#stop eating the tainted face cream

[bunny-jpeg]

lovingly dominant

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/30s), size difference/kink, dom/sub dynamic, bdsm au, virgin!reader, light bdsm, praise (kink)

a/n: in a surprising twist, bunny has written call of duty again!! expect more cod stuff into december when the f1 season is over and it stops eating my brain <3

john price considered himself a little old fashioned. he thought it was better to have his birdie of the week on her back and rut into her until they both finished. he had no need for whips, chains, collars, and whatever else the world of bdsm had to offer.

but after so many missions and so many years, the pollution of combat bled into his sexual desires. he craved for control, near domination of his birdie. yes, they looked cute on their backs and their soft noises. but it looked far more appealing to keep her blindfolded, second guessing what was being done to her while price's filthy words spilled across her brain like wine on a white carpet. tainting her. tainting you.

most dominants loved a trained submissive. loved that they knew the ins and outs of the dynamic, tinkering to their liking. price on the other hand had a thing for over eager virgins. ones who got all their bdsm know-how from horribly written fan fiction. he liked to teach and guide, he liked to shape his submissive into the perfect image of what could be.

and when he met you, oh, well something else came up. an unwavering possessive need. price tried to not get possessive, this was all just a little game for sexual pleasure. but when he found out his little trainee worked at a flower shop, it was all over for him. it was only doubled down when you had your first meeting at a coffee shop and you got the most delicious looking slice of strawberry shortcake.

the cream on the corner of your mouth almost made john price lose resolve. instead he covered up with a cough before you asked, "do you want some, mister price." and who was john price to deny such a lovely girl her offer. you even fed it to him, a glimmer in your eye and gentle smile.

"it's lovely, baby girl." he said before he wiped a bit of the cream off his beard which made you giggle. that giggle seared into his brain and he knew that you weren't getting with any other man.

you met at his flat a few weeks later, and you were eager. price liked that. sex was only half as fun when the person he was fucking was almost having a good time. you came over in a big sweatshirt and jeans that were a little baggy, something that covered up. it made price curious as to what was hiding underneath.

"look beautiful, birdie." he said as he guided you inside and you got your sneakers off. you looked over at him to help you through the flat. you held onto him a little nervous, the only familiar thing in the place. price held you by the middle and let you press your face up against his strong chest.

he was in a flannel with a white undershirt and jeans. you could see the gold chain around his throat and the heavy chest hair. you had seen him naked from photos shared and he had seen you naked, but to feel it up close left a shiver of excitement through you. he leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head as he led you to the bedroom.

he said, "afterwards, i'll make ya some dinner. not the best chef, but, i can cook ya somethin' to replenish the energy you spent fucking me." he then ruffled your hair, which made your heart leap and he got you onto the bed.

you nodded meekly, you looked so small. so innocent. a girl like you should be on dated with finance guys or even the artsy kind. not a weathered, older military man like him. but even things in smaller packages can be surprising, just like when you took off your clothes and revealed a matching set of bra and panties. a soft grey colour with pastel yellow accents. it made price have to adjust himself in his jeans.

"ah, pretty girl got a surprise for me. how sweet?"

you nodded, "i wanted to make tonight special. good luck for a long... dynamic between us. so, you don't get rid of me if i suck." and soon you were in price's embrace while you still sat on the bed. your cheek pressed hard against his soft but firm middle.

he petted your head a little and said, "ah, don't worry, petal. even if you do bad tonight, i got every intention of trainin' ya. make you the perfect girl." the words spoken hit right to your core and when he pulled away long enough to strip down, you felt your eyes go wide for a moment.

a photo couldn't capture every inch of john price's skin. the scars, the tattoos, the hair, the muscle, the fat. he was like a big brown bear and it made you soaked. you shifted a little in your spot on the bed and rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. it was surprising that you were still a virgin, but you always chickened out. now as an adult, you wanted to just get it over with. but, you wanted to have fun. and why not have fun with a well experienced dom who wouldn't half-ass your first time. it didn't hurt that he had the kind of looks that would make any man with half a brain jealous.

"i hope i meet expectations." he chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. his cock stood at full attention and you swallowed. there was something so masculine about him, but not in a toxic way. he played with your hair once more before he patted your cheek, "no need to gawk, petal. i'm not goin' anywhere." and you swallowed. he chuckled before he got into bed with you and slowly unwrapped you of your lingerie like delicate christmas paper.

he hadn't been this excited to upwrap something since he got the toy firetruck as a kid. but in total fairness, you were hotter than any fire red truck. his hands grazed across your body with total tenderness and his hungry blue eyes gazed the skin.

the stretch marks, the moles, your own scarring. you were beautiful in ways that price couldn't describe. to compare you to something would be unfair to the thing being compared to your beauty. he took you by the wrist and kissed the center of it.

"this is a promise, petal. for as long as you keep me as your dominant and you my submissive, i with cherish you, adore you, and most of all. make sure that you cum over and over again." before he kissed you on the lips and got you onto your back. he admired you, "usually i like to take pretty things on their hands and knees. but, tonight's gotta be special, right, doll?"

you nodded.

he tapped your nose and said, "ah, ah, ah. that won't cut it. the words are 'yes, sir', got it? would hate to bruise that little behind during our first time."

you found your voice and said, "yes, sir." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek before price pulled away to rest on his knees to fuck you with just right. you felt heat course through your body as you took in the sight of him. burly, large from top to bottom.

course dark hair on his body, a little heft in his middle (but who didn't love that), a sparkle in his blue eyes, and hands large enough to break things between the digits. he admired you in return and said softly, "pretty little petal, yeah? ah, who let ya be so beautiful?" he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your slick sex, "i got so much to teach ya. how to tie ya up, how to gag ya properly. mmm, we'll have so much fun." he then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand. he held up the silver foil to you and said, "rule one, play safe or don't play at all."

you nodded and remembered to reply, "yes, sir."

price gave you a smile that lit you up and said, "good girl." then quickly got the condom on. he admired your soaked sex for a moment longer, "she achin' for me, huh? cute." then slowly, almost agonizingly, he inched into you and felt the spread of warmth through his body.

heaven was created with your pussy in mind. price was never a quick finisher, but he almost finished inside of you when he managed to get all of himself inside of you. he kept eyes and ears open, the type of examining done in his line of work, to make sure that you weren't in too much pain.

"ya alright?"

you nodded and swallowed.

price added, "baby girl. words." and then nodded his head when you replied that everything was okay, he nodded and said, "roger that." which made you pussy clench. a smile spread across price's face as he leaned forward. he captured your hands in his and pressed them to the bed under you. he chuckled lowly, "ah, someone likes a military man? a man in uniform gets ya goin'?" he kissed your pulse point, "ah, too cute, petal. i guess seeing that on my description didn't scare ya off." he rocked against you, "know it's a crime to mess up a man's uniform."

you swallowed, "sir. fuck." and felt the strike of heat through your body. you had to admit, you had seen a few photos of him in uniform. the beret, boots and all. and it made something turn in your stomach. only added an appeal to him that made you hot.

price replied, "i guess it worked out. because i like cute little civilians who are more than eager to make me feel good. doin' your civic duty makin' me cum, baby girl." these was a tension in his voice that made you heart hammer and your throat feel tight. the bed squeaked a little under the both of you as he continued his movements. he knew he was going to have an amazing time with you.

you whined, "please, sir."

"tell me. tell me what ya like about it? what gets my baby girl goin'? i gotta know, because maybe i can get somethin' together that'll rock your world." his words were hot and your cunt fluttered around his achy, hard cock. for a moment he was uncertain if you were actually a virgin, you took him so well.

you moaned when you felt a spark of pleasure in your core, your entire life had just been your hands and an assortment of toys. but to have price work your body beautifully was something else. you replied sweetly, "i... i want to thigh ride you in uniform." you felt a flush of embarrassment.

he chuckled, "oh that would be quite the sight, huh?" he continued to move against you beautifully, "i bet that i could make ya cum just from my thighs. rub your cunt all over it, messin' up the fabric. higher-ups will be wonderin' about the pussy stains all over the fabric. maybe if i'm lucky i'll get some of your wetness in my beard. let 'em smell you on me." and well, that excited you deeply.

you arched your back a little bit, but price kept you pinned perfectly under him. you tightened your thighs around him and he continued to work your body. it wasn't rough sex, but it also wasn't boringly soft either. he worked you at a steady pace, like a man with immense stamina. he eyed the bounce of your breasts and he moved against you.

he licked his lips at the sight of you, "baby girl." he purred, "you're a dirty girl. but don't worry." he soon held onto your wrists instead of your hands, a further act of domination, "i like 'em dirty. i like girls i can sink my teeth into. soon enough you won't be able to cum unless it's my fingers, tongue or cock in you. ya got the kind of soft skin that would bruise perfectly. but be careful, petal, i can be quite mean with a paddle." and it was met with a heavy moan. music to his ears.

you had never been spoken to like this before, but it excited you. you wanted to be price's dirty girl any day of the week. you felt excitement cross over you as he picked up the pace. the two of you fucked heavily and it left a taste of want in your mouth. this was better than anything you hoped for. it wasn't just that price checked boxes on a superficial level, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and moan. heavy noises came from your mouth as he worked your achy cunt, you felt amazing.

"ya like knowin' that i'm your first. big, scary captain makin' a mess of the sweetest cunt in the world. knowin' in a way, i got ya for life." he licked his lips. he liked that you were pure in that way, call him old fashioned. but knowing that he got to have you first was sort of like getting the first slice of cake at a party. something he wished to sweetly devour. and with you it was with heavy thrusts and filthy words. taint you to his liking.

you whined as you clenched your fists, you tensed up and he loved the feeling. he could almost read your mind with how sweet you felt. he could nearly feel your heartbeat as he fucked you. he loved the sight of you, you looked damn near perfect under him. you said between heavy pants, "please, sir. fuck, please!"

"feel good, petal? like how i take you." he moved against you further and it left him feeling the anticipation for climax. he continued to fuck your sweet body, working every last centimeter of warm skin, "remember, ya gotta ask me to cum."

his movements were overwhelming, his pace left you feeling breathless. and in your first lesson of intimacy, you croaked out, "can i cum, sir? please, i need to cum."

and price could be a giving man. he looked down at you, haze in those blue eyes as he said, "of course, baby girl. cum for me, cum for your captain." and swore under his breath as you beautifully came apart for him. he held onto your wrists tighter and groaned. it paired nicely with your sweet little moans.

"sir! fuck!" you gasped as you clenched around him. you finished and it only prompted him to move faster while you laid in such a blissed out state. no one had made you finish like that, not even your own nimble digits.

but price was just that good.

the bed creaked further and the headboard hit against the beige wall of the bedroom. he fucked you faster and made sure to cram every inch inside of you. with a few more heavy strokes, he finished into of you with a heavy groan. he fucked you through his climax before he slowed to a stop.

he wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply, "beauty, beauty. where has the world been hidin' ya from me." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips. you melted against him and moaned.

when he pulled out, he got up with a creak in his hip to throw out the condom before he was back in bed with you. you were both naked under the covers as price traced your form with his calloused fingers. the roughness on your soft skin made you shiver.

"how about it, lovie." he said in that low, gruff tone of his. his hand grazed across your side and behind, "how about i invite the boys over and their little birdies and we can have a little playdate. introduce you to the group."

you swallowed, "play... date?"

price pulled you closer. he held onto you the way someone would hold a stuffed animal. he smiled at you, "don't worry, petal. no one's gettin' their hands on ya. not while i'm still breathin'." his voice was tinged with a possessiveness. you nodded in response and he added, "besides, i know i'll make the boys nice and jealous with you." he chuckled, "my beautiful baby girl." then kissed you on the lips.

you could only imagine what would happen at a playdate with price's friends and their submissives. it also didn't help that it made you a little excited as well. <3

[makeyoumine69]

Last Memory (Memory Reboot x5)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

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

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

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 15k

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

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

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, I really didn't.

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

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

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

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

Jesus Christ, this woman is really driving me crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somewhere where nobody could find me. Us. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who can call her at this hour?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck?

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

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

"Evelyn!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

My eyebrows raised in skepticism at her words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Friend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The moment was ruined, and so was I.

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

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

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

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

Desperate times call for desperate measures, they say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A girl like me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shameless, pathetic whore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfection.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck it!

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

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

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

Stupid bitch.

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

And that started to disappoint me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Patrick...please!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inhuman.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, where did I even get this gram?

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who...am I talking to?"

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

Was this some kind of prank? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck!

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

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

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

Okay… this feels…too real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Out of the office…shit.

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

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

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

A short pause seemed like an eternity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Knock…knock…

What is this? Am I still alive?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"11 a.m., sir."

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

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

Sunday?

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

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

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

"I...I guess so?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is your relationship to the suspect?” 

Damn, not this fucking question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...in Chicago?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Definitely not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because you were my salvation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, dear.

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

"What is this?"

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

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

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

"Since childhood, I think."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, that can't be.

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

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

"Was it really a question?"

"And what do you think it was?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[moon7jay]

sitting w the boys full and plugged w hees cum

Heeseung is possesive and a freak like that, nothing strokes his ego more than knowing that u r full of his cum around the other boys. Like a caveman, he likes to breed u to be territorial.

Like imagine before a show he drags you to a secluded makeup room, your skirt pooled at your stomach, panties slided to the side while his pants and boxers pool around his knees, just enough space to penetrate your pussy with his dick. Haphazardly undoing ur shirt and bra along with his shirt cuz he doesn't like sex unless your sweaty body is rubbing against his own. The feeling of ur hard nipples rubbing against his bare chest makes him thrust into ur wet heat like a madman. "Be quiet baby, need to fill this pussy to the brim so bad" He whimpers , his forehead resting on yours as he covers your mouth with his palm and impales you like an animal in heat. If it weren't for his bruising grip around your waist your legs would have given up on you by now. Your nails digging into his shoulders, moaning into his palm as your eyes roll back in pleasure and he keeps pressing closer to you, as if even the little strip of air between you both bothers him.

His cock keeps hitting your cervix repeatedly, his heavy breaths falling on your face and he removes his palm from your mouth only to engulf you into a mouth watering kiss, both of y'all s saliva dripping from the junction of your mouths. But heeseung likes it messy, so messy, likes it when your tongue glides over his own hungrily, you taste too good for him. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm hits you like a truck, your walls clenching around his length which causes him to bite your lip till it bleeds and hit your cervix one last time before filling u up with his fuck cream, pain and pleasure going hand in hand when it comes to sex with him. Your cunt feels too good to pull out so he keeps thrusting and whimpering, overstimulating the both of you

"Hee, t-too much, stop please i-"

"Can't, oh god I can't, keep fucking it, wanna keep fucking it" He groans, fucking his cum back into u at a vigorous pace.

"Y/N! " The manager's voice booming in the hall outside the makeup room is what causes you to push him away. You both hurriedly fixing your clothes.

"Y/N! Where the fuck are you? "

Your eyes widen at the manager'a voice nearing "hee your cum is still in me! " You tell him worriedly while wearing your panties over your cum filled pussy

Heeseung only smiles at you lazily

"Keep it inside like a good girl yeah? Go on, he's calling you"

Your mouth gapes open in disbelief, your cheeks tainted pink but u don't have much choice as ur name is called again. You rush outside and try not to think about your cunt overflowing with your boyfriend's seed while your manager ushers u into the boys' makeup room, handing jake over to you

"Need his hair to be entirely different, parted at the sides and make sure the forehead is visible clearly" you're instructed and soon you found yourself curling Jake's hair while all the other boys chatted around you, lounging in the waiting room. Your boyfriend waltz in after a while, his eyes fixed on your thighs which are squeezing and working overtime to keep his seed from dripping past your legs as you work. A sick and satisfied smirk forms on his face as he drops onto the couch closest to you

You try to avoid looking at him because your cheeks are already flaming red and you are avoiding moving too much just in case.

"Jake don't you think there's something about pies filled with extra cream thats just so yummy? " heeseung asks, all the while his eyes never move from your face, watching as you almost drop the curling iron, he chuckles before leaning back.

He was going to have so much fun eating your sweet pussy for dessert later.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

PAINTED WORSHIP Nanami x Prim Princess!Reader

Minors and ageless blogs don't fucking interact

Pairing: Nanami Kento x PrimPrincess!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1491

Warnings: Slightly jealous!Nanami, Posessive!Nanami, plus size reader, female bodied reader, Marks left, no protection (wrap up kids), Food used as an aphrodaisiac (ice-cream)

Summary: When Gojo gets a little peek down your top, Nanami can't stop hiimself from marking whats his.

A/N: What the hell happened?? I sat down to write this thinking it'd be a cute little blurb net thing i know we're at a thousand plus words??? Anyway i wrote this while cooking okra. such an unsexy scenario please keep in mind when you read lol ok byeeee

sort of pt1 here

Pretty prim princess of the Jujutsu world. No one expects you to leave long scratches down the length of your boyfriend’s back every night. No one expects you to be face down-ass up, shoved into the mattress; Nanami Kento pounding into you from behind. No one expects that you get slapped on your ass every time because he loves watching it jiggle.

Nanami is so careful not to leave visible marks on you. He too has a reputation to maintain after all. The hand print on your bum, the little hickeys that litter your chest – these are meant for his eyes only. It’s unfortunate that Gojo got a little peek though; when you bent over to take a look at what he was trying to show you at his desk, and he turned his head, only to be met by the perfect view down your top. The swell of your décolletage tantalizingly close and the gentle bruises all over your skin standing out in a harsh contrast. 

“I have to go!” He said standing up suddenly. “I—”

Gojo sprinted to the loo, almost crashing into an amused Nanami, leaving a befuddled you wondering what happened.

“Wha–” you started straightening up. 

“I think we better get you some turtlenecks” Nanami said stepping close to you and pulling your neckline higher. You looked down and your eyes widened. 

“Do you think he saw?” you whispered into his chest. 

“Lucky bastard… I have half a mind to gouge out his six eyes” He lays a hand on your chest. As if trying to make sure your top would never again leave your skin and presses a reserved kiss into your hair. “You’re mine. For my eyes only…” 

It was a wonder how Nanami made it through the day when all he could think about was how he needed to leave fresh marks on you tonight. Marks that would not be tainted by some other eyes: only for him. 

His arms encircled you, the minute you stepped into your shared apartment, lips planted on your neck he sucked at your skin. Your knees buckled and Nanami held you up, knowing it was coming. 

“Min-min…” You started in a feeble attempt to placate your lover but a low growl stopped you from continuing. His tongue bullied your neck, and his hands shifted your focus to your breasts which he squeezed fingers searching for your hardening nipples under the fabric of your blouse. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and moan. Thankful that you were still supported by his arms. You could feel Nanami grinding against your back. The bulge that grew in his pants made you wet just thinking about it. 

“Min-min…” you tried again. 

Nanami sank his teeth into the spot he’d been worshipping in response making you yelp with the shock. “Nanami! What the fuck!?” 

He released you and you turned to look at him. His pupils were blown and his lips were red “We need to eat, but I’m not done with you… ” Saying this Nanami squeezed your ass and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you to collect yourself. 

Dinner was quick. You always meal planned during the weekend so everything was ready for Nanami to pop into the oven for a quick broil. Nanami finished dinner by serving you a helping of your favourite ice-cream which you both took to the couch to enjoy but once he was done, he climbed over you in a swift movement. “I’m hungry.” 

“What… We just ate Min-min, were the portions not en—” 

You were cut off by his ravenous mouth on yours. Licking at the ice-cream you were still eating. He sucked on your lower lip as if in answer to your unfinished question. His hands came up once again to knead at your breast. 

A low moan escaped you and you felt your bowl being taken from your hands and set aside while Nanami kissed you over and over. His lips slid down from your mouth to his last conquest and he lapped at it gently hearing you hiss at his touch. The indents his teeth had left on your skin stood out against his tongue, and for a moment Nanami felt guilty. But the feeling was quashed with a simple roll of your hips that begged him for more. 

“Kento… need you…”

Nanami grabbed hold of your ass lifting you onto his lap steadying you with one hand he retrieved the ice cream bowl with the other and handed it to you. 

“Feed me.” 

You took the spoon, ready to let him have some from you but he shook his head. 

“Off you.” 

Your cheeks burned but you slowly dripped a drop of the cold desert onto your chest, right between your breasts. Nanami enthusiastically licked. 

“More. Please…” a gravelly plea.

You dripped it – this time down your breast, it rolled down your skin ending at your erect nipple. Nanami licked again, a stripe up your breast cleaning off the sticky sweetness. His tongue returned and flicked at your nipple and you shuddered. 

He reached a hand under your skirt and rubbed at your mound over your panties. “Come on beautiful, keep it coming.” 

You continued dripping ice cream down your body, cold streaks matching the red welts you left down Nanami’s back. And Nanami ate you like a starved man. He sucked and licked and bit, painting a masterpiece in shades of purple. His mouth never once left you, drawing prayer after prayer from your lips. His hands made quick work of your clothing, tearing off what you wore, and only then did he pause to take a good look at his masterpiece. 

You were a garden in springtime, flowers blooming across your skin. He palmed at the fat bulge in his slacks and you took the opportunity to lick the spoon in your hand of the little ice-cream left on it, trailing your tongue along the metal while never once taking your eyes off Nanami. With a snarl he was on you again, discarding the bowl and lifting you up in his arms to carry you to your bed. He dropped you onto the sheets and yanked down his trousers and boxers in a swift movement. Then he pulled you toward him and sheathed his cock in your dripping pussy. 

The initial stretch was always a little painful but tonight you were too aroused to notice the burn, you ripped Nanami’s shirt off, scattering buttons everywhere, his hands found home in your hair and pulled it out of the messy bun, gently holding your small head against his chest as his cock pounded into you. 

“Fuck— no wonder Gojo had to excuse himself. You have no fuckin’ idea do ya.” You could only whine. Body jerking with each thrust. You latched your mouth against his chest feeling his nipple and kissed and licked at it. Desperation pooled in your lower abdomen and Nanami thankfully kept pace. 

  “You have no clue what you do to people. How fucking alluring you are. Like a witch who’s cast a spell on anyone who gets a look at her…” your lover continued. 

“Min-min-n-n-n!” 

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” His breaths were now ragged, his hips sped up thrusting harder. Two thick fingers were slipped between your folds rubbing firm circles at your clit. “I’m close too baby. Whadya say we come together huh?”  He didn’t falter. Fingers, cock, mouth all running you like a well oiled machine. 

You felt your climax just at the surface, ready to explode and managed to whisper a, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, Ken– so close—” Your arms held his shoulders for support and you bit down on skin, muffling the long keening cry that found its way out of you as you came onto his cock and fingers. 

Nanami followed just after, hips coming to a juddering stop. He emptied his load in you dragging his cock out slowly, letting his release drip down to your ass. You fell back onto the bed exhausted, splaying your arms out for Nanami to come to you. Instead he lifted himself off the bed and took out his phone. You heard the click of a camera shutter and lifted your head. Nanami crawled up beside you showing you the picture. It was a shot of your dripping pussy, angled in a way that one could see the littered hickeys going up your torso. 

Nanami smirked into the shell of your ear. “An artist should always sign their work.”

The next day at Jujutsu High, Gojo noticed two things. One, you were wearing a brand new turtle-neck blouse. And two, later while talking to Nanami, he spotted a large dark mark at the base of his neck – unmistakable teeth marks in a perfect O. 

“Damn Nanamin, never took you to be experimental with flavours!” He teased. “Always thought you were a vanilla man.” 

The End

A/N: THIS WAS SO CRAZY TO WRITE OMG. A massive thank you to @erebus-et-eigengrau who sat and brainstormed this with me in the notes of pt 1.

Hearts and Reblogs are much appreciated and comments will get you KISSIE

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Make Me Feel Alive Episode 3

Gilbert von Obsidian's Birthday Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

On Gilbert's birthday, there was an unusual tension hanging around the castle.

(Is his birthday really taboo?)

(No one talks about it, and no one's preparing a celebration.)

As I whisked the cream into the bowl, I couldn't help but think about it.

(I always thought it was normal to celebrate birthdays.)

(But I guess not for him.)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "Will you also celebrate my birthday at the risk of your life?"

Emma: "........"

Gilbert: "Even if it's you, I might still find it unpleasant."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(He really meant those words.)

(If my expectations are wrong, things could get really messy.)

My heart raced so rapidly that it seemed like it might burst out at any moment. Even my hand holding the bowl was trembling.

(No, I need to be more confident.)

(I'm his fiancée, so I gotta keep it together.)

Taking a deep breath to dispel the anxiety and tension, I unconsciously resumed what I was doing.

Emma: "I wonder if he'll be happy."

???: "Mhm, it's really delicious."

Emma: "!?"

I turned around and saw Gilbert already devouring the sponge cake.

(What the hell? When did he get here!?)

Gilbert: "Come on, don't stop. If you don't keep your hands moving, I'm gonna eat everything."

Emma: “Wait, please don’t eat it!”

(The cake will be gone before it’s finished!)

Hastily taking the sponge cake from him, his refined face twisted into an unhappy expression.

Gilbert: “Do you really have to do that?”

Emma: “If I run out of sponge, I won’t be able to make the cake.”

Gilbert: “It was delicious as it is.”

Emma: “Even if it’s delicious, it won’t be enough!”

Gilbert: “Ehh? I prefer quantity over quality.”

Emma: “I’ll bake a lot of cookies later, so can you please let this slide?”

Emma: “I really want to prioritize the quality of the cake. I want to make this birthday cake special.”

Gilbert: “Hmm. You’re really brave.”

He brought a chair over and sat down, looking up at me intensely.

Emma: “This is just my speculation, but I don’t think you don’t want your birthday to be celebrated.”

(Since he’s the one who told me about his birthday.)

Emma: “It’s just that you hated lies.”

Emma: “On a special and important day, you couldn’t tolerate it being tainted with corruption and deception.”

Emma: “I thought maybe that’s the case.”

(His mother and older brother were kind to him in the past.)

(Those two surely celebrated his birthday when he was young.)

(But that day will never come again.)

(The only people left around him were the corrupted aristocrats.)

Gilbert: "Fufu. As expected, you really love me."

Gilbert rested his hand on his chin and laughed briskly.

Well, he was right.

Gilbert: "Will you really celebrate my birthday wholeheartedly?"

Emma: "Of course."

Gilbert: "I've killed many people before, and I might kill many more in the future."

Gilbert: "Would you still celebrate it and support me if I continue executing those who wish me a happy birthday?"

Emma: "........."

I felt like he was testing my determination.

(Birthday celebrations are a way to say thank you for being born.)

(It's also a day to hope that you will continue to live.)

Celebrating the birthday of a notorious villain who shook the entire continent is not something one can do half-heartedly, and those who celebrate might, in a way, bear a certain burden of guilt.

Emma: "Yes."

(Even though he might be an irredeemable villain, I want him to find redemption.)

(Despite his numbness to human feelings, I believe he has the most beautiful heart in the world.)

Emma: "Even if you've turned the whole world against you, I'll still celebrate."

Emma: "I'm already a pretty bad woman just by being here, so it's too late now."

Emma: "Please don't underestimate my feelings for you."

(It's his birthday, yet it's hard to even genuinely celebrate.)

(This is the price he has to pay for his position and for seizing control of the evil empire.)

(Celebrating a birthday with such determination to the point of risking one's life is a first for me.)

Gilbert: "Fufu, sorry. I might have teased you too much."

(Huh?)

He stood up from his chair and reached out to touch my eyes.

His cold fingertips scooped up a single drop of tears that even I hadn't noticed.

(I hate this. I didn't mean for it to be like this.)

(However, I can't help but wonder how many years he has suppressed his birthday to protect his memories from being tainted.)

I forcefully wiped my tears and peered into his red eyes.

He was smiling as usual, but I was surprised to see a noticeable wavering that made my heart ache.

(No, these tears aren't mine.)

(He's the one who really wants to cry.)

(I wonder what he has been thinking about every time his birthday comes around.)

(I'm sure he was lonely at first, but then he probably forgot how lonely he was and didn't feel anything anymore.)

(But now he remembered the loneliness. Is that why he told me about his birthday?)

With an overwhelming impulse, I reached for his cold cheek and lightly kissed it.

Gilbert: "What is it?"

Emma: "I can't give you the cake right away, so here's an alternative gift."

Gilbert: "It's rather shabby for a present."

Emma: "Then, how about this?"

I placed the bowl on the table and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Then I kissed him deeper than before, and he bit me hard on the lip.

(Ouch!)

Thankfully, there was no blood, but the bitten spot throbbed as he licked it with his tongue.

With this, he took control, overpowering the initiative I had held.

His cold fingers pried open my lips and gently devoured my tongue.

Feeling weak, I leaned against the worktable, and he lifted the hem of the black dress he gave me, forcibly inserting his fingers into my inner thigh.

Emma: "Gil, it hurts."

Gilbert: "Yeah, I'm doing it on purpose."

Emma: "Why?"

Gilbert: "Because you don't like pain."

(You're really saying that?)

The pain quickly turned into another sensation as his fingers worked inside me.

It was like a mark of affection that Gilbert used to engrave on my body every night.

(That's why I can't hate it.)

Gilbert: "See, you're already enjoying it."

Gilbert: "By the way, this is the kitchen. Aren't you going to stop me?"

With a squelching sound, his cold fingers increased to two.

Just before my mind was about to go completely blank, he stopped, and I unconsciously let out a sigh.

Emma: "Just for today."

Emma: "No matter what you do, I'll endure it if that's what you want."

Gilbert: "Because it's my birthday?"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his head, pulling him close to my chest.

Emma: "I won't lie to you."

Emma: "So until you feel at ease, feel free to continue as much as you want."

Emma: "I want you to know that I genuinely want to celebrate your birthday."

Emma: "I'll keep telling you until you believe it, no matter how much it hurts."

Gilbert: ".........."

Gilbert: "What? So you already figured it out?"

(As expected, there's always a reason behind his threats.)

Emma: "You're probably much easier to understand than you think."

Gilbert: "I think those are words only someone who faces me head-on can say."

Gilbert: "It's really a pity to be liked by a troublesome man like me."

He suddenly laughed and bit my neck.

(Erasing all the suspicions built up over the years might be difficult, but if I can convey that he won't be lonely on his birthday, that alone would be enough.)

While enduring all the pain and pleasure he gave me, I somehow managed to finish the cake.

After celebrating together, we naturally embraced each other's bodies.

After being thoroughly teased during the day, my body immediately welcomed Gilbert, and all that remained after we reached the climax was the sound of our heartbeats.

Gilbert: "Fufu. Your heart is still pounding."

Emma: "I can hear the sound of your heartbeat too."

Wrapped in each other's arms with nothing between us, the sound of our heartbeats resonated.

(His heartbeat is proof that he's alive.)

(I want to feel this every time I celebrate his birthday.)

When I put my arms around his back, he slightly furrowed his eyebrows.

(There are scratches on his skin.)

Emma: "Sorry. It's probably because of me."

Gilbert: "It's fine. I like it when you hurt me."

Gilbert: "It would've been nice if you left not only scratches but bite marks as well."

His fingers traced along my arm, where the bite marks were.

(Not just the arms. I feel like I was bitten all over today.)

Emma: "It's difficult because I don't know how to control my strength like you do."

Gilbert: "Then let's learn together. Shall we master it by my next birthday?"

Emma: "You'll celebrate with me again next year?"

Gilbert: "Who knows? Whether it will be the last or the first is up to you."

Gilbert: "If you love me a lot, I might change my mind."

Emma: "........"

Gilbert: "But your celebration this year wasn't unpleasant."

Gilbert: "Thank you."

Emma: “.........”

(I’m gonna tear up.)

(I might start crying again if I let my guard down.)

He smiled and gently stroked my hair. His expression was more readable than usual, possibly because the eye patch was off.

Emma: “Then, how about inviting Roderich and Walter to the party next time?”

Emma: “I’m sure both of them really want to celebrate your birthday.”

Gilbert: “That’s not happening.”

(Not happening, huh?)

Gilbert: “I don’t need other people’s celebrations. As long as I have yours, that would be enough for me.”

Gilbert: “Because I only love you.”

Emma: “I’ll shower you with lots of love, so please let me celebrate next year, too.”

Gilbert: “Fufu, got it. As long as you’re you, I’ll let you celebrate.”

Gilbert: “Continue loving this beast with your pure heart, okay?”

Episode 1 ╎ Episode 2 ╎ His POV

[ssj2hindudude]

*Nikita walks in on Sheela making cereal* *And then Sheela pours the milk first*

Nikita: Did you just pour the milk first?

Sheela: Yeah? What's wrong? Is it expired-

Nikita: NOBODY pours the milk first! It's- It's WEIRD!

Sheela: Um, I pour the milk first.

Nikita: And it's FREAKING WEIRD!

Sheela: WHY are you so offended?!?

Nikita: Because- SERIAL KILLERS pour the milk first!

Sheela: Oh. So. Imma kill somebody, for NO REASON, because I poured the milk first?

Nikita: I don't know, maybe-

Sheela: Why does this matter to you?

Nikita: Why do you even do it that way?

Sheela: So the cereal doesn't get soggy as fast.

Nikita: ...what?

Sheela: It makes sense.

Nikita: No. It doesn't.

Sheela: Listen, if you pour the cereal in first, and THEN pour the milk in after, then all the cereal gets SATURATED by the milk-

Nikita: ALL of the cereal gets SATURATED and SUBMERGED by the milk anyway-

Sheela: NO, not if you pour the milk in first-

Nikita: YES IT DOES!

Sheela: Wait, let me finish, sis! C'mon!

Nikita: Go ahead, go ahead. What?

Sheela: Cause of SURFACE TENSION...

*Nikita looks at the camera like in the Office*

Sheela: ...the bottom layer of the cereal will act as a FLOTATION DEVICE-

Nikita: What are you even saying right now-

Sheela: SHUT UP, LET ME FINISH-

Nikita: But that's STUPID

Sheela: YOU'RE stupid!

Nikita: This whole ARGUMENT is stupid!

Sheela: YOU are the one who STARTED this whole ARGUMENT!

Nikita: Cause you poured the FREAKING MILK IN THE BOWL FIRST!

Sheela: JUST LISTEN TO ME!!!

*Nikita snarls at the camera and says "Gosh"*

Sheela: Now, as I was saying, if you pour the cereal on TOP of the milk-

Nikita: Wait, how do you know how much milk to pour if you don't pour the cereal into the bowl first?

Sheela: If you eat all the cereal and there's still more milk left, either (A), DRINK IT, or (B), I dunno, POUR SOME MORE CEREAL

Nikita: But what if you're not as HUNGRY or as THIRSTY as you thought you were, and now you're just sitting here, with a bowl full of extra MILK-

Sheela, baby voice: Oh. Do you need a bottle? Your ba-ba?

Sheela, normal: Or are you gonna stop being a little BABY and just FINISH IT?!?

Nikita, menacingly: Cereal-milk is tainted milk

Sheela, menacingly: Well that's your fault for pouring too much milk.

Sheela, normal: Plus, there's always room for more cereal! Cereal's like, the ICE CREAM of breakfast!

Nikita: Cereal for breakfast is poppin'-

Sheela: On the other hand, if you pour the cereal first-

Nikita: Oh my-

Sheela: AND THEN pour the milk on after-

Nikita: STOP

Sheela: All the cereal will get soggy-

Nikita: EXACTLY!

Sheela: Huh?

Nikita: It gets soggy!

Sheela: Exactly!

Nikita: That's the best part!

Sheela: You're kidding me.

Nikita: NO. I am NOT.

Sheela: Have you ever had soggy Fruity Pebbles before?

Nikita: Yes. And they're delicious.

Sheela: You're an Asura.

Nikita: SOGGY FRUITY PEBBLES ARE HEAVENLY

Sheela: THAT'S DISGUSTING!

Nikita: YOU'RE DISGUSTING!

*Aiden walks in*

Sheela: YOUR WHOLE FACE IS DISGUSTING!

Nikita: YOU IDIOT! WE HAVE. THE SAME. FACE!!!

Aiden: Hey guys?

Twins: WHAT?!?

Aiden: Just. Heard your argument and I just gotta say...have you tried it, without the milk?

*Twins stare him down*

Aiden: I actually, uh, I prefer to eat my cereal dry.

*Twins breathe in*

Twins: BOI🫱

Sheela: DO YOU ALSO PREFER TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH WITHOUT WETTING THE TOOTH BRUSH?

Nikita: I BET YOU USE THE TOILET AFTER YOU SHOWER! YOU'RE PROBABLY SMELLING LIKE A STRAIGHT SEWER!

Sheela: RIGHT NOW!

Nikita: OL' BROKE LOOKING, JOHNNY LEVER LOOKING BOI

Sheela: IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR WHOLE "Ara Ara" APSARA LOOKING FACE OUTTA HERE BOI

Aiden: Guys-

Nikita: WHO ARE YOU?!?

Sheela: WE DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE

Aiden: But guys-

Nikita: WHO INVITED YOU?!?

Sheela: WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!?

Aiden: But guys-

Nikita: HOW DID YOU EVEN GET IN OUR HOUSE?!?

Sheela: 👈EXIT STAGE LEFT!

Aiden: But-

Nikita: YOU POMPOUS HEATHEN! I TAKE MY SPOON AND I YEET!

*throws a spoon at Aiden*

Sheela: YEET! *throws the bowl at Aiden*

Nikita: MILK YEET! *Throws the milk jug at Aiden*

Sheela: RUSUSUSPUFFAS YEET! *Throws box of Reese's Puffs at Aiden*

*later*

Aru, bandaging Aiden's wounds: And this is why I don't go to the Jagan's anymore...

sorta part 2

[happilyobsessing]

Weiler de Riva Character Development: Trinkets and Decorations

Thank you to @galedekarios for tagging me in their wonderful post about Leander's Keepsakes. I'm looking forward to sharing how Weiler has decorated her room!

Rules: share what trinkets and decorations your rook has in their room in the lighthouse. if you'd like, you can add explanations and headcanons for their chosen keepsakes. tag as many people as you like!

Weiler's Keepsakes

Display on Antivan Griffons

Travelling back to the dock at D'Meta's Crossing, Weiler spotted this abandoned rocking griffon. She swallowed hard around the lump that formed in her throat and hoisted the toy up into her arms, ignoring Neve's protests about practicality. Weiler sat in the boat - hunched over this wooden griffon, tracing the carved initials T. R. - and swore she would not allow another town to be lost.

Brona's Bloom Bouquet

Since the the desperate attempt to stop Solas' ritual resulted in the release of the Evanuris and catapulted the spread of the Blight, Weiler has carried the tiresome burden of her guilt. Each victory has been tainted - how can she celebrate her success whilst the Blight still spreads? But the pale blue petals, curved like butterfly wings, fill her with a startling hope and a determination like nothing she has felt before. She feels bad asking Evka and Antione for a handful of the blossoms, but they are gracious enough to offer a thick cutting to take with her.

Varric's Shaving Mirror

Varric was the first person to truly understand Weiler. He never apologised for her, never allowed her to make excuses for herself, and but gave her the space and grace to make mistakes to discover who she wanted to be. Whilst she may struggle to face herself he always looked at her with pride.

Antaam Command Pin

This trophy reminds Weiler of her power and her capability. Her strength and brutal force make her an intimidating foe, but it is the trust that she building in herself and her refusal to stand to the side when needed that makes her truly exceptional.

Seafood Spread

Marine lobster, jumbo tiger prawns, king crab, sprinkled with a generous squeeze of lemon. There are few treats that Weiler enjoys more after a long mission, although she does wonder if her fish in the aquarium realise what she is eating in front of them.

Exquisite Serpentine Hookah

Weiler has become a regular smoker (of tabacco and cannabis) since her freedom from House Kortez. She will partake most evenings, but finds that as leadership takes its toll and she becomes stressed and snappish, she craves the floating mindlessness more and more. Her friends become concerned and ultimately the hookah will be removed for her health.

Antivan Decanter

A beautiful decanter that Weiler has shamelessly requisitioned "for the war effort" from the Cantori Diamond. How else should she pour her liquor? She will blame Viago and Teia for improving her standards.

Grappling Hook

This cream-based liqueur has quickly become one of Weiler's favourites. Sweet and smooth, it tastes of almonds for a pleasing nod to dessert and pastry. She enjoys to fuck with Viago by slipping it to his coffee and making him panic thinking that he has been poisoned.

Glittering Mosaic

Harding used to argue with Varric that Weiler's nickname should have been 'Magpie'. Obsessed with treasures and sparkling trinkets, Weiler could not help herself from bringing this mosaic back to her room. After smoking, she will recline on her green chaise lounge and spend hours watching the candlelight bounce off of the golden tiles.

Funeral Rites

Meeting Emmrich and learning more about Nevarran attitudes towards death, Weiler has been surprised to find that these beliefs soothe an anxiety in her soul that she has about dying. She finds peace in the chanting of the rites, especially as she is being pressed into the sofa underneath Emmrich's touch, his kisses, as he sighs the words against the crook of her neck as his hands slide beneath her shirt.

I'm not going to tag anyone specifically, but please feel free to tag me if you are inspired to have a go at this! I'd love to read more about everyone's Rooks and their Grand Designs/The Sims room decor simulations.

[juliehamill]

Jim’ll Fix It to deceive you - The Reckoning TV series (2023)

As a child of the seventies, my eyes tuned in to Jim’ll Fix It like two full moons.  I thought it was brilliant.  The letter-writers’ deepest under-ten wishes felt like my wishes too.  The innocence of the neatest, most practiced handwriting:  the full stops, the trust and the hope, all written to dear uncle Jim.  The show was a highlight of Saturday night.  I was fascinated by Jimmy’s special chair with the drawers and the gadgets, and of course, the badges. ‘Your letter was only the start of it!’  sang the theme tune, and I’d sing along, knowing all the words, and watch as he made dreams come true:  a young boy got to meet K9 from Doctor Who, a girl got to sing with Amazulu, another girl got to dance with Bonnie Langford, a boy went up in a plane, another boy was chauffeur-driven in a Rolls Royce. From time to time there was a school or a group wish, such as that of the cub scouts.

Some of the most iconic Jim’ll Fix Its featured the scouts.  One highly unique wish was for a pack to ride The Revolution rollercoaster whilst eating their lunches.  I remember vividly rolling with laughter on the carpet at home as bottles of milkshake and orange juice spilled over their heads, a cream cake got mashed in a face and crisps went flying.  I looked it up on youtube the other day.  As I watched I thought this sort of thing wouldn’t be allowed now, would it?  At surface level the risk of choking wouldn’t pass the health and safety regs. 

If only that had been the only worry. 

In 1976 another cub scout pack wrote in asking to race milk floats at Brands Hatch.  After the studio shoot Savile took nine year old Kevin to a dressing room and asked him, ‘Do you want to earn your badge?’  When I watched this haunting reconstruction in The Reckoning played so terrifyingly by Steve Coogan I felt physically sick, again and again throughout, as virtually every scene was predatory Savile looming over a victim, his eyes calculating, searching and landing quietly on a child.  Kevin was nine.

I was around the same age as Kevin when I watched and loved Jim’ll Fix It.  Now I don’t know how to reconcile it.  I’m angry.  Savile held those precious letters between his yellow fingers with another agenda.  He tainted all those childhood dreams.  Worse than tainted, he blackened them.  The memory, their memory, their greatest wishes… he blackened it all, and it will haunt the victims forever.

People say, you must have known when you watched it - look at him - he’s creepy.  I honestly did not know.  The man I saw on Jim’ll Fix It seemed to love kids, he was warm, avuncular, kind, thoughtful. He asked his young guests questions about their lives, he seemed interested in what they had to say.  He made wishes come true then awarded them with the most coveted prize of all, a Jim’ll Fix It badge.  Jim wore a mask I believed.

I was protected by a television screen.  Television was dreams, a land far away full of balloons and dancing and colour and fantasy.  Jimmy Savile was at the heart of all of it; he was everywhere at the time, in Jim’ll Fix It, Top of The Pops, he was running marathons, on the news, he was raising money, he was standing beside royalty.  I wonder now, if he’d been alive during this time of social media, how much further damage he could have done.

It wasn’t a wish he granted, it was a nightmare.  What he did to the children that loved him was a gross abuse of power that cannot be reconciled. He even roped in his pal Gary Glitter from time to time to grant a wish, both of them trying to kiss teenage girls on the lips in front of the camera.  That particular show, Jim’ll Fix It, dominated our screens for nineteen years from 1975 until 1994, but Savile had been abusing children since the 1950s.  Lots of important people knew about it, and they covered it up for sixty years. 

I feel an entire spectrum of emotions after watching The Reckoning.  It is horrific what he was permitted to get away with.  As an adult I am broken hearted for the hundreds, maybe thousands of victims.  I wish they could get their justice.

Echoes of Savile’s sinister abuse reach far and wide. 

Steve Coogan as Savile is a sickening and truthful watch. As for Jim’ll Fix it, I was hoodwinked.

Pictured: Jimmy Savile's house in Glencoe and Steve Coogan in The Reckoning

[crystaldragonslayer]

“Hey Sting! Gray got into my face cream and is having evil dreams. Can you purify him, as per the request of The First Master?”

@poisonouslightslayer @iceneverbotheredmeanyway @fairyseeker @celestial-signs-and-stars

(And let’s involve Lucy. Why the hell not? 😂)

[potofstewie]

Guilt 

-Pairing: Sanemi x AFAB! Reader

-The things to know: AFAB! Reader, creampie, missionary, slowish sex, aftercare (cuddling?), Sanemi based pov, orgasm, mentions of kyojuro, bittersweet(?)

-A/N: I dunno, I woke up and all of a sudden I got the hots for Sanemi. Idk smthn about having guilt ridden slow sex w him does something to me. This was poorly made and i don't wanna proof read so fuck it we ball. Decided to add a bit of pain cause tbh- who would I be if I did't make things painful for yall?

Soft groans of pleasure filled the warm air of the room, lewd claps of skin and squelching intermingling with it. A slight hiss escaped Sanemi's lips as he felt your fingernails dig into his back with every slow pull back of his hips. In the back of his lust filled mind, Sanemi knew the two of you shouldn't be doing this.

Your legs shouldn't be wrapped around him, pushing him deeper into the embrace of your gushing walls. His cock shouldn't be coated with the cream your pussy gave, it's own way of telling him to keep going. His lips shouldn't be crashing into yours and swallowing every moan that left you. His hips shouldn't be dragging away from you at such an agonizingly slow pace, only to crash back inside with force. It was all wrong and yet, Sanemi couldn't resist sucking on the crook of your neck, leaving evidence of the inappropriate crime.

" 'Nemiii..."

"Shit...I know, baby.." Picking up the pace, he raised himself up slightly, scarred hands intertwining with yours and placing them on the sides of your head. A small voice in the back of his head whispered to him softly to stop, trying its hardest to get his attention as you called out his name once more. To stop while he still can. To not taint your honor any further. To remain your ally, your friend, and nothing more. To not disrespect him. But once he witnessed your sweet blissed out face, your body twitching underneath him, the sweet moan of his name that filled his ears and the wet noises that got louder as he kept going through your orgasm, he knew he couldn't turn back. The guilt would eat at him later but for now, he was lost in it all.

"Fuuck y/n..." Escaped Sanemi's mouth slowly as he felt your pussy twitch around him. As his thrusts became faster and sloppier, he left hot kisses on your shoulder, your delicate hands finding refuge on his sides. "Hah..s-shit..." A deep groan resounded from his chest as Sanemi's hips stuttered, finally feeling himself release thick, white ropes within your pussy. Feeling the hot seed fill you up, Sanemi's lips met with yours hungrily, not once parting for air. Rough thumbs gently rubbed your jaw before traveling down your side, finally stopping at your hips.

With a soft smack, your lips parted as he leaned back on his haunches, rugged hands still firmly grasping your hips as he slowly pulled out. Sighing heavily, Sanemi rolled over on his back, his half lidded eyes staring at the ceiling as you sat up. A nauseating wave of guilt washed over him as you covered yourself with the disheveled covers of the futon, eyes looking over the man's features. "Sanemi.."

"I know." Of course he knew. How could one not know? Not know just how badly he fucked up, sleeping with his deceased friend's lover not even a year since his passing? Not know how awful it was of him to eye you even when his friend was alive? To fantasize about this very moment during pillar meetings?

Your head rested on his chest as you draped the sheet on him, fingers tracing the scars that adorned his chest. On instinct, he ran his fingers up and down your back gently. "Do you regret it?" You asked softly.

Did he? Well, yes, it felt wrong to make love to someone who should've been off limits. Who only came to him for simple company and reassurance, not forbidden intimacy. But, at the same time, it felt good. Having your bodies pressed together in a way that lovers would do. To peel your clothes off and revel in the divinity of your body. To give your soft and plump lips the attention they wanted for a long while. To have you lay on his chest, your still hard nipples grazing his skin with every breath. With a soft kiss to your temple, Sanemi finally gave his truthful answer.

"No."

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ʙɪɴᴅ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴛᴏꜰꜱᴛᴇᴡɪᴇ™ 2023

[plush-rabbit]

The Perverse Angel and His Wicked Thoughts

Direct Continuation to Divinity in Impurity

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: Please forgive me for the awful title. I just had no idea how/what else to title it

-

Simeon never knew what true anxiety felt like until he’s back standing in front of your door. His knees feel weak, his heart beating against his chest, echoing and shattering his ribs into sharp pieces that cut into his skin and make him choke on his own blood. His breath is shallow and when he knocks against the wood, you’re quirk to open the door with a smile on your face. You let him enter your room with a wave and a smile, quickly going in for a hug when he’s inside, letting the door click close behind the both of you.

Stepping inside of your room, he’s acutely aware of everything that goes on inside, the way that your scent is heavy in the air, consuming every object, how you walk so freely without a care, trusting him with your safety, knowing that he would never do anything so harmful and perverted to you. Blood is bitter on his tongue, his teeth piercing against the insides of his cheeks when he accidently bites a bit too hard. He hisses, a hand wavering to cup his cheek but he falters, repulsed by his bare hand. And yet, you’re quick to come to his aid, worry in your eyes and your lips parted asking if he’s okay. Your touch is warm, different from his own and he jumps at your contact, stepping around you to walk and sit on your bed. He can’t bear to feel your touch, not when he just did something so awful- so grotesque and perverted.

The bed dips under his weight, his teeth worrying at his bottom lip and his eyes are glued on your figure, sweat beading at his forehead as you walk towards. He sits on your bed, his hands shaky and when you question his nervousness, he waves it off. It’s nothing- really, don’t pressure him. Guilt has started to eat him, sinking its teeth into his skin and while he can’t look at you, you make no comment about it, sitting beside him, your legs seated under you.

You hand cups over his and he lets his head fall, his muscles tense as you call his name. His hand goes rigid, and while you hold the top of his hand, your fingers slip between the spaces of his and you hold tightly to his hand while he just sits there.

“Simeon,” you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze, “can you look at me?”

Something catches in his throat, his lungs devoid of air, deflating into nothing as he shakes his head. His lips are pulled thin, any breath that he tries to take is through his nose, a deep inhale that is shakily released through his parted lips. How could he ever look at you when he did what he did? How could he even allow you to hold his hand? It’s his own deviance that clutches around his chest and drags him further into the dark pool that is his sin.

“Is this about what you saw?” Your voice is gentle, concern and puzzlement laced into your words as your knee bumps against his. “Sim, I told you that it was okay.” He can hear the smile, reassuring that what he saw wasn’t anything bad but you don’t know what he did. His legs begin to bounce, shaking the bed and his lips grow dry. “You don’t have to feel guilty over it. I should have told you that I was changing or even locked the door.” A playful chuckle fills the room and when he remains unresponsive, your hand slowly uncurls and slips away.

His hand is left cold and empty, a foreign feeling that he does not welcome. Quickly, his other hand clasps over yours, trapping it against his wrist. He takes shaky breaths, his chest wavering with every inhale and exhale. With your hand under his, he shakes, and releases his hand from you, apologizing under his breath. Immediately, he misses the feel of your hand.

You take in a sharp inhale, your shoulders slumping and his heart drops. You’ve allowed him to enter your room, you held his hand and yet, he’s here, with his innocence tainted and forever blemished by his actions. “Simeon-”

“I- I’m so sorry.” He covers his face with his hands, and he recoils away from his touch. His teeth are gritted and he turns to you, his brows wrinkling his face and he wonders how pathetic he looks to you. “I- I’m so sorry,” he repeats, his voice breaking and his stomach twists into tight knots.

Instead of disgust, you smile sadly at him, your hands coming out to hold the hand that he had used to masturbate to you. He wonders if you’d turn away from him, if you’d wipe your hand from his touch, if you knew what he had done.

The look that you give him is enough to make a storm of butterflies form in his stomach. “I already told you-”

Acid bubbles in his throat, burning and making it harder to breathe with every passing second. He doesn’t want to lose the friendship that he has with you, but he can’t live with himself if he doesn’t tell you. A prayer starts to form, a simple thought that is burst with judgement on him. Your words are distant and he isn’t sure what you’re saying, he can’t hear you but he can see and feel you. He can see your smile, how your eyes dart to the door and the soft feel of your hand. He feels as if he’s being choked, a tight grip around throat has tears brimming in his eyes. He wonders how much of himself is clouded from the eyes of God. He feels too much, his worry and guilt bubbling over that leaves him feeling exposed. “I masturbated to you.” There’s a pause in the room, your eyes blinking owlishly as you try to comprehend the words. “I- I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking at the floor, leaning away from you but he still lets his hand be held in yours. Shock settles as the words have filled the room, slowly filling your mind. “I-” He deflates and stops talking.

Neither of you speak for some time, words clutched at your heart and his stuck on his throat. He wishes he could take back the words, but he can’t deny the sweet relief that he felt when he confessed. Your hand slowly pulls away and he wants to cry and collapse onto his knees, begging for forgiveness.

“You-” you start, pursing your lips together- “You masturbated to me?” He nods, believing that he is unworthy to even speak to you after what he did. “Before you came- Er, When you arrived the first time to my room?”

He supposes he deserves the questioning and the sick feeling that settles in his stomach. “When- When I saw you I had fled and when I arrived at my room, I- I had-” He fits back a sob. He’s never felt so dirty.

“Simmy,” your voice is calm, and your hands return to him. Hsi eyes are wide and without knowing what’s going on, you pull him close to your chest, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your hands curl over the back of his head, cradling him gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart; don’t cry.” Your kindness only makes him sob, his body shaking and his hands, as dirty as they are, clutch to the back of your shirt. “You- It’s fine. You don’t have to feel bad or anything. I mean-” you shift under him and he fears that it’s discomfort and rejection, so he clutches tighter at you and pushes himself further into you. “Sh,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair, “I’m not going anywhere. Just relax, okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, turning his head, his breath hot against your neck. “I- I was weak. Please forgive me.” You smell sweet, the overlapping of your cream invades his senses but underneath, he can smell you, your scent that calls out to him and it only makes him want to cling tighter to you. He doesn’t want to separate himself from your embrace even if it's something out of pity. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Simmy,” you say softly, rocking him gently in your arms. “You’re okay. I’m not mad or anything, I’m-” you let out a laugh, it’s short and humorless- “I’m actually a bit er- honoured? No, flattered.” His eyes widen and he pulls away from you, tears streak against his cheeks and he looks at you with wide eyes. Your body shifts under his gaze and you force yourself to look at him. “I think it’s kind of sweet actually. Well, not sweet, but hot?” You give him a smile, and while it doesn’t reach your eyes, he knows that it isn’t something bitter. “I kind of assumed you hadn’t felt anything to me and well, while masturbating isn’t a confirmation of feelings, I’m flattered that you find me attractive enough to jerk off at the thought of me.” You swallow nervously and you look away from him. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

“No!” He says, holding your hands in his. “I- How could I not find you attractive? I- You’re the only human- the only being who ever made me feel so- so-” his hand clutches over where his heart would rest, twisting the fabric in his hands- “so alive,” he breathes out. “When I’m with you, I feel as if I never want to be apart from you. I would be a fool to not find you attractive, to not see your beauty and want you as you are. Here I am, the angel that is meant to remain pure and yet I was tempted by someone-” his knuckles brush against your cheek, curving at your bone and gliding down until they reach the corners of your lips- “and I’d do it all over again if it meant that you would even have an ounce of happiness.” He lets his hand fall, smiling at you, with fondness. “I am nothing more than your angel.” He bows his head slightly, bringing your hand to his lips, letting your knuckles grace him with your touch.

“A knight in shining armor,” you muse, your hand falling under his chin and pushing gently to have him look at you. He meets your eyes with readiness to accept whatever it is you want, ready to follow your commands. While he has no contract that binds him to you, he’d do whatever you would want of him. You accepted him and his secret, the least he could do is bow before you.

Your smile twitches for a moment, faltering for a second and he frowns. His eyes never leave your face, watching your expression change, slowly morphing into a curious look that has him leaning his body close to yours. He watches as your tongue peeks to wet your lips, the soft, pink muscle teasing him and with his thoughts safe in your room and with you, he wonders how your tongue would feel in his mouth, how it would feel if it were against his body and curled around his burning skin.

“Simeon?” He gives a curt nod in your direction, listening and clinging to your every word. “Can you show me?” His blood runs cold at the immediate understandment of your words. His heart races, pumping his angelic blood through his body and with a heavy heart, he can feel the familiar and yet alien feeling of his member throb under the confines of his pants. “I wanna see how you touched yourself.”

Limbs bump into each other, your hands leaving a trail of goosebumps as you move against him. He isn’t sure how he's gotten to lay against your pillows with his pants past his thighs and his cock already half erect. His breath hangs heavy in the room, his chest taking deep slow breaths as he watches his own hand circle around his cock. He can feel your eyes on him, how you watch his every move with an unblinking gaze, entranced by the angel who remains partially dressed. His mouth is dry and he lets his hand take a shaky stroke against himself, letting out a whine at the feeling. It isn’t pleasurable but it isn’t horrible either. It’s just a touch. He wants to make it a show, but he’s so new to this, so inexperienced and while your human curiosity is taking over, leaning onto him, he can’t do much more than stare at his cock that beads with pearls.

“I- I need help,” he mutters. “It feels so new, so alien to touch myself. I’m-”

You cut his words off with a kiss, your body moving to rest above his, your weight pressing down on him. His cock hardens, pulsing in his hand and with a jerky motion, he proceeds to touch himself. Your tongue enters his mouth and he greedily sucks on it, pushing himself upwards to deepen the kiss, working his hand in a similar motion. The tight feeling in his stomach returns, quicker and tighter than before. Your hand glides to his chest, slipping under his shirt and thumbing around his nipple, humming into his mouth when he hardens under your touch. You pull away with spit covered lips, your eyes glazed over with honeyed lust, smiling down at him and kissing at neck, suckling softly, letting your teeth pinch at his skin.

The feels are all so new to him, and he’s moaning under you, whining and jerking his hips upwards. “Come on Simeon,” you whisper against his skin, “go a little bit faster, Let me see how you treated yourself when you jerked off to me.” You sit above him, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs under his bottom lip. “Am I the first person you’ve ever jerked off to?” he lets out a pained whimper, nodding his head to the best of his ability without shaking you off. “Use your words,” you advise, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his temple. “I want to hear all the perverted details.”

“Yes,” he croaks out, his leg bumping upwards as his high slowly approaches. “I-” his lips press into a thin line as he tries to muffle his moans- “I hadn’t touched myself before. I thought of you and your body, I thought about how you’d feel- how different your hands would feel compared to mine.”

“If you’re a good boy and finish, I’ll be sure to pleasure you.” Your smile is coquettish, your tone sultry as you grab his arm, and let the hand that had been clutching the covers curve over your chest. “When I called you, were you busy touching yourself?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, “I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to hear your voice. I wanted to hear you call my name. Even now, I’m surprised that you’re doing so much for me, touching me and not- and not-” his voice tightens, tears brimming against his eyes- “not finding me repulsive. I- I- You were my first, The first that I had ever felt such feeling for. Please, I beg of you, kiss me again. I want to kiss you and make sure that this is all real and not some sick, perverse dream that I had come up with. That if I fall, if I lose my wings, at least I’ll have kissed you before that.” Tears fall, and he can feel the pressure building, so close to spilling over and the tight rope in his stomach threatening to snap.

“Oh Simeon,” you coo, your smile bittersweet. Your head shakes softly, your hands smoothing back his hair and cupping his face. “I’ll stand beside you no matter what, sweetheart. I could never turn away from you.” Your lips press against his and with your confession, he releases, moaning and moving his free hand to hold your back as he shakes under you.

His seed paints his hand and thighs in white ropes. Tears stain the kiss,and when you pull away, he whines, missing the contact. You move off of him and he wants to cry, moving to nuzzle into your chest. His hand sticks to the back of your shirt, sullying you in his seed as he cock lays between him and you, nestled against your sex. He shakes, the afterglow making him so sensitive to touch that even your hand playing with the ends of his hair has him and letting out shaky breaths. His chest feels light, full of air and your scent, his ears hearing your heart beat erratically- whatever facade you had about staying calm and playful as he pleasured himself was only that, a facade. You kiss the top of his head and promise that when he’s calmed down, you’ll fulfill your promise of touching him. He nods his head, trying to steady himself, desperate to feel your hands against his virgin cock.

[bitchassbucky]

Ｃａｓｕａｌ Ｃｏｎｖｅｒｓａｔｉｏｎｓ

📎Word Count: 1k

📎Warning/s: MINORS DNI, NSFW! bucky eating your WAP while conversing about what to have for dinner lmfao that’s all you need to know

📎A/N: there’s a bit of banter in here bc normal seggs usually have those (as i was told)

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

“I’m hungry,” you whine, settling on the unmade bed with your legs and feet down on the plush carpeting that Bucky insisted to get.

He laughs, sitting down beside you and squeezing your knee, “then get up and let’s go out.”

The sun was about to set, the bustle of the 5th street coming to life as commuters and pedestrians mill about their life. City lights peeking through the buildings in the distance, contrasting the soft glow of the sky.

You let out an overdramatic groan, putting a pillow that smells like Bucky onto your face instead, “no... Too lazy.” Your speech was muffled by feathers and plush.

Adoration and a hint of mischief floods Bucky’s veins, “well, I for one can go for a snack right now.” Just as soon as those words leave his lips, you feel his metal hand against your inner thighs.

The vibranium and gold complementing your soft flesh as he digs his fingers gently, teasingly. Inching closer to the hem of your shorts.

You swipe away his hands, balancing the pillow on your face. “What kind of snack?”

“Something sweet.” Bucky continues, now sitting on the floor and facing you. Your legs are on the either side of his torso. He rests his chin on your knee then, his stubble tickling your skin just right—sending sparkles and shivers up your limbs.

A delightful hum slips past you, propping yourself up by your elbows and squinting at your boyfriend, “what are you doing?”

“About to eat a snack.”

“Ew.”

Bucky scrunches his face and bites your thigh, earring a regal yelp from you. “Hey!” Despite yourself, you put your thighs just so on his broad shoulders—a tinge of arousal coiling on the pit of your stomach.

“I’m hungry but,” you run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently, “please continue.”

Bucky’s baby blues are now tainted in lust; half-lidded and in love. So fucking in love.

He helps you out of those restrictions—“interesting underwear choice, my darling.”

You prop yourself up again, looking at him, your brow arched in a semi-incredulous position, “I like floral prints.” You defend yourself and your panties. How dare he make a comment when not even a month ago he bought you “All You Can Eat” booty shorts.

The 21st century and Bucky Barnes.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” He muses between your thighs, his hands pawing your thighs. The cocky asshole blows a breath on your slit, smirking when he feels goosebumps rising from your skin.

“Um, yes, that’s what usually happens when I’m horny.”

Bucky nips your skin again, you and your smart-ass mouth.

And then finally, he dives in—well, not quite. His tongue snaking into the crease of your thighs, his lips touching everything and everywhere but your clit. Your back arches as you feel his cold fingers caressing your lips, prying them open. Bucky groans at the scene unfolding before his eyes: pink, swollen, and dripping wet.

“Fuck me, baby, this is beautiful.”

The tip of his nose nudges your clit as his tongue laps at the wetness pooling by your hole, gonna fuck that pussy later. He notes mentally, refocusing on his mission of making you come undone with his mouth.

Slow stripes sent you keening towards his mouth, both your hands finding themselves on Bucky’s mane, “motherfuck—“ it dies on your lips as he closes his mouth around your clit and sucked.

Your hips unabashedly undulating as Bucky’s tongue swipes against your cunt, moving his head side to side, making the most obscene sound as he eats you out.

You wonder where he got that from.

He moans—oh, he moans like he’s the one enjoying himself. “Not to sound like Steve but I can do this all day,” Bucky mutters under his breath and against your heat. The timbre and low vibrations of his voice sending you into another spiral of pleasure.

Your mouth splits into a silent scream as Bucky pushes a finger into your pussy—fluttering around his thick digit. “Ow, fuck.”

He stops much to your dismay: overprotectiveness on display. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine—my lips are chapped though.” You observe, bringing up a finger to your lips and picking the skin. “Remind me to get lip balm next time.”

Placing a soft kiss on your thigh, he smiles sweetly, “yes, ma’am.” Continuing on his slow strokes, curling his finger just right into the spot that makes your toes curl.

Bucky feels your walls clench and flutter around his finger, and he adds another one for good measure. His tongue circling your clit lazily.

“Hey, we should go get—god, fuck—pasta later.”

So you’re still hungry, “maybe some—right there!—ice cream too?”

If he, doing his best work, can’t even pry you out of cravings, then maybe nothing will. Except for when you get what you wanted to eat in the first place.

“Can you let me finish and then we can get whatever the hell you want.” He smirks against your mound, placing a kiss.

“Sounds good—fuck, so good.”

Bucky picks up his pace; he’s a man on a mission. His metal fingers pumping in and out your cunt as his mouth once again closing around your bud—a move that makes you come every single time.

“I’m gonna come!” You call out, your eyes are screwed shut and your thighs are closing around his head. Bucky doesn’t mind that the balls of your feet are digging into his back.

He pulls out and grabs your hips, lifting you up closer to him. Bucky takes advantage of his strength and grinds your pussy on his mouth, drinking up every bit of your essence.

Your body is on fire—your leg muscles are quivering from the orgasm that Bucky just gave you. On both of your foreheads, there sits a sheen of sweat, glistening under the glow of string lights.

“Are you still hungry?” Bucky asks, passing you an opened packet of wet wipes.

You nod, pulling up your underwear, “actually, yeah. That made me more hungry.” Huffing as you get up from the bed and tossing the trash into a bin.

As if to prove a point, your stomach growled and you point at it, “see? Hungry!”

Bucky, zero; food, one.

[literaila]

a void on your side of the bed. 

loki x gn!reader 

summary: loki is feeling lonely. and guilty about that. 

here was the thing:

loki tried not to ask for too much. he tried to be the perfect partner, the perfect person just for you.

he didnt complain when you wanted to sleep in, or when he was supposed to make you breakfast (he enjoyed doing that). he wasnt upset when you asked him to ‘clean up’ around the house, or when you refused to buy him any more ice cream.

he tried to eliminate any problems-- never been done before by the god of mischief --he might cause before they even appeared, and tried to give you anything and everything you might want.

it wasnt a hard task, actually. he liked the feeling in his chest when you smiled at him, when you were grateful for his help or when he surprised you with something that made your life just a little bit better. he liked taking care of you, causing less trouble than before.

but. it was really hard not to complain when you werent paying attention to him.

when you needed space for just a bit too long for his liking. when he felt like an interruption every time he attempted to make any small talk with you, and you sighed-- almost reluctantly --before turning to him.

he knew you were busy, and he knew that you wanted to get as much work done as you could during the day. he just didnt like it.

he didnt like not conversing with you during the day, not cuddling with you on the couch during lunch while you snacked on something beside him. he didnt like leaving you alone until it was nine o’clock at night and you looked like you were contemplating murder.

he felt lonely. and he just missed you.

and, gods, he was really trying not to complain.

he was really trying not to make this a bigger struggle for you by stealing any of your time. he knew how hard you were working, knew that it drained all the life out of you by the end of the day, knew that the last thing you needed was him telling you that he was upset.

he was used to not sharing his emotions, to building up walls and keeping all his thoughts locked in. but usually, he didnt have to do that with you.

it was all looking up for loki when the week was coming to a slow end. friday night, he felt excited to get you back for at least two days, to steal all the time he could from you before you got annoyed of him. he got his usual smirk back when you came out of your office friday night, giving him a soft smile as you headed to the bedroom.

this was it, he knew. tomorrow morning, he wasnt going to let you leave bed until at least noon.

he fell asleep that night, arms tucked around you, lips smiling against your head, with thoughts of the next day filling his dreams.

so, when he woke up in the morning, colder than usual, a void where you were laying in his arms, it wasnt surprising that he was feeling more upset than before.

disappointment was a violent emotion.

still, he walked out of the room with some hope left, that maybe you were just drinking coffee and eating breakfast while you waited for him.

that hope disappeared when he heard the familiar click-clacking from the room you had proclaimed was your office.

you were working. again. and loki was alone. again.

he felt a groan building up in his chest, a terrible feeling filling him as he listened for your breathing. he knew it was madness to miss you this much when you were only a door away, but he wasnt used to spending days away from you.

he reminded himself that you were right there with a bitter laugh.

he was trying not to be angry or disappointed with you, he knew that it wasnt fair to put you at the end of the blame when you didnt even know how he was feeling and that it wasnt fair for him to want you to stay with him of every second of every day. to ask for so much.

he turned toward the bedroom again and tried to drown his emotions in reading.

it wasnt really working, but at least when he was this far away from you he didnt feel like you were ignoring him.

at around noon, after hours of re-reading the same chapter over and over again and illusioning himself as his brother and throwing a fake hammer around, he finally decided that you needed lunch, at least. he decided that bringing lunch was a perfectly acceptable thing for a significant other to do.

(and hopefully, it wouldnt annoy you too much)

“my love,” he called, knocking on the door. “i’ve brought you sustenance”

you replied a quick ‘come in!’ and loki put a smile on his face, walking in the room deviously and grinning down at you in your chair.

“thank you, loki,” you whispered, kissing his cheek when he leaned to place the plate on your desk, rubbing a hand down his arm when you looked back at the screen in front of you.

loki tried not to preen too much at the touch.

“how are you, love?” he asked, bending down to stare at the screen with you. he didnt understand anything about it, but it was still fun to pretend. to include himself with you.

“oh, tired,” was all you said as you leaned over to type something yet again. loki frowned at your words and focused his attention on your face instead.

you looked perfectly normal, perfect and normal, he supposed. your eyes were bright and your face was blank, but still, loki was worried over your words.

“maybe you could take a break for lunch then?” he asked, bringing a hand to your face and tracing your jawline with his thumb. he was trying to sound casual, to not let the hope that you might concede slip.

“i wish i could,” you sighed and looked over at him with a smile, taking the hand that was on your face and placing a gentle kiss on his palm. he froze under the attention. “thank you, sunshine, for lunch. i adore you,” you kissed him again, and turned away.

his hand was still in the air, left behind.

your words were sweet. exactly what loki wanted to hear, really, but he heard the unspoken dismissal of his presence. he knew this was your way of asking him to leave, even if you didnt realize it.

he wanted to plead with you to let him stay.

he stood up instead, not letting the sigh escape his lips in the room with you, and headed toward the door. he touched the doorknob, feeling all the emotions building up in his chest. making their way through his body like a stampede.

it was all very much for him. this disappointment that he could barely hide anymore. the loneliness he knew he had to return to in the other room.

before he realized it, the words were slipping from his lips.

“have i done something wrong?” his usual teasing tone was there, his usual indicator for dramatics, but when you looked at him the look on his face was much more serious than his tone.

you frowned immediately, and loki scolded himself. “quite the opposite really, sweets. you just brought me lunch?”

“right, of course.” he nodded to go, but you stopped him.

“is there something wrong, loki?” you were turned towards him completely, concern tainting both your face and your tone. loki felt terrible like he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

he tried to put on a smile. “no, darling.”

but you werent easy to trick, he knew, and you scowled at him. “loki.” you were staring at him with your intimidating eyes now, only slightly soft because you were worried. even to a god, it was scary.

reluctantly, he nodded. avoiding your eyes now.

“come sit, sunshine,” you said, gesturing to the couch next to your desk. loki could hear the concern more now, stronger. he winced and took a seat.

after a few moments of silence and loki looking at the wall with furrowed eyebrows, you spoke first. “whats wrong?”

he sighed, feeling silly. you were supposed to be working and he was interrupting that with childish emotions that he could deal with himself. but still, he couldnt help but feel grateful at your asking.

“we havent been spending as much time together recently and..” he stopped, still avoiding his eyes to run a hand through his hair. “i suppose i’m feeling a bit..excluded? or maybe lonely?” he winced, sighed, looked like the perfect definition of regret. “i dont know” he said, almost silent.

but while loki was feeling ridiculous, you were looking upon him with something similar to horror in your eyes. terror at the thought of hurting him.

you were well aware that you’d been working more, the exhaustion every night made sure of it, but you hadnt realized that it was taking a toll on loki too, that he was... missing you while you were preoccupied.

you hadnt even considered it, really, when you longed to go watch a movie with him or have dinner together. your clinginess wasnt surprising, but loki?

he never seemed to mind space.

your brain took a few seconds to process it before you could speak again. “i’m so sorry, loki.” you were already pleading with him, begging for forgiveness.

how could you have disregarded him so much this week? you felt disgusted at the thought.

loki’s head snapped up in shock. he thought you might be tired with his admission, maybe even upset. not... regretful? he didnt expect to see this look on your face, one that was so disappointed, so loving.

“i didnt realize that you might be feeling lonely also, which is completely unthoughtful of me, i just thought that maybe-” you were gesturing with your hands, looking around the room rapidly as you used all your breath.

“you arent upset?” loki asked carefully, interrupting your rambling.

you paused, then blinked, looking at him curiously. he was serious, that much you could tell. he had that same frown on his face. you blinked again.

“upset?” you repeated, astounded. “why would i be upset?”

loki was just as confused as you now. he scratched his neck, looking down. “because i’m getting in the way of your work, interrupting you, being troublesome?” he said it as if he was trying to ring any bells in your head. he seemed sure of every word he spoke.

all you felt was more horror.

“your emotions are not interruptions or ‘troublesome’“ you mocked his accent, mostly with anger at yourself as you scowled at the floor. your words were harsh, but loki didnt flinch away. he still didnt understand.

“they aren’t?”

your eyes snapped up to his, guilt pouring from them. immediately, you jumped up from your chair, coming to sit next to him and taking his hand in yours. his face relaxed a bit at the feel of your touch. “of course they’re not, loki. if you’re upset i want to know. you and your feelings arent burdens on my day, i love you!” you promised him with strong eyes, with a strong grip on his hand.

it was probably the most important thing in the world to you that he knew this. that he didnt feel unwanted again.

“i love you too” he answered, quickly, before he even had the chance to think over your words.

he almost smiled when he did, proud of himself, of you, for seemingly no reason. you loved him.

it was nice to hear.

it was also nice to hear the softness in your voice, the sweet words, his name. it was nice to be sitting next to you.

he was hit was a sudden burst of longing, this time for something different.

he wished he would’ve talked to you days before, wished there was more he could do. if that had happened, he might’ve saved you both from some unwanted feelings. might’ve kept you from the sorrow that you still had on your face.

you were still upset, he knew.

“i’m sorry i’ve been so busy. that i havent spent enough time with you,” the words fell from your lips before you could stop them, despite the happy look on loki’s face. you still felt horrible, guilty for making loki feel anything but joy.

“its okay, darling, i know you have a lot of work to do.”

though his words were sweet, they only made you scoff.

“thats not an excuse.” you insisted, scowling again. “i havent been taking care of you,”

loki, who no longer felt disappointed or lonely, who was enjoying just the sound of your voice and feel of your skin, frowned with you. he didnt like the pain in your voice, the anger he could hear.

he really wasnt upset anymore, never upset with you, to begin with. he was only glad that you knew he’d missed you and that you seemed to feel the same. he was happy to see you away from your desk.

his brows furrowed.

then he smiled again, leaning in closer to you with an idea.

he lifted your face towards him with gentle fingers, admiring you before he spoke. “i know how i’d like you to make it up to me,” he said, smirking at you.

it was a familiar look. one you hadnt seen in far too many days.

“you do?” you asked him, forgetting your guilt for a moment while he stared at you.

he nodded, staring down at your lips. his damned smirk was glued to his face now, distracting you from anything besides him. “i rather think you’ll enjoy it..” he assured.

and then he kissed you, and guilt was the last thing on your mind.

the thing was: loki was already the perfect person for you.

*

[wheatley-imagine-scenarios]

Milk Before Cereal

It's another script but I promise you it's worth reading. Also Wheatley does come in later, don't worry

Nathan: *getting himself some cereal*

Rick: *walks into the kitchen* Did you just pour the milk first?

Nathan: Yeah, why? Is it expired?

Rick: Nobody pours the milk first, it's,, it's weird!

Nathan: Um, I pour the milk first.

Rick: And it's freakin weird!

Nathan: Why are you so offended?

Rick: Because-! Serial killers pour the milk first!

Nathan: Oh, so I'm gonna kill somebody, for no reason, because *puts bowl down* I pour the milk first.

Rick: I don't know, maybe! Like-

Nathan: Why does this even matter to you?

Rick: Why do you even do it that way?

Nathan: So the cereal doesn't get soggy as fast.

Rick: ... What?

Nathan: It makes sense.

Rick: No, it doesn't.

Nathan: Listen, if you pour the cereal in first and then pour the milk in after, then all the cereal gets saturated by the milk-

Rick: All of the cereal gets saturated and submerged in the milk anyway.

Nathan: No, not if you pour the milk in first-

Rick: YES IT DOES!

Nathan: Let me finish, Rick, come on.

Rick: Go on, go ahead, what?

Nathan: Because of surface tension, the bottom layer of the cereal will act as a floatation device-

Rick: What are you even saying?

Nathan: Shut up, let me finish!

Rick: But that's stupid!

Nathan: You're stupid!

Rick: This whole argument is stupid!

Nathan: You're the one who started this whole argument.

Rick: Cause you poured the freakin milk in the bowl first-

Nathan: JUST LISTEN TO ME!

Rick: ... Gosh

Nathan: Now, as I was saying, if you pour the cereal on top of the milk-

Rick: Wait, how are you supposed to know how much milk to pour if you don't pour the cereal into the bowl first

Nathan: If you eat all the cereal and there's still more milk left, either A) Drink it, or B) I don't know, pour some more cereal!

Rick: But what if you're not as hungry or as thirsty as you thought you were, and now you're just sitting here with a bowl full of extra milk-

Nathan, mocking baby voice: Oh, do you need a bottle? You're baba? *normal voice* Or are you gonna stop being a little BABY and just FINISH IT?

Rick: Cereal milk is tainted milk.

Nathan: Well, that's your fault for pouring too much milk. Plus, there's always room for more cereal. Milk and cereal is like the ice cream of breakfast. But on the other hand, if you pour the cereal first, AND THEN pour the milk on after-

Rick: STOP-

Nathan: All the cereal will get soggy-

Rick: Exactly!

Nathan: ... Huh?

Rick: It gets soggy!

Nathan, confused: Exactly,,

Rick: That's the best part!

Nathan: You're kidding me.

Rick: No, I am not.

Nathan: Have you ever had soggy fruity pebbles before?

Rick: Yes, and they're delicious.

Nathan: You're a demon.

Rick: SOGGY FRUITY PEBBLES ARE HEAVENLY!

Nathan: That's disgusting!

Rick: YOU'RE disgusting! Your whole face is disgusting!

Wheatley, coming around from the hallway: Hey guys?

Rick and Nathan: WHAT?!

Wheatley: I just heard you arguing, and I just gotta say, have ya'll tried it without the milk? I actually,, I prefer eating my cereal dry.

Rick and Nathan: ... BOI-

Nathan: DO YOU ALSO PREFER TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH WITHOUT WETTING THE TOOTHBRUSH?

Rick: I BET YOU POOP AFTER YOU TAKE A SHOWER!

Wheatley: Guys,,

Rick: WHO ARE YOU?

Nathan: I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU ANYMORE!

Wheatley: But guys,,

[henqtic]

Hi, could I request a post-war dracoxreader with a lot of fluff? thanks :)

hot chocolate and cookies - d.m

- word count: 1.1k

- request works here

- other works like this → Stolen Blankets 

- masterlist | draco malfoy masterlist | gif creds | taglist form |

——

Hot chocolate and cookies whenever he’d have a nightmare; a routine engraved in your head since that first night.

Draco had been riddled with nightmares. Having the dark lord be under the same roof as you for two years combined with an immeasurable amount of pressure to live up to your family's expectations of being a death eater was hard.

So hard that even when he tried his best, he just couldn’t help thoughts from fogging his mind; the dark and negative ones. And the fact that there was no escape even when he entered his dreaming state both angered and saddened the young boy.

And he thought that once everything had ended they would go away, magically vanish into nothing but they didn’t. Turns out going through a war and an immense amount of stress for such a long time could have side effects and his was nightmares.

He soon realized that he needed to be in a different environment, a calmer one. And that’s what led him to you, a person who had always brought a sense of comfort into his life.

If you were to see the situation from an outlooker's point of view, you’d call it pure. A young couple moving in with each other just because one of them couldn’t stop terrors from tainting what was supposed to be their dreams.

The house was much smaller seeing as it was only you and him but it felt like home with a little fixing up— or as you liked to call it, adding personality. The muggle neighbors were nice enough, never making too much noise and always inviting themselves over to get to know you guys better.

You didn't know what to label it, overbearing or just friendly, Draco immediately opted on overbearing, probably because his manor was surrounded by trees and he most likely never got interaction with children his age other than pureblood’s and the ones at Hogwarts.

The only thing you said about it was that he should try to branch out, muggles had always been a bit... different but that was only bad if you made it out to be.

That being said, most noises came from birds, excited chitters being somewhat an alarm clock for you and sometimes, the wind when mother nature wanted the day to be a little louder. There was also the advantage of seeing small animals running around in the grass, doubling as entertainment when the mornings were slow and the only task needing to be fulfilled was laying in each other’s arms.

Not to mention the mundane things that would occur, like teaching Draco how to cook a proper meal because he never got that sort of experience with the service of house elves at his fingertips. Something you discovered after walking in on him cooking pancakes in the same manor you would scramble eggs— All you could say was that it was a very traumatic event.

Everything was calm though, the embodiment of euphoria; you and him simply living like you never had before.

——

The nightmares were still persistent with their stay even a year later and every time it happened, you’d insist that it was never a burden to have to get up in the middle of the night to make him feel better after what he had previously endured.

And sadly, tonight was no different, rotten replays seeping back into his head and you were there carefully and cautiously pulling him out, all to make sure he didn’t get any more startled than he already was.

The same thing happened of course— apologies you didn’t want or need, mutters of I’m sorry repeating again and again and somehow, you could tell this one was worse than the others. Seeing as he could barely get anything out, you shushed him.

“It’s okay Draco, whatever happened wasn’t real. I’m here,” you soothed into his ear as his head laid in the crook of your neck. 

Minutes whet by until he calmed down, the circles you were rubbing into his back aiding in some way until his body eventually detached from yours. Soft hands went to cup his face, wiping off any excess tears that hadn’t already been soaked up by your shirt.

You didn’t ask him what it had been about because that wouldn't help, only make things worse, but you remembered the routine—

“Hot chocolate? I’ll make the cookies,” you offered in a soft voice, adding a small smile to lighten. He answered by slowly nodding his head, leaving you to shift away from him, feet going on a search for your slippers through the darkness. You pressed a small kiss to the side of his head before leaving, wordlessly telling him it would be a smart idea to put a shirt on before leaving the warmth of the bed.

——

You made your way to the kitchen with the cookie recipe reciting itself in your head. The thought of why you hadn't just bought the ones from the store already bounced around your head.

The process would be much quicker than it was now but you always went back to the sense that if you did this, there would be some love going into it and that made all the difference there was a difference. That and adding extra chocolate chips to the mix.

Strong arms found their way around your middle making a smile come over. You hummed in acknowledgment as they tightened the smallest bit, only to realize that it was to distract you from seeing his hands sneaking to the bag of chocolates.

“Draco don’t eat those, I already use way too many. And where is your shirt?”You scolded, your back now facing the counter as you watched him eat the small candy. 

“Oh come on love, you always seem to like me better shirtless,” he replied, smirking down at you. Turns out your eyes had trailed a little too far down.  

“Tha- That is beside the point, and either way, I would much rather you without a cold. So can you please find something to wear? These should be in the oven by the time you’re back.” He rolled his eyes playfully before trudging back up the stairs.

The snacks were in the oven soon after, leaving the last things you needed to do being to retrieve the milk and whipped cream from the refrigerator.

“Thank you!” He had come down with a shirt on and a small pout. “This was not by choice, I have a very demanding girlfriend.”

He went to the brown wooden cupboards as you poured the milk into the kettle. The mugs he chose were matching with single engraved hearts carved into both of them.

And once everything was done, you sat down at the table, falling into your usual slow conversation. The main focus being anything far from his nightmare because you knew that when he was ready to talk about it, he would, and you respected that. 

You admired how even though the reason behind this routine wasn’t desirable in any way, there was still a little light found through the darkness.

— nights like these

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[barbenheimer-core]

AUDERE EST FACERE !

하나. chanel : part one — 1.3k words

Ahyeong stared at the green wormhole outside the restaurant window that looked like it had ripped through the walls of reality itself, tuning out the low hum of the piano and the incessant chatterings of her parents discussing stock prices with the company investors over glasses of fine wine and impeccable dining.

She blinked.

It was gone.

Maybe she shouldn't have pulled an all-nighter binging True Beauty on webtoon as a reward for finishing the end-of-term exams. Lack of sleep was leading her to have vivid hallucinations.

She set her sights on her waiting dish of panna cotta instead, picking up the gold dessert spoon and scooping up an acceptable amount of the cold dish before putting it in her mouth.

"Noona," her brother, Gilyeong nudged her side, briefly scrolling his phone's screen before turning it at her direction under the table, away from the eyes of the adults.

Ahyeong, slightly confused, looked down at his phone screen, only to snap her neck as fast she could the other way.

Aish, that kid, the girl cursed under her breath, always up to ruining her mind.

Gilyeong lowly chuckled at his sister's agitated state and continued reading his horror manhwa on a mobile-reading app.

She couldn't exactly remember when, but it had become a tradition of sorts among the siblings to share the most gruesome stills of creepy images they could find to incite a satisfactory — and sometimes, rather laughable — reaction from the other.

They had a whole rating system where the degree of their flinches would determine the amount of money they had to pay to each other. Though she had to add, Ahyeong was winning in that department.

While Gilyeong found such material more often than not as he was an avid reader of any and every horror comic he could get his hands on, Ahyeong was more partial to the films and movies, only occasionally dipping her toes into physical pages.

Although she found clips and images at a slower pace than he did due to mountains of schoolwork, her contributions were usually the most disturbing (and mentally scarring) of all the others, which three times out of ten resulted in Gilyeong damaging his voice box by the magnitude of his screams.

(The neighbor had to check in once because he had thought it was Ahyeong screaming bloody murder.)

It wasn't like Gilyeong held back either. Despite being twelve, the guy had a lot of nerve in him reading all sorts of body horror. She supposed it was their mum's fault for leaving him unsupervised in the comics section at the library and Ahyeong's own for not stopping the seven-year-old from tainting his eyes. He had looked genuinely fascinated with the grotesque drawings and she had thought that it would have been nice to have someone to discuss her interests with. Her friends were hesitant to delve into "nightmare fodder" as they had called it.

She sighed, blinking away the drowsiness in her eyes as she tried to focus on eating her dessert. She couldn't wait to go back to reading True Beauty.

The restaurant lobby was as extravagant as it could've been, with rich, dark colors and gold-silver accents on every corner.

Her parents were outside, seeing the investors off while Ahyeong and Gilyeong waited for them to pick her up.

It had been over twenty minutes and they still hadn't returned. She could've rested a bit. Ahyeong tapped her foot impatiently, wincing at the sting in her foot. Standing in her stilettos for so long was doing her no good other than causing pain to her toes.

"Yah, dongsaeng, I'm gonna take a power nap, wake me up when mum and dad arrive."

She got no sign of confirmation other than a slight glance her way, and with that, she finally sunk into the couch and removed her heels.

The couch felt like a cloud, and Ahyeong couldn't help the heavy feeling behind her eyelids as exhaustion finally took over her consciousness and her eyes slowly fluttered shut, unbeknownst to the green hole in reality that formed in front of her as soon as she did.

Turn.

Turn.

Turn.

Someone was reading a book. That was what she first thought as her sleepiness faded, waking up from her nap but still keeping her eyes closed.

Maybe her brother had sneaked a copy of a comic under their parents' noses and was reading it while they were away.

Why didn't he wake her up yet? They still hadn't returned?

She was feeling more refreshed than ever and that was only possible with a full eight hours of sleep. Had a power nap finally lived up to its name?

It also smelled different. Compared to the faint scent of lavender and roses that glided through the air in the restaurant lobby, the only thing Ahyeong could register now was the steaming smell of convenience store ramen as if it was right in front of her and a rather strange note of musk from someone sitting across from her.

She furrowed her brows.

Gilyeong never put on cologne or perfume, who was it?

Snapping her eyes open, Ahyeong stilled, looking at the Gucci-clad person reading a manhwa in front of her.

She blinked.

Huh? Lee Dongmin?

Looking down at herself, she noticed her obvious change in attire, wearing Chanel trainers instead of stilettos and wide-legged pants and a cream turtleneck in place of her grey chiffon dress.

Where was she?

Awareness flooded her system, and her eyes zoomed over her surroundings to see a place she never thought she would.

Prince Comics.

The haven of horror enthusiasts.

Ahyeong contemplated. So was she in a drama? True Beauty, no less.

. . . wow, she really had been sleep-deprived, hadn't she? So much so that her obsession with True Beauty ended up with her having this extremely realistic fantasy.

Smiling faintly, she got up, alerting Cha Eu— no, Lee Suho, who went back to reading when she went to browse the collections available in the store.

So, a character from the main cast and an almost endless collection of her favorite pastime hobby?

She never thought she'd thank sleep deprivation for giving her such a wonderful lucid dream.

Suho glanced over his book to look at the girl peering at the various volumes of Uzumaki on the Junji Ito shelves.

Judging by her appearance, which screamed wealthy, she was most definitely not from around here.

He didn't recall seeing her around school or the neighborhood either.

Strange, he thought as she pulled out a copy of Shiver and sifted through it, face completely straight and not flinching in the slightest, rather, an amused smile played on her lips.

"Oh? Ahyeong! Is that you?"

His mental analysis of the new girl broke when the bookstore owner entered the lounge with a face of vague recognition, and Suho hastily returned his eyes back to reading his comic as the girl — Ahyeong, as the owner had called her, turned around with equal startlement.

TURN.

What the-?

"Wangja-ssi, it's been a while," Ahyeong smiled at the shop owner, slipping the book back into the shelf.

"Wah, you've gotten even more pretty from the last time I saw you!" Wangja exclaimed, face alight with elation at the sight of one of his favorite customers back at his shop.

She'd never seen him aside from behind a screen, what'd he mean?

Ahyeong looked abashed at the sudden compliment why was she doing that? and smiled awkwardly.

"Well, I'm here now. Our family moved to Gangnam a few days ago." She had been living in Gangnam since she'd been born, what was she saying? Why couldn't she control her actions?

"Daebak, what about your schooling? It's the middle of the year, have you found a place?"

"Oh, yeah, about that," Ahyeong grinned. She looked at Suho, who was gulping down red ginseng and not paying attention to their conversation at all, trying to signal him of the weird situation of paralysis that she was in. Was this what usually happened in a lucid dream? Her gaze locked onto Wangja's.

"I'm transferring to Saebom."

HUH!?

Suho choked on his drink.

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