slowly brought her to the edge because of the muscle that was toying with it.

“Oh God, so good, your tongue is so fucking good.” She whined out a moan.

The lead guitarist nuzzled her face into the girl's cunt, her fingers coming right back to the clasping hole that she pushed into. Y/n pressed them right on her g-spot, applying just the right amount of pressure to make the girl under her spasm. Yunjin was losing her mind over how well Y/n was working on her pussy. The tension was quickly growing in her stomach, pushing it all down and she was right on the edge again. Her breathing grew quicker and deeper, each moan more breathy if not breathless at times.

Y/n grazed her teeth over it and put her tongue flat against it, letting Yunjin fuck herself against her, the piercing moving over the clit. Her hair was being tugged on, the heel digging deeper into her spine from how the girl was pushing her sticky cunt into her face. She sucked the clit back in between her lips, tongue stiff and working hard against the bud, doing quick flicks that Yunjin could feel spread through her whole body as each nerve was being sparked with light.

“I’m gonna come!” She cried out, body tensing up, her back arched off the bed and her vision washed over with black as she lost control over her voice.

Y/n looked up at the girl from between her legs, lips tugging at how loud the girl was who clasped around her fingers, holding them in a chokehold while her walls thudded just like her clit. Her voice strained and her thighs were shaking, making Y/n slap the flesh and grasp at it. It only fueled Yunjin’s orgasm who was fucking Y/n’s mouth herself at this point with the way her hips were stuttering into her mouth. It landed her Y/n’s palm against her thigh once again, much harsher and the pain stung right through it and to her overstimulated bundle of nerves.

Slowly her moans died down and all that was left was the sounds of her trying to catch her breath. Her eyes closed and her hands covered her face at how lost she felt. Her body slowly relaxed into the bed, trying to figure out how she ended up here to begin with all while Y/n was still between her legs. It was making it hard to focus on anything else besides the tongue.

She pulled her lips away from the sensitive bud that was making the girl’s legs spasm every time she touched it. Her fingers slowly pulled out and she leaned down, licking everything up, cleaning the mess she made. It was bringing back the soft whimpers and gasps as her tongue worked at the pussy with kittenish licks.

“Fuck.” She exclaimed when Y/n slapped her thigh once again with a grumble and she shakily removed her leg that had been wrapped securely around her. Her eyes followed Y/n who sat up, her chin and nose glistening with her wetness and all Yunjin’s shame was gone as the sight made her thighs clench again.

The ginger was about to sit up only to get shoved back down. Y/n gave her that pompous smile as her hands reached behind her back. “Time to pay back for making your perverted fantasies come true. Or is eating me out one of them too?” Her breath hitched when the lacy bra unclasped and Y/n let it fall down her shoulder before throwing it to the side. The vixen revealed her small and perky breasts to Yunjin, her nipples hard and Yunjin was slowly going into overdrive. Her pussy was still going through aftershocks yet her clit was throbbing at the view of Y/n naked and her words.

“Please, ride my face.” Y/n let out a breathless chuckle at the request, running a hand through her dark hair. The naked girl on her bed had lost all shame, begging for her fantasies to come true.

“Have you imagined me riding your face, using your mouth to get off?”

“Fuck, yes I have and I just want to taste you, Y/n.” The girl had already imagined what the guitarist would taste like on her tongue while grinding down on her face. She just wanted Y/n right on top of her, using her like the needy whore that she was for being used after imaging it. To just be her fuck toy, to pleasure her and get her pussy fucked until it was raw.

Her eyes were eager on Y/n who got off of the bed.

“You can taste me.” She worked her belt, unbuckling it before she unbuttoned the low-waisted jeans.

Yunjin pushed herself further up the bed, eyeing Y/n who removed her bottoms and underwear. Never did she think she would get to see Y/n naked, or even get fucked by her. The vixen did not look like the kind to bring someone like Yunjin to bed, but maybe that was her thing. Coming off as completely riveting to people who were opposites to her.

“You’re going to eat me out like a good little pussy eater because you want me so bad.” Y/n’s voice was humid as she spoke while getting on the bed. Her eyes set on Yunjin who felt like prey and she wanted nothing more than to be one. The vixen’s slim body was like a cat the way she crawled over to her.

“I want to taste you, be good and eat you whenever you want me to.” She licked her lips, and her eyes fell onto Y/n’s heat when the girl straddled her chest and Yunjin grabbed hold of her protruding hips. She looked like she would start shaking if Y/n wouldn’t let her get a taste. Her fingers ran over the tattoos that went along her skin, tracing the stars but her eyes were stuck to the pink pussy that was waiting for her mouth. It made her one hand run down between them, trailing her skin.

“That’s what perverts like you want, you dream about having sex with me all day and get off on these thoughts. Not many have the chance to live through it.” Y/n tangled a hand in the orange hair, threading her fingers through it and Yunjin looked up at her to meet her eyes. It made her thighs clench to see Y/n looking down at her. “Do it well and I will let you eat me out again, might even fuck you more times than just today.” That was more than motivation for Yunjin who used her arm to pull Y/n right over to her mouth.

A light moan fell from Y/n’s lips and Yunjin moaned right after when she ran her tongue over the slit. Her hand was busy between her legs, playing with her clit to the sounds Y/n was making, to her taste, and to having her ride on top of her. It was all turning her on so much more than she already was as she had only been able to imagine what Y/n would sound like in bed.

Y/n gripped the headboard of the bed, moving her hips into Yunjin’s face who was eating her out like her life depended on it. The moans slipped out of her mouth at how good it felt to have the girl’s slick tongue slide between her folds, teasing her clenching hole and her nose stimulating her clit. All she had to do was slightly move her hips while the girl greedily did the rest, slurping at her like she was starved.

Yunjin moved her hand down from Y/n’s hip and to her plump ass, kneading her cheek in her hand. Her mouth lapped at her pussy, taking in everything she could get while her nose continuously rubbed at the clit. The girl had her eyes on Y/n though who had her head thrown back while arching, unable to look away while she worked with her mouth on her cunt. She continued to fuck herself while doing so, her hips bucking into her fingers as she was sensitive. It was like watching an erotic scene in Yunjin’s eyes who was fucking herself and Y/n as she was unable to not fuck herself at the sight.

“You’re doing so good, fuck you’re a good fucking whore, aren’t you?” Yunjin moaned in response, pressing her nose harder against Y/n’s clit who continued to fuck her face. Her nails digging in the firm flesh of her ass, tongue probing at her hole. The sounds filled the whole room, Yunjin’s tongue lapping at the wet cunt, Y/n moaning and whimpering with each move of her hips that were perfectly grinding against Yunjin’s face. The younger girl was taking it all, letting it smear over her mouth and chin, wanting to be covered in Y/n’s mess.

“I want you to come on my face,” she mumbled as she momentarily pulled away. Her voice quivered as she could feel herself about to orgasm once again.

“It’s all for you, fucking cumdump. All you’re good for is being a freak that eats pussy.” Yunjin cried out at the words that shot right to her poor clit that she had gotten abused by Y/n and couldn’t help but abuse herself too. She was too needy.

“Call me a perverted freak, Y/n.” She begged, her eyes closed this time.

“You’re nothing but a perverted freak–Oh God, but you eat pussy so well.” Those backhanded compliments sent Yunjin to her edge.

Y/n’s thighs trembled, her nails digging into the girl’s scalp as she let out a long and light moan as her back arched and her hips stuttered into Yunjin’s face. Her orgasm washed over her while Yunjin was going through her own, her thighs clasped around her hand while Y/n’s were squeezing her head. The pulling on her hair only added to all the pleasure.

She only stopped toying with her clit when Y/n came down from her peak, slowly stopping the movement of her hips. However, she held the girl in place by holding onto her orange hair.

“Fuck, clean my mess for me too,” Y/n said and bit her lower lip as she looked down at Yunjin who worked her tongue, her jaw slowly going sore as she did her best to clean up every little trace of the slick left. The vixen looked over her shoulder, catching the hand that snuck out from between Yunjin’s trembling thighs.

“Did you fuck yourself?”

She hummed and Y/n lifted her hips, looking at Yunjin whose nose, chin, and plump lips were glistening with her slickness. It was photo-worthy as the girl looked like she had been fucked for hours multiple times from how satisfied she was with what she got. It was as if the smallest drop of water would satisfy her thirst and Y/n realised how big of a freak the girl was. It was hot, to say the least.

The guitarist moved off of her and got off the bed while Yunjin was gathering herself.

Had she just fucked her mean, but hot neighbour?

Yes.

Did she regret it?

No.

She would gladly go through this again because it was much better than she had imagined.

Her pussy was still throbbing and her perverted fantasies about her mean neighbour had come true. Whatever judgement she thought she would get, Y/n didn’t give, but instead gave in to Yunjin’s desires for her.

Her eyes scanned the room one last time, the blinds were down, it was dimly lit and more on the messy side, but not dirty as it smelled of sex and vanilla now. She at last looked at the ceiling after being so lost in the pleasure her eyes squinting as her specs were discarded.

Only now seeing the graffiti on the girl’s ceiling right above the bed in black which read;

“A.D.I.D.A.S?” She confusedly questioned as it seemed random.

Y/n rolled her eyes while rummaging through her wardrobe. “You’re so lame.”

“What?” Yunjin still had no clue what it meant, however she knew that Y/n found her lame. At least she found her hot and fucked her so it didn’t matter. The more lame Y/n found her, the more Yunjin got off. The ginger quickly got up from the bed after getting back the feeling in her jelly legs. Quickly trying to gather her clothes and put them on all while looking at Y/n who was picking out clothes from her wardrobe, some falling out and landing on the floor in a pile.

“Nothing, I have to get ready for the concert tonight. You could come, bring a friend.” Y/n threw the invite out there while grabbing a towel and covering herself with it as she had to shower before. She at last turned to look at Yunjin who had just pulled her shirt over her head, fumbling with her bottoms.

“None of my friends listen to your band's type of music.” The girl mumbled. However, Y/n’s tongue did make her rethink and want to try and listen to the music.

“Those are my underwear and are you sure?” Y/n pointed out with that almost malicious grin as she bit her lower lip. Her siren-like eyes set on Yunjin who held the black lace in her hand while pulling on her sweats.

“Sorry–” She blushed and was about to put them back as it was genuinely by accident as they had somehow tangled themselves up with her clothes, but she was stopped.

“You can keep them.” Y/n shrugged out, wanting to see if the girl would do it or not. It was hot to see someone be this down for her as it had happened before, but Yunjin was down bad bad.

Yunjin was hesitant as she looked at the lacy pair of used underwear in her hold. It would stay between them in the end. “I’m sure.” She replied, quickly stuffing them in her pocket and reaching for the specs that she put back on. It wouldn’t hurt to maybe get off with them in her hold if Y/n got to find out about her fantasies either way. She cleared her throat, her cheeks burning at the way Y/n was looking at her and she wasn’t sure when she became so thrown off the rails. The vixen stood leaning against the wardrobe, phone in hand.

“So…you’re not friends with Chaewon?” She curiously asked as she had seen the two girls together multiple times, but it looked like they maybe didn’t tell each other everything when Yunjin creased her eyebrows in confusion.

“Chaewon? How do you know Chaewon?”

“You can see yourself out, carrot top,” Y/n replied instead while walking towards the bedroom door to get to the bathroom. She did look back at the girl who seemed baffled, giving her a sly grin and wink before the speakers started to blast more metal and Yunjin was left to see herself out.

#yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #yunjin smut #le sserafim smut #huh yunjin smut #lsfm smut #kpop gg smut #girl group smut #smut #fanfic #jennifer huh smut #yunjin x fem reader

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deafsignifcantother · 9 months ago

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if music be the food of love, chapter one

♥ chapter two! ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic) ♥ word count: 2.1k ♥ pinterest board ♥ warnings: reader got hurt by someone they loved before death, reader is shorter than him, bickering, reader loves tea, lonesome reader, alastor invading space ♥ my idea is that reader has a small stereo on her chest that lets out classical music based on her mood. I imagine that it comes from both her chest (softly) and the outside of her manor (loud as fuck).

Your manor is only visible to the town when the lights are on a tall hill and covered in trees. However, even if all the lights were off, people would at least know it's there.

There are two reasons: the tale and the music.

Tale, a story for the newcomers. They speak of a demon who plays music all day, doomed to play music forever. Oh, the music. The music can be heard from even miles away.

It's refined and dainty, and it reeks of misery. The classical music never seems to repeat itself; it goes on and on and on and on. The demons hear you only through your music. When you cry, the violins and cellos grow with a cruel crescendo. When you sleep, the music is soft, almost quiet. Everyone comes to an understanding, assumption, that if the music were to stop, you would be dead.

The demons who try to step closer to your manor will find themselves experiencing unfathomable sorrow and guilt. The sound of your music is the demonic ability you possess, and it's out of your control. Due to the sadness of your death, you are forced into misery in the afterlife. When you were alive, those you loved and devoted yourself to only broke your heart.

Everybody affected by your music feels that grief.

Alastor doesn't understand why people fear your manor. Your love-related pain doesn't affect him at all.

He starts up the hill, moving both on his feet and through the shadows. On his way to your manor, he focuses on the landscape. The landscape is beautiful; the forest below is so dense that the red sky disappears. Personally, he loves the music. He loves tuning in on you and hearing how you're doing. He sparsely gets to visit, so hearing the song of your heart is always so welcoming.

The worst thing to him is how long the damn walk is.

You're in your house, passing through the dining room, when the lights flicker. The people from the nearby town stutter when the usual sad music suddenly becomes upbeat.

Opening the door, you are greeted by Alastor's traditional smile. You're the one that initiates the hug. He gently wraps his hand around you, only for a short time before he pulls away and establishes his distance.

"Long time no see, my dear." He signs, his claws adding a flare to the simple signs. Truthfully, his sign for "my dear" translates directly to "sweetheart," which he's aware of, just putting faith into you understanding what he means.

"I'll start some tea." You sign, turning immediately to the kitchen.

He smiles at the jazz sneaking its way into your music. The people outside know what it means.

Alastor looks around at the new decor; the place is different every time he enters. It's all the things that you enjoyed when you were alive. That's what is most noticeable about you beyond the aura you possess and how stuck you are to the past; you refuse to acknowledge your situation, which is both a curse and a blessing.

From the kitchen counter, you look at him, seeing him behind you, his staff out of his hands.

He leans a bit forward. "I have news! Have you heard of the new buzz, the new project from the princess of hell?"

A small smile forms. "Charlie?" You remember many years ago when she appeared at your door, in tears due to your involuntary magic, begging you to teach her ASL. You politely declined, though you wrote her a long paper about Deaf Culture (often derailing to rant about your opinion on common debates/crazy events). You've never seen her again, but you're confident she's read it.

You continue, "Her projects are... sweet?"

"Sweet and quite peculiar. She believes that demons can be redeemed. How absurd!" His smile grows, his eyes squinting in interest. He knows you're devoted to being good and staying away from violence. He's here to convince you to join her cause.

"Fascinating," you can't help but show your pure astonishment. "She's on our side."

"Oh, how kind you are!"

The tea is ready. You turn entirely away from Alastor, and he lets you. Your thoughts are apparent; he has spent weeks excited about this conversation. He's absolutely fighting the urge to spill out every argument he has; he wants to mention that if you participate, you'll see each other daily. That hasn't even crossed your mind yet.

You pour the tea and take your time, a little nervous to continue the convo. Alastor's eyes remain on your frame, your casual clothing. The last time he saw you, you were dressed up despite spending your days alone.

You hand a cup to him. Neither sign; you stand still, staring at each other and drinking. Both of you already know what the other will try to say next. Your eyes are deep in thought while he is locked on you. The only reason you are doubting being involved with everything yourself is that you know your aura makes others depressed. It is not very good, isolating. On the opposite stance, Alastor always noticed how your music gets positive whenever he's around. He knows (guesses) that in the hotel, with his presence, your saddening demeanor would be no more.

He moves abruptly, you follow, and he sits on a heavily cushioned couch, dipping deeply, which makes him smile. Your soft smile grows—more piano.

"What are your thoughts?" He prompts with one hand. You take a very long sip of your tea before putting it down.

"I wouldn't make them feel comfortable," you explain. "That's all I think about."

"Ever so pessimistic, my dear. You never know unless you come to visit. What do you say?" He grabs his mic and jokingly reaches it to your face, "A simple visit?"

You put a hand to your temple. "My love," you sign without noticing how his lids droop in comfort, "do you really think I would belong?"

He puts his hand to his chin in faux thought. "Of course I do! The princess will approach you with open arms."

You let out a small, broken groan. You're not going to be winning this little debate. Alastor's going to be able to rebuttal everything you say. Knowing that, why is it still so hard to give in?

You put your hands in your lap before returning them to your temples. His smile grows, and the static radiating off him grows ever so prominent, tickling your skin. You look up at him when you notice the change in the air.

The way he looks at you gives away his intentions. He is standing tall in his usual formal way in his seat, but his eyes are ever so casual. He gazes at you more than anything. His smile is still wide and prideful.

You wiggle a finger at him. "Ah."

He squints.

You continue, "You want to see me more, don't you?"

"Who wouldn't?" He plays off, shrugging. "Your captivating presence has every demon in hell dropping their jaws agape."

"Youuuuuu," you smile mischievously, "you want to see me more."

He continues to wave his hands. "Your accusations are futile, go ahead and fill your pretty head with things such as affection," his shoulders bounce as he chuckles, "dreams about how I miss you."

A breathless laugh leaves your lips. Rather than continue the teasing, you let the positive atmosphere linger in the air. You lift your chin with confidence. "Practically admitting it."

"I know what you want me from me." He signs. You smile at how he interpreted it. You don't bother responding. Instead, you give him a sly smile and lift your cup, taking another long sip; his bottom eyelid is twitching.

The last time he saw you, he signed you many compliments and even danced with you to the rhythm of your music. He let you put your hand on his face as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Admittedly, you only started teasing him because you wanted him to tell you that he missed you. Obviously, he did. You didn't expect him to be so stubborn about it.

When you don't respond, he continues. "When I'm here, your heart sings in happiness."

You nod and sign with one hand. "Very true."

"Well, I find the sound lovely."

"Very appreciated."

You watch as he leans back and crosses his legs, lifting and finishing the teacup. You both spend a few seconds without conversation, just looking at each other. In an attempt to hide how flustered you are starting to look, you lean your head back and gulp down the tea to the point where the cup is hiding your face. But you can only keep it in that position for a short time. After finishing the drink, you place it back down, finding that Alastor is already sitting with his fingers intertwined and waiting for you. His eyes sparkle.

"My dear, I missed you very much." And as quickly as the affection comes, it disappears. "I must give the little lady what she wants. There, are you happy?"

"I missed you too, Alastor. Thank you for coming up again."

Sappy, sappy, sappy. Will you agree to return to the hotel with him now?

He straights his bowtie and stands. "My dear, I'm afraid our time here will be cut short; I have a hotel to show you, don't I?"

You stay seated, just eyeing him. Peer pressure, you sigh and try not to roll your eyes. A simple nose exhaling is enough to show him how you feel.

He leans his head to the side. "Is there anything I can do to convince you?"

You finally stand and meet his eyes. His eyes are gorgeous; you love the way he looks at you. He doesn't take his eyes off you when you step close to him. Your hands reach for his overcoat, and you adjust it fruitlessly, only wanting an excuse to touch him.

You smile. "I can cook you something for your long trip back."

"Our."

"Your."

You both lean in, smiles straining.

He tries again. "Our."

"Biscuits, I assume," you turn your heels and motion for him to follow you. The motion you make is beckoning, and when you flick your wrist, he grabs it and pulls you into him. He lets you go to see your response. Your heart is beating out of your chest. You fall for people too easily. His touch is demanding, yet his face is calm, and with how close he is, all you can do is stare up at him. Your feet stumble a bit to adjust to your new stance. He will fight tooth and nail to get you to follow him back; throughout his days, he always wonders what you're doing and your music might sound like. He'll close his eyes and try to imagine the melody in moments of silence at the hotel.

You can't find yourself stepping back. "I'm perfectly okay with where I am." A lie. "Nobody will bother me if I'm out here."

"And nobody will bother you when you're next to me, get it?" After he signs, both of his hands hold your cheeks. He tilts your head back and forth to try and lighten the mood that's getting a little serious.

You try to hold his wrists and pull his hands down, but he fights against you. He lifts your face so he can look at you head-on. The waist bends his body; he curls himself up to you. Your touch falls to his sleeves and then moves to his biceps, your fingers grazing him gently.

The music is fast-paced, like your heart. It sounds almost angelic, a new ethereal sound surrounding it.

"Okay," you fold but then immediately chew on the inside of your lip.

"Perfect!" He presses his forehead to yours quickly before pulling away. He's taking this win. He turns and eyes the room, motioning. "Packing anything?"

With a small sigh of defeat, you place your hands on your temples again. What would you even need? Like a spoiled child, you realize that if you did need something in particular, Alastor would get it for you. You smiled and shook your head to yourself. "I don't think I need anything at all."

"Spectacular!" Another dramatic sign. "Come along then." The fast twirling of his staff blows air onto you when you start to walk behind him, eyeing how his fingers twist. His head turns as he glances at you from the corner of his eye, his head dipping as his smile widens. The static in the air becomes thicker.

You take a deep breath. If you can say 'I told you so' to him, you will be bringing it up until the end of time. He knows that, so it's good that he's confident in himself and his deductions. He'll ensure you won't be leaving and isolating yourself any longer.

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #x reader #if music be the food of love

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pomefioredove · 3 months ago

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Can I pretty please have The housewardens (Plus Ruggie and Rook) with a kawaii metal singer? Like soft feminine voice and cutesy outfits and then on stage is just death screaming and gets embarrassed because apparently "Guys find it embarrassing when fem people metal scream."

interesting... I'll see what I can do!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kawaii metal singer

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, kalim, vil, rook, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral but implied feminine in the way they dress, reader is not specified to be yuu

imagine having a conversation about music with Riddle

he's pleasantly surprised!

he thought he had nothing in common with you

but you're a musician!

to him, mastering an instrument is akin to mastering a subject or acing an exam

and he'll talk your ear off about his favorite composers and concertos

of course, he's curious about what you play

so, you show him a song

and he's...

...well...

it's... music, he supposes

it takes the same skill to play (perhaps even more?) so he's still impressed. just... surprised!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona's reaction? yawn

a musician is just like a theater kid with a weapon

based on the way you dress, he can already guess

piano? pop? wannabe indie?

undoubtedly something upbeat and fast

that he has no interest in

it's not until he starts hearing the whispers that he gives it a second thought

funny enough, it's the other boy's dislike that draws him in

and, oh, was he wrong

the first time Leona hears you screaming, he's smitten

you've got some voice on you, that's for sure

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie already associates femininity with strength

(whether you're girl or not, mind you)

so, he's not really taken aback or 'nothin

you show him a clip of one of your performances, and his reaction is more like:

"Cool. Nice chords. What's for dinner?"

he knows that not everyone is gonna see it that way

but to him, it's nothing to write home about

...unless he thinks you're gonna be a good provider for him

then he might tell his grandma he's bringing you home for break

"How much do you singers make, anyway?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul was captivated from the start

when Jade came back to him with intel on you, he wasn't expecting you to be a singer

how intriguing...

Azul is a musical person himself, so, of course he was curious

but it's not until he tries to strike a deal with you that he realizes he was very, very wrong

your voice in exchange for anything you desire...

...and you start laughing at him

"my voice? do you know what I sing?"

Azul is a little taken aback by your reaction

now, what's so funny?

eventually, you share a little of your work, and he...

...well, he's impressed, that's for sure

it takes a lot of vocal training to be able to do that

but unless Floyd takes up a new hobby, he has no use for a metal singer's voice

so, for now, he'll simply admire your talent from afar

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

People tend to see Kalim as this witless little flower who can't be exposed to anything "scary"

and, sure, he can be naive at times

but it actually takes a lot to freak him out

he's also been hanging out with Lilia Vanrouge for two years, so, you know

he'd just be impressed, if anything

"Wow, that's so cool! I wish I could do that, but my voice can't go that high, and Jamil doesn't want me to hurt my throat..."

I mean, really impressed

he'll beg you to show him all of your songs

and he might try to get you to one of his club meetings, too

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is more like,

"Well, I hope you're taking adequate care of your throat. You'll overexert yourself if not,"

...so, no

he's not even phased by it

Vil is a performer himself, after all

he's more concerned with your physical and mental wellbeing than you being "embarrassing"

the next day, he'll show up at your door with an armful

this is for your throat, this will keep your skin from drying out under the lights, this foundation is designed for stage...

he's always been generous, after all

and he certainly won't accept no for an answer

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

similarly, Rook doesn't think anything of it

he's simply taken by you

...your devotion, your energy, your heart!

sometimes he, too, feels like screaming for his passions!

you can expect him to be your number one fan

and be at each of your performances, whether small or big, on stage or just in your room

(whether you know he's there or not)

he always seems to know just what to get you, though. tea with honey? salt water for your throat?

he's thought of it before you even have to ask

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia is fangirling over it before he even meets you

listen, in his defense-

one of his favorite animes is about a kawaii metal singer!

and he was already familiar with the genre, anyway

so... no, it's not weird to him

if anything, he feels weird for never being able to talk to you about it

it's basically like talking to one of his idols IRL

whether you're a well-known performer or just make videos online is irrelevant to him

you'll be receiving a lot of anonymous donations from someone named gloomurai

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

when Lilia makes an offhand comment about your music, Malleus is intrigued

you'd never mentioned being a musician, after all

the next time you see each other, he asks

but, much to his confusion, you seem... embarrassed?

he quickly explains he only heard it from Lilia, and didn't mean to offend you, and-

ah...

that's why you're embarrassed?

you think he won't like you because others have said it's unbecoming?

humans are so strange, he thinks

it's only music, after all. it'd take much more to make him dislike you

besides, this is Lilia's foster son we're talking about. he's been exposed to every genre at least once

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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hannya-writes · 10 months ago

Text

When they call you their wife (Genshin Impact Version)

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Kaeya x reader, Diluc x Reader, Zhongli x Reader, Xiao x Reader Other characters: ehh, I think I mentiones Traveler in Zhongli's part, Diluc is also mentioned in Kaeya's part Category: Romance, scenarios Warnings: There's a little bit of violence in Xiao's part but it's not detailed. I think that's it! Author's note: It's ten days since the beggining of the year, happy new year people! Sorry about the delay, I'm terrible with time so... yeah there's that better late than sorry! Hope you enjoy~

Kaeya

“And this beautiful lady is my dear wife”

This man lives to see people's reactions to what he does and says. So he bets to himself what your reaction will be to every of his crazy ideas, so maybe he teases you a lot and flirts with you shamelessly.

He went to Sumeru to represent Jean since she was very occupied. You, on your part,were assigned to protect him since he was an important diplomat of Mondstadt.

You tried to be as professional as possible but it was hard when Kaeya found every opportunity to flirt with you.

Kaeya is a gentleman around you, treating you like his date rather than his guard.

So he makes you relax, he makes you laugh with his comments. When he hears you were assigned because of your dexterity with the sword he gets interested in your story.

Where did you learn to fight? When did you start? Who was your master? You went to the akademya? You were a Mat, Matra?

Kaeya gets really invested so you decide to answer his questions only if he answers them too.

And Kaeya is happy to reveal all of his stories and secrets to know you because you are not like most people, you don't get frightened when he says he once woke up a ruin guardian to win a fight.

“It a valid gamble” you say while nodding and Kaeya’s eyes bright like he just heard the most beautiful music of all Teyvat.

When Kaeya finally has to go back to Mondstadt you are informed that you will have the mission to bring him back to the capital of Wind safe and sound.

It was a long and tiring trip, you had to defend yourself and him more than once and Kaeya was more than happy to fight by your side.

There was only one problem in the last part of your journey: a Samachurl Froze your ankle and while you were able to kill it the frostbite was a problem.

Kaeya, ever the gentleman carried you to a safe place, the house of his childhood: Dawn’s Winery

He knocked at the door and was faced with a surprised Adeline, who hurried to get everything needed to help you.

Maybe an hour later Kaeya’s brother appeared and explained your situation, only that he presented you as his wife.

Diluc was taken aback when Kaeya presented you as his wife. He looked at his brother with a specially deep frown, making Kaeya say: “It was love at first drink”

There are three options: one were Diluc apologizes…

“My apologize, it seems my brother hurt his head and is speaking nonsense”

Another option is if you are someone who is honest and you react nervously, denying his statement, Kaeya will laugh and tells you, in a joking tone, that you don't have to get shy, this is his brother!

The last option is if you act all composed, there's a chance that Diluc will smile and sarcastically play along, as you two chat, ignoring Kaeya who will definitely get touchy at the lack of attention.

If you laugh and play along with him, he will most definitely hug you by the waist and start calling you his wife for every goddamn reason he can think of.

“My wife would like a glass of water” “I can't give that to my wife” “Diluc, she is my wife be polite” Now Kaeya can't stop calling you his wife.

Diluc

“Carefull now, Mr.client, That's my wife you are talking about”

Diluc won't call you his wife if it's not true, so you are married to the Dark knight hero, the thing is: Almost no one knows about you two because Diluc doesn't want to put you in danger.

You two met at the Angel's Share. You were a knight of favonius, he was bartending.

You had gone there to celebrate someone's birthday, only that unlike the rest you didn't ask for an alcoholic beverage, you asked for apple cider.

While everyone got plastered you chatted the night away with Diluc.

Let me tell you, Diluc was happy to talk to someone who wasn't complaining about his life nor was drunk. It was one of the best nights of his life.

So maybe, when you forgot your vision on the bar to go help one of your friends, he didn't say anything, wanting to have a reason to look for you.

Oh, and he looked for you the next day!

Everyone was shitting their pants when they saw Diluc entering the headquarters. Everyone was wondering what he was doing there, if there was a crisis, if… wait, why was he talking to you?

Diluc gave back your vision and since that moment he found the way to get involved with you.

That being said, he proposed after two years of knowing you and the wedding was at the Dawn Winery and was very, very small.

Persons who where at the wedding: Kaeya, Jean, Lisa and Adelinde, besides the nun who officiated the wedding. (I said it was a small wedding!)

I mean, being Mrs. Ragvindir would put you up in the list of people to kidnap in Monstadt, not because of the dark knight hero thing, no, no, no. It's because of the mora.

He only calls you his wife because he has to instill fear in the bones of the man who dared to speak about you

What did the man said? “That Y/n, she has such a pretty ass, have you seen it?... Come on! She looks like such a slut with that skimpy clothes, I would love to spank…”

And Diluc is not going to let anyone talk about his wife, like that in his own bar.

Yes maybe you are a Favonius’ knight and yes it's true your ass is pretty, especially when you use shorts… but no one is allowed to talk about you like that, like you are nothing but an object.

Okay, maybe he can but only when he's alone with you in the middle of some dirty session of love making.

When he say those words, he’s totally saying them to scare the shit out of whoever dared to be disrespectful to you. Because, a menace from him is something to fear, he was the youngest calvary captainof the knights. He was a master swordman.

Diluc knows you can defend yourself, you probably will kick this drunkard ass, but he prefers to instill fear in people than have you getting in trouble with Jean.

Don't get mad at Diluc, he’s a bit overprotective of you because he loves you.

The man suddenly sobers up as soon as his ears registered Diluc words. He looks ashamed and regretful of his choice of words, he offers an apology and leave because it's so damn late!

As soon as Diluc sees you back home, he can't avoid looking at you with adoration only to confess his slip up the moment you two are having dinner.

The only thing you can say is: “It's about time everyone knows”

Zhongli

“Oh, Y/n is my wife, didn't I mentioned it?”

He was 3,000 years old when he met you. You were the prettiest living being he had ever seen.

A minor Goddess with strong wings that adorned your back. A Goddess enslaved to be a gift to the lord of vortex, send heavily guarded in a caravan that happened to pass near the Guili plains thanks to an accidental detour

You were the goddess of Song and the Dawn, the bringer of peace after a nightmare.

Zhongli could forget even his own name but he would never forget your panicked expression when your eyes landed on him.

He was so damn tall, intimidating and serious that you had thought the Dragon wanted to keep you for himself.

However, Morax had opened the cage and told you in a stern and cold voice that you were free.

You were so afraid that you didn't step out until he got away from you. Then you flew away in the form of a bright and colorful bird.

You didn't plan to go back to where he was but curiosity got the best of you, so you went back and watched Morax in silence from the distance.

The Adepti tried to scare you away unsure of how to deal with you stalking the prime Adepti. However, you didn't budge. Everyday you appeared in your bird form to sing to Morax and wake him up.

Slowly the adepti accepted your presence, they even started to try and get you to stay a little bit more since Morax started asking about the bird he has been hearing.

Morax one day woke up earlier only to tell you that you could stay for breakfast and since that moment you two started to eat together.

You were grateful to him and looked for forms to let him know, from giving him flowers, act as his messenger to the Yaksha and even sing for him. He had saved you from being a concubine of Osial, there was too much to be grateful.

Between this acts of devotion, Morax started to pay more and more attention to you and even when he didn’t understand his feelings he knew one thing: He wanted to keep you close and keep you safe.

Thousands of years were needed but you two ended up getting married.

Now, in all of this more than 3,000 years of Marriage he has called you Wife, but I really like this time when he forgot to introduce you as his wife because for him is common knowledge. Everyone knows Rex Lapis is married to the goddess of Song and Dawn. Everyone who is important to him knows you.

Those being, the adepti..

But the traveler saw you two eating together one afternoon. And they saw you walking together by the bay while holding hands. Another day he saw you clinging to Zhongli’s arm while he seemed to be explaining something to you.

They assumed you two were dating. They even got to speak to you for a commission, something about a ring made of noctiluose jade.

So Traveler being a little rascal started talking about you with Zhongli and he seemed to be happy to talk about you.

“When are you gonna ask her to marry you?” Traveler asks mischievously and Zhongli laughs and say the phrase.

The travelers gets all surprised but then asks how did that happened and Zhongli is proud to explain how he managed to ask for your hand.

Next time traveler meets you, they notice the ring around your finger.

However, they notice thewhole ring is made of Cor lapis.

As you notice their curious gaze you tell him the story about how Rex lapis made Cor lapis only to propose to you.

Which makes sense since Cor lapis literally means “Heart of stone”

Xiao

“Get your hands away from my wife!”

Xiao is not a man of many words, he’s terrible at expressing his feelings to everyone.

And I mean everyone, even with you.

However, you should know that he will never call you his wife if he isn't married to you.

This is because he once heard Zhongli telling something along the lines of: “Marriage is the most sacred of contracts”

Now listed, you two met because of Zhongli/Morax. You were the first minor Goddess who relinquished your divinity to Morax and was left almost with no power, so Morax asked Xiao to take care of you.

And Xiao, being the obedient Yaksha he is, took care of you during the Archon War, and maybe that’s why you survived to such massacre.

As I have stated before, Xiao is bad with his feelings but it is good that you can basically read his emotions.

Your love story was a very, agonizingly slow burn, however when Xiao understood that you were never going to leave him, that you loved him and there was no way to change that, only then he gave up trying to get away from you… and he asked you to marry him.

For hundreds of years, Xiao called you his wife only when you two were alone. For him it was a term of endearment.

“Wife” oh, he says it with such softness and love, it makes you fall for him again! You don’t even mind that your marriage is practically a secret.

But there’s always a first time for everything. And the first time he called you his wife in public… It was something else. It wasn’t something born from his love and devotion, it was a warning.

For what felt like years he had endured listening to men flirt with you in Wangshu Inn. Every god damn male seemed to have the goal of stealing you from him. There were some female humans trying to catch your attention, but they were more subtle, smarter.

There was a man who pretended to be interested in your life as an adventurer, asking questions all the time.There was another who tried to catch your attention with food. There was a woman who wanted to take pictures of you and always told you, you were perfect. The worst one, was the one who tried to teach you martial arts.

You only accepted out of pure pressure, since he insisted so much. You were already an excellent fighter, only that you used a weapon of your choice.

The worst part was that he always corrected you, pressing his palm in your abdomen or your lower back.

Xiao usually didn’t pay attention since he didn’t felt jealous, he only peaked since you were making that little sound of annoyance you always did. That small “mhhh”

When he saw that man putting his hands on your hips to “correct” your already perfect posture, he just lost it.

It wasn’t just his anger and frustration, that was his karmic debt taking control. In a second Primordial Jade Winged-Spear was in his hands and he attacked blindly.

The man let go of you and tried to be a hero, only to be hit and cut by Xiao. Let’s be sincere, if it weren’t for you the “martial art master” would be dead, because Xiao is extremely strong.

Anyway, you fought your dear husband and pinned him to the ground until he calmed down. The “martial art master” ran away half beaten, forgetting about you.

Let’s just say, no one has flirted with you since that day.

#Hannya writes #Genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #Xiao x reader #genshin fluff #kaeya x you #diluc x you #zhongli x you #xiao x you #reader insert #x reader

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ghostofhyuck · 3 months ago

Text

NCT Dream as your concert boyfriend!

AN: TDS3 in Manila is NEARRRRRR im so excited im freaking out. (My friend and I got our seats upgraded IM SEEING 119 LIVE IN FRONT ROW KSKFJSDKDSK) also non-idol! dreamies.

Mark Lee

A hundred percent concert boyfriend! He's always interested in discovering new music so he doesn't mind joining you in watching your favorite boy group's concert. He'll listen to you ramble about your bias and even dresses according to the dress code! You two tend to match each other. Also has a small merch on his bag too, maybe a photocard holder of your bias lol. He's also not shy to ask for freebies and other fans find it sweet that he's saying it's for his girlfriend. :<

Huang Renjun

Another one who's a professional concert boyfriend! I'd like to think that Renjun's a fanboy too but he just stans a different group. He'll still accompany you because he got to make sure you're still his girlfriend at the end of the concert, jk. Oh, he also loves taking pictures of you and it alway turns out great! He asks for freebies too and always asks for two because he wants to keep some freebies for himself. And he also makes sure he enjoys the concert, listens to the setlist weeks before the concert.

Lee Jeno

You love giving freebies so you need a helping hand in this one. You managed to drag your boyfriend in this one and yes, everyone was freaking out at that good-looking fanboy who's giving out freebies, even though Jeno doesn't know who the members are lol. Such a gentleman, he carries your bag and everything but during the concert, he just watches the group attentively, probably impressed by their performances but glances at you every time you scream your bias name lol.

Lee Donghyuck

OH. This man, he doesn't want to go to the concert. He doesn't want to see you fangirl over your bias who he said, "doesn't even know you exist," but here he is, on the barricade with you. His body is aching and he's being squished by fans but his priority is still your safety. He makes sure that you're not hurting!!! Probably has his other arm wrapped around your waist. He doesn't want to admit it but he did enjoy the concert and thinks that the group was talented, but he's still a bit jealous though.

Na Jaemin

SCREAMS, I think that Na Jaemin is your boyfriend turned professional photographer during concerts. He's just there carrying his camera (if it's allowed lol) but he opts for his phone camera all the time. He got to make sure that your photos will turn out great. Takes photo of you everywhere and will praise you all the time for being so beautiful in your concert outfit >:(((. ALSO he films the performances and ments so that you get to fangirl without having to worry about your fancams.

Zhong Chenle

LISTEN!!! Chenle's THAT concert boyfriend. He'll spoil you rotten first by buying you tickets. Buys you merch, concert outfit and even lightstick! Probably would book a hotel room near the venue if it's too far from your place, so that it wouldn't be a hassle for the both of you. Asks for freebies if he thinks it's cute and he'll keep it for himself though lol. He enjoys the concert though! And after the concert he'll take you out to eat at a fast-food chain because he knows how tired and hungry you are.

Park Jisung

You probably have to look after your tall but shy boyfriend during the concert lol. He dresses according to the dress code so that he would blend with crowd. But still, he's still a shy baby!!! You two are holding hands throughout the whole concert until you two are in your seat, waiting for the concert to start. Observes the concert especially their performances, you could probably hear his small "wow" or "that's so cool" every minute. After the concert, he probably has a bias too.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream reactions #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung

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romanarose · 1 month ago

Note

oooo I got a worst Logan blurb for you if that’s okay. But Logan with a new girlfriend that treats him like he’s her absolute world. Like maybe they’ve been dating for a few months, enough for it to be serious, and they’re both involved in each other’s lives pretty significantly. But she just really cares for him, genuinely, and not to overwhelm him, but he’s the background on her phone, and she’ll put him first compared to other important things in her life. Just super sweet and fluff. Feel free to change anything, thank you

Absolutly!!! I love this Idea!!!!

Whole World

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Logan loved coming home. Even better, he loved having a home to come to in the first place, and he loved his girlfriend that was so freshly living with him that her boxes were still unpacked, and several heavy ones were still in his truck bed.

Logan calls your name, and within a second he hears the pitter patter of your feet running, scampering down the stares and around the corner.

"LOGAN!!!" You're face brightens immidiatly and so does his day. You looked so cute, little blue jeans peaking out from under a big shirt, and mismatched goofy socks on your feet. You run to him, and Logan doesn't hesitate to pick your up and spin you around.

"Heya baby, how was your day?" He asks when he settles down, staying carrying you. Your legs lock around his waste as he takes you to the kitchen.

He sets you down on the counter. "Good! Got a lot unpacked, Sorry, I meant to have dinner ready." You pout, but he just chuckles, reaching around you to turn on the oven.

"You were busy, don't be sorry. Besides, I can cook too."

"You're making frozen pizza, aren't you?"

"Always." He grabs a pop tart packet.

You whine a little. "You need real food! You work hard."

"So do you, baby." Logan plops the pop tart in your mouth. "Now, talk to me while I 'Cook.' Been wait'n all day to hear your voice."

So you did. As the pizza cooked you watched as he nailed some pictures to the walls, nodding his head and occasionally making little comments, even as you caught him up on the newest episode of the bachelorette.

"I can't believe Tyler did that." He played along with your chatter. He was really so perfect. Your loving man did so much for you, he was your everything. He worked hard, did all the silly romance stuff like buy you flowers and you liked to think you returned the favor. Logan came before everything else, not that he asked for it. He asked for so little, and sometimes it hurt your heart that he didn't ask for more. Did he not understand he deserved the whole world?

After dinner, you guys go outside for a peaceful evening of some yard work. You wanted a garden, so Logan had been working o tearing up some of the lawn and creating a border. Meanwhile, you weeded the backyard, the two of you just listening to music together. When Logan takes off his shirt, you stare at him, hard. Tense, rippling muscles dripping with sweat, moving and flexing all for you. He deserved a treat.

"I'm gonna head inside, Lo."

"Okay baby, I'll be inside in a few, gonna get this section done."

You knew he'd say that. Gave you the perfect opportunity.

15 minutes later when Logan trudged upstairs, he called your name. "Where'ya at?"

"In here!" You call from the bathroom. When Logan entered, he found you in there, grinning up at him. The bathroom was dark except for the scented candles, gentle music playing.

Logan smiles down at you. "Whatcha planning here, bub?"

You rock on your heals. "I was thinking... you worked so hard today... maybe I give you a nice relaxing bath... I can wash you, if you let me..."

His perfect girl, so eager to please, Logan takes you into his arms, kissing the top of you're head. "Only if you join me?"

So you did. You got in the tub with him, dropping some lavender oils in but not to much to overwhelm his nose, and washed him with your loofa. You even take your exfoliater and scrub him down, even massages his feet. Logan had installed a detachable shower head, so you straddled his hips and even washed his hair. While letting the conditioner you insisted on work on his dark locks, you simply rest on his chest in a hug. He was so touch starved, you knew, years of isolation until he met Wade, but you were going to make up for that. Your were going to make up for every day he felt alone. Logan's hands cupped the water, drawing it up your back where it trickles down again, keeping you warm.

"You're perfect, you know that?" Logan mumbled into your ear.

"Hmmmm.... mid." You joke, but Logan wasn't taking it. He pulled you back, cupping your face and looking directly in your eyes.

"Not funny." Logan admonishes. "I want you to say it. Say, I'm perfect."

You knew better than to argue with him. So, you just smile. "I'm perfect. Your turn."

Logan chuckles. "Good girl. I'm perfect. You happy?"

You rest on his chest again. "Very."

#Logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #the worst wolverine #logan james howlett #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #the wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett imagine #logan x reader

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cosmic-expressions · 5 months ago

Text

⋮ ♯; ⤷ hypnotized .ᐟ

i can't escape you, i'm hypnotized ―୨୧⋆˚

dan heng x fem!reader; smut, fluff, no plot; first time, emotional, awkward, a bit vanilla(?); multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, missionary, cowgirl; needy & whiney dan heng agenda; unprotected sex (but wrap it up irl); praise, marking, pet names, groping and touching and in general lots of smooching; overstimulation if you squint;

wc: 4.4k

a/n: hello on a new acc and idk what else to say except prepare for lots of nasty thoughts in the future. peace out. and quick taglist: @kuniihoonii @hoonieswhore (sorry if you didn't want to, I thought you'd like some more dan heng content by yours truly)

the night isn't so early, but it's not extremely late either; or at least you think so, since it's kind of hard to tell time while traveling through space.

but despite that, you're not sleepy; it's actually surprising because you're laying on the pile of bedsheets dan heng calls his bed. granted, the pile is comfortable... sometimes too comfortable, but a proper mattress wouldn't hurt... especially wouldn't hurt his back. and yours, by the way.

prepped on your elbows, you're laying on your stomach with legs up in the air, wiggling them back and forth, while you read a random novel you found in the pits of the archives. you had no idea the bookshelves would contain normal books, let alone such a genre: erotica.

despite its lack of logic or laws of physics, the plot is surprisingly good... or at least good enough to kill the boredom that's washing over you. the silence, at first calming and comforting, soon became too loud, as loud as silence can get. especially when one misses their beloved.

sighing, you close the book and look around the room again. dimly lit, enough to read comfortably, seems... empty. well, no wonder why, because there's only you in there. but usually... usually, even at such hour, dan heng is back, rummaging through the piles of sacred and not texts, books, and other papers he sorts. even if he's quiet, no music is playing, it's still not complete silence. the sheets of paper sweetly swoosh over each other, the pen smoothly traces letters, and the overall atmosphere is... comforting. but without him, no matter how many books you'll go through just to make some noise, it's still empty.

"here you are..."

when dan heng sees you on his... so-called bed, he can't help but sigh in relief. something about seeing you so comfortable in his room makes his heart flutter, even if it's him who had to get comfortable with this. when he lets you in in his little cave, you're a part of it; it's not his room without you around.

"where else should i be?" you frown slightly, confused by his words, features softening the second you hear his melodic voice.

"in my arms, obviously."

you laugh in disbelief, not expecting such a cheesy line from him. but when you see how one corner of his lips curves millimeters up in a snug expression, you can guess he was taking lessons from march and caelus.

"then come here. i've been waiting for you..." you throw the book aside and roll on your side with open arms. that smile of yours, one who could fight the sun with its brightness and warmth, is enough for him to cave in.

but he stops when he notices the title of the book you were reading.

he averts his gaze immediately, but the way his ears redden tell you everything. it wasn't a book from the express's archives. it was from his own collection.

you say nothing; instead, you cuddle with dan heng, limbs tangled and bodies squeezed together in a tight embrace. the moment is serene for a second, with your bodies tangled together and warming each other, being vulnerable and protective at the same time. with closed eyes, both of you relish in this moment of silence; not the empty one, but loud, loud, and intense with all the feelings you two have for each other.

dan heng tries, he really does; he doesn't want to put silent pressure on you, so he bottles up all the need for you. it gets to the point where every single one of his nerves is on fire, every muscle gets tense, and his body gets really warm. warm to the point that even you can feel it.

"is it about that book?"

"what?" he's doomed. he's so over. he's so-

"i know it's a book from your collection. but i don't know why you read such stuff... do you gather intel for... our first time?"

your giggle is cute and innocent, but dan heng can't take it anymore. he's intoxicated by you, swooned over you... straight-up horny for you and he can't keep it in his pants any longer.

"yes." he breathes out, heart thumping in his chest like a ticking bomb. taking a deep breath doesn't help him one bit, and when you look at him with lustful sparkles in your big, lovely eyes while you speak... he feels physical pain.

"are you ready, then? i know i am."

apparently, dan heng wasn't the brightest one, because all the signs, all the teasing you treated him with, were not enough for him to notice. but now it's the time. and both of you know that.

maybe he is horny to the point where he's like a ticking bomb, but he's still a clueless gentleman. his lips clash with yours, intertwining in a slow yet passionate manner while he lays you down on the sheets. your hands cupping his face, the soft skin of your palms, and the sweet taste of your lips make dan heng breath even heavier, coming in ragged pants.

he wants you so bad; to taste you, explore you, praise and worship you, just like you deserve. dan heng never caught feelings that caliber for anyone but you, and this? this is testing his limits. he's so close to cumming in his pants at the mere thought of your naked body, and yet here he is, hands under your t-shirt, reaching for the hem to take it off. he's excited, he's needy, he's so eager; aeons, he loves you so much. and he wants to show you how much he loves you.

"d-dan heng... give me a second."

your voice rips him out of his thoughts. then he realizes your top is off; you're left in a bra and shorts, while he's still fully dressed. that is not fair, he thinks.

"i'll- i'll take mine off, too-" he trails off, reaching for the zippers, quickly getting out of the upper part of his clothing.

"that's not- that wasn't the matter, but- thank you nonetheless," you chuckle and breathe heavily, the sight of your boyfriend's torso, making you only more aroused. trying to reassure yourself, you smile at him softly, hesitating a little to say anything.

"i love you. i love you so much. you know that, right? there's no one else for me but you."

you almost tear up; it's the first time he said it out loud. he told you at the beginning that it's hard for him, and yet... here he is. vulnerable with his emotions, ready to be vulnerable with you.

dan heng is fully aware of how this moment affects you; how it must be hard to feel so... exposed after years of trying to cover up. yes, he's in literal pain still, but he's ready to take it slow and eventually fuck his fist rather than hurt you in any way.

the way his eyes glimmer in the dim light, how they sparkle and glow with nothing but love and devotion while he speaks... that's it. you know he's not lying. you know he's genuine with you, and that he's ready to sacrifice himself for you...

you unclasp your bra and put it aside, getting rid of your shorts too. and when he notices the confidence, love, and commitment, he unzips his pants in seconds.

"may i- kiss you again?" dan heng breathes out, looking you in the eyes and getting lost in them immediately. when you grab his face in your palms and kiss him with urgency he never felt from you, he gives in.

"touch me. everywhere you want, but not there, yet."

"your wish is my command, princess," he mutters back, kissing you again and moving one of his hands to your waist, caressing the soft skin and curves of your body.

you feel his leaking cock against your thigh and by aeons, is it intoxicating. the thoughts to jump on him and fuck him until you pass out are loud, but, surprisingly, you can compose yourself for now. just savor this moment, feel it, and prepare by the way, you say to yourself.

and aeons, do you feel things.

his hands, big yet calloused, touch you so gently, almost as if it's a little fluffy cloud tickling your skin. he continues to spread his warmth across your body, placing his hands everywhere he can; waist, hips, thighs, belly – you name it, he touches it. but he doesn't dare to even think about touching your pussy yet, even if he feels how wet it already is.

dan heng growls quietly, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead on yours with eyes closed, trying to compose himself again. it's hard, with his thoughts racing and spiraling down to his cock, he can't do this anymore, the battles persists and he's not the bravest soldier...

"dan heng? dan heng, can you look at-"

"no, i- i can't. i'm losing control already and- admiring your beauty like that is too much- i'll go to the bathroom and-"

"dan heng!"

the slight bonk you give his head with your hand gets him out of his thoughts, and he finally looks at you with the pain he's trying to suppress. you reassure him with a soft smile before continuing what you wanted to say.

"you can put it in... but slowly. you're- you're quite big and i'm not sure if it fits-"

"i'll make it fit, baby. it'll fit and it'll feel so good- but that's for another time."

the eagerness audible in his voice is adorable, making you chuckle and flustered. he kisses you lips again, exchanging saliva in such a needy and sloppy way. all you can do in such sudden moment is gasp and melt, letting his tongue explore your mouth.

you can feel how his cock is twitching in anticipation and need against your thigh, and the thought of finally feeling it inside makes you dizzy and wet; not in your wettest dreams you imagined his cock to be so... delightful.

"ready?" dan heng suddenly pulls away and breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes for consent. the way you stare at him with excitement, lust, and trust sends him into overdrive. he's not going bonkers thanks to the last thin strings of self-control.

"ready."

he almost drools and cums on the spot when he feels your dripping wet pussy. smearing the precum and your arousal over your entrance, dan heng lets out a few moans and whimpers; his cock is already so sensitive and the warmth of your folds inviting him almost make him cry.

"i love you so much, baby." he's mumbling into your ear while pushing his cock into your pussy, slowly but surely filling you up. the whimpers you two make mingle in the air, making a new sonata that's meant only for you, for this moment, never played again. this is it, this is the moment of pure bliss, where the usually closed heart of your boyfriend is pouring out all the love he has for you. only for you.

dan heng groans and whimpers in suffering, trying his best not to push himself all in at once. he breathes in and out, warm air getting out of his lungs is tickling your neck and ear, making you even more aroused.

"more."

he stops existing for a second, taking in your word. it's only one word and yet it's like a spark to the dynamite of need inside him.

"i need- more of you, you feel so- good," you start babbling, also getting lost in the pleasure. the soft yet demanding stare you give him says a lot; you're sure of what you say, you're sure what you want, and you're sure you want him.

"just a second, baby- i want to stretch you, not rip you in two."

the quiet whine you let out makes him whimper and throb inside you. he's so close to cumming, so close to giving it up... but he needs to wait a little more.

he can't do that when you suddenly cup his face and place a set of sloppy kisses all over his lips and jaw, whimpering and moaning softly.

you relax further, the reactions you get out of him with your little teasing are so cute that you can't help and giggle softly. rolling your hips a little, you help him push his cock further, slowly stretching you in such a delicious way.

"baby, no- i'm gonna-!"

dan heng tries to stop you and your greedy pussy, but he's helpless when his cock is hugged by your tight, velvety walls. with closed eyes, he shudders and rests his forehead on your forehead while he cums, his cock twitching and painting your inner walls already.

"fuck- i'm sorry, baby," he starts, his body still shaking as he speaks. "i couldn't help it- it won't happen again, i promise, baby-"

"you may think i'm crazy or twisted, but i find it hot."

his skin is warm under your palms as you soothe his shoulders and arms, trying to calm him down. with his head still resting on your shoulder, dan heng pants and tries to catch his breath, kissing your skin softly.

"it happens. it's normal and it's fine. i didn't mind it," you continue to comfort him, your soft fingertips brushing over his skin. your breathing is steady, heart beats only a little faster in the excitement as you want him to breathe with you. and he does after a short while, his thoughts also halting to a stop. "if you want, we can stop it here-"

"no. i want to make you feel so good like you never felt before- i want to fuck you so good that you'll get wet when thinking about it again."

such a bold statement makes your eyes widen in surprise, especially when you can hear how determined he is for it to happen. your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you try to pry your inner whore away.

"as long as- as you'll be careful and loving... then i don't- i don't mind."

a consensus has been made between your voice of reason and inner whore, both sides getting what they want; a good and sweet lovemaking session with the only man that there is for you.

dan heng chuckles and lifts his head, looking you in the eyes with undying devotion and utmost adoration as he seeks the confirmation in your stare. seeing your flushed skin, body shivering in anticipation, and lips slightly parted, he doesn't need to be told twice. placing a soft kiss on your forehead, he rests his own on yours and stares right into you eyes, stare piercing right into your soul.

"i'll make you feel so good, baby- you'll feel amazing, i promise-" he continues his ramblings, at this rate getting delirious at the mere thought of how cute you'll look when cumming around him and because of him.

his cock slides out and inside you again with ease, stretching and filling your tight pussy to the brim, knocking the air out of your lungs. gasping and moaning, you reach for his hand, needing to hold it through the whole session.

you two are so needy for each other's body, soul, mind, and heart and it's showing in every little move. dan heng quickly intertwines your hand with his, holding it gently yet in a firm grip. you put your other palm at the back of his head, and with fingers fidgeting with his hair, you pull him closer for a heated and full of devotion kiss.

he's waiting patiently for your walls to adjust to his size, but when they squeeze him so deliciously, it's hard to resist. his kisses and touches get impatient, more needy, and more possessive. taking a handful of one of your breasts, he squeezes the soft flesh and brushes his fingers across you nipple just to tease you and elicit more of those cute sounds from you.

"f-fuck, dan heng-" you whimper softly right into his lips, the stretch being overwhelmingly amazing. your breathing is ragged and shaky, thoughts race out of your mind at the feeling of his cock inside you.

"baby, you're so- so tight, aeons-" he starts grunting and moaning, finally rolling his hips further into your core. "your pussy is so good i- i can't control myself anymore, baby-"

the heated kisses you two exchange while mingled together make you both even more sweaty, smell of sex filling the room, soaking into the walls, bedsheets, everywhere where it can, just to remind you later how fiery and passionate your love is.

dan heng explores your body further with his free hand, the warm palm hovering over your skin sets your senses aflame further. his soft touch is addicting, paired with his throbbing cock thrusting in and out of your pussy makes such a dangerous mix. his hand roams over your breasts, stomach, sides, everywhere he can reach. when he reaches your hips and thighs, you react immediately, making his heart flutter and mind fuzzy with excitement.

"you like being touched here?" he asks softly, fingers brushing over your thighs, from the inner part to the outer, up and down, repeat. you don't say anything, yet he knows the answer to his question right after; the way your pussy flutters around his length, how your legs shake, how you moan louder – all of it makes his head spin and causes a wicked grin to appear on his face.

you squeeze his hand and pull him closer, hand on the back of his head pulling him in for another sloppy kiss. but you trail off your lips to the side, kissing and licking your way from the corner of his lips to his jaw, neck, shoulder, and collarbone, leaving soft marks with almost every kiss. moaning into his skin, you nibble on the sensitive parts of his neck, the need to claim him and show everyone who he belongs to being too alluring to resist.

"oh, fuck-!" dan heng is not prepared for you marking him up but aeons does he love it. tilting his head to the side, he gives you easier access to all the places he wants- no, he needs- to be marked. his breath gets shallow and ragged, cock throbbing and pulsing inside you because of how much he loves this; the marks that he will show with pride, announcing to everyone that he's yours and yours only.

his quiet whimpers and moans sound so pretty, paired with the squelching noises of his cock pumping itself into your pussy give a lovely one-of-a-kind concerto meant only for the two of you; a concerto about desire, love, and trust, a tribute to love you two hold for each other.

"d-dan heng! ah-! you feel- so good- ah!" crying out in pleasure, you arch your back with a loud moan when the tip of his cock nudges at that one sweet spot, having you sob and scream his name further.

it's like the more you scream his name, the more dan heng goes insane. with his eyes closed, he's panting into your neck, sliding inside you with ease and need; he needs you to cream around him, he needs to feel your cum coating his already sensitive length, he needs to hear you more, even if your throat is already dry because of the constant screams.

"mmh- baby, you're doing so good for me, fuck- keep going, moan my name- you're such a good- good fucking girl-"

your thighs shake and squeeze around his waist while your hips stutter, your whole body being lit on fire when you cum, gushing around him and squeezing his cock deeper inside. crying out, your whole body stiffens as you lose control, pussy throbbing, creaming, and milking him with need of his load.

seeing you like this, body flushed, pleasure written all over your face, with one hand holding his and the other one gripping the sheets... dan heng can't take it anymore. he's cumming right after, thick load after load filling your greedy little pussy up to the brim, as it milks his length further.

he rests his head in the crook of your neck, panting and smiling, placing soft and lazy kisses over your neck and shoulder. you still squeeze his hand, placing the other around him, soothing his back with your light and gentle touch. nuzzling your cheeks against his, you try to calm your labored breathing.

"mmm- you did so well, darling," dan heng muses quietly, finally lifting his head and looking at you, eyes full of love and adoration. he grips your hip softly, caressing your skin with his fingers. "are you tired, baby?"

"not that much," you answer, voice quiet and ragged with heavy breaths, as you try to calm down. the intensity of the moment got to you, and now you need a little more time to come back to your senses.

"then- can we go another round?"

you freeze, confused yet... enticed by the offer. you can feel how his cock is still hard, twitching and throbbing, waiting for you. aeons, it feels so good.

with one, swift motion, you pull him closer, kissing him with newly-found intensity, one he never imagined you could even feel for him, boring loser dan heng.

"let's go."

letting out a small chuckle of relief, dan heng looks at you for a second, admiring your sparkling eyes, flushed face, beautiful features. he can't help it; he dives in for another kiss, sloppy and messy, whimpering softly into your lips. the feeling of his breath on your face, how he tries to compose himself further, it's so extremely hot and tempting.

"are you really so needy? for me?" you tease him, knowing smirk glued to your face when dan heng pulls away for a second, his head quickly turning back to you, completely forgetting what he was looking for.

"y-yes..."

chuckling and cooing, you grab his chin, firmly but not strong enough to hurt; turning his red face to yours, lips millimeters away, you smirk again. as you look into his eyes, your fingers graze over his chin.

"do you want me to take care of you, then?"

his heart stops for a second, mind disappearing right after. with lips slightly parted, he's looking you in the eyes, stare hazed with desire devotion, and everything he's holding for you.

"yes, please."

quickly yet clumsily, you switch positions, with you now straddling his lap, dan heng sitting on his pile of blankets, staring at you with his pretty, pleading eyes. his hard cock nestled between your thighs is leaking precum again, the essence bubbling at the tip, smearing over your skin.

dan heng, the usually composed and collected archivist, is now getting putty in your hands, melting under you, mewling and whimpering for you to take care of him and his length that's aching for you. this mess of horny, insatiable, and devoted nerd that wasn't touched by anyone else is for you and you only. and it's an incredible sight.

"baby-" he's whining, quiet moans slipping past his slightly parted, swollen from all the kisses lips, covered in spit and sweat; the glistening and plump lips you love to devour.

"what is it?" your eyes wander from his lips to his slowly teary eyes, eyelashes sweetly batting the tears and sweat away; but it's his lips that's your weakness. in seconds if not less, you press a sweet yet passionate kiss, tongues dancing with each other as dan heng lets you devour his mouth, whimpering and almost cumming at the mere taste of your sweet lips.

"please, baby- i need you- i need you so bad," he's mumbling, whining and losing everything, ready to cry; all he needs is you and your sweet pussy, yet you keep it all away from him, like a big meanie!

he's kissing the corner of your lips, your cheeks, neck, everywhere he can reach, softly pecking your silky skin while maintaining eye contact, his big, puppy eyes pleading for you to ease his needs. "please baby, i need to- i need to be inside- i need your pussy so bad-"

"i got you, i got you-" you mumble out, needy for him as well. it's a rare occasion to have dan heng all for yourself, so you decide to use this opportunity.

slowly, you guide his tip inside your slick entrance, sucking him inside bit by bit. you need to take deep breaths to calm down and not straight-up impale yourself, but aeons, his cock just feels so good...

finally, you take his length all inside, moaning out loud with a little cry, his throbbing cock finally nestled deep where it belongs.

"mmh- fuck! d-dan heng, you feel- so good-" breathing out, you shiver and throw your head back, chest moving up and down rapidly as you try to continue breathing. with hands on his shoulders, you start to bounce on him, his cock easily sliding in and out as you ride both of your brains out.

you can't even focus on how pretty he looks in his fucked-out state, you yourself giving in to the pleasure. eyes rolled back, mouth parted – the stimulation and overall experience being quite intense, lots of emotions, need, and urgency make you two go non-verbal for a while; only deep panting and whimpers audible throughout the room.

"d-darling, oh fuck! so good-" dan heng lets out slurred words, eyes back in his skull as he starts to drool. quickly wiping his lips, he lets out another pretty moan, pulling your face closer to his own, and kissing you with urgency. his big hands, one on the back of your head and the other one on your thigh, hold you with care, not pushing, not pulling that roughly. he's powerless, too vulnerable, and hazy with lust to even think.

with your pussy hugging his cock so tight he's close again, legs shaking and hips jerking up to meet yours mid-way. you're close too, body shaking slightly, jolts of pleasure coursing through you as you pick up your pace. the need washes over you two, mingling your bodies together as you stay nestled in each other's embrace, fucking your brains out and confessing all the pent-up emotions.

your whimpers, his moans, and screams of each other's name echo through the archives for few hours straight, as you two just can't get enough, ready to pass out then stop. the few short breaks you two take are long enough for yearning to build up again, the whole cycle repeating again.

thank aeons the rest of the crew was out, as march and caelus would complain for the next week again.

| MLIST | if you liked this piece, please reblog! 𓆩♡𓆪

@ cosmic-expressions / @ deka-dent 2024, do not repost pls

#dan heng #dan heng smut #dan heng x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #fics: dan heng #fics: honkai star rail

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aphroditesmoon · 10 months ago

Text

'cause I love this curse on our house

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: !THIS WAS A REQUEST THAT I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED! the requester wanted a fic about clarisse and reader breaking up after an argument, and after months apart from eachother, reader appears at the ares cabin at 3am because she couldn't sleep without clarisse.

warnings: sparring violence, angst, hurt/comfort, arguing, fluff at the end.

a/n: im sooo sorry I accidentally deleted ur request😭🙏 but I hope this is to your liking, and thank you for your kind words🩷🎀

wc: 3.1k

"I never learned to lose a fight, I never learned to grow upright. this is who we are."

-back to you, flowerface

----

Clarisse wondered to herself, on whether or not you'd come running to her if she were to stake this spear through her chest.

Surely, you would? Sensible, independant and stubborn you.

She knew it'd take more than some flowers and half assed apology to get you to speak to her again, and with that knowledge in her head, she isn't sure what that would mean for your relationship.

Clarisse La Rue would rather die than be caught begging for your forgiveness. She would also consider maiming herself as a last resort for any problem she's ever had.

But it has been 3 months, and everyone knows about the 3 months rule.

3 months into dating, 3 months after a breakup. And yet so far, neither of you have tried to "happy new years" your way into eachother's life again.

It is a painful observation for the girl to make. And it's more painful for her to admit that she is at least 40% in the wrong.

That is the thing about the two of you, you become abrasive everytime you're upset, and Clarisse becomes confrontational everytime she is upset. On a normal day, those traits are opposite.

The truth was, Clarisse knew deep down how flawed she is as a person, and as a lover. She is a fighter at heart.

And though she'll admit, she's one of the best out there, being the daughter of a literal war god, but sometimes it feels like that's all she's good for. Does she want to love? Yes. Does she know how to? Not really.

She loves the early hours with you before everybody wakes up, trying to convince you to stay longer in her bed before you sneak out to avoid being noticed.

She loves the intimacy of your hands instinctively intertwining in a cabin party where the music is too loud and people are brushing against you in almost every corner as they try to dance or make their way out, and no one is paying attention to how her thumb caresses your knuckles.

She loves your lips, and how they feel around her neck as you bury your head in the crook of it from behind.

And at one point in the past, she loved how easy it was to be with you. Not the deep connection or understanding, but the way you wouldn't hold it against her if she were to pretend she didn't hear say hi as you walked past her. And how you didn't mind sneaking into her bed after midnight and the darkness becomes the only witness of your loving glances and tight embraces.

But Clarisse was quick to realize later on. that she might want more than that with you. It all felt impossible. Her reputation, her need to always look the toughest and never having a visible weakspot that might be used against her in the future.

And exposing you as her Achilles' heel, would mean that everything she's worked so hard for would break down into pieces the moment the news is out.

Her father already views her as a mistake. Something that could never be his. And for that she's had to work twice as hard as any of her siblings, and still be the least worthy in his eyes.

Were you worth risking all of that? She doesn't know. She doesn't think she ever will, now that it's all over.

And what about you?

What part did you play in cutting down the fragile line of rope the two of you had stood on?

Well, you were strong, opiniated, and rational. So fucking rational that it pissed her off. While she was losing her mind watching you laughing and giggling in the corner by a tree with some random dude that looked like he was birthed by a rat hybrid during the end of year party being held in camp. You were completely fine with not being with her.

Of course she knew that whatever going on between you two was a secret, but why were you so fine with it? Are you not affected by her the way she is with you?

"I'm playing the game by your rules, this is what you wanted." You had snapped at her after she dragged you away from your boring date into a secluded part into the forest. "This isn't a game." She had blurted out in frustration.

"Isn't it? Whenever you want me, I'm there. Whenever you don't, it's like I've never existed." And you were right. This was what she wanted. Despite herself and her feelings, this was how she treated you.

"We know we're together, why does anyone else needs to know that?" Clarisse asked instead of telling you what she really wanted to.

"Are you ashamed of me, Clarisse?" She could not answer your question. I'm ashamed of myself. She thought.

Can't you see? You are the only person who's been patient enough to wait for me, to stay with me. But then I'm looking for you in every crowd just to see that you don't even notice my absence.

Oh fuck it, in the end of the day, it would've never worked. Her thoughts countered againts one another.

Clarisse La Rue was born angry, all she ever knew to be, is angry. Her shortcomings is her inability to be gentle with those she loves the most, her need to break and rip every sensitive soul that has ever pitied her enough to try and pull out that ancient rage holed up in her chest.

"You were nothing without me. I found you, I gave you something to care about, something to anchor yourself to. Cause gods, you act like you don't give a shit, but you care so much that you make yourself believe that you don't care about being tossed aside, like it doesn't hurt you when I don't look twice on your way in front of other people."

The way she looked at you as she spat each and every word onto your face, was worse than the things she had actually said.

You scoffed at her, even with tears in your eyes, you glared at her and laughed out bitterly, refusing to sob or break under her stare.

"You know what your problem is, Clarisse?" You asked, even with the cracks in your voice, her spine shivered. "Indulge me." She forced out.

"You are so miserable, that you can't stand to see anyone else that isn't. You just need me to be pissed and devestated so you could feel better about yourself. Cause Gods forbid if you don't view your self worth on how less everyone else is." Clarisse says nothing, she knew you weren't finished.

"But I don't need to fuck over anyone else's life to know that I'm good. I'm perfectly fucking fine. I was fine before you, and I'll- I'll be fine after you." And there it was. That was where it all came crashing down.

Clarisse bad one second to say fuck all, to cut down all the bullshit. To admit that for once in her life, she was tired of fighting, and she had no clue what she's doing.

But as she opened her mouth to say it all, something in the shadow of her ego had restrained her tongue from speaking at all.

And so you watched her close her lips tight, and grieved then apology she never gave, the girl she couldn’t be for you. And then you left.

Everyone steered clear from Clarisse's way, unsure of what was getting on her nerves, and not caring enough to want to know.

And that night became the last time the two of you have ever spoke to eachother.

"Clarisse." Her brother's voice snaps her out of her thoughts. He was in position with his spear.

"Aim for my chest, remember to move your feet like taught you." She instruced him, fixing her own stance. "Go."

The boy moves quickly, and just like she envisioned in her head for ten thousand times in the just a few minutes ago, her feet drags.and her hand slows down for a second- because all it took is a second for the spear to slash her chest, and slams her down on her back.

---

Growing up, you had always earned the title of the "easy" one. Compared to your step-siblings, you had caused the least problem, required the least attention, asked the least questions.

You always knew what to do. You took care of your siblings when your parent couldn't, you knew how to take care of them the way your parent would. You knew when to get things done before you were told to, you knew where the pills were whenever you weren't feeling where. And you knew which secrets were better kept to yourself.

That one doesn't need watching over, they'd say about you. Even as you're being sent over to camp quick enough before the monsters acended, you were still not worth being worried over.

Someone who takes care of others so well, sure knows how to take care of themselves, right? Right.

Of course you're self sufficient, of course even know, you know where to find medication before your sickness gets worse. Or course even now, you know just the right things to tell people so you'd be left alone.

That was the bright side of raising yourself and growing up in an environment that made you feel so alone, you get used to the silence as the company gets smaller and smaller.

But no one ever said that loneliness felt good, even as a person who's found comfort in it. Because the truth of it, is that it's the sinking feeling in your stomach that you get addicted to. It is the repetitive cycle of breaking down that feels like home, because that's the only constant thing that have prevailed in your life.

What Clarisse had given you, with her presence, her rare tenderness and welcoming touches, was something new that had altered your entire defense system. Hope. She had given you hope.

And as you stood in the house that fell all over you, surviving the damage just like you always do. You realised just how stupid you were to even think that this time it would be different.

The news of Clarisse's injury spread like wildfire. And after repressing your emotions for the longest time, you felt your chest tightening from a familiar feeling.

Clarisse have taken blows before, but never this bad, never this serious. You know that she'd heal in time, but it doesn't stop you from worrying.

How could she be so stupid and careless? Being slammed down by a younger sibling nonetheless. Even if she has no regard for her physical safety, she must have one for her pride.

She's never so easily distracted or foolish, this injury and including her little spear incident has been looked upon by others as a moment of weakness for her. They are starting to wonder if Clarisse was ever that competent in the first place, or if she has just been making it look like she is.

You tossed and turned on your bed. The sheets don't feel right against your skin. It must be the heat, you tell yourself. It must be the heat because it cannot be the deprivation of Clarisse's cold skin from yours.

Demigods do not medicate the same way mortals do, and yet without anyone knowing, you've been swallowing down melatonin almost every night to be able to fall asleep.

It's not easy to get, the last hidden stock of it from the medical room finished 3 nights ago. And if no one had noticed your sleeping problems before, they do now because of your visible under eye bags.

Your hands have been shaking, a side effect of mortal drugs. It has also been making you more jumpy, anxious.

The worst of it all is how all those symptoms only worsens your sleeping problems now. As if seasonal depression itself isn't bad enough, now you're capable of staying up all night revisiting old haunting memories.

It's easy to distract yourself in the day with all the training and learning to do.

But no one survives the cruel coldness that the night presents itself with. When your only friend is the empty ceiling staring back down at you, and the only kind of blanket you want are the ones that feels like her arms.

It was ironic, you still wanted her the way a kicked dog would still roll over if asked to.

You had left her with your head held up high. But only the gods know how low to the ground you'd kneel down to for her to look at you again the way she used to.

If she had wanted you more lenient, then she could've just asked. If she had needed you to need her more then you would've begged for her if she would've just told you.

Pushing aside the soft material of your blanket off of you, your feet barely makes a sound as you tiptoed to the door to exit your cabin.

You told yourself you don't really know where you're going. But you moved in the same way you had 3 months ago, the road is memorized, the pace is as similar, and the yearning is twice as strong.

The moom followed you from above, lightimg the way as you walked on the ground from the pavements to patches of grass.

When you found yourself in front of the Ares cabin, you truly asked yourself if you have even an ounce of shame or sense left in your head. The answer was none, all that lived inside of you was dread, ever growing. The last straw before the breaking.

The last chance that looks a little too late to be taking for.

And yet as you pull open the door ever so slightly the way you used to, you feel it being held static before a creaking noise could be made. And like memories you've seen flashing in your mind multiple times before, your eyes meet Clarisse's.

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing up?"

You spoke at the same time as her. Both of you looked as surprised as the other.

As you took in eachother's appearance, Clarisse looks at you expectedly, considering that you are the one who isn't at your cabin. "I...wanted to see you."

Her expression changes slightly, as if she wasn't expecting that answer.

"Weird hour to visit." She noted. "Weird hour to be up by the door after you're slashed on the chest by a spear."

The two of you stared at eachother in silence before you notice Clarisse's chest heaving as she breathed out a low sigh. "Do you want to come in?" She whispered out to you. You nod your head once and waited for her to move aside so you could be let in.

Naturally, your hand found hers. She clasped her fingers over yours without a question as the two of you walked towards her bed.

Sitting dowm side by side, you eye the outline of her face closely in the dark, some sort of relief is released in your chest. "How bad is the damage?" You asked slowly. You almost reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face, but caught yourself.

"Could've been worse." Was her response.

"Does it hurt right now?" You inquired again. You hear her inhale sharply and wondered if breathing was hard for her. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." You weren't sure what else to tell her. To know that she was in pain had hurt you as well, but a larger part of you did not really care for her injury. Only now do you realise how much being away from her have affected you.

Now, in much closer proximity, your breathing fans her skin, the back of her hand touching yours, and her eyes unmoving from yours, do you realise just how much you needed Clarisse La Rue.

"It doesn't hurt as much as having to watch you leave." She spoke those words in a hushed whisper, meant only for your ears. If only dhe has been a little louder. You would've been able to hear the halt in the back of her throat. "No?" You whispered back to her. "No."

"I wouldn't have left, if you would've just asked me to stay."

"I know. I know you would." She mutters it affectionately, the cold shoulder already gone. "I know you would...you've always been good to me."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and held your tears in. "Then why didn't you?"

Clarisse shrugged. "I'm never good to you."

You frowned at her reply, feeling a jolt of anger striking through you. "But you could be. Why won't you be good to me, Clarisse?" Water gathered in your eyes, your primise yo refrain from crying broken.

"I would give you anything. I would give you my life. Could you just be good to me, Clarisse?" You told yourself that you wouldn't ask this question again, no matter how much of a dog you feel like, you won't force her to give you a bone.

And so with a tear running down your cheek, you looked up at her pleadingly and thought, please, see me, want me, love me. Need me the way I need you.

Her forehead softly rests againts yours, and you hear her then, mumbling."I could be good. I could be good to you."

Her thumb finds the wet streak on your face and wipes it off. "I want to be good to you."

"Then do that. It's that easy." She shakes her head lightly, making your frown deepens. "I've had to be this person that everyone expects me to be, because of my father, and my siblings. Sometimes giving in, feels like it could be death itself. Sweet dreams before you wake up in hell. That's what it feels like trying to be the person you want me to be. Punishment worthy."

"But it isn't death, Clarisse. Not just because someone else thinks it should be.

- Not just because your father thinks so."

"I know." She answers with a more reassuring tone.

"I haven't been able to sleep without you." You tell her out of obligation. "I can tell." She joked, the both of you chuckled lightly.

Clarisse then crawled over her bed to lie down and tugged you by your sleeve to find your place in her embrace again.

Laying your head above the area her chest was struck on, her beating heart becomes your lullaby. You fell asleep soon after, with your legs tangled together under the covers. Whatever was to happen tomorrow, it wouldn't matter. Because the worst was over.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo tv show #dior goodjohn #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson

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khaylin27 · 5 months ago

Text

Guilty as Sin?

pairing: oscar piastri x norris reader; lando norris x sister reader; talks about carlos sainz x norris reader past relationship

series: the tortured poets department and part two of so long, london

synopsis: after the tragedy of y/n norris and carlos sainz, y/n moves on with her brother's new teammate, oscar piastri. can she feel guilty as sin in this new relationship?

warnings: drinking; a small segment of smut; the media being snakes

author's note: none i'm just happy that y/n is finally happy 😭

Drowning in the Blue Nile He sent me 'Downtown Lights' I hadn't heard it in a while

After Lando's birthday celebration, Oscar decided to drive you guys back to your hotel since he was the only sober one between the three of you. As Oscar drives his McLaren Artura down the Las Vegas strip, one of your favorite songs 'The Downtown Lights' by the Blue Nile started playing. "This is one of my favorite songs."

"This is your favorite song too?" The Aussie says surprised.

"Yeah, but I haven't heard it in a while. My ex boyfriend hated this song because it was 'too chill' for his music taste." You say recalling the time Carlos got mad at you for playing this song while he was driving. It still hurt thinking about Carlos. How can you stop forgetting someone you've loved for so long? "Is it possible to turn it up?" You ask so you can numb the pain that you felt from Carlos.

"Will Lando wake up if you turn up the volume?" Oscar asks you and you turn around to see what he was doing. Lando was knocked out drunk from partying too hard.

You giggle at his question, "I'm pretty sure he'll be okay." Oscar smiles at the giggle you made. "I'm going to turn it up." The Aussie nods and you both start singing the lyrics to the song.

"Sometimes I walk away. When all I really wanna do. Is love and hold you right. There is just one thing I can say. Nobody loves you this way. It's alright, can't you see? The downtown lights" You and Oscar sing the lyrics in unison and smile at each other.

Little did you know everything was going to be alright with Oscar by your side.

This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks Throwing my life to the wolves Or the ocean rocks

The night of the Las Vegas Grand Prix, it felt like you were in cage with all the lights and cameras on you. This was your first time back in the paddock after the tragedy that happened in July 2022.

Oscar walks out of room in the paddock he hears you crying in Lando's room. "Hey Y/N. Are you okay in there?" He doesn't hear anything from you which starts to worry him. "I'm coming in."

When he enters the room, he sees you crying on the couch and sits next to you. "What's going on pretty girl?"

"I hate him so much. I spent so much of my youth throwing my life for him and Ferrari and he has the audacity to talk crap about me to the storm of reporters outside." When you were trying to walk through the paddock to get to the McLaren garages earlier, one of the reporters asked if you had any comments about Carlos talking about you to other reporters. You were confused at first, but once you got the time to watch what Carlos said in interviews it got you so angry. He started bad mouthing you and your three year relationship you had with him. He even started bad mouthing your brother and the McLaren team.

As you're still crying, Oscar decides to give you a hug. "I understand that you went through a lot in your relationship with Carlos and still are. It isn't right for Carlos to bad mouth you or anything related to you. That's very immature of him." Oscar wipes the tears that fall from your face. "It's okay to feel this way Y/N. You're allowed to cry. But it's time to crack these locks from Carlos and start throwing rocks at that past relationship."

You smile a bit at what Oscar was telling you. "You're right, Oscar." You stand up and fix yourself up.

Before you both leave the room, Oscar kisses your temple. "I'm always here for you Y/N." You felt butterflies after Oscar kissed your temple.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh Only in my mind? One slip and falling back into the hedge maze Oh what a way to die

After Lando and Oscar got 5th and 6th place at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, you guys decided to hang out back at the hotel. Little Lando fell asleep after a couple rounds of alcohol, it was only you and Oscar talking.

You were a little tipsy from the rounds of alcohol you had and you accidentally told Oscar something that was only for your mind. "You know Oscar. The past two weeks, I've started to have a crush on you." Oscar was shocked when you told him, but you couldn't care since you were tipsy.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're written 'mine' on my upper thigh." Oscar laughs at your little pick up line and you notice. "Hey don't laugh at me trying to confess that I like you." You lightly slap him and he politely apologizes to you. "But only in my mine?" You question yourself.

"Why only in your mind?" he asks you.

"I don't want to move too fast. One slip and I'm falling back in love with one of my brother's teammates." As the words leave your mouth, Oscar kisses you in the lips.

"Oh what a way to die then." You both smile at each other and he kisses you once again.

I keep these longings locked In lowercase inside a vault Someone told me There's no such thing as bad thoughts Only your actions talk

During winter break, you decided to spend some private one on one time with Oscar in Australia. Before you two left you had to tell Lando about your fresh relationship with Oscar. Lando was shocked that you two were together since he was 23 and you were 26 but overall supportive for you. Lando did have to give Oscar the "if you hurt my sister, I'm going to kill you" talk. Oscar jokingly responded back "it's okay. I like my women a little older." Which got all of you laughing.

As you watch Daniel and Oscar paddle board on the Australian coast line, you were talking with Heidi. "So how long are you going to keep your relationship a secret?" she asks you.

"Well our relationship is new. I like keeping our relationship locked, only for us to enjoy for now. Let's call the vault our relationship in 'y/nscar' with a lowercase too." You both giggle about the vault idea.

"You look happier Y/N. I know that you're still grieving the years you had with 'the man that shall not be named.'" You both laugh about 'the man that shall not be named,' but it fells good to finally be able to laugh about your ex, but you had a feeling you were moving on too fast.

"Do you think I'm moving on too fast with Oscar?" You ask Heidi.

"Someone told me. There's no such thing as bad thoughts. Only your actions talk. You're really in love with Oscar and you're finally healing." She explains to you.

You both look at the Australian coast line and see your men coming back to where you were sitting. "You guys enjoying the view?" Daniel asks the both of you.

"Definitely." You answer Daniel's question and give a kiss to Oscar.

"I love you honey." Oscar says and kisses you again.

"I love you too."

My bedsheets are ablaze I've screamed his name Building up like waves Crashing over my grave

That night after spending time with Daniel and Heidi, you both decided to take your relationship to the next step and have sex. Let me tell you it was the best you ever had.

For once a man put your needs first before his own. As Oscar was eating your pussy out, you screamed his name like never before. Carlos never got down on you once during your relationship.

After Oscar ate you out, he decided to insert himself in you. The waves of pleasure were building up as he kept thrusting himself inside you. You both spent hours making love.

"How was it?" Oscar asks once you both reach your climax.

You kiss him passionately, "It was the best sex I've ever had love. I could rest in peace now." You say jokingly and he laughs. "I love you so much."

"No I love you more." You two laugh again and kiss once again.

What if I roll the stone away? They're gonna crucify me anyway What if the way you hold me Is actually what's holy?

Your private love didn't last for long as f1drama instagram reporters on the two of you.

f1drama BREAKING NEWS: McLaren driver, Oscar Piastri, spotted with his teammate's sister, Y/N Norris in Australia earlier today. Sources at the scene say that they were on a date and were very loving to each other.

It's embarrassing to see Lando Norris' older sister not only with another driver on the grid but someone 3 years younger than her. Carlos Sainz, her ex fiancé, definitely dodged a bullet on marrying Y/N Norris.

"That's so disrespectful for the media to be following us while we're on break." Oscar says angry that the media was following you two around Australia. "It's disgusting what they put in the caption of the post. They even added Carlos in there which is such a low blow."

You try to calm Oscar down by hugging him and pressing kisses to his jaw. "It's okay love. I knew the media would react like this once they found out."

"I just thought we would have time to keep our relationship private." Oscar says as he rests his chin on your head and continues to hug you.

"I know. All I need is you right now." You say as Oscar holds you tighter. The way that Oscar holds you felt holy to you. You felt like everything would be okay with just him by your side.

I choose you and me religiously

yourinstagram i choose you and me, religiously. @oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri love you always and forever honey 🩵

liked by author

landonorris yay i finally got to keep a secret for so long!

liked by author

yourinstagram i'm surprised. very proud of you little bro.

danielricciardo wow no photo creds @yourinstagram 😒

heidiberger_ let her be down bad for oscar 😭 liked by author yourinstagram what my girlfriend said @danielricciardo 😌 danielricciardo @yourinstagram hey she was my girlfriend first!

taylorswift the guilty as sin lyric 🥺🩶

liked by author and oscarpiastri

user1 mother approves of my other mother being happy 🥹

user2 @taylorswift ARE YOU HINTING THAT GUILTY AS SIN? IS ABOUT THEM !??

user3 she's glowing in her new relationship rn

user4 @yourintagram i don't get the hate about her moving on with oscar 😭 she's more happier with him than when she was with carlos

tagged: @omgsuperstarg @splaterparty0-0 @2pagenumb

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #lando norris x reader #lando norris #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

You Might Think It's Foolish

prompt: meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time creates anxiety, so, you stick to his side. at dinner, his mother calls out your clinginess - and Aemond doesn't defend you. or when someone else calls you clingy and he doesn't defend you / agrees with them.

pairing: modern!Aemond Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: short and to the point, angst, hurt and no comfort, drama, relationship angst, stand alone, cursing, toxic family, toxic relationship...? barely edited, author's tired of her drafts.

Fall. Autumn. A time of shedding the old and preparing for the new. Perhaps that was why this happened - the universe was trying to shed what was unwelcome in your life. Yet you wouldn't see it this way for several long months.

The trees grew over the winding backroads in a curved canopy; creating a golden tunnel for visitors to pass through on their way to remote destinations. You were no exception, cruising at a leisure speed while taking slow, deep breaths to attempt to soak in the beauty autumn in the Northern Hemisphere brought. It was impossible not to feel enraptured by the serenity of the country roads, music set so you could hear it but still have a conversation if you wanted.

Your passenger princess told you it was the next right.

"I can't believe we're late," you whispered, sighing in strained stress. "This is a horrible first impression, Aemond."

"We won't even be the latest," he smirked.

"Doesn't matter, it's still rude to show up when the party's already started."

"We were busy."

"You were getting a new tattoo," you deadpanned.

"Exactly as I said - busy. And you got your third ear piercing, so, I don't want t'hear it."

You swallowed, making the right turn. "That's the house?" You gawked.

"Mhm," he gazed out his window, "welcome to the Targaryen Manor, princess."

"I forget you're from old money," you muttered, finding a suitable parking space and pulling in. You gathered your belongings, including the flowers from the backseat you insisted on bringing for his mother, and vacate the car.

"You're gonna be fine," Aemond smirked, tossing his arm around your neck as you moved up the walkway. "Just be yourself, laugh at their jokes - you'll fit right in."

"I feel like I can't even afford to be here," you whispered, approaching the front door. He chuckled and took your hand, letting you squeeze it tight as he opened the door and lead you inward. "Jesus, Mary Mother, and Joseph," you gaped, eyes bugging wide as the interior.

The term "fancy" didn't even begin to cover it.

And Aemond just smirked at you, amused by your response; knowing your family grew up without money and the nicest thing you owned for years was a Wii that had been purchased from a family-friend for a third of the price. So to see you here, amongst luxury and money, was an absolute treasure to him.

However, that was short lived, because the next thing you noticed was the amount of people milling around. There was at least 13 different people in sight, and for some reason, you knew there was likely many, many more. Aemond lead you into the kitchen, and from there, you could barely keep up.

First, you met his mother, Alicent. She was a kind woman, but stoic and calculating; observant with a quick wit. She intimidated you, made you feel small, burned you under her stare; and since you were dating her favorite child, you knew she was scrutinizing you. You felt desperate for her approval, and when you offered her the large bouquet of flowers, she actually let her lips twitch in a small smile. She thanked your generosity and consideration, making you feel like you had some kind of breakthrough with her.

When Alicent went to put the flowers in water, Aemond assured he thought his mother "adored" you before introducing you to his father - the birthday boy. He was sweet; soft spoken and bright-eyed; all too happy to have a conversation with you. He asked how you and Aemond met, then what you were studying in university, if you liked it, what you wanted to do with your degree. He asked what food was your favorite, if you played sports, about your family, and if you had any hobbies. Viserys Targaryen had a kind soul, making you wonder how he and Alicent remained married.

Though they say opposites attract.

Aemond showed you around the house, stopping to introduce family members; then heading to the backyard where you were drug around to meet the hundred other family members. You were close to tears the whole time, knowing it was his father's birthday, but not knowing how bloody big his fucking family was - and that they'd all show up today. You felt blindsided, it felt like a deliberate withholding of information to convince you to come. You were under the impression it was a family dinner, but now, you understood, it was an actual celebration.

There was people everywhere you looked, everywhere you turned. Voices spoke over one another, children ran around playing tag or jumping on a trampoline; babies cried and screamed, the grill was loud with sizzling meats, and a radio played through intermittent static. Multiple dogs ran around, trailing mud everywhere, even going as far as to shake their coats out to shower bystanders. The smell of charcoal, smoke, and chlorine mingled with that tangy-good scent of BBQ; but it made your eyes sting.

It was a sensory overload.

It was a miracle you hadn't burst into tears yet, but you remained anchored to reality by maintaining a close proximity to Aemond.

You held his hand in a vice grip. You held his bicep with a curled-grip that left fingernail indentations in his skin through the fabric. You held his waist, belt loops, anything you could grab onto in a possessive grip. You constantly touched him to reassure yourself he was still with you; being your anchor to reality, tangible and real since your anxiety drowned you in a sea.

You didn't think it was an issue. Didn't think anyone would notice, so you obviously didn't think anyone would care if they DID notice. You liked touching Aemond, it kept you grounded; if someone had an issue with that, it was 100% just a personal problem. However, plenty of people did notice, and when you sat down for dinner, you were unprepared for the ambush.

Conversation was flowing; food passed around and utensils scraped plates. Drinks sweat into the table cloth, citronella candles twinkled, and laughter was in an abundance as each person found merriment in their family. You were feeling more relaxed, but the truth was, there was so many people here that you felt nauseous enough to only take a few small bites from your plate.

Aemond noticed and met your eyes, subtly opening his hand to you in an offer for comfort. You all but snatched his hand into yours, smiling in thanks as he only smirked broadly and continued eating. You tried to sample what you could, but it was impossible to stomach much of anything. You reached for your water, took a sip, and heard Alicent question your name.

When she had your attention, Alicent asked, "Have you had many boyfriends, dear?"

"Oh, no," you answered honestly, "no, I've gone on dates but Aemond's," you laid your free hand to his bicep, sliding down to take his hand with yours, "my first boyfriend."

She hummed and stabbed her fork into the salad set in front of her, muttering in a lower tone, "Then I guess I can overlook it all."

You cocked your head, setting your glass down, wondering, "Overlook what?"

"The clinginess," she shrugged, reaching for her wine glass. "You've been stuck to his side all day - never even parting to go to the restroom, it seems. So, because he's your first, I can overlook all this... For now."

Your head began to spin like in a bad cartoon. You felt your heart cement and drop to your stomach; throat swelling to suppress either sobs, vomit, or both. The entire table was quiet. "I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Targaryen," you offered in confusion. "I'm sorry if I've offended you, but it's not with malicious intent."

"No?" She mocked.

"No," your head shook vehemently. "I did not realize my actions could be interpreted negatively, and I assume you, it was not my intention to create tension."

"Oh, spare me. You haven't let go of Aemond once all night, and even now, as we all sit for family dinner, you hold his hand hostage; preventing you both from eating. Don't you think he'd like to spend time with his family without needing to make you feel included in every single thing he does or says today?"

You gulped, "I did not mean to offend you nor your family."

"It's not offensive," Helaena Targaryen, Aemond's only sister, tried to intervene. "If you feel uncomfortable in any situation, why not seek out that in which you already know helps comfort you?"

How had it come to this?

"I am not offended," Viserys croaked, "I find young love refreshing."

But this made Alicent rage, "It is offensive when you prevent Aemond from actually visiting with his family. It's his father's birthday for God's sake! We don't have an infinite number of them left! If you want to hang all over him when you're at university, fine, but when you're here? In public? Around family or elders? It's not acceptable behavior, especially when you prevent my son from participating as a member of this family."

Your mouth went dry as you remembered your parents did not raise you to ever tolerate disrespect. If someone offered insult, sure, walk away, but they also taught you to stand up for yourself in particular fights. This felt like one of those fights.

There were also vivid memories long since repressed that flashed you back to your own parents telling you, you were clingy. They didn't want you hanging off them, distracting anyone, being an overall nuisance; so they started fighting your fire with their own. They became verbally aggressive, constantly ridiculing and belittling you; attempting to keep you humble by insulting your character - saying nobody (be it man or woman) would want someone like you. Your baggage was too heavy and you knew it, your parents telling you it was why you felt the need to cling in the first place.

If you held on tight enough, the weight of your trauma would eventually anchor your person in place. It'd be too late to swim away once that anchor sunk.

You looked at Aemond, thinking he'd tell his mother to quiet down, but he never did. He just stared at the table, so, you tossed his hand into his lap - feeling disgusting by his physical touch right now.

It was evident he wasn't going to defend you, so, you defended yourself, "I know you might think it foolish, but the reason I was 'all over' your son was because I was caught off-guard by the number of family members who attended today. I was lead to believe this would be a small, intimate affair so I could properly meet his nuclear family, and when I realized that was not the case, yes, I held onto Aemond because I felt incredibly anxious. I cannot control what makes me uncomfortable, but I was expecting under ten people - not close to a hundred. So, truly, if me seeking solace with my boyfriend upsets you, I am sorry, but I will not apologize for feeling blindsided and misdirected - I will not apologize for feeling anxious and nervous amongst such a large family that I've never met before, and - "

Aemond snapped your name, silencing you instantly out of sheer shock; your eyes widening a fraction. He growled, "That's enough, do not speak to my mother like that."

"So, she's allowed to call me clingy, but I can't - "

"I told you to watch your mouth," he seethed, "and not speak to her like you just were. She made an observation - an accurate one - not out of spite, like you want to do in retaliation."

You scoffed, while glancing between mother and son, nodding slowly. You mutely used your cloth napkin to blot around your lips, swipe your tongue over your teeth as you pushed your chair back and slowly stood. "You know what? I don't need this shit. I refuse to sit here and let you speak to me as if you're holier than thou," you told Alicent, then looking to Aemond, "nor will some mama's boy gaslight me."

Helaena giggled behind her hand as you swiped your purse and phone, turned on your heel, and walked away. Aemond sighed and called your name, standing from his own chair, still trying to slow you down by calling out to you. "Aemond," Alicent snapped when he meant to move after you.

"You've done enough," he told her, jogging after your retreating form while calling your name.

"Nice one, Mum," Aegon scoffed. "That's one way to make sure he doesn't knock her up - just break them up."

"Aegon," Daeron groaned.

"What? Isn't that what she was afraid of? Aemond getting too serious with her?" Aegon snapped. "He's finally happy, and you what? Had to implode that?"

Aegon's words sunk into his mother's heart as Aemond rushed after you, nobody untouched by the things he said.

Outside, you rushed for your car while fumbling with your purse and keys. Aemond followed, still. He finally caught up when you made it to the car, his hand whipping you around to face him.

"I didn't fucking mean it," he rushed, holding you securely in his grasp. "Hear me? I didn't fucking mean it, I-I just wanted the arguing to stop, I know how Mum can get and I didn't want it to escalate. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love, I didn't mean it at you - I just - I panicked - I don't know why. Perhaps we're both still very green to this whole relationship thing."

"Oh! Fuck you," you snapped, pushing him off you.

"Listen to me - "

"No, you're done talking," you raged with your manicured pointer finger jabbing the air between you in a dramatic fashion. "Your mother fully insulted me in front of everyone - your entire family, whom I wasn't even aware I was meeting, nor was I even ready to meet!"

"What?"

"I was willing to meet your parents and siblings. Not your entire extended family! You meet the nuclear family first and when ready to level-up, you bring your significant other around your aunties, uncles, cousins - whatever. You ambushed me," you snapped. "You totally caught me off guard - but instead of apologizing and acknowledging my discomfort, you just carried on on your high horse. You let me hold onto you - yet there was no word about being clingy - and you even reached for my hand a few times! Yet I was the one being slandered and labeled as 'clingy'!? But you know what? That's cool, really fucking cool, that's fine. Like I said before, fuck off. I don't need to be with someone who crumples like a wet piece of paper when Mummy Dearest starts to huff and puff. I need someone who's going to tell their mother to cut it out when they're trying to wrongfully insult me - your girlfriend. Better yet? I need to be with someone whose mother doesn't start on that bullshit! That has respect! Decency! Now get the fuck away from me!"

You shoved him back a few steps to give room for you to open your car door and get in - immediately hitting the automatic locks. You started the engine, put your seatbelt on, took one last look at your first love as he tried to plea with you through the rolled up window, then shifted into gear and pulled away.

You felt your anger boil to a new height when you replayed the entire day. How dare Aemond? How dare he try to manipulate this situation? He had no right to ask you to shut the fuck up while his mother was free to run her mouth! Well, first and foremost, how fucking dare Alicent insult and challenge you in such a public setting? How in the Seven Hells had Helaena been the only one to defend you? What the hell did you even need defending against? Why did you showing affection and needing reliable support upset Alicent that much?

Your phone began to ring, and when you glanced at it, you saw Aemond's contact photo displayed on the screen. You ignored it and put your phone on airplane mode, leaving it on for now. However, after a few long moments of stressful thinking, you turned the setting off and called your sister - knowing no matter what, she'd be your rock. When she answered, you told her a simplified version of events, and at the end, your tears had been triggered and she was encouraging you to come over to her house.

You agreed, shut your phone off this time, and drove to your sister's place. When you arrived, you were shocked to find her waiting in the driveway, opening her arms with a pout when you got out of the car. "C'mere," she cooed, enveloping you in her arms when you stepped into her embrace.

"Why do boys suck?" You whimpered.

"Because that's just how they were programed," she sighed.

"Sh-She called me clingy," you managed through your tears, "his mom called me clingy, a-and Aemond d-didn't defend me. So, when I had to defend myself, he just told me to be quiet 'cause his mother wasn't wrong - or what-the-fuck-ever."

"I know, honey," she sympathized, giving you a squeeze. "What're you thinking?"

"That I can't trust someone like that," you admitted. "And if I can't trust them, why be in a relationship?"

She nodded, "I think you know what you need to do next."

"I don't want to."

"Nobody really wants to, but it's necessary," she held your phone out for you after pulling it from your back pocket. "Don't let him or his mother disrespect you - especially in front of his other family members. I mean, shit, how're you supposed to face any of them again after that?"

"Exactly, his mom didn't exactly do it in private..."

"See?" She stared at you while you sighed, shaking your head. Your sister encouraged, "Make the call. This isn't a sustainable relationship, and Aemond shouldn't have to choose his mother and his girl - so, let's just make it easy on him, and you choose. Wanna be with someone who lets his mother say shit like that to you? Who tells you to be quiet, instead of shutting down his mother's insults?"

You frowned, whispering, "I don't think this is enough to break us up. It shouldn't be, right? This shouldn't be the end-all, be-all, should it?"

"No, honey, but the disrespect cannot stand, either," she shot back. "If he felt so comfortable to say that in front of his family like that, you don't wanna know what he's gonna get comfortable doing in more private settings." Tears filled your eyes as she reminded gently, but firmly, "Make the call."

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

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teddybeartoji · 7 months ago

Text

彡 THE WORST PARTNER IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD

☆. contains: satoru gojo x gn!reader; con-artists au, crack, satoru is a little shit what's new, he also calls you 'baby' how sweet of him, hm? wc: 1.2k

+ a few hours earlier...

on the other side of the wall, music and laughter mix together almost perfectly. the people are having fun, they're drinking and chatting, joking about the latest super cars and 'boring' paintings. rich people.

a bead of sweat rolls from your temple.

the setting sun paints the room you're in a beautiful warm orange. the big windows invite the sunrays in with open arms; they hit the mahogany wood furniture and you're a bit jealous. a bit of dust falls from the ceiling and you have to focus on not sneezing.

"ugh, we make such a good team!"

...

satoru gojo.

"we– fuck, do not!" you grumble at him through gritted teeth. "you literally left me– to the cops last time, dipshit!"

"but you got away!" he chirps back rather gleefully and the desire to punch him is suffocating.

careful as to not raise your voice too much, you whisper-shout at him. "just barely!"

"well, don't sell yourself short, babe! you do know how to work a tight spot!"

...

it hurts. his stupidity hurts your brain. squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head at his joke. "can you– be like a normal fucking person? never say that again."

your knees about to buckle from below you and you're also losing your balance alongside your patience. it's rather hard to hold a 6'3 man up on your shoulders.

who could've guessed?

more dust falls onto your nose as satoru works on unscrewing the vent in the ceiling. it's painted gold. because why wouldn't it be, right? rich people are insane.

"what do you mean?! you were in a 'tight spot' and you got out of it!" it's sickening how genuine he sounds. "get it? it's called a tight spo— "

"could you possibly– stop saying the word 'tight'?" you grip onto his polished shoe that's sitting on your right shoulder while the fingers of your other hand dig into his ankle. "and could you possibly do this any fucking faster?"

he has ruined your suit with his dirty shoes and he has ruined your mood with his stupid jokes. you hate him.

he simply laughs at your annoyed tone "almost there, baby, almost there."

you try to make him explode with your mind for calling you baby again, completely and blatantly ignoring the butterflies that now occupy your stomach. you're just a bit nervous about the job, that's all. they have nothing to do with him. nothing at all.

you hear him shuffling around, mumbling something to himself as he reaches over to the last one, but while he doing so – he ends up putting way too much pressure onto your right shoulder which in turn makes you take a wobbly step forward. satoru's hands grasp onto the wall beside him in an attempt to help you regain your balance.

"c'mon! steady now!"

"shut the– " with furrowed brows, you glance up at him. sensing your gaze, he looks down at you with the prettiest smile. no, wait. just a smile, just a smile. fuck, you really hate him. "fuck– up!"

he gives you a quick wink before continuing his work and you avert your gaze. you can already feel the bruises blooming under your suit and shirt, reminders of his touch for the continuing weeks.

"you're way heavier than you look, gojo."

the sound of his gasp, makes your eyes roll back into your head. "are you calling me fat?"'

"yes. are you done?"

he tsks at your sharp answer and pockets his mini screwdriver. "so rude. and yes, i'm ready." as he speaks he takes the cover from it's place and slides it inside the vent. "be strong now!"

refraining from barking back, you divert all of your focus onto your core muscles and thighs. satoru lodges his one leg onto one of the fancy tall cabinet and you the uneven weight almost ruins you both. holding onto the wall with your now free hand, you observe him climbing up into the vent. the leg on your shoulder shakes and wobbles, threatening to run off but satoru doesn't seem to mind. you're sure he's having fun. the shit.

he manages to get his hands inside the vent and he's now trying to jam his whole body through the hole. his foot finally rises from your shoulder and he almost hits you in the face with it as he swings it around, supposedly gaining momentum for a final push. you sigh and brush off the dirt and dust from your suit.

you look around the room as you wait for him to turn himself around in the small vent. the sun warms your skin and you take the moment to enjoy the band through the walls of the room. exquisite paintings hang all around you, hugged by dark wooden frames, they rest in the shadows. specks of dust land on your nose and you look up.

he's grinning.

oh no.

"satoru..."

your warning does nothing but excite him even further.

"oh? ...not gojo?" his smile stretches. "but you love tight spots! i'm sure you'll find another way in, babe."

you're going to kill him.

deeply breathing in through your nose, you give him the biggest and also the fakest smile in the word.

"satoru, baby..." you hate how smug he looks. you want to wipe that stupid fucking smile from his face.

"you know that i just love tight spots and that's exactly why... you should pull me the fuck up!" your whisper-shouting turns into a full bark and satoru giggles behind his hand "right. now! i don't wanna find another way when a way is literally in front of me!"

his eyes twinkle at you when he realizes you actually used his own joke against him. you're so fucking hot. and you're especially hot now that you're glaring at him with a puffed out chest. he's having the best time of his life.

"that was good. that was really good actually." he winks at you as he moves to grab the vent cover from behind him. he places it back over the hole with a painfully slow pace, surely just to make you suffer even some more. he's sick. he's still visible enough for you to see the infuriating smile on his lips as he plays with you. "you did take my keycard though."

right.

he's as bratty as they come, as pretty as they come. petty! petty...

and this is his little payback. you're going to burn his house down. preferably when he's still in it. he gets on your nerves like nothing else. his eyes fucking sparkle from between the metal bars of the vent cover and your fingers curl into tight fists on your sides.

"i hate you."

"you'll get over it, baby. i'll see you later, yeah?"

his pearly whites flash at you one last time and then he's already climbing over the cover, heading straight for the room where they keep the goodies. without you.

...

a dusty suit, sweat, aching shoulders and pure, unadulterated rage.

you need a new plan.

and a fucking drink.

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makeyoumine69 · 8 months ago

Text

Spit In My Face

— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.

— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).

— WORDS: 21k (oops)

— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face

— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].

Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.

“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you.

All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"

His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options."

You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."

Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”

With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection.

"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.

"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"

Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:

“We’ve arrived.”

"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.

Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?

As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.

"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around.

"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."

"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form.

When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way.

"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.

Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:

"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again! Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."

'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”

The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.

Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned.

"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"

"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.

"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."

"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.

“Please, follow me.”

Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.

“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”

"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."

Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.

“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"

“Yes, Miss.”

"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.

Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.

"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.

The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."

“Are you here alone?”

“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.

"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.

"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."

The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.

"Do you have a date or not?"

"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.

"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.

Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"

Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"

"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.

It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze.

"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.

"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?”

First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”

“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”

With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.

“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”

“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”

With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.

“Time literally stopped for me when you left.”

'What a beautiful flattery.'

After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.

“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”

“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.

And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.

"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."

A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.

"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"

You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"

"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"

“What?”

"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."

Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”

Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”

“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”

After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.

"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work.

"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."

"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.

Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"

"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"

“Stop it, Patrick…”

“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”

Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.

“Can you just leave and let me change?”

“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”

Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"

He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”

"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."

“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf.

“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place.

“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”

With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress.

And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.

"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.

Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”

'No, not good...no!'

“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end.

"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."

"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart.

“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple.

"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.

Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.

“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”

As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.

“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.

“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”

Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.

With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt.

“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”

Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop.

When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”

'And he just stopped, holy hell.'

Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.

“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"

Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy.

'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'

A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.

“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt.

“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.

Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.

“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”

“You…Only y-you...”

Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."

“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.

With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan.

And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”

“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.

Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”

You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”

Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“What for? I can pay for this myself.”

His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”

“But I didn’t ask...”

A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.

Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.

“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”

At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.

'Oops!'

Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:

"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.

"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."

"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.

“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”

"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”

He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.

"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming.

"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"

The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.

"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.

"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."

Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Of course!"

All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"

Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"

"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"

When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."

Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.

All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.

'Bullshit.'

"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?

Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."

You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.

“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit.

“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”

Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”

"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"

Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”

“You’re such an…”

Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.

When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him.

The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am."

Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.

His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.

"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.

"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."

Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”

"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."

'Excellent.'

Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?

"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."

"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something.

Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:

"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"

Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.

"I don't understand, why do you ask?"

Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."

Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"

"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."

After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.

"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"

A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.

'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'

"Cupcake..."

"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"

'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:

"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"

"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding."

"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.

With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.

"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound.

"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads.

As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.

"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."

"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."

"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."

Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"

“Ask yourself.”

The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.

"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"

"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"

"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"

Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away.

'No, no, no. Not again'

You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears.

'Stop.'

"Cupcake."

'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.'

"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"

One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.

"Daddy."

Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.

"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.

Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop.

Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.

"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"

"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers.

"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"

This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.

"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."

"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."

"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."

A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.

"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."

"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”

"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.

Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:

"Come back!"

"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."

Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.

Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later.

As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.

'Just leave, please!'

Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.

"Patrick."

"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.

"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."

And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.

When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.

Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.

"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.

"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."

Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"

Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.

"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?"

"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."

"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"

Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!"

That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."

Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.

"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?"

With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.

"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"

"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."

"Even worse than you?"

He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."

"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"

"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.

"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."

"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."

"That's right."

Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.

"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"

That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun.

"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body.

But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.

"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"

"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."

You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.

"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.

Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.

After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.

As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.

"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.

You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."

Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."

'God, what a jerk.'

"Can't say the same about you."

"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."

"You really think I care?"

And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.

"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."

You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."

Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.

"Do you like him?"

"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.

"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."

Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?

"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."

"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness.

"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."

The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.

"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.

"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."

You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.

Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.

Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.

His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.

God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.

After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.

A second, two seconds.

It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.

"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.

Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?

At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.

Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."

Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on.

With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"

Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.

"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening."

With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery.

"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?"

Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."

You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest.

"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.

His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much?

Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.

Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.

The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'

Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.

The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head.

"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.

"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"

"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"

"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..."

Lost.

Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents.

"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"

A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.

"HEY! We were just trying to help!"

"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"

Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?

"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"

At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it.

"Who did this to you?"

'You did.'

But he would never know.

"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?"

Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.

As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.

"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"

Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine.

"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"

Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."

Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"

You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.

Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.

Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.

You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."

Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."

The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.

"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face.

"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."

A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.

"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"

What the hell was going on inside your head?

Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.

Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?

When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.

"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."

Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."

"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."

"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."

Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."

To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.

"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.

"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."

He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.

"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."

You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.

"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."

This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.

There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.

Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place.

Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.

“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”

His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”

“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”

“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink of poverty?”

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”

'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'

You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”

Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.

With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”

“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.

“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.

You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”

“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”

His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”

Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.

“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”

“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”

He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”

“Good for you.”

You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.

“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”

Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him.

“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his.

Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.

'It's already too much.'

Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage.

“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”

Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”

His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”

Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race.

“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'

After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves.

“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”

“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”

“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”

Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?

With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours.

“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”

It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.

“And what do you do to relax?"

“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”

“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”

With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."

At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.

“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”

“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”

“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”

“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”

At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that.

You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.

In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new.

The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you.

'Excellent!'

Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.

Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.

Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting — the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.

Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.

“Cupcake, are you—”

A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.

“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”

Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself.

How could he let this happen?

As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.

Never.

"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality.

"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully.

"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."

"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.

"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"

Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper.

After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again.

Emotions were overtaking you.

Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”

“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.

“Patrick! Please, don’t go!”

Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”

“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.

This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.

One, two, three…

What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?

Four, five, six…

The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.

Seven, eight, nine…

How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering?

“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.

Ten.

“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.

“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.

“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"

“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”

“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.

Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.

“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”

“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”

With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”

You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this.

Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?

Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.

Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.

That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”

“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.

Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.

“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”

“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”

As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.

“Stay like that.”

After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.

“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”

“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.

His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.

The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.

“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.

Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.

“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.

Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.

“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"

This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.

Why did it hurt so good to be alive?

You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.

"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"

Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.

"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?"

"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.

"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.

"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"

God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.

Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.

“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”

Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.

A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat.

Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off.

Jesus Christ.

Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache.

New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.

"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.

Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.

With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."

Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."

"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms.

"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"

"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking."

Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"

"That sounds really good."

Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”

With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”

And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.

“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”

A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.

“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”

“I won’t, I promise,” the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”

With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’

Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.

“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door.

“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”

After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”

With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”

“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.”

This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’

Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”

“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”

Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”

You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”

Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.

“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”

“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?”

‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’

Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.

"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"

"Not really, but I need your help."

"Help?"

The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.

"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.

You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”

“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”

Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’

Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?”

Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.”

“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”

“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”

The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.

“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”

“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”

"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."

“It was just an accident.”

“You could die, Cupcake…”

"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."

“Ouch.”

“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.

“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”

Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.

“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you.

First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.

“Pat-Patrick…”

“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”

‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’

“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”

There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.

Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.

“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”

The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.”

Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”

Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”

“Are you…really telling me this?!”

“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”

The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?

“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”

“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”

Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”

A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.

"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."

"Patrick..."

He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."

"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."

The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair.

‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.

All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.

A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.

“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”

“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”

Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”

“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."

“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.

Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.

Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.

“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”

Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”

His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.

“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."

"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."

"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."

"Us?"

"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."

With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened.

All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.

When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.

The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat.

With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”

Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”

The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”

“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”

“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”

“Thanks.”

With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said:

“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake,

I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Utterly yours, P.B.”

Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

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